BEST OF THE YEAR
What were my favourite entertainment moments of 2015?
From a purely personal perspective 2015 has been one of the most enjoyable years of my life. It's wonderful to be back living in my home city again, not least because there are so many things to do. Whilst I've had fun posting in this blog over the past twelve months, it's been the other blog I began in February which perhaps best reflects how much there has been to relish in the twelve months just gone by.
Go Live gave me a chance to combine two of my favourite hobbies - writing, and going to see live performances. Since I get pleasure from the former, and spend a great deal of time on the latter, why not try my hand at writing reviews? I don't claim it to have been any great success, but I do love the challenge and have no plans to stop anytime soon.
At the start I thought I'd write about every live event I went to, plus any films I saw in the cinema. At first I included reports of ice hockey matches, but this was soon dropped. I don't think I have any future as a sports writer! (And hockey now plays such a big part of our winter lives that it would dominate the blog if I let it....) So the blog concentrates on music and comedy gigs, plays and films.
The very first post was actually, bizarrely, two totally unconnected reviews in one. Not a mistake I've repeated since. I came closest to breaking the pattern in August, when I saw over 60 Fringe shows and simply finding the time to write the reviews became a problem on occasion. But they're all there....
Today it's time to look back over all of those reviews and recall what were my favourites - in Comedy, Music, Drama and Film. In doing so I see I've reviewed 51 comedy gigs, 45 music gigs, 27 plays and 31 films. (And 7 ice hockey match reports.) Oh, and one oddity that doesn't quite fit into any of the above.
1) Comedy
The easy answer would be Mark Thomas who once again demonstrated his genius for combining radical politics with gut wrenching laughter. But I'm going to go for someone who I'd never seen before and who has stuck in the memory like no other. George Egg : Anarchist Cook was a stand up show like no other as he produced a delicious three course meal before our eyes using cooking implements that can be found in a hotel room. Imaginative, instructive and hilarious.
Mind you, there have been so many other great comic moments from the likes of Mark Steel, Stu & Garry, Sarah Kendall and our mate Aidan Goatley that the choice wasn't as simple as I make it sound.
2) Music
As with comedy I could simply choose my all time favourite band, Lau, and the two magnificent performances they gave in London and Edinburgh. But, as above, I'm going to go with an act that was new to me and left a big impression. So I'm choosing Himmerland who were one of the most original outfits I encountered combining Danish folk, jazz and Ghanaian rhythms. Superb entertainment and great studio album too. (Plus, bizarrely, reviewing them resulted in my words being translated into Danish. A surreal experience.)
Other great bands I saw this year? Dallahan, Dean Owens, Viper Swing,Woody Pines.... it would be so easy to go on and on.
3) Drama
Seeing Jonathan Pryce as The Merchant of Venice at The Globe was certainly memorable, but the story was too weel kent to make any real emotional impact. So my choice is a far less ambitious production staged in a square box of a room in a modern Edinburgh University building. Hannah and Hanna was a simple, low budget, two hander with a powerful message.
Honourable mentions go to The Driver's Seat, Hotel Paradiso, Tracks of the Winter Bear and all ten of the productions in the A Play, A Pie and A Pint series.
4) Film
Only one winner for me here. Hector has stayed with me like no other big screen experience this year. Peter Mullan is magnificent, the story life affirming, a tale that needed telling.
I also loved Welcome to Me, 13 Minutes, Suffragette and Still Alice.
5) Book
No, I don't do book reviews, but I do read a lot. Forty three this year, down from previous years, but maybe because I've been out so much! They cover a wide variety of genres and periods, although only one was non-fiction. The most memorable of these was The Panopticon by Jenni Fagan. Telling the story of Anais, a teenager in a young offenders institution, it's a powerful reminder of how easy it is for anyone to become one of society's outcasts, and how little we try to understand the people our systems fail.
Other memorable novels have been Learning to Lose by David Trueba, The Kiln by William McIlvanney and Alice in Exile by Piers Paul Read.
6) Hockey Match
I might not write match reports any longer, but I couldn't refrain from comment on what's become such an important part of my life. At it's best live sport can provide all the drama of a Shakespeare - heroes and villains, elation and despair, ugliness and beauty, uncertainty and commitment. All of these were fully delivered in the Edinburgh Capitals match against Cardiff Devils on 4 December. The Welsh side took a one goal advantage from the first period, dominated the second with another score early on before making it three just before the hooter went. There was little more than 10 minutes left on the clock when Caps got their first, a maiden EIHL goal for young Sean Beattie. They got a second with less than 3 minutes left, and the equaliser came with only 28 seconds on the clock. There's drama for you. Overtime saw Caps complete an unlikely comeback with a Jacob Johnston goal after only 24 seconds. What a night.
And finally....
