A Word with Dr Johnson (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

A story of the creation of Johnson's most famed work, A Dictionary of the English Language, from its being commissioned in 1746 through to initial publication in 1755.  Using a mixture of imagined and historical characters, original dialogue spiced with many quotations attributed to the lexicographer, and songs and music, the drama provides some insights into the methodology used by Johnson and his team in compiling their opus.  But also shows a more personal side to the writer in the relationship with his wife, who would not live long enough to see the dictionary published.

This is delivered with a distinctly Scottish twist to the action, with plenty of illustrations of the richness of Scots language which was largely ignored in the compilation, and Johnson's lack of respect for Scots themselves.  A timely echo of the devaluation of Scottish MPs by the recent EVEL legislation.

For all the serious intent, this play is lush in its presentation and often very, very funny.  Mark McDonnell is an admirable Samuel J, erudite, impassioned, ofttimes arrogant, and clearly in love with his wife (albeit without exhibiting any of the behavioural tics for which the great man was known - did the writer think they would be too great a distraction for the audience?).  Yet his performance was outshone by two of the supporting cast.

Gerda Stevenson plays both Scotsman and Englishman, with her main role a memorable Tetty Johnson, and the husband and wife scenes are amongst the best in the production.  While Alasdair MacRae stands out for his great comic timing, commanding delivery and physical presence.  And both Stevenson and MacRae have excellent singing voices.

Hugely enjoyable, historically informative and with relevance to today, A Word With Dr Johnson is well worth an hour of your time.  Mind you, I have to confess to being converted before a word had been spoken.  Any production that includes the wonderful sound of the oh-so-rarely-heard hammer dulcimer is a winner in my book....

Descent (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

When you sign up to become someone's life partner you are there to be both friend and lover, confidante and helpmate, but nobody every signs up expecting to become a carer.  Especially if the person being cared for no longer seems to be 'there'.

Rob is an architect, used to living his life in the comfort of order and design.  His wife Cathy has an easier going attitude, complementing her husband's more regimented approach.  When Rob begins to exhibit signs of forgetfulness, and worse, how long will it be before Cathy can admit there's a real problem to be faced up to?

Daughter Nicola, realistic and practical, forces the issue as she sees the progress of the illness and the terrible impact it has, not just on Rob, but on Cathy too.  Each must confront this change in their lives in their own way, and do whatever they can to accept the disintegration of the Rob they all knew.

Barrie Hunter is an increasingly haunted looking Rob, moving from a man in control to one assailed by forces he can't understand.  Fiona MacNeil's Nicola, a little too softly spoken at times, is a calming voice of reason, forcing her mother to accept her own limitations.

But it's Wendy Seager's superb performance as Cathy which dominates throughout.  Caught between the frustration of her husband and the pragmatism of her daughter, she brings a genuine sense of pain to the role, and is challenged, determined and defeated by turns.

Switching between dialogue and monologue, and with a surprising number of laughs along the way, the play raises questions about what we think of as humanity, of what makes you 'you', and the recognition that an illness like dementia does harm to more than just the person suffering its effects.  It challenges us to place ourselves in the same situation, and wonder how long we would go on kidding ourselves that we can deal with the situation unaided.

Thought provoking entertainment.

The Bevvy Sisters, Traverse

Our third time this year at a Bevvy Sisters gig, with the earlier reviews here and here.  So it might be thought that there was little new to say about the group.  Not so, for this performance featured a very different set list from those gone before.

There's still the same great harmonies, soaring lead vocals, thoughtful arrangements and clever work on guitar, banjo and ukulele.  But the evening had a much more strongly Scottish feel to it.  There were a couple of songs from the great Edinburgh songwriter, Sandy Wright, but much of the set was given over to the works of that most lyrical of Dundonians, the late Michael Marra.  His sharp, observant lyrics shone under the gloss given them by the Bevvy's vocal polish (plus a wee bit of tin whistle to cement the Scots feel).

There was a lovely ending to the gig with the audience joining in on Marra's tragi-comic anthem to the ordinary man, Hermless.  This band are funny, sassy and surprising, and provide great entertainment.  We'll be back for more in future.

One in a Million (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

Gerry is a fifty-something year old handyman busying himself with odd jobs in the school where he works.  Enter Susan, a young woman who, after some initial confusion and a nice dig at stereotyping, we learn is an exchange student from Malawi.  As the drama is played out their mutual differences become far less important than the common ground they find they share, and by the end the relationship is one of mutual respect and friendship.

Susan has come to the room to set up a project display for a class, on the instructions of her supervisor, but would clearly prefer to be elsewhere.  Gerry is intrigued by the objects being placed before him and asks about the purpose of the project.  It is about the charity Mary's meals and the excellent work it does feeding deprived children across the world so that they are not too hungry to learn at school, Susan being one of the first beneficiaries.  Gerry's enquiring mind leads Susan to tell the story of the charity and its achievements, illustrated with the objects she is setting up for her talk.  But along the way they discover a shared passion for, and encyclopedic knowledge of, music, and the reason/opportunity for Susan wishing to get away quickly.

As so often with fiction which aims to be 'worthy', the didactic aspects of the script can be a bit too heavy handed at times and leave the audience feeling more lectured at than entertained.  It is saved by some very funny lines and an interesting array of props.  Above all it is made entertaining by two excellent performances.  Teri Ann Bob-Baxter's Susan is feisty, sharp and fun.  Overshadowed by a beautiful portrayal of a seen-it-all working class autodidact from Alan McHugh who is funny, touching, irritable and always very human.

