(5 / 5)

Yes: I came back.

After visiting Klanghaus: In Haus the night before, I wanted to also experience their secondary production Darkroom. Set in the same space that I visited the night before, this was completely different. Yes the room was the same, but adjusted slightly to accommodate this one person performance.

As you can probably tell, you are plunged into darkness in the Darkroom. Before this, you are taken to an alcove to be given “the rules” which are more of a recorded voice telling you what you can expect and ensuring a safe space. To be honest, after the night before, I already knew that I was in safe hands.

In the darkness, you are surrounded by music, sound, from instrumental to sounds of helicopters, the sea, wind. All of these are exaggerated versions, assaulting the senses and, knowing that this is a piece based on climate change, makes this all the more impactful. With how used we are to light pollution, from lights blasting into the sky, to the small lights on our devices, it’s rare that we ever get complete darkness. And this is such a memorable and unique experience.

Along with sound, other senses are triggered – there is fan that kicks in with the helicopter and changes speed and intensity when this moves to the sea. We are faced with a jolt of surprise with light in form of light play and live singing and then an ending with the projection of a desolate sea image. This surprise from a pitch black room, where your eyes adjust to sudden light and the vibrant sounds, had an impact that was unexpected and created a different level of sensation.

Following this, you are taken to the nook to discuss with the Klanghaus team the production. While you saw them prior, it was a nice moment to reflect and discuss, especially from an artistic point of view, the piece and how it felt. It made you think more of what you experienced and your feelings from this. I felt calm and rejuvenated, with my senses reinvigorated.

Klanghaus Darkroom is another very unique experience, which, gives you a chance to relax, reflect and really think, alone and in a room that is unusual in the modern world. This is a must for any immersive and performance art fans.

(4 / 5)

Bouffon has to be one of my favourite art forms. Theatre meets performance art, Bouffon is a type of clowning that touches on the absurd, grotesque and taboo.

The joy I felt when I saw Chicken listed as a production and knew I had to see it. And so glad I did.

Chicken is the life story of an Irish Rooster, rescued from the depths of the chicken farms, where male chicks are killed, and thrown into the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. He’s rock’n’roll, he’s glamour, he’s everything you would expect from Hollywood stardom… and in a world where it is accepted he is a bird.

Eva O’connor has us in a circular shape around her as she performs. The costume is gorgeous; in the vibrant multi-colour of a rooster, when you look closer, you can see the unusual fabrics and re-used items that make up her look – some dinosaur costume leg warmers, a elaborately fixed curtain tie for the feathered head; and this alone makes this so utterly surreal – almost like it could be the real thing until you look closer at the detail.

O’Connor perfectly embodies a rooster – not breaking this once, she moves around the space contorted and jittery like a chicken and it is unwavering. You are quite quickly and easily convinced she is a human sized rooster in front of you. And the eye contact she makes, it is never broken, it is awkward but also indulgent; you certainly cannot look away and you feel directly conversive with her.

The moments when the monologue is broken by music or times of elevated theatrical trickery; lights and physical dance to enhance drug taking or when she breaks free of her rooster colours, adds a sense of chaos and change of momentum and tact. These worked really well but it would have been quite effective if one more were added, maybe a little closer to the start to break that peaceful and relaxing pattern she had created with the circular movement and monologue.

Chicken is a really interesting comment on stardom, of working from nothing, but also love, loss and vices. It is ridiculous and bizarre, just as Bouffon should be and brilliantly cultivated.

(4 / 5)

Adam Lenson, studying Doctor turned Theatre Director, who is hit with a curve ball in his 30’s of a cancer diagnosis… sounds made up but this is the true story of Anything That We Wanted To Be.

Lenson has created this theatrical piece, meets nostalgic reminiscence and electronic gig to bring across the story of his diagnosis and the thought we all have of: would this have happened to me in another universe?

We are propelled back and forth from early life to now, to life before him and his diagnosis. He questions the “what if” and the sad “why me” that we all ask when something bad happens. He uses this time travel to enhance his story but also to compare the then and now and turn this into positives.

It may sound like a super serious and existential narrative, and so it should be, but there is absolute hilarity involved. The return to our child-like essence when we face time with our parents, no matter what age; the odd comedic outlook on situations and looking at the past; the matter of fact approach when he relieves his younger self. It’s also endearing – Lenson has chosen not to use voice overs from other people or by imitation: the doctor, his parents, his brother, all have his voice and there’s something intimate but also a very clever about this when it could be so easy to dissociate the characters we can’t see. We in fact see it as his memory, his interpretation and something quite personal from Lenson’s mind.

Lenson creates music and soundscapes in front of us and it’s not always a catchy number that we’d want the CD of after. It can be haunting and just noise, crescendo-ing into something uncomfortable when his thoughts are overwhelming, and it works, breaking up the monologue and giving us something elevated but also ambient.

