Archive for August, 2012

JUST AN OBSERVATION

Just an Observation Friday August 31st

 

The first post Fringe week in Edinburgh has been highly active with most of the tourists departing and the city recapturing its own particular rhythm. There is still much going on as the Festival proper does not finish until this weekend but even aside from that there is still a lot to check out and do.

Music has been high on the agenda this week with both Mark Lanegan and Grimes putting in an appearance. Both have released outstanding albums-which rank amongst my favourites- this year and seem to have been touring them relentlessly as both artists appeared in Glasgow less than six months ago. I managed to capture Grimes on that occasion and loved her synth-pop excursions which resemble something akin to sound satellites being beamed in from Mars.This must surely make us the winners in the soundrate exchange as the best we can apparently offer in return is the mundane meanderings of Will.I.Am. Surely the best place for his music is Mars and wouldn’t it be suitable to the furthering of mankind’s attempts in embracing alien culture if we sent him on a promotional tour to promote the single. As soon as possible will do!

Mark Lanegan’s show on Wednesday saw the errant whisky soaked, nicotine croaked crooner turn in his own brand of insouciant loucheness. Playing most of his latest album Blues Funeral as well as many older favourites it was an outstanding show and an almost fitting finale to my Fringe experience.

I say almost as this weekend sees two more essential nights which I really can’t afford to miss.

First up is Neu! Reekie 21 tonight which holds emotional significance for being the last one at the Scottish Book Trust before heading for new premises at Summerhall. Tonight’s line up is impressive featuring Teen Canteen, Kid Canaveral, Paul Hullah, Susan Mowatt, Tom Wells and Tim Leonard. It holds to be a great night and the end of a chapter in the Neu! Reekie success story but as this night continues to evolve it will also feel like the start of something else. It is always worrying when things grow and become less personal but I don’t think this night is in danger of that as the ethos at its core is solid enough for them to retain and maintain credibility.

The second not to be missed is the Institute’s end of Festival party featuring my new favourite band Andy and The Prostitutes, who have played there the last two Saturdays and received a rapturous reception especially two weeks ago which was definitely my Fringe highlight of 2012. If you haven’t seen them so far then I insist you do then you too can join in singing the unbelievably catchy and more difficult to shrug off than measles paean to Walt Disney ‘Uncle Walt’s a Paedophile’ or ‘I’m too Pretty for Prison’. The latter actually had the effect of  having one of our companions testing this theory out in record time the other week as inebriated by alcohol found himself spending the rest of the weekend in the cells. This band are therefore guaranteed to send you on the rocky road to ruin and who could ask for anything more?

After the weekend I have a couple of days to recover-believe me I will need it- and midweek I am off to see the legendary and artistically resuscitated Patti Smith. Her latest album Banga is definitely her best since her seventies heyday-1996’S Gone Again aside- and live she is visceral experience like no other.

The last time I saw her live she stood astride the amps wielding her Fender Stratocaster and emitting a howling solo for a ten  minute version of ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Nigger’ whilst one of her band constantly tried to coax her down. It turns out the band member was her son who embarrassed at seeing his mum behaving this way was pleading with her to get down and stop making a fool of herself. So, even if you are as cool as Patti Smith your children will still be embarrassed by you. Apparently Mick Jagger’s kids are similarly mortified when he gets up at parties and does his lips and arse pushed out, in equal measure, strut. If these two can go from corrupters of youth via voices of a generation to embarrassing dad/mum dancers in the blink of an eye what hope then do the rest of us have?.

There are also two extremely worthwhile filns to check out this week. First up is The Imposter a documentary which will have Hollywood scriptwriters scratching their heads in dismay that they could not come up with such a fantastical tale. The second is Shadow Dancer featuring the inestimable talents and acting performance of Andrea Riseborough. Both films are excellent but The Imposter is pretty unmissable.

