Rachel Parris : It's Fun To Pretend, The Stand

The main theme of Parris' latest show is Imposter Syndrome, the feeling we've all had that we're way out of our depth and only pretending to be competent.  But this musical comedy offering took us into other places too, like the lack of glamour in sex (where double knotted shoelaces have a lot to answer for) and Rachel's sneaking desire to be Elton John.  And several of John's melodies feature in her vocal pastiches which reveal a real talent for keyboards and decent singing voice.

Her persona is open, friendly, with a coquettish innocence that belies the sharp digs at the patriarchy and political jibes at the likes of Trump and, her particular bete noir, Gove.  Highlight of the show is a smart, slow-burning metaphor for the shambles of trying to leave the EU that starts with an over confident child at a piano lesson, underestimating the work required to master the complexities of the keys.  The odd bit of audience interaction gives her a chance to show off some of her improv skills, but at heart this is a well crafted and consistently funny show that majors on entertainment, but carries a bit of bite at times.

Recommended.

Still Alice, Kings Theatre

It's been a best selling novel and a critically acclaimed film, so the storyline of Still Alice will already be well know to many.  Alice Howland, a fifty year old and very eminent professor of linguistics at Harvard, begins to realise she's forgetting things.  Not just in the usual way we all have, but in ways that make others think her behaviour odd, like forgetting someone she's met just minutes later, to panic inducing moments like being on a run and finding herself unable to remember her way home.  Over a period of four years or so we see her diagnosed with early onset alzheimer's, the steady decline of her mental faculties, and the effects of this on her family and friends.  It's a powerful story that resonates with anyone who has experience of dementia.

In the book we learn much from Alice's internal monologue, and the film uses voiceovers to achieve the same result.  But how can this be tackled in a stage version?  And how best to show the steady shrinking of Alice's world as the disease eats away at the neurons?  Christine Mary Dunford's script has taken an approach to both these problems that prove effective.  As well as the actor playing Alice we have a character called 'Herself' as an almost constant presence, playing the Alice of thoughts and emotions, the ones she doesn't, or can't, express.  And the set, at first packed full of furniture for kitchen, living room, office, cafe etc, is gradually emptied as time passes, until there's almost nothing left.

Sharon Small gives a multi faceted performance as Alice, confident, intellectual, driven at first, through confusion, fear and doubt, with a backbone of determination and rationality that fades away before our eyes.  I leave it to those more experience of the illness to pass a proper judgement, but I felt she'd done her homework well and kept alive the core of the woman in the face of her cognitive decline.

In this she's much aided by an excellent Eva Pope as Herself, a figure who circles through and around the action, voicing the unspoken, a figure of fun and hope and affection and rage who's the real core of the drama.

There's decent support from the rest of the cast as Alice's family and the doctors she consults, with nobody outstanding.  Martin Marquez as Alice's husband David is surprisingly anonymous at times.

Or perhaps it's simply a reflection of what a strong double act Small and Pope form and how moving their interactions are.  It's not a full on tearjerker, but there are plenty of moments of pathos to tug at our sympathy and empathy.

And, as with book and film, it's the latter term that is the key to enjoying this play.  Whether you find you're picturing yourself in Alice's position, or that of one of her family, making an emotional connection to the characters is essential.  This production is definitely up to the job.

The Lottery Ticket (A Play, a Pie and a Pint)

Back home Salih has a reputation as a storyteller, and so he has a story to tell us.  He is an optimistic man, with faith that his god will provide for him, will provide signs of good fortune - even if they aren't always easy to interpret.

Salih (Nebli Basani) and Jacek (Steven Duffy) wake up from their resting place in a back garden bin store, where a flashing streetlight guided them (!) after being thrown out of their hostel. In the night the wind has blown a lottery ticket for that day into Jacek's pocket.  Salih knows it's a sign -but what of?  Is this to be the moment when he is finally able to return from exile to his Kurdish home, will Jacek again have the money to support his family back in Poland?  Salih's optimism is refreshed....

Even when Rhona (Helen Mallon) finds them in her garden and immediately feels threatened.  Not just vagrants, but immigrants?  One of them an asylum seeker?  Salih charms her into accepting their help with a nasty plumbing problem and they set about their task as best they can.  Is the lottery ticket on their side, or is Salih's sunny view of the future misplaced? 

Donna Franceschild's script provides plenty of laughs, but there's a serious undertone to it all.  Using Salih to narrate events not only helps connect the various scenes together, but presents us with a very human portrait of a man caught between the authorities of both his home and his adopted country.  

Jacek is his sceptical counterpart, a realist and cynic just trying to get by and do the right thing. 

While Rhona is wrapped up in her own world and, outwardly tolerant, has her limits tested.

It's an effective snapshot of how difficult life can be for immigrants in brexit Britain, even in a Scotland that's shown itself to be more open and welcoming that our southern neighbour.  Intolerance is easier without understanding.  Everyone needs a Salih to tell their story.

Recommended.

Tap Dancing with Jean-Paul Satre (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

Have you heard the one about the dancer, the existentialist and the clothes horse?  James Runcie's 45 minute joke takes Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn filming in Paris, and throws in Sartre as the third point of the triangle.  Done as a musical comedy, there's song and dance, a comparison between existentialism and Hollywood entertainments, and a philosopher playing guitar.

Late fifties Paris and Hepburn (Ashley Smith) is pondering the meaning of her life. 

