MY LOVER WAS A SALMON IN THE CLIMATE APOCALYPSE at Edinburgh Festival Fringe
★★★
“the Bradán Theatre Company is onto something significant with their intimate, confessional style of presentation”
My Lover Was A Salmon in the Climate Apocalypse is a whimsical piece, presented by the Irish Bradán Theatre Company. It has several strengths, and one significant weakness. Nonetheless, the energy and charm of this company is worth sixty minutes of your time. With more experience, Bradán should have a bright future, climate catastrophe notwithstanding. Directed by Kate Bauer and written by James Ireland, My Lover Was A Salmon in the Climate Apocalypse is a show that will capture the imagination, even if the script still needs some work.
The Bradán Theatre Company (the word bradán means salmon in Irish) start their show with music, and you could be forgiven for thinking that this is the company’s main strength. Rory Gradon, Elinor Peregrine and the marvellous Elisabeth Flett (on violin and recorder at the back of the stage) present their story through Irish tunes, and Irish mythology, beginning with some lively jigs and the story of Finn MacCool (an Irish legend responsible for the Giant’s Causeway). My Lover Was A Salmon in the Climate Apocalypse is not about mythical giants, however. It is about a young couple, Fin (played by Gradon) and Fiona (Peregrine), navigating their relationship through times of unprecedented ecological disaster. Sam (Flett) stays in the background, commenting musically on the couple’s love story, and with some very funny facial expressions, as required. Sam is the anchor keeping us grounded in reality in this strange, and quirky tale. In a nutshell, My Lover Was A Salmon in the Climate Apocalypse is about the overly sensitive Finn. Finn identifies with the disappearing salmon off the coast of Ireland to such an extent that he begins to become one, much to Fiona’s distress.
The show is not just a story about a relationship, however, and this is where the script begins to show signs of strain. In addition to Finn and Fiona’s love story, we’re treated to mass extinctions, Irish mythology all mixed up with Irish history, and the importance of salmon as a way of keeping the population alive when there was very little to eat. The salmon make an appearance, pursued by orcas, their natural predators in the ocean. And then there are the salmon fisheries. All these elements are accompanied by wonderful music. As you might expect, Finn’s obsession with salmon takes its toll on his longstanding relationship with Fiona. This is where the show takes an existential, out of species leap, and the script collapses, much like the salmon populations of Ireland. With climate apocalypse the subject of this piece, maybe that’s intentional. Nevertheless, the Bradán Theatre Company is onto something significant with their intimate, confessional style of presentation. With a stronger script, and more development of the characters, this is a potentially a wonderful show that should play well to audiences everywhere.
If plays about climate catastrophe appeal to you, catch My Lover Was A Salmon in the Climate Apocalypse. You’ll get to savour sixty minutes of salmon related themes, accompanied by terrific music. That’s not a bad haul for audiences looking for something a little wilder on a climate theme, and off an overly familiar shore.
Reviewed 9th August 2022
by Dominica Plummer
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“retains the wit and eloquence of the original while throwing in modern references and context”
“All art is quite useless”. So says Oscar Wilde in his preface to his only novel, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’. Wilde may be considered the forerunner of the Art for Art’s Sake aesthetic movement of the late nineteenth century, yet it was William S. Gilbert’s libretto for the Gilbert and Sullivan musical “Patience” that helped to create the image that Wilde would adopt. The central character, Reginald Bunthorne, was thought to have been modelled on Wilde whereas it was, in fact, the other way round.
“Patience”, one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s lesser performed comic operas, is a gentle satire on the whole movement of the time, but also targets the ephemeral nature of fashion, hero-worship, vanity and meaningless fads. Which is why it lends itself so well to being set in today’s society. Charles Court Opera do just that with their customary skill and inventiveness. Set in an English pub called ‘The Castle’, complete with dartboard, real ale and shot glasses, designer Simon Bejer dresses the characters in a mix of Belle Époque, Goth and Steampunk. We could be anytime, anyplace, anywhere; but we know it’s pretty contemporary. The language, too, retains the wit and eloquence of the original while throwing in modern references and context.
Wilton’s Music Hall is a difficult space acoustically and often suffers when amps are plugged in. Charles Court Opera rely on just piano and the nine glorious voices of the company. Because of illness, director John Savournin has boldly, and rather magnificently, stepped into the role of the effete and flowery poet, Bunthorne. Fawning over him are the Ladies Angela, Saphir and Jane (Meriel Cunningham, Jennie Jacobs and Catrine Kirkman); a tight knit trio in perfect harmony but each with an individualism that allows them to break away into gorgeous solo moments. Particularly Kirkman who opens the second act with ‘Sad is that Woman’s Lot’, lamenting the cruel effects of time while desperately trying to ignore the temptations of the Walker’s crisps on the bar.
The male counterparts are equally impressive. Matthew Palmer, Dominic Bowe and David Menezes are the Dragoon Guards returning to reclaim their Ladies’ hearts, but to no avail. They tackle the quick-fire lyrical challenges with ease, turning each tongue-twister into finely tuned punchlines. Matthew Siveter, as the hilariously vain Archibald Grosvenor who steers the ladies’ affections away from Bunthorne, bursts with satirical humour, at first relishing the attention, then wearying of the synthetic textures of this thing called ‘romantic love’. After all, he only has eyes for his childhood sweetheart, the eponymous Patience (Catriona Hewitson). The barmaid of the Castle Pub, she is thankful she’s never been in love, seeing how miserable it seems to make everybody. Hewitson charms the audience with a simple logic, crystal clear delivery, and striking soprano; and winning our hearts with a standout ‘Love is a Plaintive Song’.
The delivery of the dialogue is sometimes overwrought and unnecessarily hammed up, which the comedy doesn’t really need. The cast have enough presence to reach the far corners of the hall. We feel their joy too as. When “Patience” opened in 1881, Gilbert thought the show’s appeal would prove just as ephemeral as its subject matter, and wouldn’t be appreciated in years to come. Thankfully, Charles Court Opera have proved him wrong with their classy, timeless, imaginative and virtuosic production.