That is it then, I have a weekend to get through and a recovery programme to administer before my midweek date with Patti. To round off here is a performance of ‘Gloria’ which still resonates now and is a tune which is guaranteed to raise the roof next Wednesday night.

2012
08/31
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THE IMPOSTER

The Imposter

 

This film raises more questions than it answers and confirms the edict that truth is indeed stranger than fiction. By the end of Bart Layton’s The Imposter you will be no clearer to learning the truth about what happened to the missing child Nicholas Barclay than you were at the beginning and any sympathies you may have felt for either Frederic Bourdin-the imposter of the title- or Barclay’s family will have diminished through recriminations, accusations, mistrust and outright confusion. It is a compelling document of unravelling events even if it is wholly unsatisfying in its lack of resolve.

The story begins in 1995 when a blue eyed fourteen year old boy goes missing from Texas after a family argument. Reported to the police the case met with little interest and the only people who were overly concerned were the boy’s family. Or were they? Right from the outset there is some doubt about this and it only increases when three years later Bourdin, a twenty three year old dark haired-though dyed, rather obviously, blonde- blue eyed with a dark beard growth, turns up in Spain claiming to be the lost son and brother. It beggars belief that he not only fooled the authorities who delivered him home to the States but what is even more fantastical is that the family accepted him so willingly and without question.

Things get even stranger when the FBI-who are initially so easily duped by Bourdin it raises little wonder how the terrorists behind 9/11 managed to evade their scrutiny- inform the family that there is no way this is the missing Nicholas and they continue to house him and accept him as their kin. By this time Bourdin’s tales of being captured by the military, being sexually abused, forced to speak a foreign language with an accent and having his eye colour changed by drops designed for such a purpose are so fantastical that they have revealed a malevolence-and  a strange knowledge of abuse-which goes way beyond self preservation. Or so it would seem anyway.

Backed into a corner he then deflects attention by claiming that  the Barclay family are complicit in Nicholas’s disappearance and goes far enough to maintain that a family member has murdered him whilst the rest are involved in the cover up. This, he insists, is why they were so willing to shelter him and later harbour him after the truth about his identity is revealed. Polygraph tests are then administered; some are passed but one fail ensures that the matter is never fully cleared up and some doubt remains.

At the centre of this Bourdin, who has been revealed as being on Interpol’s wanted list for identity fraud and other crimes in numerous countries, seems to be relishing the pain not to mention enjoying the attention and recognition his accusations have aroused. Throughout he appears a thoroughly reprehensible human being and his knowledge of abuse raises the question was he ever a victim of such treatment or is he, perhaps, guilty of administering such extreme pain. The fact he claims at the films conclusion that he really does not care about anyone else and his own survival is all that matters does not clarify this as he may have simply built himself a façade to hide behind.

The Imposter therefore offers no solutions, explanations or satisfactory conclusions. It almost feels like a work in progress with the next instalment yet to be delivered. It is however an essential film to see and will leave you spellbound at one person’s chutzpah, the stupidity of others and distrustful of just about everyone involved. It is probably the most paranoid film you may ever see. At its conclusion there are so many questions gnawing away at your psyche that the most important one –Whatever happened to Nicholas Barclay? – is almost a forgotten irrelevance.

2012
08/30
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OWWO-EXHIBITION

OWWO Exhibition- Summerhall opens 11am daily and runs until 27th September.

 

 This exhibition has already been mired in controversy due to the decision by its curator-Sarah Wilson – to make it a show exclusively showing female artists and for, the first three weeks, only to other females. There has been much criticism of this in other factions of the press about this brave decision- I myself did not initially understand it and am generally resistant to segregation– and a bulk of hostility has arisen mainly from other women; so much for the solidarity of sisterhood then.

The initial premise was that it housed many works and subject matter which women may feel more comfortable viewing then later discussing away from the penetrative male gaze which has critiqued and censored their work –harshly on occasion- for years. The fact that women have been excluded from so many sections of society, including the chauvinistic and male-centric art world, for centuries and have only managed to gain some inroads in the last few decades to be taken seriously as valid artists seems to be getting ignored..