Just in case you think that everything I get to see turns out to be wonderful I should maybe mention some of the turkeys of the year. North v South was a tedious film to endure. Sparrow Folk weren't as funny as they thought they were. Our Ladies of Perpetual Succour was a musical drama that never got my interest. And In the Pink didn't seem to know what they wanted to be. But the bin bag of the year award has to fall to 'comedy' show Relatively Normal, an hour of my life I have no wish revisit. Dire.
Here's to a hugely entertaining 2016.
Thursday, 31 December 2015
Thursday, 24 December 2015
You're never too old....
THE SINGER, NOT THE SONG
One such occasion never fails to make me laugh when I recall it. Barbara, as you do, started to sing along to the track she was listening to. In saying 'sing' I am being extremely generous. There were noises, a few of which resembled something like a tune. Which tune was impossible to say until I heard a fragment of lyric, words I recognised, and bust out laughing that what I was hearing was in any way connected to the song I knew so well.
Fast forward to the present. Back in April Barbara joined a local choir. No auditions, just find the vocal range that suits you best and away you go. Just for fun, have a good laugh, enjoy yourselves. Except. They sometimes get asked to give public performances, perhaps three or four times a year. And then it becomes more than just a bit of fun, when there's an actual audience going to be there.
The choir provides the lyrics and the music, broken down into the various voice types, for people to download and practice at home. So Barbara has got into the habit of taking her phone into the bathroom in the morning and singing along to the songs they are currently learning.
Guess what (part 1)? She loves it.
Guess what (part 2)? The noises coming out of that bathroom sound pretty good (albeit a bit odd, as there seem to be a lot of passages that are more ooooh, dum dum dum and aaaah than actual words). They sound like songs.
To date she's taken part in three live performances. The first two were outdoors, so the wind played a role, and the rehearsals didn't seem to have been taken all that seriously, so nerves were there in abundance. Last weekend the choir performed in the National Museum, and the preparation for this one was much more thorough. Even I could tell, just from listening to those toilet rehearsals, that it was going to be better for Xmas.
Is there a moral to this tale? Well, sort of. There's an 'old dog, new tricks' vibe going on here, don't you think? Or is just to say that you should ignore the laughter of your life partner and go and do what you want to do anyway....
And just in case you don't want to take my word for it, here's some video footage of the event. (It's not very good quality, and there a few slightly odd audience noises at times, but you'll get some idea of what it was like.)
Merry Xmas everybody, and an excellent 2016.
Thursday, 26 November 2015
Should we bomb Syria?
THERE DOESN'T SEEM TO BE MUCH POINT IN TEACHING HISTORY ANY MORE
So it looks like we're going to war. Again. In the Middle East. Again. David Cameron tried to make his case for this action earlier today. He even managed to cover all the relevant topics. Although the actual answers he provided were few in number. Credibility was lacking throughout.
Because, from both a humanitarian and a pragmatic viewpoint, only one thing really matters. If we've learned nothing else from Iraq and Afghanistan and Libya - and the Treat of Versailles almost a hundred years ago - mass killing of your opponents, and the inevitable slaughter of the innocents which comes as a part of such action, comes to nothing when your opponents are driven by a fanatical ideology, unless that ideology itself can be discredited.
So it doesn't matter what the military strategy is (although the lack of a credible ground force to secure territory does look like a huge gaff), if you haven't thought through the endgame fully then the chance are you're going to make things even worse than they were before.
There's one question that has to be answered in full, and that's what this action will do to benefit the most important people in the whole affair - the poor buggers who actually live in Syria. Make genuine improvements to their lives, on their terms, not ours, and you might just have a war worth fighting.
So it looks like we're going to war. Again. In the Middle East. Again. David Cameron tried to make his case for this action earlier today. He even managed to cover all the relevant topics. Although the actual answers he provided were few in number. Credibility was lacking throughout.
Because, from both a humanitarian and a pragmatic viewpoint, only one thing really matters. If we've learned nothing else from Iraq and Afghanistan and Libya - and the Treat of Versailles almost a hundred years ago - mass killing of your opponents, and the inevitable slaughter of the innocents which comes as a part of such action, comes to nothing when your opponents are driven by a fanatical ideology, unless that ideology itself can be discredited.
So it doesn't matter what the military strategy is (although the lack of a credible ground force to secure territory does look like a huge gaff), if you haven't thought through the endgame fully then the chance are you're going to make things even worse than they were before.
There's one question that has to be answered in full, and that's what this action will do to benefit the most important people in the whole affair - the poor buggers who actually live in Syria. Make genuine improvements to their lives, on their terms, not ours, and you might just have a war worth fighting.
Friday, 30 October 2015
Is it time to apply some common sense to the Climate Change debate?
IS THERE A COMMON SENSE APPROACH?
The United Nations says that while world wide actions to reduce the causes of climate change are working, but remain inadequate to stave off potential disasters. Climate change deniers scoff at these views and say that there have always been natural changes in climate and always will be.
Of course there is a wide continuum of views available, with extremes at either end of the spectrum. An intriguing aspect of this is the ways in which a scientific subject has found itself reflected in political extremes as well.
