Fringe theatre reviews: Deiseil: Dancing in Time, Transfers, and more

Deiseil: Dancing in Time ★★★★★

theSpace (Venue 45) until 16 August

Who knew Scotland has a lost tradition of percussive dance, once an important part of Gaelic culture? Definitely not me. However, while stepdance died out in Scotland, it continued among Scots emigrés in Cape Breton, who taught it to dancer Alison Carlyle. Now, in partnership with fiddler Amy Geddes and director Gerry Mulgrew, she presents its story.

Stepdance disappeared as Gaelic culture was eroded. As Highland dancing became formalised and competitive, stepdance – more free-form and enjoyed socially by both men and women – fell into disrepute. These might sound like reasons for lament, but the show is determinedly joyful. The tradition nearly died, but now it’s alive again. So let’s dance.

And dance they do: Carlyle takes the more complex moves, but Geddes bravely joins in. A specially-made wooden dancefloor magnifies the rhythms of tapping and hopping. The clues were there all along in the fiddle tunes and certain kinds of Gaelic songs. Once you see and hear the two together, you wonder how you could have missed it before: they were written to dance to.

The show is beautifully put together, weaving fragments of the story with snippets of recorded voice and plenty of dance. In a gorgeous visual moment, Geddes hangs out a washing – actually printed fabric showing a Scottish landscape – and Carlyle dances around and through it. When they do reflect on the Clearances – for this is part of the story too – they do with such poise it is serious but never heavy.

With good humour and consummate skill, they demonstrate some starting steps and explore the differences between types of dance: ceilidh, country, highland, even a minuet, without breaking their stride. They get us clapping out rhythms until we start to feel them in our bodies.

Deiseil is more about showing than telling, and it feels like the warm, playful collaboration of Carlyle and Geddes embodies the spirit of stepdance. This is the most joyful show I’ve seen so far this Fringe. It tells an important story with the lightest of touches and doesn’t put a foot wrong.

Susan Mansfield

Transfers ★★★

theSpace on the Mile (Venue 39) until 23 August

Edinburgh-based Arbery Theatre return to the Fringe after a six-year break with an inspired idea for a devised play. The eight performers, one of whom is also the director, Michael Robert-Brown, in collaboration with writer Martin Foreman, trace the transfer of £500 through eight different scenarios.

Inspired by Arthur Schnitzler’s La Ronde, but with money the focus rather than sex, the transactions make a complete loop, but the order in which the scenes are played will vary between performances. We meet people who need money, and who want to get rid of it; there are underhand plays and ethical conundrums.

Thought has gone into making the scenarios interesting and contemporary. A waitress tries to bribe an MSP to help her with her post-Brexit visa application; a primary school teacher works as a club hostess for extra cash. There’s a homeless man, a business owner, and a woman who cares for her husband who has Alzheimer’s. £500 means something different for each of them.

While there are different levels of acting experience here, there isn’t a weak performance, and working out how these very different characters connect is satisfying and thought-provoking.

Susan Mansfield

Strangewife ★★★

Front Room at Assembly Rooms (20) until 24 August

Actor Sydney has just booked the weirdest gig of his life: he must pretend to be Bruce, the deceased fiancé of his unstable client Lauren, for a night. Quickly, their meeting spirals out of control, and he finds himself agreeing to extend the farce for two weeks - all of which will eventually culminate in a fake wedding.

As Lauren tailors his suits and drills him on Bruce’s backstory, we see Sydney himself slipping away, in a manner not dissimilar to that of Gregor Samsa when he eventually resigns himself to his fate as a monstrous insect.

Strangewife is a delightfully twisted story of obsession and control; we quickly lose track of who needs whom in the pair’s entirely artificial relationship. And while the situation doesn’t quite escalate to the captor-prisoner dynamic of Stephen King’s Misery (no blowtorches either, thankfully), we’re undeniably imbued with an unshakeable sense of unease throughout.

However, despite the intensity of the pair’s interactions - and deeply compelling performances from both Brooklyn Boukather and Daniel Barney Newton - the final stakes still feel a little too low; with scant insight into Sydney’s actual girlfriend and life before Lauren, his eventual surrender doesn’t necessarily evoke dread or even catharsis.

Ariane Branigan

Adrienne: An American in Paris ★★★

Greenside @ Riddles Court (Venue 16) until 16 August

A seat, a glass of wine and a good book is how Adrienne would describe heaven, and many would agree with that. Discouraged from reading as a child, she takes us on a dreamy journey through her early years in bookshops, a surprise trip to Paris, and the life she built there, surrounded by words.

It is structured like a novel, including the opening, the climax, the fall, and the resolution, and is woven together nicely by Kirsten Lewis’s elegant storytelling. Lewis brings class and some French sophistication to the role of Adrienne, including a little glamour which is particularly highlighted in her shimmering Charleston dress, her sophisticated swivels and a sprinkling of French.

Rather than exploring true Parisian culture in depth, the story has a nostalgic, American focus. Adrienne recounts her post-war, pre-depression time in 1920s Paris, mingling with literary giants like Fitzgerald and Hemingway. It’s her love of literature that takes centre stage and the importance of the reader in a book’s existence really comes through.

Don’t expect much drama or excitement. The slow, controlled pace suits the easy-going, reflective tone the company seems to be aiming for, though some may find it a little too subdued. It’s a thoughtful, if not especially thrilling, story that will appeal most to romantics and book lovers.

Suzanne O'Brien

Not My Grandmother's Daughter ★★★

Gilded Balloon at Appleton Tower (Venue 140) until 24 August

There is an endearing quality in the way Harley Walker tells their story, which they describe as a love letter to themself, through a love letter to their grandmother.

Storytelling, shadow puppetry, and audio recordings are used to explore the intricacies, complexities, and beauty of maternal relationships. Walker asks their grandmother to tell stories, and she answers via audio recordings. These recordings are effective in letting us get to know her character and feel the bond between them.

She speaks of watching clouds, her unique wedding, and the time she hired a private investigator. The stories range from the simple to the slightly wild, but Walker reacts to them all with the same genuine warmth and admiration.

The recordings are enhanced with gentle and controlled shadow puppetry, highlighting key moments or items. Two spaces are set up for the puppetry - a small suitcase and a large sheet strung between two hat stands. One offers intimacy and fine detail and the other allows for broader, more expansive moments.

Through Walker’s storytelling they are also able to reflect on the challenging relationship they had with their mother. This is done with honesty and a refreshing openness.

Suzanne O’Brien

Little Boxes ★★

theSpace on the Mile (Venue 39) until 16 August

All her working life, actor Joann Condon has yearned for a starring role, so now she has written one - an autobiographical solo show where she explores being boxed into convenient categories. She’s typecast as herself and it’s a lovely part.

Condon is warm, easy company and her show is like a cup of tea between friends with no more than everyday dramas to report, from the revelations of childhood acting classes in Putney and seeing Culture Club on Top of the Pops to the frustrations of the school run and other parental rites of passage.

Fiona Shepherd