The Jellyman's Daughter, Assembly George Square Gardens, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

 Outdoors, uncovered, open to the elements.  Not so much the musicians, who, with all their electrical gear, have rudimentary cover over the stage, but the unprotected audience.  The weather leading up to the gig was concerning, with frequent showers.  We walked in the screened off area to see staff frantically wielding big blue rolls of paper towel, wiping away at drip-laden seats and tables.  Fortunately the showers stayed away for the duration, allowing proper enjoyment of an excellent act.

Duo Emily and Graham were again accompanied by banjoist Jamie Francis, playing a mix of  fasmiliar material and some songs which will be on their next album.  The joy at having a live audience to perform to was immediately apparent - as was their rustiness in talking to one!  But they soon settled into the routine and the singing and musicianship were still as good as ever. It sounds as Emily's voice may have improved over the last year.  And Graham's imaginiative cello accompaniment and solos still surprise and delight.

Great to see them back in action, and not get wet in the process.

Don't Crap in Your Onesie Matilda, The Counting House, Free Fringe

 An indoor gig for a change.  Which felt odd at least to begin with.  Queued up outside, walked in socially distanced column, masked, up to the room, to find the capacity not much reduced from normal despite some efforts to introduce social distancing.  There were bubbles of two and four seats, but with rows not really spaced out much, and the gaps between bubbles little more than a chair width, the claim that this was a socially distanced event was more in name than reality.  And when the door was closed...

Fortunately once the show was underway the laughter helped dispel the discomfort.  Ben Harrington refelcted on the trials of becoming a middle aged family man.  Nothing disastrous, life threatening or tragic.  Just the minor irritations of getting older, having kids, trying to live lie a proper adult.  And he has a good fund of stories, and punchlines, to take us through the forty five minutes.  Amiable, unthreatening, unchalenging humour, but sometimes that's perfect.  I enjoyed his tales of camping with children, the embarrassments provided by a big inflatable crocodile, and how his body is now playing unexpected tricks on him.  And yes, the title does feature and makes sense within the context, so that was a bonus, eh?

Talisk, Old College Quad, Edinburgh International Festival

 As with the Fringe, the International Festival has found it's way into different venues this year, using fresh air and social distancing to keep everyone safe, and feeling safe.  The centre of the Old College Quad, usually clad in billiard table lawn, has been boarded over, a high stage erected at one end, the the whole covered by, as Mr Amini put it, a giant polytunnel.  It might perhaps have little more elegance than that description suggests, but with side opening open it was fresh and dry, and with seats arranged in bubbles, it was a comfortable experience for the audience.  With enough of us in there to make the noise that the band deserved.

Talisk.  Hayley Keenan on fiddle, Graeme Armstrong on guitar and stomp, and the hyperactive energy mine that is Mohsen Amini on concertina.  Their backgrounds are in the Scottish folk scene, but their music is totally contemporary, and largely self penned.  And they knew exactly what everyone wanted - live music, and a chance to clap, sing and whoop along for that sense of shared energy and involvement we've all missed so much.  Talisk deliver.

There are plenty of memorable melodies, but it's the orchestration that impresses most, such a strong sound from just three instruments (with Armstrong adding occasional vocals, and plenty of percussion from the wired up board under his left foot), played with virtuosity and joy.  Mohsen talks fast between numbers, or not at all, so it's almost all music.  A few times he says they're going to slow things down a bit.  And they do.  For a few minutes, but soon the tempo picks up, Armstrong's boot is pounding down, and the audience are clapping and whooping again.  It's glorious stuff, and Talisk remain one of the finest and most grin-inducing bands around.  Long may they continue.

Oh, and did I mention the energy?

Fred MacAulay and Friends, Multistory, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

 Multistory.  The name just oozes the glamour of showbiz, eh?  But what else do you call the space atop an NCP with a stage loosely protected form the weather by plastic sheeting, and an audience only protected by whatever they'd thought to bring along with them.  Welcome to Fringe 2021.  To be fair, the backdrop is pretty spectacular, with the castle rock towering in the background, topped by impenetrable walls.  And you can go downstairs on to the first level for a drink and a bit to eat.  It's not entirely bleak - they've put a bit of bunting out.