The United Nations says that while world wide actions to reduce the causes of climate change are working, but remain inadequate to stave off potential disasters. Climate change deniers scoff at these views and say that there have always been natural changes in climate and always will be.
I'm not a scientist. You probably aren't either. Even if you are, you probably aren't someone with the expertise and experience needed to make some sense of the vast array of data available on the subject of climate change and then derive sensible conclusions. There aren't many such people in the world. And they are far from unanimous in their interpretations of the possible causes or outcomes. A large majority continue to say that the risks are real, the potential consequences enormous and devastating for the human race. But others say this is nonsense and the earth's atmosphere is perfectly capable of taking care of itself.
By and large the left of politics want to take action to prevent further global warming, whilst the right think that will harm economies. For the far right, such as ukip here and the Tea Party in the US, the latter position has become a matter of faith and they seem to have become fully immunised against any facts or new information which might make them rethink their views.
This is a crazy way to approach a subject where millions of lives are at stake, one where the science matters far far more than politics. Shortsightedness could prove disastrous.
At one extreme are those who fear that climate change is largely man made and will have cataclysmic consequences in this century. They are advocating that humanity greatly reduces it's reliance on fossil fuels and develops alternative energy sources as soon as possible. Other thoughts are to reduce our meat consumption and move more towards a vegetable and cereal based diet which is far more energy efficient.
On the opposite side the extremists say alternative power sources, such as wind, are bad for the economy, waste resources and ruin the countryside. Their first priority is the short term goal of economic prosperity.
I don't know who's right. My instinct says the answers are somewhere between the two, but how far along that continuum, and in which direction, I have no idea.
But applying some common sense to the discussion it's hard to avoid one conclusion.
If the climate change deniers turn out to be correct, but we've invested vast resources in new energy technologies, and other green policies, nothing disastrous will happen. We might be a bit poorer in the short term, but most of what we do will not be wasted. One certainty is that fossil fuels will eventually run out and we have to replace them at some point. In the long term energy renewables make more sense than nuclear from which the dangers can never be fully eliminated.
But if the fears of those who say climate change will dramatically increase sea levels and make vast swathes of the earth uninhabitable could come even remotely true, yet we've done nothing to stave off the outcome, the results would be the greatest disaster ever to face mankind.
Looked at from that perspective, isn't the obvious conclusion to do everything we can to implement those Green ideas? Not to do so is to play Risk on a grand scale with the lives of future generations.
Monday, 19 October 2015
Coming to the hockey
IT'S NOT ALWAYS LIKE THIS....
As I explained at the beginning of this year one of the big changes in my life, our lives, since moving north has been an increasing addiction to ice hockey matches and a passion for supporting the Edinburgh Capitals. The strength of the resultant feelings continues to surprise me, and the story has moved on since. This season we are proud to be season ticket holders at the Murrayfield rink, and I now find myself a member of the Supporters Club committee.
There's no going back now. I'm even in danger of becoming a hockey bore, with a tediously (?) evangelical approach to encouraging others to come along and see what they're missing. And when people from our old life down south come up to visit they are firmly told that if they come up on a weekend between September and March that will be taken as tacit agreement that they want to go to a match....
Two couples have been up here recently and both experienced hockey for the first time in their lives (well three of them did, one woman recalled going to games at Wembley in the sixties!). It turned out that they picked their times wisely.
The first match was against Braehead, with the Caps putting in a storming performance and coming up convincing 6-2 winners. Our friends saw some great goals and were sitting with some very happy fans. I had to tell them it isn't always like this....
The second took place yesterday, and this had a bit more drama thrown in. A woeful looking Capitals team (and some, ahem, 'controversial' refereeing) found themselves four goals down to arch rivals Fife Flyers. Our friends were enjoying the experience, the speed and excitement, and the occasional gentile bout of fisticuffs that broke out on the ice. They also felt a bit sorry for us, watching a drama unfold that might not leave us in the happiest of moods....
What followed will remain with me for a very long time, and certainly gave this southern couple something to remember from their visit. A late goal in the second period kept the fans' hopes of a recovery warm, like a sighting of land from a lifeboat. It turned out not be a mirage. A change of tactics, and our North American pros earning every penny of their pay, saw two goals early on, and screamer of a shot from Ryan Hayes to equalise with five minutes to play. Finishing up with a Caps winner in overtime. No script writer would dare come up so implausible an ending in this cynical age....
And guess what? I had to tell my friends that it isn't always like this....
It might be the top level of British ice hockey, but the resources available to the teams in this league vary enormously. With Caps being firmly towards the lower end of the wealth scale. You become a Caps fan and you become an aficionado of disappointment, a connoisseur of misfortune, someone used to dealing with the blows. It's a very Scottish feeling, that underdog status, and one to be savoured like you'd been given the chips and no fish. You learn to enjoy what you have.
