Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: Pretty Good, Not Bad | 4 girls the first letter e | I’ll Die Laughing

There’s highs and lows in this latest round of Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews for 2024.

Pretty Good, Not Bad 4star

theSpace @ Surgeon’s Hall (Venue 53), until 24 August

★★★★

A woman is horribly attacked. It’s the kind of scene that might open a particularly bad police procedural drama. It turns out that it’s an audition for one, but it’s this place between reality and fiction that Ellen Toland and Rachel McBath’s smart, self-analytical and boldly and perhaps necessarily comic critique of violence against women explores. Based upon Toland’s real-life experience, of being attacked by a man and auditioning for the roles of female victims of crime, it asks what is ‘authenticity’ in film, TV and, even, this play itself, when it’s surrounded by so many preconceptions and stereotypes.       

Toland’s narration is peppered with the people pleasing smiles, humorous asides and witty observations that she, like many women, have honed over the years to “make other people comfortable.” Her default reaction is to laugh when men put their hand on her leg, to say “hi” to her attacker when her grabs her, and try to befriend him when he starts punching her head. It’s painful to watch, as she describes what other people might see as incongruous behaviour. Trained by society in minimise her discomfort, society refuses to take her seriously because she’s not being serious.

It's a very meta piece that touches on its own creation to fit a theatrical form and can, consequently, never be entirely trusted. Emotion is hidden behind construct, but the construct, and showing it, is the point. Any limitations are not so much the problem as the purpose. It’s ambiguous how much the relatable and engaging Toland is herself and a characterised version of it.

At the end, she says she wants to do this play about “playing it right” because finally people will believe her. It’s theatre as therapy, but also an investigation in the theatrics that are required by women in real life elsewhere which elevates it into something far bigger.

Sally Stott

4 girls the first letter e

Greenside @ George Street (venue 236), until 24 August

★★★★

There’s a theory stated in this powerful, discomfiting new play by American writer maguire wilder that words beginning with the letter “e” seek freedom. It’s summer and four girls — Emaline, Elise, Esther and Evie — spend their long evenings playing together in the video-game world of The King away from the watchful eyes of their parents. It’s a deceptively simple point-and-click adventure game that hints at screeds of arcane lore and increasingly complex problems that hinder the players’ progress. The King himself is a tall, spidery — phallic, even — figure that has ignited the girls’ imagination.

Clearly inspired by the 2014 stabbing of Payton Leutner in Wisconsin by two of her 12-year-old friends, supposedly to appease the fictional “Slender Man,” this is, nevertheless, no true crime story. It convincingly creates its own mythos; the girl’s gameplay is projected onto a screen behind them and, for once, this does look convincingly like a real indie video game. The cast are all terrific at capturing the Catherine wheel, firework energy of near-adolescence; limbs and imaginations spiralling wildly. Evie (Zoe Bourdin) is their leader — the most mature (she thinks); the most intelligent (maybe) and the one most eager to progress — and the only way to progress in video games (and life) is to level up.

This takes a lot of risks; it’s patiently paced so that the darkness creeps slowly around the edges. It’s a sunlit horror that seems to hark back to the rural areas of maguire’s native Atlanta, Georgia with the nightmare logic of a Junji Ito manga. This doesn’t go where you think it will — until it does. Sensitively directed by Maiya Pascouche, this production from Missing Rib Collective also swings for the fences with some bold strokes and hits hard.

Rory Ford

I’ll Die Laughing

theSpaceTriplex (Venue 38), until 24 August

 ★★★

Based on true events, this one-woman show is vulnerable and somewhat disturbing. Written and performed by Ambrosine Davies, she recounts her time in LA where she dreamed of being an actor and then details the abusive relationship which almost destroyed her. There is a definite sense of frustration and pain as she tells the story and acknowledges her blindness to some obvious red flags and what was clearly trauma bonding.

Davies' performance is bold and direct, and she takes you in on this story with her raw portrayal of trauma and denial. She switches between characters, bringing to life her partner - ironically called Fabby - her boss and her friends. Each one is purposely much exaggerated and more caricature like in comparison to herself.

There are parts where the direction could be stronger, particularly in emphasizing the more poignant moments. At times, elements are brushed over too quickly and are not given the time and focus they deserve. While the story is powerful, it feels like an early exploration, with more depth and emotional layers yet to be uncovered.

Suzanne O’Brien

Do Not Look Away: The Story of Medusa

Scottish Storytelling Centre - George Mackay Brown Library (Venue 30), until 25 August

★★★

As storyteller Lily Asch acknowledges at the start of her show, the audience already knows the myth of Medusa and her demise. Although the story Asch regails may be familiar to us, the manner in which she does so - adeptly weaving together themes of feminism, violence and privilege - is undeniably relevant in today’s climate. She draws powerful parallels between various women’s liberation movements taking place today, and the symbolic beheading of Medusa; it is a prescient reminder that the struggle over women’s bodily autonomy is far from over. Asch also refuses to shy away from the personal tragedy at the heart of this story, which prevents the source material from feeling stale: during particularly fraught moments of the tale, she states, “do not look away” - encouraging us to fully engage with Medusa as a person as well as a symbol. 

The live accompaniment by skilled percussionist Dimitris Kounatiadis adds a haunting dimension to her performance. The well-known beats of this story are renewed and made visceral as Kounatiadis mimics the rustling of leaves in the wind, waves upon an island shore - and the snicker of a sword as it cuts through Medusa’s neck. 

Ariane Branigan

Big Scary Cat

theSpace @ Symposium Hall (Venue 43), until 24 August

★

This flatly staged parody of teen horror comedies unfortunately forgets to include much in the way of comedy or horror and wastes a decent premise. A lion escapes from the circus forcing the cast to take shelter in an funfair’s — unusually brightly lit — haunted house. Best viewed as a showcase for some of the talented performers from Acting Coach Scotland it does them a disservice by giving them little to work with script-wise making for some very awkward interactions. Individually, the actors are all afforded a moment in the spotlight with which they do well but otherwise they’re given very little to do.

Rory Ford

Dante and the Robot

ZOO Playground (Venue 186), until 25 August

★★

Set in a dystopian future where humanity receives robotic updates to prolong their life, this ambitious one-man play has perhaps too many ideas for its own good. Performed by Duncan Hodgkinson — who conceived the piece with director Jamie Wood  — Dante escapes his humdrum existence by writing a fantasy screenplay about knights while he waits for his girlfriend to return from Japan. His social interaction outside a dead-end office job is limited to his personal “she-bot” (ingeniously a repurposed air fryer spray painted silver). It’s well performed (Hodgkinson is gifted with accents) and technically smooth but the competing ideas steadfastly refuse to complement each other — they rather jostle for attention instead —which does inhibit emotional engagement.

Rory Ford