We were lucky.  The earlier rain held off for the duration and the temperature didn't fall toooo far while we were sat there.  And we got a decent show to watch, with plenty laughs, and that's definitely warming after so many many moths without live stand up.

Host Fred MacAulay is a fringe veteran and has an easy charm to his persona.  A few pandemic jokes, a bit of banter with the audience, and we were off.  First guest on was Esther Manito, who had some good lines about the joys of parenting in lockdown, how tired she was of Zoom, why she ended up with glitter on her pudenda when she went for a smear test.  (It should have been Fabreze...).  She was followed by Eshaan Akbhar had his own twists on racism, why he wasn't the fat Romesh Ranganathan, and the strangeness of Asian porn.  Very funny.

Home grown talent to close the show, Glasgow comedian and radio host Des Clarke.  Explaining why Scots are like nobody else in the world, and relating his embarrassing moment carrying the torch for the 2012 Olympics, Des brought a quickfire energy that the others lacked,and rounded off the show well.  

Macaulay has a rotating list of guests on for several nights, so your experience may vary.  As it certainly will if it's raining...  But this feels like a very 2021 show.  Everyone's glad to be back, even if the circumstances are a bit makeshift, and we all just want to enjoy ourselves again.  Don't go expecting anything groundbreaking, but this is a show that will always fit comfortably, like an old cardi.  

Limbo

 LIMBO  

Bleak.  The windswept, featureless remoteness of the unnamed Scottish island that provides a slow, unrelenting, and sometimes beautiful, backdrop.  The lives of the central protagonists, a group of refugees seeking asylum in the UK from war, hunger, discrimination, reduced to waiting and waiting for news which might move their cases forward, knowing that it can take years.  The attitudes of many of the locals, lacking empathy and viewing the arrivals with suspicion.  All bleak.

But not the film itself, which is frequently funny and compassionate, despite the darkness of the subject.  The opening scene sets the tone for the ridiculous, Kafkaesque, scenario these men are trapped in.  Helga (the wonderful Sidse Babett Knudsen) demonstrates her version of a sexy dance, and interacts with sidekick Boris (Kenneth Collard) who shows how not to behave towards women in a nightclub.  This is part of the cultural instruction lectures being provided.  It's funny in itself, but even more so when contrasted with the audience it's aimed at, a group of bewildered refugees who are as likely to find themselves in a nightclub as one of their number has of realising hid dream to play for Chelsea.  

The film follows the life of Omar (Amir El-Masry), and Oud player from Syria, and his housemates (from Afghanistan, Sudan and Ghana) in the isolated tatty house that has become their home, while they await the mill of bureaucracy to grind through their requests to stay in the UK.  There is little to do but watch pirate DVDs of Friends, trek to the lonely phone box to call home, and willing the postman to bring some news that would take out of the uncertainty that boxes them in.  And to hope that when the police suddenly swoop it isn't for them.

Omar worries about his parents, living in poverty in Istanbul, and his brother who has stayed in Syria to fight.  He worries if he can still play his Oud, which a plaster on his arm has prevented ever since he escaped his homeland.  He never smiles, for what is there to smile about?  There is only time, going by so slowly, and absurd, alienating encounters.  The filming reflects the desolate nature of this existence, long shots of roads to nowhere, distant horizons that can't be reached.  Little humorous touches, like the stolen chicken named after Freddie Mercury.  And the simple of humanity of these desperate individuals, stripped of dignity but supportive of one another, harbouring their own big and small and ambitions, and clinging on to hope.

With so many politicians and the media constantly dehumanising people who find themselves in this position, this movie is a powerful reminder that they are all human beings just like us, and reminds us of the importance of empathy.  Highly recommended.  

Sandy Tweeddale Band (with Lyndon Anderson), Roxy Assembly, Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival

 My first live music gig in over sixteen months.  Will the excitement of that milestone compromise my ability to write an objective review?  Yup, it certainly will, and I make no apology for that.  This was a homecoming, and emotions matter more than mere facts.  I think the musicians would agree with that sentiment, for they were clearly overjoyed to be in front of real clapping, cheering, foot-tapping people once again.