Surely therefore they could have just one thing to perhaps call their own. Especially as it was only for several weeks and at the same time in a city which has literally thousands of other cultural experiences on offer where both sexes are more than welcome. I have heard it said that this exhibition is operating as some form of segregation- which may be one take on it- but I see it more as some form of elitism and exclusivity and that goes on in many other business and social circles without an eyebrow or objection ever being raised.

Let us not delude ourselves that equality as anything more than a concept exists in our society. Whilst attending a party over the Festive period the gender divide could not have been clearer as the men took over one room discussing football and business, drinking bottles of beer. Meanwhile women were exiled to the beautifully modernized kitchen and talked of schools, their children and fashion. Both factions fell into their own roles quite willingly and submissively and this scenario caused me more discomfort than Wilson’s aims of banning men from her exhibition for whatever reasons. At least she was vocal about what she was doing and it did not fall into the so-called ‘natural’ order of things. Personally I cannot see what all the fuss is about and as Wilson will happily declaim in typically irreverent manner ‘I’m a conceptual artist so just get over it!’

So what about the art then?

With the exhibition now open to everyone I am pleased to report there are some very worthwhile pieces of art on show. Wilson’s own work involving collages of ceramics and other mediums barely contained in frames and actually quite fun. A million miles away from the radical feminist exploits you would expect after some earlier press reports. The jacket with false breasts by Jill Skulina that Wilson wore for press shots- and elicited some sexist and derogatory comments along the way- hangs on a wall and is another piece that contains humour whilst still sending out a serious message.

A series of paintings by Beth Fisher showing one woman’s diagnosis of breast cancer and the impact this has on her life and those around her is evocative, touching and quite beautiful. Jannica Honey’s gritty portraits of strippers is as bleak as it sounds and none the less impressive for this fact. A room with three screens showing different sets of women moving around to music is captivating. Val Atkinson’s shots depicting the mind and thoughts of women is also amazing especially the piece which operates as a modern day take on Medusa with winding serpents signifying the mental turmoil.

There was also a piece of performance art but as I am not over 6’6” I was unable to capture any of it but apparently it involved nudity, water splashing slapping of thighs and dripping honey. With that description I can’t say I will cry myself over not seeing it and performance art of this type sets things back a few decades further than barring men from the show. Mind you it gave the men something to gawp at and one of the reasons I couldn’t see was it was mainly the taller elements present-mostly males then- who crowded round the front and afterwards a lot of talk revolved around how sexually-or not- arousing the piece was. Maybe Wilson had a point about originally excluding them after all.

Wilson has been extremely brave with this exhibition and has used the space very well. No stranger to controversy-her Axolotl gallery also provoked a hostile response with a particular show last year and her decision to make it women only still escapes me but it was only for a short time. Usually I am against any form of segregation and believe wholeheartedly in the blurring of gender and making it more non-specific as opposed to specific. It has not however done the work any harm and whilst it deals with serious subjects very cleverly it also maintains a sense of feminine sensitivity and fun while not disappearing up its own conceptual arse as so many others wished it had.

2012
08/28
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JUST AN OBSERVATION

Just an Observation Saturday 25th August

 

So the last weekend of the Fringe 2012 is upon us –rather swiftly I must add-and as it will probably not be the one remembered as producing the greatest or most innovative art it may be more fondly remembered as the one where it didn’t rain everyday. In fact it has hardly rained at all and has been unseasonably warm and pleasant. It may also be the year referred to as the one where the whole thing never actually kicked in.