Anything We Wanted To Be is a soulful, vulnerable production; raw and laid bare, Lenson has been very clever with theatrical techniques to make this retelling not just a story but a very interesting, fun and emotional production.

(4 / 5)

Immersive experiences are my bread and butter when it comes to theatre. Companies such as Darkfield have revolutionised what this looks like, using no performers but creating spaces and sounds to envelope you in these worlds.

Without Sin creates a world where, after years of no contact from COVID, we are forced intimacy with a complete stranger, bringing us back into the hug of theatre at its best. There are no performers, but a soothing voice through headphones and you and your partner’s interaction. Set out as a confessional, you and another audience member ask one another prompted questions along the 7 deadly sins vibe, that make you think and also get to know one another. The questions are very clever and let you know a lot in a small amount of time about this stranger, about yourself and create a really unique connection.

By the end of the questions, you are prompted to write your partner advice or something you want them to hear… and this becomes emotional and taps into parts of you that maybe your loved ones wouldn’t venture into.

The box itself is small but there is something comforting about it, from the soothing voice in the headphones, to the incense and woody smell, to the ambient lighting. You feel safe and looked after and this helps in your “confession”. Clearly based on Catholicism, there isn’t something intimidating that maybe a church or religious confessional would perhaps give. It’s a welcoming space and a time to take a breath in the chaos of the fringe.

Without Sin is a revolutionary approach to site-specific/purpose built immersive experiences. It allows you to be vulnerable but also supportive. My only wish was that it was longer than 10 minutes – I could have stayed in there forever to cleanse my soul!

(5 / 5)

We are obsessed with crime, police dramas, the unknown and the sleuthing. It can be seen by the revisions of Agatha Christie, of Line of Duty fame, Broadchurch… I could go on.

Murder mysteries aren’t new to the stage either. But An Interrogation, written and directed by Jamie Armitage is something completely different. It’s a murder mystery, yes, but there’s no skulking around a manor or being brought into the billiards room to uncover the murderer. We sit in one room where a young detective trusts in her deep feelings on a suspect and uses her vulnerability and intelligence to discover the truth.

1 hour sat in the same room, both in reality and theatrically, sounds like it wouldn’t be too riveting. But something about An Interrogation grabs you and holds your attention. The relationships between the 3 different characters are electric, natural and so smooth. We genuinely feel as if we are in the two way mirror, watching reality in front of us. There’s no theatrical mastery, nothing to heighten the drama in terms of music or lighting additions, the drama is in the writing and how extraordinary the performers are as their characters and with one another.

The production is elevated somewhat with the use of a camera, filming from above and occasionally under the table at the two characters hands as their discussion bats back and forth. This shows a juxtaposition between the cool, calm exteriors and their inner fears and nerves. The way they all bounce off one another is so well done, combining this with the writing and the brilliant theatrical talent of these performers, you cannot take your eye off the production and you are invested from the get go.

This isn’t just a crime play – this also touches on the problems of misogyny, of police corruption and crescendos in to a series of twists, including one that surprises us the most and that was the most unexpected. This is more shocking than anything and so well done by building up a different expectation throughout the narrative.

An Interrogation is gripping, chilling and utter perfection – a true masterpiece of theatre.

(3 / 5)

When it comes to modernity and the end of the World, what is more appropriate in helping to handle this than a call centre?

In this 15 minute performance piece, you could be anywhere in Edinburgh, Scotland, Britain, the World and be able to take part. All is needed is good signal and a place you can sit undisturbed for 15 minutes.

Katrine Turner calls you on your mobile. Her interaction is very professional, with that edge of personability that all call centre workers seem to have. They know you but they also don’t. You are felt at ease and, while there isn’t a sale to be made, there’s also some sort of separation from emotion yet a sense of everything being in hand.

You are given the usual notes that the call isn’t recorded and your details are not kept and then it begins. You are asked what concerns you the most about the end of the world – instantly you are made to think what this could be and you delve into a not yet existing turmoil. From this you are given multiple choices to choose from, to dig deeper, with other options coming to light that you may not have thought about. After a few questions, you are given some advice. For me, this was a poem that summed my concerns and how to take life as it is.

This is a unique and one off experience – it’s uncertain how to know how other experiences go or to feed off others but there’s something interesting and intimate about this. It is something only you can feed off and this can be risky and go either way. It can also be difficult to find the sort of space that feels appropriate, especially during the fringe. There’s little space to sit and immerse yourself and distractions a-plenty. Perhaps this gives room to grow this piece, maybe expanding it to a more site-specific performance in a phone booth or small area where you and the phone is all there is.

An Alternative Helpline for the End of the World is a unique and interesting accessible performance, not tying you down to anywhere to experience it. But this does slightly impede it, in its immersive aspect.