Then there are those nights, like last night, when you not only get the full fish supper, but peas, bread and a decent bottle of wine thrown in.
No, it isn't always like this. But when it is it's one of the greatest feelings in the world.
If you're in Edinburgh you should come along.
As I explained at the beginning of this year one of the big changes in my life, our lives, since moving north has been an increasing addiction to ice hockey matches and a passion for supporting the Edinburgh Capitals. The strength of the resultant feelings continues to surprise me, and the story has moved on since. This season we are proud to be season ticket holders at the Murrayfield rink, and I now find myself a member of the Supporters Club committee.
There's no going back now. I'm even in danger of becoming a hockey bore, with a tediously (?) evangelical approach to encouraging others to come along and see what they're missing. And when people from our old life down south come up to visit they are firmly told that if they come up on a weekend between September and March that will be taken as tacit agreement that they want to go to a match....
Two couples have been up here recently and both experienced hockey for the first time in their lives (well three of them did, one woman recalled going to games at Wembley in the sixties!). It turned out that they picked their times wisely.
The first match was against Braehead, with the Caps putting in a storming performance and coming up convincing 6-2 winners. Our friends saw some great goals and were sitting with some very happy fans. I had to tell them it isn't always like this....
The second took place yesterday, and this had a bit more drama thrown in. A woeful looking Capitals team (and some, ahem, 'controversial' refereeing) found themselves four goals down to arch rivals Fife Flyers. Our friends were enjoying the experience, the speed and excitement, and the occasional gentile bout of fisticuffs that broke out on the ice. They also felt a bit sorry for us, watching a drama unfold that might not leave us in the happiest of moods....
What followed will remain with me for a very long time, and certainly gave this southern couple something to remember from their visit. A late goal in the second period kept the fans' hopes of a recovery warm, like a sighting of land from a lifeboat. It turned out not be a mirage. A change of tactics, and our North American pros earning every penny of their pay, saw two goals early on, and screamer of a shot from Ryan Hayes to equalise with five minutes to play. Finishing up with a Caps winner in overtime. No script writer would dare come up so implausible an ending in this cynical age....
And guess what? I had to tell my friends that it isn't always like this....
It might be the top level of British ice hockey, but the resources available to the teams in this league vary enormously. With Caps being firmly towards the lower end of the wealth scale. You become a Caps fan and you become an aficionado of disappointment, a connoisseur of misfortune, someone used to dealing with the blows. It's a very Scottish feeling, that underdog status, and one to be savoured like you'd been given the chips and no fish. You learn to enjoy what you have.
Then there are those nights, like last night, when you not only get the full fish supper, but peas, bread and a decent bottle of wine thrown in.
No, it isn't always like this. But when it is it's one of the greatest feelings in the world.
If you're in Edinburgh you should come along.
Sunday, 27 September 2015
Pisa is cooler than Glasgow
PISANS 1, WEEGIES 0
Who'd have guessed that the inhabitants of one of Italy's oldest cities had a great level of sophistication than Glasgow's finest? If you doubt the validity of that possibility then here's a bit of photographic evidence.
Of all the many fine achievement that can be attributed to Glaswegians, none is greater than the equestrian statue of Wellington that stands proudly outside the Gallery of Modern Art. Now monuments to the Iron Duke are ten a penny across the cities of Britain, and there is nothing particularly remarkable about this one. Except for his headgear, which may have once been unofficial, but has come to be recognised as a permanent fixture.
That traffic cone says more about Weegies than any ex Tory Prime Minister ever could.
And yet I found today that the people of Pisa have outshone them. Forget the Leaning Tower, and all those ever-so-imaginative tourists posing in front of it with their arms outstretched (oh, how my sides ached to see them all....)
Pisa wins because of this guy.
I have no idea who he is. And does it really matter? He's cool. he's just finished off his cocktail and looks ready for another. Wellington, you may have a silly hat, but can you out-cool James Bond?
No, thought not.
Here he is again, looking a bit shaken, but totally unstirred.
Credit for picture of Welling ton statue :
Statue of Wellington, mounted, Glasgow - DSC06285" by Rept0n1x - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons
Who'd have guessed that the inhabitants of one of Italy's oldest cities had a great level of sophistication than Glasgow's finest? If you doubt the validity of that possibility then here's a bit of photographic evidence.
Of all the many fine achievement that can be attributed to Glaswegians, none is greater than the equestrian statue of Wellington that stands proudly outside the Gallery of Modern Art. Now monuments to the Iron Duke are ten a penny across the cities of Britain, and there is nothing particularly remarkable about this one. Except for his headgear, which may have once been unofficial, but has come to be recognised as a permanent fixture.
That traffic cone says more about Weegies than any ex Tory Prime Minister ever could.
And yet I found today that the people of Pisa have outshone them. Forget the Leaning Tower, and all those ever-so-imaginative tourists posing in front of it with their arms outstretched (oh, how my sides ached to see them all....)
Pisa wins because of this guy.
