Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: DYKE Systems Ltd | Homo(sapien) | Beth wants The D

DYKE Systems Ltd ★★★★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 25 August

Comedy theatre double-act Fag Packet have been making work since 2023, but this is the duo’s first time at the Edinburgh Fringe – and it is an anarchic delight.

The premise takes some explaining. Performers Kheski Kobler and Holly Wilson-Guy are Susan and Sally, two beaming representatives of an American company called DYKE Systems Ltd – the acronym stands for Dynamic, Young, Knowledgeable Entrepreneurs – which, it immediately becomes obvious, is one giant pyramid scheme.

Susan is a Lavender Lounge Level saleswoman. Sally is lower down the chain – and deeply in love with Susan. They are in Edinburgh on their final stop of a European seminar tour to sign up new recruits - that's us - to the company. Things go wrong, though. Head office in Florida has gone silent. The FBI are asking awkward questions. And the unexpressed desire between these two DYKEs cannot be contained much longer.

All this unfolds over a chaotic hour of audience interaction (bordering on abuse), metatheatrical gags (there is definitely not a Fringe show, it just happens to be on in the same city at the same time), black humour (one joke about Charles Manson is particularly funny), and physical comedy (there is a brilliant, Thelma & Louise-style finale). It works on multiple levels, too: as a parody of 1990s multi-level marketing, as a satire of the girl-boss business world, and as a celebration of uncontainable queer love.

Under Lucy Allan’s direction, both Kobler and Wilson-Guy are superb as Susan and Sally. Dressed in complimentary pink-and-blue business suits so garish they almost hurt to look at, they rush around the small stage with unflagging energy throughout, their fixed smiles frequently slipping to reveal their true feelings underneath. This might be their first time at the festival, but it won’t be their last. A terrific debut.

Fergus Morgan

Homo(sapien) ★★★★

Assembly Roxy (Venue 139) until 24 August

If you thought coming-of-age, coming-out dramas had had their heyday, think again. In many ways, Homo(sapien) from Irish-born, Edinburgh-based writer/performer Conor O’Dwyer feels like it comes from an earlier, simpler age. But however many times we might have heard similar stories, O’Dwyer still manages to find a distinctive spin and a thoroughly individual voice - to the extent that it comes as a shock when he explains it’s his debut play.

Joey is a frustrated gay Galway teenager, apparently oblivious to the attentions of a classmate, but desperate to experience ‘proper’ gay sex for the first time - even if it means fixating on his own cravings at the expense of offering support to others in need. But will Joey’s terror of embracing what’s right in front of him mean he’ll never get what he so desperately desires?

O’Dwyer plays a nervy, restless Joey, hopping around the small stage as if reluctant to commit to any of the situations he finds himself in. But it’s his distinctively west-coast, small-town Irish turn of phrase that brings a warmth and intimacy to his story, as well as a huge dose of humour - from laugh-out-loud gags on the misjudged fumbles of illicit encounters to wry smiles at the ironies of Joey’s neediness.

It’s a nicely judged, finely paced script that maintains several timelines and story arcs, weaving them all increasingly closely (and tying them all together convincingly) as the show reaches its heartstring-tugging conclusion. O’Dwyer never stints on the specifics of gay encounters, but Homo(sapien)’s rawness is generally on the smoother side of gritty, and offset with plenty of self-aware comedy too. It’s a lovingly crafted, deeply felt hymn to self-acceptance, from an emerging writer/performer who clearly has plenty to say, and plenty of wit and insight with which to say it.

David Kettle

THEATREEgo Tourism: Taoism in the Wild ★★★

Ego Tourism: How the Tao Made Me (a bit less) Weird [Listed previously as 'Ego Tourism: Taoism in the Wild'], PBH's Free Fringe @ Carbon (Venue 180) until 24 August

Mark Saltveit, a “modern Western Daoist” and stand-up comedian has messaged me: he would like me to come to the show once he’s got over his jetlag. It’s this kind of attention to what needs to happen when – one of the messages that may or may not be at the centre of the Chinese philosophy of the Dao (it’s hard to be sure, as it can’t be spoken) that underpins his one man show, which takes place above a lovely street food restaurant, in a karaoke bar.

Mark is someone who may not have spent the required 10,000 hours mastering a craft but has carried out what feels like 10,000 weird and wonderful jobs instead. They provide the material for a classic stand-up structure paired with short esoteric stories from the Dao, each of which contains a thought-provoking message. Indeed, ‘The joy of fishes’, based on Zhuangzi, describes a duality that could easily be applied to this show.

Some of the stories are a smoother combination of biography, comedy and philosophy than others. The Fringe as an opportunity to “puff yourself up or beat yourself up” feels particularly apt. Mark wants to write articles, do shows and make enough money, but he wouldn’t mind five stars too. However, due to the extra reading material that he’s kindly given me, I now know that three is the magic number – perfectly balanced in the middle.

Sally Stott

Beth wants The D ★★★

Pleasance Courtyard - Baby Grand (Venue 33) until 24 August

Not the first, and certainly not the last, Fringe show to explore mental health through an autobiographical lens. Beth May’s own account of living with bipolar disorder is a tough watch, deep diving into seriously dark territory.

She takes us down a twisting path of therapists, repeated hospitalisations, a pharmacy’s worth of medication, and eventually electroconvulsive therapy. Her tone is steady, decidedly unsentimental. But May’s icy nonchalance is both a shield to protect her and a weapon to disarm us. There’s an undercurrent of defiance that eventually folds in on itself as the show becomes self-aware. There’s no grand catharsis, but a quiet light at the end of a long, winding tunnel.

Though moments meander, it's strongest where the focus is tightly fixed on the absurdity of the labyrinthine world of medication, the rituals of balancing dosage, the strange bureaucracy of mental health care. Her conclusion is clear-eyed: the point is not to “fix” bipolar, but to learn to live with it, though even that achievement comes tinged with doubt about its permanence. But there’s a bittersweet beauty in accepting that conclusion.

Alexander Cohen

Living on the Moon ★★★

Gilded Balloon @ Patter Hoose (Venue 24) until 25 August

In Living on the Moon, Molly McFadden uses puppetry and song to recount the death of her mother from Alzheimer’s, an event which has since increased in significance, on account of her own diagnosis of Mild Cognitive Impairment and confirmation of the Alzheimer’s gene. A puppet representing her mother is given the name ‘Memory’ – voiced and animated by McFadden, Memory provides guidance when she forgets the lyrics to a song, or the name of someone she knows.

The use of puppetry is effective, even if Memory herself unsettles, enough to be distracting, as a dramatic partner. Together, they revisit various life events – a car crash, McFadden’s childhood dreams of becoming an astronaut, her teenage hopes of being a star of the stage, the journey to securing assisted living status for her mother – and lessons learned along the way, such as the difference between hope and delusion, and how to manage feelings of guilt.

Living on the Moon has the potential to connect deeply with a wide audience, though if you have a loved one who is currently living with Alzheimer’s, or who experienced the condition during their lifetime, the show will prove especially touching and profound.

Josphine Balfour-Oatts