Several factors are being blamed for this not least the Olympics but personally I feel that people have had enough of half arsed shows at full scale prices. Comedy ,in particular, has had a hard year of it-many of the big names played to half full auditoriums and I was offered review tickets, usually refused, with a plus one if I wanted which I never bothered taking- and it is not before time in my opinion. Many of these names can be seen on television on an average weekend peddling the same tired act and stretching it out for an hour is usually beyond most of their capabilities. Therefore twenty quid for a ticket plus about a fiver each drink is just an unnecessary expense not many can afford at the moment. Also I may be old fashioned but I actually like my comedy to be funny and make me laugh rather than just wonder why everyone else finds it all so hysterically funny. Usually I find myself dismissing it as Pinot Grigio comedy for people who really need to get out more.

On the other hand there has been some outstanding dram on offer, Razing Eddie, Big Sean, Mikey and Me, Glory Dazed and Half a Person, My Life as Told by the Smiths are all worthy of your attention if you have time to spare and want to see a show this last weekend. If dance or physical theatre is more your bag then the new production of A Clockwork Orange or Knee Deep are simply stunning pieces of work. My personal favourite act of the Fringe has to be Andy and the Prostitutes who are playing their last two nights in the Phoenix bar in Broughton Street tonight and tomorrow plus an extra show at the Institute in Marchmont tonight at 10pm. Last weeks visit to the Institute precipitated one of the most brilliantly bonkers nights out I have had in ages and captured the true spirit of the Fringe.

Tomorrow the much discussed and controversial OWWO exhibition at Summerhall has an opening to which all are welcome. The exhibition has previously only open to women and due to this fact has been the subject of much debate. I won’t enter into that debate until after I have seen the work but even though I originally had my own misgivings about such a project but having seen the reaction-mostly hostile- I feel that the curator Sarah Wilson made a brave decision by forging ahead with it and it is an interesting concept.

Back to the Fringe then and other things I have noticed including the rudeness which seems to overtake most people’s personalities at this busy time of year. I have been pushed, shoved and moved out of the way by people who-mistakenly- thought they were more important. I have sat in front of someone who answered their phone during a show, carried on a conversation and then turned around to their neighbour and related the contents of that conversation to them. And if this year is to be remembered as the ‘Death of Comedy’ then I only hope next year will be the ‘Death of the Flyer’.

Why in this day and age are we still bombarded with these useless bits of cardboard so relentlessly? I was waiting in the Pleasance one afternoon-queuing seemed to consume at least one third of my time in August- when I was approached and offered a flyer which I refused but was then told they would just put it on the table in case I changed my mind. Within thirty seconds another employee came up with a binbag and asked if I wanted the flyer I had just refused. When I responded that no I didn’t she picked it up along with all the others which had been left lying and shoved it onto her refuse sack. A pretty pointless exercise-and total waste of money- to have someone follow someone else around clearing away flyers which people have already said they didn’t want.

Now that the Fringe is over and Edinburgh settles back into being itself there are still some worthwhile things going on. The Picasso exhibition at the Scottish Nationa Gallery is a definite must see and so much more enjoyable now that a large proportion of tourists have departed. Also this week there is the last Neu! Reekie night at the Scottish Book Trust and after this it will relocate to a new base in the burgeoning Summerhall complex. It is sure to be an emotional night as it is an event which has grown over its duration mainly through word of mouth and by attracting a coterie of individual and like minded souls.

As for my last weekend of the Fringe I have the Andy and The Prostitutes gig tonight followed by a showing of The Audition-both at The Institute. Then tomorrow the OWWO exhibition at Summerhall followed by two parties is on the agenda. After that it is a couple of days of decompression before preparing for the Autumn round of events. There is also the return of the X-Crutiating factor for me to express my weekly disgust and disdain for the lowest form of human life known to man in the entertainment industry. Bring it on!

2012
08/25
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ME BEFORE MARILYN

Me Before Marilyn- The Space UK, 4.10pm

 

The story of Hollywood legend Marilyn Monroe is a familiar one but one that also keeps evolving and is subject to change, even now fifty years on from her mysterious death. Still an icon to new generations she is still one of the most recognizable faces of the twentieth century. The legend is kept alive by the mystery shrouding her demise and also down to the fact Marilyn was obviously a compulsive liar during her short life. Even her original name fluctuates from being either Norma Jean Baker or Mortensen- Mortensen is more widely accepted as the genuine article- and her early years as related to various psychiatrists takes on many different perspectives depending on who she was relating her tale to.

