Death by Fringe
(Me during the day, heavily laden with baggage with a steel grey sky, and at night posing on the Royal Mile: Edinburgh, Scotland)
It’s amazing what a person can squeeze into a single day with a little bit of forward planning. Yesterday was a marathon of Edinburgh Fringe shows stretching from midday into the early hours of this morning – happily without too much fracas or incident. I ran for a morning train just after 9am in order to meet a childhood friend for a coffee in the city. I hadn’t even known he was in Scotland, let alone in the exact city I had planned to spend the day, but we spent a happy hour working away on a small project I had commenced for him. Straight after finishing the artwork, it was time to begin ‘Fringeing’ by going back to see White Rabbit Red Rabbit for the second time this week. Yes, I realise there are thousands of other shows I could have seen, but it was this one I chose to recommend to my friend and this one I wished to see again. In my correspondence with the writer, Nassim, he explained that the more times one sees the play, the more it becomes like an experiment. He was not wrong. The play lost some of the shock factor of my initial viewing, but blossomed into a sort of private joke between the words and myself. I was the only one prepared for the play, though I was astounded at how different a fresh actor and new audience made it.
My friend was equally impressed with the viewing, so we had gotten off to a good start with the day; some work and then a little play, as it were. That was my first show of the day, but my fifth (of nine) out of the two days I have now spent at this year’s Fringe. From here, our group expanded to three with Robbie, another friend joining us to continue the foray into Fringe overload. We made a sensible break for lunch, and Robbie and I said goodbye to Chris, my childhood chum – he was leaving the craziness behind to return to the more tranquil city of Carlisle. Robbie and I returned to form with a highlight of my Fringe, a one man tour de force; Adolf. It was masterful and I was absolutely taken in by the manic charisma of a falling dictator, followed by the musings of a contemporary nationalist. I recall hearing the faint sound of sirens outside the venue whilst his fascist monologue was in full flow, and that ripped me back out of my complete absorption in the piece. I was completely absorbed. It was utterly brilliant. Lulled into a sense of heightening insecurity, he manages to dash it all by the end, resulting in standing ovations. Apparently twenty-five people left during last week’s performance, incensed by the frankly racist and intolerant behaviour of the man on stage. They obviously hadn’t realised they were at the theatre and that rather than being an extremist rant, it was an actor in character, drawing parallels between the past and present. One couple in the row in front of me were making a terrible fuss about whether they would leave or not, a man and wife clearly offended by the material. It took all my tolerance not to tap them on the shoulder and encourage them to shut up. Why an easily offended person would pay to see a show called Adolf * and expect it to be a light National Socialist skit is beyond me.
We darted straight into the next show in that venue, Bosom Buddies. This was another one-man show, but in this one, the actor was performing the roles of about seventeen different famous people of the twentieth century. I was exhausted after this double bill of drama and Robbie and I discovered that we had used up much of the day – it was creeping towards evening and our next Fringe appointment, across the other side of the city. Lugging a couple of hefty bags (the morning’s work dictated carting my laptop and all related accoutrements around at all times), we trundled towards a more comic show; Thom Tuck: Straight to DVD, as recommended by my flatmate and friend of Thom. It was outrageously tragic, but hilarious, silly and astute. It was a well-timed departure from the hard-hitting drama of the rest of the day and Robbie and I were still chuckling over dinner afterwards.
Another highlight was Minima’s live score accompanying German silent film, The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari. This is a film I have seen them perform before, but was so good that I couldn’t resist seeing them again. I had swapped the banter laden Robbie for equally entertaining Anna at this point, since the only performances of this film are being shown at midnight all week. I suppose this adds to the mystique of the performance, but also creates midweek inconvenience for people like Robbie or me who will have to find a place to stay in Edinburgh – no trains or buses run at 2am between Scotland’s two premier cities.
By 1:30am, our mini Fringe holiday was almost at an end. As generally happens during the Festival, we bumped into some friends of Anna along the long road to bed. We accompanied them for a swift beverage before trailing finally to Anna’s temporary Edinburgh home, taking giddy pictures along the way, fueled by only a single beer, very high spirits and the residue of the day’s adrenalin. Having gotten to bed at approximately 3:30am after a cup of tea, I am a little fatigued today, but refreshed by the twenty-four hour work hiatus and by a serious dunking in what I suppose is ‘culture’. I am so glad that despite being possibly the poorest I have been in a long time**, I have taken my chances with the Fringe this year and have recorded great successes in enjoyment, thrift, and return on that tiny investment. In all honesty, I personally paid for only two of the nine shows I have seen – and one of those was half price! I am one lucky girl. One lucky, tired yet refreshed, happy girl. (With acknowledgements to Anna Oban)
* By the way, I though I might mention the play is called Adolf as in ‘Hitler’. You know, that great big fascist, responsible for a series of unspeakable atrocities throughout the Second World War.
**(fear not, dear reader, I am simply in that extended Purgatory of ‘have completed and delivered work but awaiting payment’ situation)
– Today Rosie is getting another bathroom inspection by plumbers and getting back to work in Glasgow, Scotland –
Completely misread “…it was time to begin ‘Fringeing.’” — Sorry!
Gray-uuuuum!