(4 / 5)

Welcome to the wild, wild west, run by your fearsome and hysterical local cowboy, Bangtail, where no one is safe, no matter where you sit.

Lil Wenker brings the character of Bangtail, the rootingist, tootingist, bad boy around. Unable to be shot, and a riot with the ladies, it all soon crumbles, when his audience-based nemesis manages to injure him. What is his calling now? Why that of accountancy of course! But is either his true calling?

Bangtail can almost be seen as a two parter: we begin being introduced to Bangtail, with his western tropes played on for satire (think spoons instead of boot spurs), where he immediately gets down to business of interaction with us. We are soon barn animals, a select few becoming key characters such as the nemesis or local drunk lady, and his interactions with not only them but us is full of comedy, with smart writing, slapstick and clowning skills. He’s not afraid to prolong the laughter, ignoring the rule of three and pushing the boundaries, leaving us in hysterics.

This continues when changing to the next part, his accountancy era. With clever writing and direction, the comedy and clowning is still there, new and fresh but old ideas are newly presented, almost as a satirical flash back to the past. The audience characters continue but in different guises and so we continue to find hilarity in the basics already set for us. The physical comedy continues, with gusto and high energy and we almost become delirious through giggles. However, the accountancy part felt more into a thought provoking part of the narrative and, while still with moments of comedy, lost a little of the giddiness we felt in the first part.

Bangtail is smart, it is high-level comedy and clowning, with very clever writing and overall concept. Lil Wenker is nothing but a fantastic performer, holding our attention and with instant ability to make us laugh.

(3 / 5)

Set in Summerhall’s anatomy lecture theatre, we spend an hour speeding through, almost at the speed of light, feminist history of the known and unknown.

Aether, performed by TheatreGoose and written by Emma Howlett explores our human fascination with the scientific. We are propelled from modern day to ancient history to more recent centuries, where discoveries and investigations are made to try to understand the unknown. All with a female at the centre, we see how science is conceived into other ideals such as witchcraft or magic.

TheatreGoose have almost made this play specifically for this space. Arming us with whiteboards and pens, we immediately feel as if we are part of a lecture, engaging with us later in just that fashion. The circular space in front of us features only a blue curtain that is played with throughout, but still managing, with the use of a handy projector (if you’re old enough to remember the ones with the plastic film that you swapped in and out), to utilise the small space by projecting onto the ceiling above – although, blink, and you may miss it!

The performers are all brilliant in their own rights, each with their own unique take, whether this is within the ensemble or in individual characters. With very little props or pieces of costume, they add these subtleties to try and make it clear the change along with their own changes in movement or voice.

While it’s well performed and looks the part, for me the story-line felt slightly disjointed. Whether it’s my own lack of knowledge in the science sphere, I struggled to find what the connections between the stories were and how this related to the modern character. There is maybe one or two moments of her investigating this but it doesn’t cover them all. Each story in their own right was interesting and well presented, but as a whole, they did not feel as if they quite knitted together.

Aether is a really interesting approach to joining science and art, with a great use of the space and wonderful performances. However, the stories themselves seemed separated with no clear conclusion of how they were to come together.

(4 / 5)

It’s clear after seeing all their productions so far, Awkward Productions have conceived and executed well their own take and blueprint for comedy, queer theatre. Just like Diana: The Untold and Untrue Story and Gwyneth Goes Skiing, The Fit Prince […] approaches the story with gusto, humour and using a range of theatrical techniques.

Pulling upon hallmark Christmas-style movies that have recently blown up amongst the Millennial and Gen Z generations (and often starring stars of Millennial’s youth) Awkward Productions have taken these cheesy and purposefully fanciful tales and approached with a loving satire.

The Fit Prince […] features the story of a Swedonian Prince who must marry in the next two weeks as the heir after the King has suddenly died. In his quest to find someone to marry, a New York baker is enlisted to come and make the wedding cake, soon becoming close to the Prince where they fall in love with one another. In amongst this, there are plots to overthrow the Prince and random but well conceived plot points, providing endless comedy.

Awkward Productions clearly know they are fast becoming a cult following. References to previous shows, such as a Diana look-a-like in the Queen, a prop from Gwyneth goes Skiing making a guest appearance, they are not only creating new comedy but adding references that only the true followers will know. This provides such smart and hilarious moments that you can’t help but guttural laugh at.

