241 – Nice but no 42!

The thunder storm just couldn’t hold back any longer! The rain hammered down, the thunder and lightening went on for hours. Don’t reckon I’ve ever seen such a thunder storm over Edinburgh before. On an average 241 Tuesday night there would be plenty of folk about, plenty having to stand in queues in the torrential rain waiting for their next show! They hope it’ll be worth it, well, at least it was a cheap ticket – some shows won’t even be worth it at half price! They’ll sit listening to the rapturous applause at the end thinking, Huh? What? with soaked-through footwear, a still soggy jacket, knowing they’re about to go back out and get even soggier, all for something that barely raised a chuckle.

Okay, so I painted a pretty crappy picture there, but such can be the luck of the Fringe. Take, for example, the first two 241 shows Bud and I went to see. Two by Jim Cartwright, hmmm, remember my cautionary tale about April in Paris? Well, this was like the second time I saw that, all vitriol and plain meanness (I do intend to see One again one year, hopefully as it’s meant to be done). Later that same Sunday we went to see Rich Hall and Mike Wilmot – Pretzel Logic, hmmm, this came across as a self-indulgent wheeze, dreamt up late night in a bar and written on the back of a cigarette packet. Sorry but that’s how we both felt walking out of the Assembly Rooms at one in the morning. How could the brilliant Rich Hall do that to us? Oh yes, he was the bee’s knees to us, sure the show had it’s moments, all his, but not many. We decided it must all be Mike Wilmot’s fault for leading our hero astray!

The Monday was way better with five great shows through the day, faith restored! Since that year 241 Monday was usually a day off work to see five acts, until the year Bud was leaving Edinburgh when we made it six – well, we had to shift up Shakespeare For Breakfast from it’s usual slot. Oo, that was the day we saw Thom Tuck perform Scaramouche Jones (epic), there was an Aussie sponge called Bruce (gritty antipodean epic), yay, Sleeping Trees: Western (possibly my favourite of all their shows), Tom Neenan: Andromeda Paradox was fine (but not one of his best), ending appropriately with Max & Ivan: The End.

Some wonder how one can see and actually take in five shows in one day, well, sometimes the show after lunch may not totally recalled (Tip, don’t have a big, heavy lunch or you WILL doze in the next warm dark room you enter!). Looking back at all the 241 shows that I saw between 2002 and 2015 there are only six that I have absolutely no recall of whatsoever (I’m surprised there’s not a flicker for Opening Night of the Living Dead at C Cubed in 2009, hmmm, nope). I’m quite pleased with that, after all, it’s not necessarily all my fault I don’t recall them!

There are seven shows I would love to be able to unsee, nevermind not being worth half price! Two, I mentioned above, another two God, Inc and The Story of Funk I have spoken of before. They are my Top Four worst 241 shows, fifth place goes to Carnival of Souls a multi-media arty thing performed in the Cameo cinema 1. It was so not our thing, Bud would have happily left early but I wanted to stick it out hoping to find something to like about it, I didn’t.

See, I feel good because I could easily spot the few I have not enjoyed, the vast majority have been good to bloody excellent. There’s so much variety I would be hard pressed to shortlist my favourites. It would take a lot of thought and right now the sun is beckoning me out. Indeed, it’s a beautiful day oot there.

Where’s my sunglasses?

Toodle oo.

 

A cautionary tale.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

Way back in the early 90s I went to see a new play by John Godber performed by the Hull Truck Theatre Company, April in Paris. Bloody marvellous it was! A sharp and witty piece about a middle aged couple who win a trip to Paris, well, she wins it from one of the many competitions she likes to enter. They have problems like any couple but through all the sarcasm and moans its clear they do love each other, it’s just dark northern humour to hide their soft sides. The two who played the couple really excelled at bringing the script to life. One of my Fringe highlights to this day.

In any year at least one company will put on a John Godber play, some years have seen as many as three Bouncers and you can often have a pick of which production of Shakers or Teechers to see. April in Paris seemed not to reappear so often and I must admit I wasn’t sure if it would be as good again, but in 2003 it resurfaced in a little venue off the Royal Mile and as I’d waxed lyrical to my Fringe Bud about it, we went.

Oh dear, oh my. Remember I said they loved each other really? Well, these two clearly hadn’t read their own blurb in the Fringe Programme  that it was a “warm-hearted comedy”, it was devoid of love. The vitriol was incredible, oh it was the same script, but said meanly with bitterness. I walked out at the end completely flummoxed by the experience. I tried to explain to Bud that it was really a very good play, not sure he was convinced.

And so that’s why I rarely revisit past favourites by other companies. I couldn’t go through that again! On the other hand, I doubt anything could ever be as misinterpreted as that again!