I have no idea who he is. And does it really matter? He's cool. he's just finished off his cocktail and looks ready for another. Wellington, you may have a silly hat, but can you out-cool James Bond?
No, thought not.
Here he is again, looking a bit shaken, but totally unstirred.
Credit for picture of Welling ton statue :
Statue of Wellington, mounted, Glasgow - DSC06285" by Rept0n1x - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Commons
Thursday, 17 September 2015
Well he would, wouldn't he?
WHERE'S MANDY RICE-DAVIES WHEN YOU NEED HER?
So the head of a government agency wants greater powers and access to more information about us all and, one suspects, maybe a bit more on his budget to undertake all this extra work? He claims there are far more terrorist threats being detected, but can't offer us any evidence for this because, you know, "security". And the BBC just goes along with it and doesn't challenge him.
Was there ever a better time to adopt this philosophy?
So the head of a government agency wants greater powers and access to more information about us all and, one suspects, maybe a bit more on his budget to undertake all this extra work? He claims there are far more terrorist threats being detected, but can't offer us any evidence for this because, you know, "security". And the BBC just goes along with it and doesn't challenge him.
Was there ever a better time to adopt this philosophy?
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
My 2015 Fringe Top Ten
REALLY? A TOP TEN WITHOUT MARK THOMAS?
For the past two years I've come up with a list of the ten Edinburgh Festival shows I enjoyed most and here's the 2015 selection. But with a difference. Looking back at those previous posts I can see a pattern emerging. Every year we go to see a Mark Thomas show, every year he's simply brilliant, every year he'd be in my top ten list. And that could get a bit dull, so this year there's no mention of Mark Thomas in this post. Not even to say what a genius Mark Thomas is.
Instead this year's list will be restricted to people I haven't been to see before, or have only seen in a different context. So that means that some of my favourite acts of this August - the likes of Stewart Lee, Aidan Goatley, Jess Thom and Mark Thomas - won't be cropping up in the following spiel.
As before I'm not going to try to put the shows into any ranking order. They were all superb, all memorable in their varying ways, so the order below is simply the order in which I went to see them (and I've provided links to my reviews if you're interested). If you get the opportunity to see any of them you won't be disappointed.
The first new (to me) act to make a big impression was The Big Bite Sized Breakfast Show. Food and coffee are a good way to start a morning show, followed by five mini-plays in one hour. The acting was excellent, the laughs frequent. What surprised most was ability of the writers to manage to say something interesting, albeit at a surface level, on a wide variety of topics in such short periods of time. So good was the experience that we went back later in the month to see another of the three 'menus' being offered. And it didn't disappoint.
Number two on the list left a lasting impression. Whenever anyone asked us to recommend a show we'd already seen the words 'George Egg' always popped out first. This was not only an extremely funny and imaginative show, but it managed to smell and taste good too. Watching someone cook a three course meal using hotel room implements is both surreal and one of those why-hasn't-it-been-done-before? moments. It's a beautifully structured and deeply engrossing hour of entertainment and an eye opener when you see how little we make of the resources we find around us. I keep on wondering how Mr Egg is going to follow it up next year.
For number three I'm back with drama, albeit this time a more conventional two handed play. Performed by Culture Clash Theatre, Hannah and Hanna was moving, involving and relevant, beautifully rendered by the two young actors. When you see over sixty shows in around three weeks some will inevitably fade from the memory. But even now my mental images of H&H remain strong, and the sense that I could easily sit through another performance and still find much that was new in the experience.
And now for something completely different. Hotel Paradiso from the German company Family Floez. Set in an Alpine hotel lobby an array of characters flit in and out of the action with impressive choreography and timing. There is no dialogue, the actors wear masks throughout, and the physical comedy is often good old fashioned slapstick. It's hilarious, absorbing, using body language to convey an entire storyline. And the biggest surprise comes at the end when you find out that those endless hotel guests etc. were all portrayed by just four people. Unforgettable.
Number five is a bit of a cheat as it's two shows, but one man. What I Learned From Johnny Bevan is a one man coming of age drama that sticks pins in our idiotic class system, a powerfully poetic work. Which is no coincidence as the writer/performer is Luke Wright whose other show sees him reciting his poetry of everyday life, with wit and panache. Wright has the makings of being a star performer and is a pleasure to watch in either of the guises offered up.
An Australian next. I can't recall what prompted me to decide to see this show, but I'm so glad I followed whatever serendipitous instinct was driving me that day. Sarah Kendall is not only very funny, but an excellent storyteller. Fact or fiction, her tale has something to say about the choices we make in life and their consequences. One of the finds of the month.
Another bit of cheating. We have seen Mark Steel before, but that was recording a radio show, so I feel able to include this stand up show as something different. Anyway, he was bloody brilliant. Telling the story of his search for his birth parents (he was adopted) Steel, who often gets confused with fellow left wing London comedian Mark Thomas, exudes compassion, humanity, cynicism and some enjoyably vicious drollery as he relates his tale. There are plenty of surprises along the way but Mark is always realistic about his discoveries and there are none of the faux hysterics so beloved of Who Do You Thing You Are? on TV. A lesson in how to remain grounded.