 She's rehearsing with Astaire (Darren Brownlie) who's taking a paternal interest in her problems, while revealing his own life only has meaning when he's dancing.    So when Sartre (Kevin Lennon) turns up is this her chance to learn what life is all about, and can Fred relate to what he's got to say?  Attempted seduction, existential philosophy and dance become entangled, as the Frenchman shows how the joys of tap and swing fit into his views on life.  

In one of Astaire's lines he admits his films aren't about plot, just frothy entertainment, and this play takes the same approach, for all the philosophy quotes thrown in.  And as a bit of light hearted fun it works well, once you get used to Lennon's cod French accent and occasional lapses into Franglais.  The dancing, nor even the singing, are quite at Astaire levels, but all three do a decent job of recreating the spirit of his films, and the direction keeps things moving at a fast pace.  There's a lovely comic sequence where Smith pretends to be on film, and Lennon's forays into the audience add a sense of involvement, while Stuart Fleming at the piano becomes an extra cast member in the background.

The play doesn't quite live up to the promise of such a great title, but it's always enjoyable and definitely has sufficient laughs and moments of entertainment to be worth a place in the Play, Pie, Pint canon.

Outside In (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

Jay's waiting on his mum coming home.  He's anxious.  He's always anxious, which is why he doesn't leave the flat very often.  A quiet life, in the flat,with his mum, is all he needs.  Well, that and the cat downstairs to stop making so much noise.

So when a hand comes through the letter box and drops a gun on the floor it's the very opposite of what Jay needs in his life.  A situation made so much worse when Coco arrives, looking for the weapon.  But is Coco really the gangster he makes himself out to be?  Do he and Jay have something in common?  And when PC Kayleigh arrives is she part of the problem or the solution?

Cristian Ortega does a good job of establishing Jay's character in the first couple of minutes, before Martin Quinn's Coco comes on, speeds up the action and gets the laughs flowing.  There are clever jokes, there are daft jokes, but it's consistently funny, and the addition of Katie Barnett's policewoman brings elements of farce into the mix.  There's also some moments of sadness towards the end before a hilarious, if slightly predictable, final sequence. 

It's a lot of fun, laugh out loud enjoyable, and there are strong performances from all three, with Quinn standing out for his great comic timing and malleable characterisation.  An excellent start to this PP&P season.

Henry Normal : This Phantom Breath, The Poetry Cafe, London

Drinks and chats in the cafe, downstairs for the performance.  The Poetry Cafe is an immediately welcoming place, friendly, casual, easy to feel at home in.

First up was poet, painter and sculptor Pete Ramskill. Dryly amusing in his introductions, calm provider of clarity and humour in his poetry.  He switched between verse from his latest published collection, some newer works, and a series of hilarious limericks.  His subject matter is his everyday life, memories of the past, and politics (especially in the limericks).  Most combine humour with sharply thoughtful observations on the oddities of human behaviour.  Consistently entertaining and worthy of further reading.

And then there was Henry.  I'll admit here to being biased here for, unknown to me, my wife had made previously contact with him and the result was him reciting, and presenting to us, a poem he wrote for our wedding anniversary.  So I couldn't write a bad review, could I?

Fortunately there's absolutely no need for me to make any compromises with my principals.  Normal the poet is a natural comedian writing language of such simplicity, but filled with such unlikely juxtapositions and sideways observations that you wonder how you never thought of it yourself.  Which you wouldn't, of course, because Normal is blessed with a way of looking at the world that combines a surreal imagination with a warmth of humanity and empathy that very few people have.  It's a  natural talent for seeing the eccentricities and struggles and love in others and repackaging them into a form that makes us look at ourselves and others from fresh angles.  How many people would come up with "a speedboat drags what looks like a cheap sofa full of masochists", or create a poem out of a to-do list?

Go see him if you can.  He'll make you laugh, think, feel and be a better human.  You won't forget a Henry Normal gig.

Blazin' Fiddles with Karen Matheson, Perth Concert Hall

The names of the musicians might have changed greatly over the time, with only the leader Bruce MacGregor still there from the original line up, but the Blazin' Fiddles mission to provide an exciting contemporary take on Highlands and Islands fiddle music remains unchanged.  For this twentieth anniversary tour they have been joined by one of Scotland's great voices, Karen Matheson of Capercaillie fame.

They played a mix of tracks from their latest album, and from their extensive back catalogue, modern compositions and old traditional tunes, fast and slow, passionate and exciting.  The sound is driven and shaped by the strong rhythm section of Angus Lyon on piano and the multi-talented Anna Massie on guitar, and it's their playing that does so much to make the arrangements feel so fresh.

Matheson came on for a few songs in each half and reminded us of what a wonderful instrument her voice is, so smooth and pure that listening is like being caressed by silk.  There were several numbers in Gaelic, but also an American folk song, and a gorgeous rendition of Paul Brady's 'The Island'.  Her contribution to the encore was breathtaking, puirt a buel (Gaelic mouth music) delivered at incredible speed yet with every syllable as clear as bell.  The mutual admiration between her and the band was evident.

Whether playing ensemble or performing the solos, the four fiddlers are able to tug the heartstrings or raise the heart rate at will, and the abiding memory is of their obvious joy in playing together, feeding off one another and working as  team.  They can be funny too.

Exhilarating, pulsing, life affirming, Blazin' Fiddles remain one of the best fiddle bands i the world and one of our great live acts.

PS  This was my first visit to the Perth Concert Hall and I feel compelled to mention what a great venue it is.  Wonderful acoustics, bright, spacious and modern, comfortable seating with actual generous leg room (a rarity at many gigs).  I was impressed.