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FAULT LINES

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Edinburgh Festival Fringe

FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

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“the choreography was extraordinarily creative, sharp and inspired throughout”

Fault Lines, written by Nick Walker and performed by Lรฎla Dance, pulls no punches. Whilst itโ€™s not exactly a theatre of cruelty, the immediacy of its metaphors and the emotions there within strike you from moment one. The show, very explicitly, tries at the much worked message of righteous panic around the climate; the glaring, world-altering issue which, on account of its relatively abstract, gradual danger, gets ignored the world over by short-term, hedonistic desires.

As a dance piece (dancers Joe Darby, Amy Morvell, Luke Brown, Yanki Yau, Coralie Calfond, Ivan Merino Gaspar and Madison Burgess), the categories for assessment are more limited than their theatrical counterparts, at least to a layman such as myself. First, the movement. Second, the technical aspects. And finally, the combination and collaboration of the two.

The dancing itself is extraordinary (choreographed byย Abi Mortimer and Carrie Whitaker). Whilst the synchronization had moments of sloppiness, the choreography was extraordinarily creative, sharp and inspired throughout. The play moved through a multitude of anthologies; different areas and timelines, where each individual and community suffers in a variety of ways from the unstable, burning world. A personal favourite of mine is a section on coastal overpopulation. Sometimes, movement pieces often feel like they delve too strongly into the abstract that their metaphorical reflection is lost, but here; with effective, concise dialogue alongside jagged, desperate movements, both chaotic and routine, the overwhelming claustrophobia of this highly likely scenario is viscerally striking. One dancer outlines, with increasingly hollow optimism, the possible designs of their new accommodation, whilst the fundamental lack of space threatens to break down the door to his delusion. The image is powerful and unavoidable, and their profound physical skill is evident throughout.

Furthermore, their use of props, primarily long, wooden poles, elevates the potential for complex, aggressive power dynamics and movement sequences throughout. In one significantly, empathetic section, one of the characters pleads in Spanish as heโ€™s attacked with poles by the other dancers who donโ€™t seem to understand him. Though only one individual initially singles him out, the desperate need to other spurred on by the dire circumstances themselves spurred on by climate change suddenly designates him an outcast warranting violence and targeting. The emotion here is immediate. Though certain sections feel too aesthetically beautiful to relate to any raw feeling or experience, this sequence – itโ€™s torture, itโ€™s desperation, itโ€™s humanity – triggers oneโ€™s innate compassion and sense of unfairness. Though such bullying has existed throughout human history, the potential for climate change to create circumstances which reverse social progress in a way we are already witnessing is very powerful here.

The technical aspects are, in short, perfect. The production is not afraid to make the sound loud (Dougie Evans), and itโ€™s all the better for it, each stab and strike and beat and pulse immersing one in the intensity of the scene. The music choices are effective; not cliche, but familiar, anxious techno beats which never maintain long enough to become comforting or predictable. The use of voiceover exerts, remixed into haunting EDM hooks, about the need for space, warmth, safety and the like, add a more relatable humanity to the symbolism of the often silent dancing choreography.

The amalgamation of these two elements is largely effective. In the aforementioned overcrowding sequence, a beam of light (Natalie Rowland), which casts a cascade of jerking, shuddering shadows, gradually shrinks and shrinks until it fits each dancer, single file, with not an inch to spare. The increasingly claustrophobic choreography in this scene, clawing at the edges, running into the shrinking, shifting light, adds to the breathless, desperate effect.

Overall, Fault Lines powerfully meets and accentuates the existential danger climate change poses. Though certain sections drag or fail to clearly illustrate their meaning, the composition as a whole is shattering in its visceral presentation of a not-unlikely reality.


FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – Assembly @ Dance Base

Reviewed on 22nd August 2024

by Horatio Holloway

Photography by Dougie Evans

 

 


FAULT LINES

FAULT LINES

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THE CROW, (THE PRINCESS), AND THE SCULLERY MAID

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Edinburgh Festival Fringe

THE CROW, (THE PRINCESS), AND THE SCULLERY MAID at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

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“it has the potential to be what it intended, a funny, charming short play for children who love fairy tales”

Iโ€™m a big fan of childrenโ€™s theatre, and always try to see at least one kidโ€™s show during any Fringe Festival. The publicity for The Crow, (The Princess), and The Scullery Maid sounded promising. This young, personable company from across the waters of both the Channel and the Atlantic are brilliant at rustling up an audience, and welcoming you warmly into the theatre. Once The Crow, (The Princess), and The Scullery Maid began however, it was clear that the script, and the performance skills, needed some work.

Letโ€™s begin with the intended audience. Childrenโ€™s theatre is an important, but often undervalued area. Childrenโ€™s theatre requires both stamina and courage, because kids donโ€™t hesitate to tell you how youโ€™re doing, often loudly and unexpectedly, and right in the middle of the show. It demands that you respect both the work and your audience. The Crow, (The Princess), and The Scullery Maid wasnโ€™t suitable for the youngest audiences because it was several drafts away from a finished script, and the plot was difficult to follow. The characters were equally confused, and thatโ€™s not just because the protagonist was a little girl (played by an adult) constantly on the verge of needing her naptime. Sadly, the show didnโ€™t really establish the main plot and the characters until we were almost halfway through.

There was way too much exposition. But once weโ€™d been properly introduced to the Scullery Maid and her ugly prince in disguise, things picked up considerably. It was possible to enjoy all the unlikely costume changes behind the curtain, and the frog kissing, and the book loving princesses on their own terms. And despite the randomness of story creating witches, and rescuing enchanters, there were moments of inspired dialogue that helped create a mood that any fantasy and satire loving adult, at any rate, could enjoy.

At sixty minutes, The Crow, (The Princess), and The Scullery Maid seemed long. But with work, it has the potential to be what it intended, a funny, charming short play for children who love fairy tales. With rewrites, Spin Cycle Theatre could be onto a winner.


THE CROW, (THE PRINCESS), AND THE SCULLERY MAID at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 21st August 2024

by Dominica Plummer

 

 


THE CROW

THE CROW

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