Number eight is also, surprise, surprise, a comedian renowned for their left of centre commentaries upon the world. Like her husband, the wonderful Stewart Lee, Bridget Christie finds oblique angles from which to skewer pretension, injustice and convention. Ranting doesn't get any funnier, or more thought provoking, than this.
Character comedy next. Tom Binns delivered three very different personalities, the linking factor being his ability to poke fun at various showbiz stereotypes. A master at engaging with his audience, Binns gives his characters an illusory reality whilst letting the audience in on the joke. One of the funniest hours of the month.
Finally there's one more stand up show, one more comedian with a story to tell. Mel Moon's verbal memoir has a serious core to it. Diagnosed with an illness which means she's constantly at risk of death, Moon tells of the dark moments that knowledge took her to, but which also encouraged her to write a stand up show about her experiences. If I'm told that a show I'm about to see is 'uplifting' my natural cynicism will probably express itself with two fingers down my throat. So it was some achievement that I walked out knowing I'd just seen something very positive, even inspirational. And also very funny. I laughed. A lot. You would too.
So that was then, roll on August 2016. And I think I just about managed to get away with not mentioning Mark Thomas.
For the past two years I've come up with a list of the ten Edinburgh Festival shows I enjoyed most and here's the 2015 selection. But with a difference. Looking back at those previous posts I can see a pattern emerging. Every year we go to see a Mark Thomas show, every year he's simply brilliant, every year he'd be in my top ten list. And that could get a bit dull, so this year there's no mention of Mark Thomas in this post. Not even to say what a genius Mark Thomas is.
Instead this year's list will be restricted to people I haven't been to see before, or have only seen in a different context. So that means that some of my favourite acts of this August - the likes of Stewart Lee, Aidan Goatley, Jess Thom and Mark Thomas - won't be cropping up in the following spiel.
As before I'm not going to try to put the shows into any ranking order. They were all superb, all memorable in their varying ways, so the order below is simply the order in which I went to see them (and I've provided links to my reviews if you're interested). If you get the opportunity to see any of them you won't be disappointed.
The first new (to me) act to make a big impression was The Big Bite Sized Breakfast Show. Food and coffee are a good way to start a morning show, followed by five mini-plays in one hour. The acting was excellent, the laughs frequent. What surprised most was ability of the writers to manage to say something interesting, albeit at a surface level, on a wide variety of topics in such short periods of time. So good was the experience that we went back later in the month to see another of the three 'menus' being offered. And it didn't disappoint.
Number two on the list left a lasting impression. Whenever anyone asked us to recommend a show we'd already seen the words 'George Egg' always popped out first. This was not only an extremely funny and imaginative show, but it managed to smell and taste good too. Watching someone cook a three course meal using hotel room implements is both surreal and one of those why-hasn't-it-been-done-before? moments. It's a beautifully structured and deeply engrossing hour of entertainment and an eye opener when you see how little we make of the resources we find around us. I keep on wondering how Mr Egg is going to follow it up next year.
For number three I'm back with drama, albeit this time a more conventional two handed play. Performed by Culture Clash Theatre, Hannah and Hanna was moving, involving and relevant, beautifully rendered by the two young actors. When you see over sixty shows in around three weeks some will inevitably fade from the memory. But even now my mental images of H&H remain strong, and the sense that I could easily sit through another performance and still find much that was new in the experience.
And now for something completely different. Hotel Paradiso from the German company Family Floez. Set in an Alpine hotel lobby an array of characters flit in and out of the action with impressive choreography and timing. There is no dialogue, the actors wear masks throughout, and the physical comedy is often good old fashioned slapstick. It's hilarious, absorbing, using body language to convey an entire storyline. And the biggest surprise comes at the end when you find out that those endless hotel guests etc. were all portrayed by just four people. Unforgettable.
Number five is a bit of a cheat as it's two shows, but one man. What I Learned From Johnny Bevan is a one man coming of age drama that sticks pins in our idiotic class system, a powerfully poetic work. Which is no coincidence as the writer/performer is Luke Wright whose other show sees him reciting his poetry of everyday life, with wit and panache. Wright has the makings of being a star performer and is a pleasure to watch in either of the guises offered up.
An Australian next. I can't recall what prompted me to decide to see this show, but I'm so glad I followed whatever serendipitous instinct was driving me that day. Sarah Kendall is not only very funny, but an excellent storyteller. Fact or fiction, her tale has something to say about the choices we make in life and their consequences. One of the finds of the month.