Capturing the fractured psyche and the schizophrenic nature of Marilyn/Norma Jean this play opens with various voices zooming in from different areas of the small theatre throwing questions at the doomed star. It then moves onto her first marriage to James Dougherty which was merely a ruse to prevent her from going into further foster care. Ending the marriage whilst her husband was serving in the second world war Norma Jean then bleached up her hair, perfected her wiggle, pout and impossibly sweet breathy voice  to re-invent herself as Marilyn Monroe.

The play continues by detailing her marriage to American hero and baseball star Joltin’ Joe Dimaggio which only lasted nine months and ended in acrimony and tales of domestic abuse. Following on from this she was ‘rescued’ by photographer Milton Greene and his wife Amy who helped instil her with a sense of self worth which had previously been lacking.

However as always with Marilyn the Greenes were shunned and dismissed from her coterie after she met and fell for the great American playwright Arthur Miller. This marriage lasted longer than the Dimaggio debacle but was also doomed from the outset. What followed after they divorced remains cloaked in scandal, intrigue and confusion and the truth will probably never be unearthed now as all the major players are dead.

This production by the young and aspiring Innovative Theatre Company Caged Theatre is an extremely adept effort by four actors who take on various roles. The central performance of Marilyn- Lucy Snowden- captures not only the legend’s beauty and poise but also her fragility. The other performances are also well executed and by not attempting American accents they have not allowed anything to detract from the performances by rendering it mere impersonation. The use of white clothes hanging on a black background showing footage of scenes of the stars life being played out was both clever and effective. I could have done without the Dire Straits soundtrack but that is a personal dislike and probably unnecessary griping.

All in all a valiant production and the only major flaw I could find was that at just half an hour long it was rather short. However they did cram a lot into that half hour without it ever feeling rushed.

***

2012
08/24
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JOYCED!

Joyced –Assembly 4.45pm

 

There are two separate and very different schools of thought when it comes to James Joyce’s uber-novel, Ulysses, in twentieth century literature. One is that it is the greatest book ever written and changes the reader’s whole attitude to how books should be written and read whilst the opposing view is that it is an impenetrable bore and merely a dictionary in the wrong order. I subscribe to the latter view and was forced to read the damn thing during my tenure as a student and this play was a means of seeing whether I had perhaps judged it too harshly.

I have attempted to read it since the time I was force fed it to see whether it became any clearer, but to little avail and seeing this show was a way of discovering whether its prizes would eventually reveal themselves to me. Unfortunately the theatre this production is set in is the very lecture theatre where I sat and found more interest in the plain walls and an errant crack in the ceiling than Joyce’s stream of consciousness discourse.

Written by Donal O’ Kelly ,directed by Sorcha Fox and performed by Katie O’Kelly Joyced is a swift flight through Dublin in 1904, the year Ulysses is set in. On her journey which begins with Kelly in a very fetching pair of black wings she takes in a whirlwind tour of the city encountering the people who became the basis for the main characters in Ulysses as well as Joyce , his wife Nora-the inspiration for Molly Bloom- alongside other members of his family.

Kelly gives a great performance dipping in and out of characters seamlessly and capturing the essence of them intuitively. It is clear she has studied her subject matter and can imbue the characters with their defining nuances and conjure up something totally believable.

The dialogue is delivered at a breakneck speed and I must admit I found it hard to follow-much like Ulysses- and eventually gave up and submitted to just enjoying the performance without having a clue what was going on. Devotees of Joyce will love this show and there were many gathered outside before the performance discussing the book and the whole Joycean myth. Unfortunately it merely convinced me that despite a desire to get to grip with the book this show convinced me that perhaps I should continue to read literature I actually understand and enjoy and leave Ulysses to these converts and scholars.

