Showing posts with label story beast. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story beast. Show all posts

Monday, 17 August 2015

The Chocolate Ocelot's 2015 Fringe: Awards


Screw the Perrier Awards or whatever they're called these days. The Golden Ocelots are the true mark of Fringe fame or failure.

Most resounding endorsement from a flyerer

"Me mam’s seen it. She said it was alright."

Most tenuous ornithological segue from a flyerer

"Excuse me, are those seagulls printed on your backpack?"
"Um, no, they’re swallows."
"Oh, not seagulls?"
"No, you see the forked tails…"
"Only we’re doing a production of the last act of Chekov’s The Seagull and I thought you might like to see it."

Most redundant recommendation from a flyerer

"He’s quite famous"

Most slappable face on a poster

Baldy leather kilt wearer Craig Hill: Playing With My Selfie, for the second year running.
Runner-up goes to Carl Donnelly: Jive Ass Honky, for the sheer ubiquity of his moody makeover mug on every bloody lamppost in town.

The Lee Evans Award for Sweatiest Performer

The Story Beast, who managed to sweat right through his raincoat. God knows what state it’ll be in by the end of the month.

Swankiest eating experience

Jamie's restaurant in the Assembly Rooms. You can sit at a wee table on your own and not look like a complete Johnny No-Mates. Especially if you are wearing a made-up Fringe lanyard and are trying your best to look like a hard-working performer in between gigs.

Worst pub service

Has to go to the bearded , somewhat Scandinavian barman at the Blind Poet on West Nicholson Street who pointedly ignored me in favour of several later patrons standing directly in front of him, and who ensured his award by snapping at a nice lady who asked if he could put the music back on. Beardy Scando Barman, you can just bum right off.

Most disappointing tea

The ash grey tepidity served at the Nation Museum of Scotland.

Yummiest biscuit

The heart-shaped shortbread sold at the Modern Art Gallery.

Comfiest seats

The armchairs in one of the Gilded Balloon bars.
Honourable mention to the chaises longues at Madamoiselle Macaron.

Worst seats

The cramped chairs in the Paradise In The Vault, a glorified corridor. When the guy in front of me sat down he almost dislocated both my kneecaps.

Most overrated show

One Man Breaking Bad: the unauthorised parody. Love of the source material cannot make up for lack of pace and precious few chuckles.

Favourite shows (in no particular order)

Jon Ronson: So You've Been Publicly Shamed (talk)
Tom Neenan: The Andromeda Paradox (comedy)
Blam! (physical)
The Story Beast (comedy)
The Rattlesnake's Kiss (theatre)



Tuesday, 11 August 2015

The Chocolate Ocelot's 2015 Fringe: Day Three

Monday 10th August 2015


Up with the lark. A fairly late-rising lark. Probably a lark that's been out late trilling and tralalalaing with its mates until all hours and now feels a little fragile.

Time for some Proper Culchure, so armed with a Transport for Edinburgh app (Herself) and a 17-year old city map (yours truly), we say hello to the public bus system and make our way over the Water of Leith to Dean Village.

M C Escher exhibition

Modern Art Gallery

Not a Neil Diamond lyric

Hands, drawing hands
MC Escher in the house
Flat lizard, real lizard, flat lizard
Impossible stairs and Möbius ants
Not a Dutch DJ after all
Nice beard though
Felt queasy walking downstairs after.


Oh, and the gallery cafe, while as stupidly expensive as its counterpart at the National Museum, does a moderately better cup of tea and an infinitely superior shortbread. In your face, National Museum of Scotland.


Trans Scripts

Pleasance

Six actors relate the experiences of real-life transwomen (why no transmen?) from America, Australia and Britain. Written by Paul Lucas.

Each life story is told in fragments, with each performer just doing a few lines at the time, while the others recline. It's very nicely choreographed.

Pretty sure most of the actors are trans themselves. Transactors?

Not sure I like the word trans. It's just a prefix. The grammar nazi in me dislikes it for its incompleteness.

Everyone's tale was different. Some had a fairly easy transition, some continue to suffer. Some are ballsy fighters, some are wounded and suicidal. For some the face and boobs are all important to everyday life as a woman, for others it's all about the vagina. Some want to disappear and go stealth, some are proud to own their differentness out loud. Everyone's got a different path and a different destination. Or none at all.

All in all a good show. I guess it's kind of Vagina Monologuesy. Vaginal Monological?

Spoke to actress Jay Knowles in the Pleasance courtyard afterwards. Mutual complementing of eyelashes and nails. She so pretty though; felt kinda daggy next to her.


Blam!

Pleasance Grand

While Herself and CJ went off for some magic with Colin Cloud: Kills, I joined the throng for this physical tour-de-force.

All a bit Jacques Lecoq

Time for mime
Four office drones let loose their inner child
A desktop Die Hard
A water-cooler romance
Avengers meets Magic Mike
I left wanting to hurdle a partition


Lazy Susan: Double Act


Pleasance Dome

Good to see the one who looks a bit like Scully and the one looks a bit like Rosanna Arquette for a second year. Lots of silly faces and funny voices. And eating of carrots.

Wasn't sure if the two characters in one of the sketches were South African or Australian though.
They should go far, but I'd hate to see their act ruined by being given a BBC vehicle with proper costume and a full supporting cast. Much of their charm, like a lot of character sketch shows that I like, is down to it being just them and a box full of crap wigs.

Josh Widdicombe joined the queue for the show just after I described him to Herself as the love child of Boris Johnson and Ron Perlman. Perhaps I've discovered a new super-power: Remarkable Comedian Summoning.


The Story Beast


Pleasance


Now, I put John Henry Falle's rough slouching Story Beast down as a must see a long time back after seeing him at McNeil and Pamphilon Go 8-Bit earlier this year (a description of their show may be found here). I urge you to seek out his All The Kings And Queens Of England on YouTube post-haste.

He had me at 'the reign of the Shadow Men'.

Last night's show included a splendid semi-Saxon rendition of Beowulf, some Welsh mythlore that had CJ all of a twitter, an examination of the dire consequences of a literal Teddy Bear's Picnic, and - surrounded by a teeny tiny dollies all over the stage floor, a murder mystery that might best be described as The Doom That Came To Toytown.

Literary references and copious perspiration abound.

The last 10 minutes contain an unexpected bonus of which I shall speak no more.



Fin

And so to bed.
Well actually, and so to the last episode of Daredevil, accompanied by biscuits and champagne.