The staging, props and multimedia used is so professional and well constructed, they effectively set the scenes but also help to support their unique humour and theatrical approach. At the same time, there isn’t any attempt to be “perfect” or serious; our guest stars appear on a screen with dubious backgrounds such as found in a zoom call, a very well made prop cake is carried around but referred to in a moment as “fake”, showing that they by no means take themselves serious and this is entire satire.

As well known by their comedy, a lot of their “support acts” are members of the audience and this brings its own moments of comedy that our main performers and creators, Linus Karp and Joseph Martin (now an official married couple as took place on stage for real this year!) do fantastically to improv on when it doesn’t go to plan or further add to their comedy performances.

And during this, they have fully lent into their puppetry skills; Diana and Gwyneth both had a bit of this but these have been brought back as subtle nods and as supporting cast, with a newbie amongst the group; the Orphanage’s matron, played by Martin in a cloak and an amazingly constructed head and arms, bringing a almost Roald Dahl-esque figure that is purposefully imposing and so well performed.

The Fit Prince (who gets switched on the square in the frosty castle the night before (insert public holiday here)), is a totally bonkers, highly comedic and ridiculous (in all the best ways) production, continuing Awkward Productions firm stomp of unique theatre on the scene.

(3 / 5)

“Brainsluts”, a term apparently used for those taking part in a clinical trial, titles this production of a similar context.

Following five clinical trial participants and a Doctor, we watch as their relationships build and change from strangers to something else over 5 Sunday sessions. Love blossoms and dissipates, vulnerability is shared and friendships are formed.

This production is a very simple set up. We encounter the same room with a set up like a waiting room meets clinical room with furniture and props to support. Times when the fourth wall is broken for the Doctor to speak directly to us is simply set up through freeze frames and a lighting change. It is all effective and works well for this straight forward piece of writing.

It is a humorous narrative, with very different and, at times, stereotyped characters, their interactions provide their own comedy with the help of the well constructed narrative. Their interactions with one another feel genuine and flow easily, with no trips, stumbles or lack of confidence. We utterly believe each character and their relationships with one another. Comedy is also found in awkward moments constructed and feels very “British” in its approach to these. Generally, the story is very well constructed and gives the sense of a sit com on stage.

Brainsluts is an enjoyable and well written production, with moments of well constructed comedy and plot points, all executed very well by the performers.

(3 / 5)

Confronted with different staging, a Dexter-style plastic back drop, old chunky TVs and lots of wires, we have entered Dear Annie, I Hate You – NOT a play about a severe dislike of Annie the musical, but about something much deeper.

Based on Sam Ipema’s true life, Dear Annie […] is the story of Ipema’s diagnosis of a brain aneurysm at 20. We live through her short life up to that moment, her family relationships and then post diagnosis and how she copes with this change. With the high potential of life and personality changing consequences should she have surgery, she begins to question what is more important, life or death, in many different guises.

The production does well to squeeze so much content into such a short space of time. We quickly and easily get a sense of Ipema, her life and her family, with interjections on the TV from her family to make it rounded. These screens are connected to tubes that light up and escape their connection, depending on the points being explored at the time. However, a lot of the narrative accompanying this becomes technical and scientific and, while very interesting and important to explaining her brain and how the impact of the aneurysm, sometimes it just lost me and I felt a little out of the loop of truly understanding.

Ipema is high energy, utilising the space and hopping from podium to podium and up the stairs, banishing the idea of any impediment the aneurysm should have. Unfortunately, sometimes her run up the stairs felt out of place and unnecessary, not really adding much to the story. The energy level continues high when Annie comes in; the physical embodiment of the aneurysm. It is said a lot that some like to put a name or visualise what they are coping with as a person or thing, and this is clearly how Ipema coped with this. Unfortunately, Annie is often the voice of reason, urging for truth, and through her high octane presence in the space being purposefully annoying, she often takes a higher road to Ipema, blurring the lines of good and bad.

The play ends up with Ipema thanking Annie and this feels a little confusing and misplaced. It doesn’t feel like there is a revelation that is needed, with a simply fine life pre-Annie, and it feels as if there was a need for an ending and a story moral that couldn’t quite be found. But, we are dealing with a true story and one critic shouldn’t be the judge of how one copes with something like this and what brings comfort.

Dear Annie, I Hate You is well executed in its production values and an enjoyable retelling of a true experience. However, the narrative and dramatic licences taken felt slightly out of place and unfulfilled.