By The Newsroom

Published 14th Aug 2023, 12:27 BST

Updated 14th Aug 2023, 12:30 BST

Spin ****

Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose (Venue 24), until 27 August

Spin Cycles ****

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33), until 28 August

You know how it is. You wait years for a one-woman Fringe show performed predominantly on a spin cycle and then two come along in the same year. Both Spin and Spin Cycles are assured monologues, written by the actresses who perform them - in the latest trendy breathable exercise bra and leggings, of course. Because, as portrayed here, spin cycle classes appear to be an almost cultish lifestyle choice, elevated slightly beyond that of a mere exercise trend with the hippy/holistic use of mood candles. In these plays, the mood is frenetic, bewildered and dark but with pinhole light at the end of the tunnel.

Both protagonists initially come across as assured – eager and enthusiastic in Spin, cool and cynical in Spin Cycles. But both are indeed spinning, cycling to mask their pain. The moment they come off their bikes, the mask slips and their paths diverge.

In Spin, Kate Sumpter plays an almost desperately keen instructor preparing to be interviewed by a top-flight spin cycle franchise. She radiates the zeal of the fresh convert, issuing a Debbie Allen-from-Fame-style motivational speech, offering a quick fire introduction to the terminology of the class and playful observations on the different exercyclist stereotypes.

But the façade cracks as she experiences intrusive thoughts, trailed by a dark drone which interrupts the pumping soundtrack of the class. Gradually she confides her own story, formative experiences which have led to a toxic cycle (pun intended) of dieting and over-exercising. More reluctantly, she dripfeeds the tale of her younger sister Fi, initially comfortable with her weight but ultimately infected by her family’s contagion of self-loathing to a more drastic degree.

Jamie-Lee Money makes her impressive Fringe debut with Spin Cycles in which she plays a take-it-or-leave-it spinner who writes reviews for an online lifestyle magazine, the very definition of the got-it-all girl. If anything, Money’s protagonist is even more energetic in her execution of the choreographed routines as she warms to her latest assignment, feels the burn and is all in for the ride.

It transpires she is “sweating out the sadness”, not just craving the endorphin hit from exercise but locking on to the emotional catharsis she gets as she grieves the death of her friend Rosa and seeks respite from the uncertain hell of her mother’s cancer diagnosis.

In both cases, Sumpter’s and Money’s focus as performers is laser sharp and immersive, even as their characters unravel and attempt to pull the pieces back together before our eyes. Fiona Shepherd

Summer Camp for Broken People, ***Summerhall (Venue 26), until 27 August

Emily Beecher is setting up for her daughter’s birthday party, and there’s unicorn paraphernalia everywhere. Her world, externally, is all glitter and neon and carefully piped icing – small markers of joy that flood the stage. Internally, it’s a far different story. “What do you wear,” Beecher asks brightly, “the first day of intensive psychiatric therapy?”

This is the eponymous summer camp of the play’s title; following a brutal rape, Beecher is on the edge and is determined – for her daughter’s sake and for her own – to pull herself back. It’s a harrowing backdrop to what is an often funny play, anchored by a powerhouse performance by Beecher.

As the play unfolds, these cycles of crisis and calm unmoor the traditional rhythm of narrative storytelling – occasionally, this feels aimless, but it also refuses the teleology both of the theatrical form and healing. Intermittent facts flashing on a screen, meanwhile, keep us informed about the human body and its ability to replenish: the weeks and months it takes for our liver and skeletal and heart cells to completely turn over. The body replaces itself, ship of Theseus-style, every few years. Yet, Summer Camp for Broken People tells us, there are some parts that cannot be rewritten. It’s a powerful understanding of violence – its determined, capillary nature. Anahit Behrooz

Graveyard of the Outcast Dead ***theSpace on the Mile (Venue 39) until 25 August

It’s the kind of show that has people coming out at the end and saying, “well, that was a bit different, wasn’t it?” A sort of contemporary folk theatre, spliced together through music and storytelling, it’s told from the perspectives of three women, known as Blood, Rust and Brick, who come together to give an insight into the lives of the Victorian prostitutes known as the Winchester Geese, who were buried in an unmarked grave in Southwark, London. Here, this is tended by a grave keeper embroiled in a conversation with a prince charming type man clutching a rose, looking for his lost love.

By the end of the show, you might have worked out how it all connects, but even if you haven’t writer Kira Mason’s sparky existential analysis of the tales we tell we tell about women, old and new, delivered through lively exchanges by the young cast members, under the pacey direction from Matthew Attwood, keeps up the momentum. Whether this amount of narrative elusiveness and theatrical devices is helping or drawing attention away from the content of the characters’ stories is questionable, but it’s unusual and offbeat style is refreshingly experimental in the genre of Victorian-inspired historical fiction. Sally Stott

Ctrl Room :_ ***

Army @ the Fringe (Venue 358) until 27 August

“You are vital,” runs the simple but involving tagline for this ambitious interactive performance by young south-west of England company Black Hound Productions. First, the audience are randomly divided and sent to different rooms – it turns out there are two untitled shows taking place within this performance, and those who have seen one can book for the other at a discount.

The part experienced for this review took place in a plain meeting room, with all audience members searched with a security wand by a matey but brisk woman in a polo shirt and fatigues on their way in. She and her superior officer, a business-like young man with a holstered gun on his hip, explain that we’re a group of recruits to a private security firm, advising troops on the ground as they attempt to take out a dangerous terrorist cell in a divided future UK.

Clustered around a projected map on the table, we vote on whether drone strikes and dangerous new weapons should be used, and whether the troops’ first priority is to the mission, their comrades or local civilians – all the time, as the new Victus combat AI system makes increasingly arbitrary recommendations. It’s a little too clever for its own good, as some audience members inevitably overthink the scenario, but ultimately a fun and inventive way into thinking about the technological future of warfare. David Pollock

Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: Spin | Spin Cycles | Summer Camp for Broken People | Graveyard of the Outcast Dead | Ctrl Room :_