Four days. Four plays.

David’s comment reminds me that I haven’t blogged in a few days, and that in the intervening time I’ve experienced a pretty wide swath of the Fringe. Basic quick rundown follows, as I’ve got 2,500 more words to write if I want to hand in this draft:

Saturday night: A Midsummer Night’s Tree. Nothing to do with Shakespeare, as Heather and Jaki and I thought it would have, but still great. Breakdancers, trapeze artists, a singer, and a comedian (whose bits went on a bit too long, though he was pretty funny) performed separate pieces on a stage beneath a gigantic tree in the middle of a park on the outside of the New Town. I think they might be the world’s strongest people. The whole night was nice, despite the midgies that came out when the drizzle subsided.

The evening ended at a famous pub called the Hebrides, where Martin, who is one of the tutors here, was playing Scottish folk music with one of his two bands. In addition to the folk songs, some of which I knew (and which turned out to be Irish, actually), they performed that Edinburgh classic “(I’m Gonna Be) 500 Miles,” and some sort of very localized political parody of “Billie Jean.”

Sunday afternoon: (Aine) Tigone, basicle Sophocles’s play adapted and re-set in Belfast, 1972. I think the performers were local high school students, and they didn’t give the most even performance, but the script was amazing and I left feeling really moved. I don’t know very much about Antigone, having never read or taught it, but this actually made me a little interested in the original.

Monday afternoon: Bouncy Castle Macbeth. Forget Kurosawa. Forget Polanski. This is the way the Scottish Play needs to be done. An hour and fifteen minutes, a cast of fewer than ten (Banquo was played by an inflatable doll wearing a kilt), and a big purple bouncy castle as the stage. Not sure why Macbeth used an inflatable Tyrannosaurus Rex as his sword in the final battle scene, but I’m sure it was a necessary piece of stage business (or the balloon sword he’d had earlier in the play popped). Magical.

Tuesday night: The Ballad of James II. Douglas Maxwell, Scotland’s most prolific young playwrite (his words), wrote this show about truth and mythmaking in the lives of nations. James II, an ugly, schizophrenic, and asexual king of Scotland, must make a decision that might lead to a civil war. The cast of five did a remarkable job with the complicated emotions involved, and the staging (in the famous Rosslyn Chapel) made the performance even more special.

This is the show I’d recommend most highly of the four, though the others have a lot to recommend (especially Bouncy Castle Macbeth). But there’s something about great theatre, and a great script, and great actors, that transcends gimmickery. James II would’ve worked anywhere–I could see it being done at the GHS Black Box, for example, or on Broadway, or anywhere there’s a performance space. I left that play wanting a copy of the script and another opportunity to see the show. Alas, last night was our last off night until next week, as we’re pretty heavily programmed here.

And now I really need to write this story. It’s easy to forget why I’m here–Edinburgh’s not a good city if you’ve got ADHD that’s triggered by impending deadlines.

Filed under: Matters Literary, Matters Musical & Artistic, Soujourns