Another bit of cheating. We have seen Mark Steel before, but that was recording a radio show, so I feel able to include this stand up show as something different. Anyway, he was bloody brilliant. Telling the story of his search for his birth parents (he was adopted) Steel, who often gets confused with fellow left wing London comedian Mark Thomas, exudes compassion, humanity, cynicism and some enjoyably vicious drollery as he relates his tale. There are plenty of surprises along the way but Mark is always realistic about his discoveries and there are none of the faux hysterics so beloved of Who Do You Thing You Are? on TV. A lesson in how to remain grounded.
Number eight is also, surprise, surprise, a comedian renowned for their left of centre commentaries upon the world. Like her husband, the wonderful Stewart Lee, Bridget Christie finds oblique angles from which to skewer pretension, injustice and convention. Ranting doesn't get any funnier, or more thought provoking, than this.
Character comedy next. Tom Binns delivered three very different personalities, the linking factor being his ability to poke fun at various showbiz stereotypes. A master at engaging with his audience, Binns gives his characters an illusory reality whilst letting the audience in on the joke. One of the funniest hours of the month.
Finally there's one more stand up show, one more comedian with a story to tell. Mel Moon's verbal memoir has a serious core to it. Diagnosed with an illness which means she's constantly at risk of death, Moon tells of the dark moments that knowledge took her to, but which also encouraged her to write a stand up show about her experiences. If I'm told that a show I'm about to see is 'uplifting' my natural cynicism will probably express itself with two fingers down my throat. So it was some achievement that I walked out knowing I'd just seen something very positive, even inspirational. And also very funny. I laughed. A lot. You would too.
So that was then, roll on August 2016. And I think I just about managed to get away with not mentioning Mark Thomas.
Friday, 4 September 2015
A different Fringe. With a twist.
AN ODDITY OF AN AUGUST
August in Edinburgh means Festival time. And for us that means three and a bit weeks of going to Fringe shows. In the end we managed to take in 62 shows, most of them excellent. We could have tried for just one more on the final day, but I think we'd hit an entertainment wall by then. Not to mention suffering from 'Fringe arse'. Comfy seats are a novelty in Fringe venues.
So we had a great time, but there were a couple of reasons why it wasn't our usual Fringe experience. The first was entirely self inflicted. Just for something to do I've started posting reviews of all shows, gigs and films I go to on my other blog. Easy enough most of the time, but it became a bit of a challenge during those three weeks. Not that it began to feel like work at all, that would be stupid, but on the days when we saw four or even five shows it did take a fair bit of time to knock them out.
The challenge was all the greater because of the second reason. About two days in I started to feel like I had a bit of a cold. No worries. Except for some reason that decided to develop into a chest infection, then my wife got the same, then I started to feel better only for it to come back again even worse than before. I, we, spent most of August struggling to breathe properly and, embarrassingly, trying not to cough during shows (thank goodness for comedy - you can always cough when everyone else is laughing!), with my worst experience being at the Blueflint gig. Not only did they decide to come up into the audience to do an acoustic number, but the lead vocalist stood six feet away from me. Guess when a coughing fit decided to hit me....?
Still, I'm not after any sympathy - we did see those 62 and had a fantastic time. I'll be posting my personal top ten in the next few days. And I still haven't mentioned the oddest moment of the whole Fringe, one that will make it stand out in my mind for years.
Our penultimate show was Joanna Neary. Not one we'd booked ourselves, but a friend had kindly bought us tickets in return for a favour. During the show Joanna indulged in a bit of audience participation and I was one of the people she talked to. Having got her head around my name (eventually) she asked me questions and had a laugh with my answers. 'Blyth' got uttered about ten times. I hadn't anticipated there would be consequences.
At the end of the show a man came up to me and asked if I was Blyth Crawford. Regular readers will be aware I only returned to live in Edinburgh last year after thirty five years down south, so I don't know a lot of people here yet. For about a tenth of a second my brain thought this had to be someone who remembered my name from School or uni, but he was clearly far too young for that to be possible. Maybe he had been at one of the places I worked before I left?
But no, this was Gary Bainbridge, a Liverpool journalist I've had Twitter conversations with a few times, but never encountered in real life. This was his first of only two nights in the city, he just happened to be at the same show that somebody else had bought our tickets for, I just happened to be one of only two audience members who got their name called out, and I just happen to have a weird name that you don't come across very often. I think that counts as odd.
Nice to meet you Gary. Even if it was somewhere on the extreme edge of coincidence.
August in Edinburgh means Festival time. And for us that means three and a bit weeks of going to Fringe shows. In the end we managed to take in 62 shows, most of them excellent. We could have tried for just one more on the final day, but I think we'd hit an entertainment wall by then. Not to mention suffering from 'Fringe arse'. Comfy seats are a novelty in Fringe venues.
So we had a great time, but there were a couple of reasons why it wasn't our usual Fringe experience. The first was entirely self inflicted. Just for something to do I've started posting reviews of all shows, gigs and films I go to on my other blog. Easy enough most of the time, but it became a bit of a challenge during those three weeks. Not that it began to feel like work at all, that would be stupid, but on the days when we saw four or even five shows it did take a fair bit of time to knock them out.