***

2012
08/23
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THE 27 CLUB

The 27 Club-Assembly 6pm

 

When the news first broke in April 1994 that Kurt Cobain had blown his brains out, one of his mother Wendy’s earliest reported reactions was of anger that her son had ‘joined that stupid club’. The club she was referring to was the 27 Club of the title of this show wherein each member has burnt themselves out usually through drink or drugs but always via life in the fast lane. It is a strange juxtaposition to place so many tales of debauchery and the dark depths of the demi-monde as a piece of musical theatre but while the sequences involving classic songs of the deceased-especially Hendrix’s Purple Haze– are more than adequately handled, the original material sounds incongruous and clunky in comparison.

Beginning with Robert Johnson’s premature death in the nineteen thirties it fast forwards to 1969 and Brian Jones- who many consider the founding member of the club and pretty much indisputably the first rock and roll casualty- and here is where the mythologies and conspiracy theories start to abound. Hendrix, Janis Joplin –who is described as an ‘unconventional beauty’ though I am unsure just how unconventional beauty would have to be before she could be included- and probably the most iconic member of the clan the sometime Lizard King Jim Morrison, followed Jones’s lead in an unbelievably and disturbingly swift fashion. Things settled down for a while-amongst major players anyway- until Cobain’s suicide in the nineties and then last year Amy Winehouse joined the live fast,  die young, stay pretty brigade.

The conspiracy theories which surround several of these stars are superfluous and only further the legend with little proof. Therefore rumours of Brian Jones ‘s murder by an irate builder, Hendrix’s forced intoxication or most notoriously Morrison’s totally faked death remain exactly that and no new evidence is offered up.

These people were on the road to destruction via their own choices anyway and most of them looked ravaged and older than their years- the beauty and sex appeal which made Jones and Morrison such huge icons was a distant memory at the time of their deaths. As for the two most high profile women-Joplin and Winehouse- maybe they spend their time hanging out at the club bar bemoaning the fact they both ended their days looking like tragic drag queens;  dragged up, drugged out and drunken parodies of their former strong selves.

This show skims over all these issues and serves it up as a variety show with some familiar tunes. The music is a more than passable facsimile of the classics they cover but it is more of a nostalgia trip for those who remember the seemingly unstoppable high death rate amongst musicians in the late sixties and early seventies. It is a more than passable show but unfortunately, for me, it just didn’t resonate with any rock and roll attitude considering its subject matter.

***

2012
08/23
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TRUTH

Truth-Underbelly –10.25pm

 

 This latest offering from Australians Slow Clap is a freeform storytelling show which has frantic shifts of pace and characters and, at times, is exceptionally funny. Hinged on the talents of Vachel Spirason who carries this show virtually single handed with only the smallest of assistance from fellow creator-or conspirator if you prefer- Stephanie Brotchie it is fast paced and slightly surreal collection of different tales which for most of the shows duration feel as if they are not connected at all.

Billed as a storytelling show-a point hammered home by Spirason continually for the first five minutes- it appears to bear very tenuous links to any storytelling you may have previously encountered. Instead we are introduced into different scenarios including naked men, being stranded on an island and probably the most surreal version of Copacabana and its star Lola you are ever likely to see. Probably the best of all is Juan-‘The Juan and only’- a flamenco dancer like no other. Attired only in his double layered underpants, white vest and a rose between his teeth Juan is a great comic creation and probably the strongest point and highlight of the show; so good he re-appears again later for a further appearance.

If the show does have a flaw it is that it seems to be stretching itself out a little and therefore goes on about ten minutes too long. The night I attended it actually exceeded its one hour duration so perhaps it had overrun on this occasion. It definitely has some extremely funny moments and Spirason is an extremely charismatic performer even if the crazy dancing routines become a bit predictable. It is worth seeing however simply for the ‘Juan’ sections alone.