Tweeddale is one of the country's best known, and most respected, blues guitarists, making him an ideal man to be the first on stage act of the resurrected EJBF 2021.  He was backed by the drums, bass (upright and electric) and keyboards of Willie Mollison, Chris Agnew and Ali Petrie [with apologies to all or any of them whose name I've got wrong, but I've haven't been able to check that I heard them correctly), and joined, after the first number, by Geordie harmonicist and singer Lyndon Anderson.  

The tone, once the welcoming noise abated, was set by an audience member shouting out "Do you remember what to do?".  The opener provided an emphatic Yes.  A solid professional band who love the blues and play it with passion and affection.  Sandy has a good strong voice, not the most immediately recognisable perhaps, but one you feel immediately comfortable with.  His guitar work is excellent, on his many solos which show plenty of flair, and the intuitive support he provides for others.  Anderson took lead vocals on a couple of numbers and it would have been good to hear a bit more.  A special mention to Petrie who had some wonderful solos and looked on the verge of bursting with joy at being there.

Mostly they stuck to blues classics, but with a few of Tweeddale's own songs mixed in.  Half way through the quintet became duo, and Sandy and Lyndon did a couple of unplugged numbers, including one the former wrote during lockdown called "Ain't Goin' Out No More" - a feeling most of us have had at one time or another in the past year.  But the quieter numbers were few and the set got louder and rockier as time went on.  The show blurb said there would be no more than sixty minutes.  Fortunately Sandy's not too good with those sort of numbers so the encore took us about twenty minutes past that!   

This was a socially distanced audience of course, with around fifty people in a space that could easily hold three or four hundred, so the atmosphere wasn't quite what it would once have been.  But what a difference to be in the same room as the musicians, to have the volume up high, the clarity of  the notes, and be able to focus on the individual musicians you want to watch, not what the director dictates.  

It's good to be back.

Supernova

 A supernova is a star that has died, exploding brightly as it expired, and spread it's molecules across the universe.  Astronomy, and the light beyond our own world, play a big metaphorical role in Harry McQueen's exploration of confronting mortality, as well as adding visual sparkle.

Pianist Sam (Colin Firth),  writer Tusker (Stanley Tucci) and dog Ruby are on a road trip, the end point to be Sam's first live gig in a long time.  Their venerable camper van heads north toward the Lake District, and the couple's bickering, joking and shared memories quickly take us into a decades old relationship of warmth and mutual support.  They revisit an old lakeside haunt from their earliest days together, spend a night parked up outside a rural Spar supermarket.  It feels casual, relaxed, even if Sam seems to fuss a bit.

But when Tusker isn't where he's supposed to be Sam's fussing turns to panic.  His swift pursuit finds the other man, and Ruby, up a country lane where they've almost been hit by a car.  Tusker is in the early stages of dementia, and wandering off like this is becoming a concern for Sam.  His fussing and panic have solid ground to stand on.

They stay with Sam's sister and family where, to his surprise, Tusker has organised a reunion for all their closest friends.  He has given this trip more thought, more long term planning, than Sam had realised.  The reasons become clearer when Sam discovers the secret Tusker has been keeping from him, exploding into their relationship.

Selflessness, selfishness, love and fear are jumbled together until it's hard to tell one from another.  When does caring become over-caring?   Can you control the memories you leave behind?  Is love keeping hold or letting go?  How do we deal with mortality when it starts to run towards us?  The film raises many questions, offers no answers.  But why should it, when they will differ for everyone?

With a subject that could easily fall into sentimentality, both script and performances largely avoid that trap to give us an honest portrayal of the joy and messiness and uncertainty of human relationships.   Firth and Tucci are a delight to watch at their craft, the Englishman taking the greater plaudits for his cautious stoicism diving in to a full blown cocktail of conflicting emotions.  The cinematography is wonderful too, the Lake District never looked better.   Wide angles capture the space they move through, tight in close ups bring intensity, anxiety and involvement to the sensitive exchanges.  This draws the audience into some sad, touching and compelling moments, without feeling emotionally manipulative.  This film seeks out your humanity, not your tears, a proper antidote to Hollywoodism.

A final word of praise for the opening sequence, a simple audiovisual treat of light and piano which sets the scene beautifully.

Recommended.

Footnote : They're a gay couple.  So what?  It's good to see a gay relationship feature in a story where their sexuality is totally irrelevant, and the story would work just as well if they were straight.