The challenge was all the greater because of the second reason. About two days in I started to feel like I had a bit of a cold. No worries. Except for some reason that decided to develop into a chest infection, then my wife got the same, then I started to feel better only for it to come back again even worse than before. I, we, spent most of August struggling to breathe properly and, embarrassingly, trying not to cough during shows (thank goodness for comedy - you can always cough when everyone else is laughing!), with my worst experience being at the Blueflint gig. Not only did they decide to come up into the audience to do an acoustic number, but the lead vocalist stood six feet away from me. Guess when a coughing fit decided to hit me....?
Still, I'm not after any sympathy - we did see those 62 and had a fantastic time. I'll be posting my personal top ten in the next few days. And I still haven't mentioned the oddest moment of the whole Fringe, one that will make it stand out in my mind for years.
Our penultimate show was Joanna Neary. Not one we'd booked ourselves, but a friend had kindly bought us tickets in return for a favour. During the show Joanna indulged in a bit of audience participation and I was one of the people she talked to. Having got her head around my name (eventually) she asked me questions and had a laugh with my answers. 'Blyth' got uttered about ten times. I hadn't anticipated there would be consequences.
At the end of the show a man came up to me and asked if I was Blyth Crawford. Regular readers will be aware I only returned to live in Edinburgh last year after thirty five years down south, so I don't know a lot of people here yet. For about a tenth of a second my brain thought this had to be someone who remembered my name from School or uni, but he was clearly far too young for that to be possible. Maybe he had been at one of the places I worked before I left?
But no, this was Gary Bainbridge, a Liverpool journalist I've had Twitter conversations with a few times, but never encountered in real life. This was his first of only two nights in the city, he just happened to be at the same show that somebody else had bought our tickets for, I just happened to be one of only two audience members who got their name called out, and I just happen to have a weird name that you don't come across very often. I think that counts as odd.
Nice to meet you Gary. Even if it was somewhere on the extreme edge of coincidence.
Thursday, 27 August 2015
This is real life, not a Fringe show.
TRAGEDY OR COMEDY?
We were walking along Princes Street today, after grabbing a bit of shopping, and found it increasingly difficult to get through the crowds on the pavement. Now this is Edinburgh, in August, the Festivals are still running at full speed, and one of our major shopping streets is always going to be busy in the early afternoon. But this was different, people stopping dead in their tracks and looking to the sky - and a bit of sunshine in Scotland isn't quite as rare as rumour would have it so it wasn't just the shock of that big yellow thing being there.
The centre point of all the attention was the top of the Scott Monument where a man was hanging on to the outside of the topmost viewing platform. Down below the police had cordoned off the surrounding area, up top one of their number was there, doing his best to convince the man not to jump.
A tragic situation, and not without precedent at this landmark. No surprise then that people would at least want to take a quick look and confirm the situation with their own eyes. But what are you hoping to gain from standing there watching it all unfold? Hopefully the relief of seeing the man climb back to safety.
But what were all those people doing pointing their phones skywards, taking photos of the incident? With so many people now displaying a constant need to share their every movement on social media, how many of these photos were then winging their way on to Facebook or Instagram or Twitter? And why? Is this how ghoulish we've become?
Later on I heard the good news that the poor man had been persuaded to come back inside and was brought back down to earth.
For us personally there was the irony of coming across this scenario after recently seeing a Fringe show that had at it's heart a decision on whether or not to commit suicide. I can only hope that the man today manages to find his own reasons to live just like our comedian did.
We were walking along Princes Street today, after grabbing a bit of shopping, and found it increasingly difficult to get through the crowds on the pavement. Now this is Edinburgh, in August, the Festivals are still running at full speed, and one of our major shopping streets is always going to be busy in the early afternoon. But this was different, people stopping dead in their tracks and looking to the sky - and a bit of sunshine in Scotland isn't quite as rare as rumour would have it so it wasn't just the shock of that big yellow thing being there.
The centre point of all the attention was the top of the Scott Monument where a man was hanging on to the outside of the topmost viewing platform. Down below the police had cordoned off the surrounding area, up top one of their number was there, doing his best to convince the man not to jump.
A tragic situation, and not without precedent at this landmark. No surprise then that people would at least want to take a quick look and confirm the situation with their own eyes. But what are you hoping to gain from standing there watching it all unfold? Hopefully the relief of seeing the man climb back to safety.
But what were all those people doing pointing their phones skywards, taking photos of the incident? With so many people now displaying a constant need to share their every movement on social media, how many of these photos were then winging their way on to Facebook or Instagram or Twitter? And why? Is this how ghoulish we've become?
Later on I heard the good news that the poor man had been persuaded to come back inside and was brought back down to earth.
For us personally there was the irony of coming across this scenario after recently seeing a Fringe show that had at it's heart a decision on whether or not to commit suicide. I can only hope that the man today manages to find his own reasons to live just like our comedian did.
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