Not the best play I've seen in the P, P and P series, but still a worthy entry into the list of successes.

The Friday Show, The Stand, Edinburgh

Much like the Thursday night shows I've reviewed previously, this show features a host to warm the crowd up and introduce the four featured acts.  Except that on this particular night there was a surprise bonus in the form of a well known addition to the advertised line up.

Joe Heenan was tonight's MC and was quickly into his stride with some decent jokes and banter with the front row of the audience.  His task was helped by the presence of a wholesome looking American lad, and two English women with the posh names of Pippa and Georgia.  Heenan took the piss relentlessly, without ever resorting to cruelty, and would give all his 'victims' due recognition at the end of the night.

First up was Gus Lymburn who started well with his tales of Motherwell, and the way Scottish drunks using swearing as an aid to memory, but seemed to lose his way a little when he moved on to life with his upper class ex-girlfriend.

After the first break Heenan brought on young Irishman Peter Flanagan.  He produced a great set with a bit of philosophy thrown in for free.  He has a deliciously slow build up to punch lines that releases laughter in gusts.

He was followed by the night's surprise package, Romesh Ranganathan.  A man who has had a fair bit of TV exposure in the past couple of years.  And rightly so.  He was superb, that dry delivery disguising the cleverness of construction underlying his stories.  Which could also be said of the next act Jo Caulfield, although with an added acerbic edge.  Jo's bitchy persona is the perfect delivery vehicle for social comment and put downs.  And consistent hilarity.

The final act of the night was Josh Howie with material that appeared to split the room.  I heard several women comment that Howie's brand of ironic misogyny was just a bit too near to reality to be funny.  But dig beneath the offensive exterior and there was a lot in this set to admire, with some very cleverly worked punchlines and some lovely throwaways.  No doubt he'd say that he isn't overly concerned about offending people, but it was a shame to see the night end on a slightly sour note.

Memories of the middle section of the evening will have made up for that in most eyes, with Flanagan, Caulfield and bonus ball Ranganathan all outstanding.

Himmerland

Jazzfolk?  Folkjazz?  I asked the guitarist what he classified them as and he opted for the safety of 'World Music'.  But let's forget genre stereotyping

Himmerland are a five piece band from Denmark.  Fiddle, soprano saxophone, guitar, electric bass and a hugely entertaining percussionist.  They play a mix of self-penned numbers and Danish folk tunes, songs and instrumentals.  The music mingles not just folk and jazz, but myriad other influences, not least from the contribution of the Ghanaian happily banging away on his drum kit who feeds African and reggae into the melting pot.

The musicianship is of a high quality and the arrangements imaginative.  There is an excellent mix of slow and upbeat numbers across the set.  Lead vocals are mostly provided by fiddler Ditte Fromseier who has a sweet voice and clear phrasing.  There were a couple of attempts to get the audience singing along and the one with the nonsense chorus succeeded, although we were less forthcoming when asked to sing in proper Danish!  The band enjoy interacting with the crowd and provide plenty of background information on the origins of each piece and even managed some decent jokes in English.  They were clearly enjoying themselves and that sense of fun was infectious.

So often the weak spot of groups with jazz pretensions are the bass solos, like tedious exercises in narcissism.  No such issue here.  Andrezej Kerjniuk from Poland was, for me, the stand out musician of the night, his solos and accompaniments wouldn't have disgraced Jaco Pastorius himself.  And so modest about his abilities when you talk to him.

For this gig they were joined for much of the set by Scottish fiddler Eilidh Shaw of Poozies fame.  That second fiddle added to the richness of the sound, and the band joined in her in some of her own pieces, including a wonderful tune from that great Anglo-Swedish band, Swap.

A memorable evening that brought a smile to everyone's face.

Joyous.

140 Million Miles, (A Play, a Pie and a Pint), Traverse

A tasty butternut squash pie and a pint of Best to kick things off, then down into the depths once more to see a two hander (two and a half hander?) about a couple journeying to become the first human residents of Mars.  It's beautifully performed, laugh out loud funny, cleverly structured and ultimately moving.

It's also very difficult to write about without throwing up some spoilers, so if you intend to go and see it - and I strongly recommend you take the chance if you can - you might want to stop reading now!

Dawn and Neil have won a competition to become the first people to colonise the red planet.  Early thirties, an ordinary couple with an economically precarious life, they are looking forward to a new start, a new life, the chance to be part of history.  Their naive enthusiasm for the project blinds them to any potential pitfalls.  The action takes us through their joy at winning, their period of training and celebrity on earth, the launch into space, their progress through space on the journey to Mars.

But from an early stage we are also treated to flashbacks that gradually reveal the sense of tragedy underlying their apparent optimism, the reasons behind their willingness to escape whatever the odds.  And this structural device, simply highlighted by lighting changes, reveals to the audience the emotional depth of the problem the couple are forced to confront in deep space, and the calamitous consequences of their rash decision to leave their home planet.

Rosie Mason excels as Dawn, switching from infectious enthusiasm to concerned anxiety with total conviction.  Darren Seed's Neil teeters edgily towards dimwitted caricature at times, but he never quite crosses the line and is convincing as the optimist who always looks for the silver lining.

And the half?  The disembodied voice of mission control, guiding the couple through their trip of a lifetime, and tasked with revealing to them the grim truth of their situation.  Admirably calm and reassuring.  Until the end.

You leave the theatre wondering what they are left to make of the life remaining to them, how you might cope in a similar situation, and pondering how the lack of hope our society imposes on so many of our fellow citizens may lead them into making desperately unsuitable choices.  A parable for Cameron's Britain perhaps?