***

2012
08/22
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NOLA

Nola- Underbelly 3.15pm

 

This docu-drama about the BP oil spill in 2010 is brought to the stage by Look Left Look Right productions –who produced my favourite show, the daring and site specific You Once Said Yes, last year- and attempts to show, through conversations with those directly affected in New Orleans, what the immediate and long lasting effects were on the community. It is a highly affecting work and even with the small cast of four dipping out of characters and various accents it is never hard to work out what is being said by whom.

The drama unfolds via various accounts and it is almost harrowing to hear those on the rig reliving their moments of escape followed by details of a selfless rescue on a fellow worker by one of the riggers merely following his natural humane instincts whilst articulating the fact he would want to be saved if he were in the others predicament. Tales of smoke filled water ablaze with heat searing flames-underwater was the only refuge-clearly help the audience understand the desperate nature of the situation.

This was only the beginning however as the after effects were just as destructive on a community which had not yet had time to recover from the devastation of the fairly recent Hurricane Katrina. It certainly sounds like a community blighted by disaster whether natural or man made. It was not only humans however which suffered as the constant oil spill into the sea affected marine life as well as the bird population. Disturbing images of pelicans encrusted in oil are shown alongside tales of how trying to remove oil necessitated stripping them of their feathers whilst simultaneously sending them into a state of extreme distress.

How the media responded was also explored and the nature of litigation prevalent in the United States was exposed as billboards immediately shot up all over the place encouraging people to sue and make extortionate claims. All of this paints the events as being worthy of note and not just some news item to be replaced by the next big thing.

This production is definitely drama with a conscience and whilst it certainly never falls into light entertainment it does provoke thought and emotion more than eloquently. The four very young performers swap accents –and on occasion genders- and give almost flawless performances despite a few excusable faltering moments. The quality of drama on this years Fringe is exceptional-in contrast to comedy which is a struggling genre and perhaps needs a re-think- and Nola is up there with some of the better offerings this year.

****

2012
08/22
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KNEE DEEP

Knee Deep-Assembly 7.30pm

 

This show quite literally begins by walking on eggshells and continues to maintain that level of tension throughout. Created by Circa who were last here three years ago this latest addition to their cache never fails to impress or astound during it’s one hour duration. It is a show which shows consummate skill combined with intensity and trust between the performers. It does not go for shock tactics or overt dynamics but is not any less powerful because of this.

Opening with the aforementioned walking on eggs routine-eggs figure throughout as a metaphor to remind us how fragile we as humans are and the danger the performers are constantly in- accompanied by a new age soundtrack the intricacies of the four onstage artistes is compelling and almost Zen like. When the music shifts up a notch to electronica from the Aphex Twin school of sound so do the movements and routines. Among the extremely visceral, exhilarating and jaw dropping routines we are then entreated to include a tightrope of interwoven human limbs-which one of the performers edges their precarious way along- gymnastic acrobatics performed on what appears to be the world’s four smallest bar stools and hula hooping which provides a moment of light relief. There are also some impressive modern trapeze acts, body percussion, back flips, forward rolls and each movement is performed with balletic poise.

Muscles strain and sweat drips and it is obvious that all of what we are witnessing requires inordinate strength and is pushing the naturally toned bodies –none of which look as if they are acquired by spending hours in the gym- to the very limits of their endurance. This only makes the show more attractive as the obviously intense nature of the acts being performed are not made to look easy and they obviously rely on a gargantuan amount of trust between the performers as one minor slip or loss of concentration could be fatal.

Knee Deep is a truly astoundingly beautiful show which will have you spellbound and holding your breath throughout. Exquisitely performed, the visuals and music merge beautifully and although it is seamless it always feels as if it is teetering on a precipice-like an egg about to drop and smash- and this only adds to the proceedings. When it was over, the standing ovation the four exhausted performers received was not just expected but totally necessary.

*****

2012
08/22
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