Tag Archives: Holly Kavanagh

LYNN FACES

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Edinburgh Festival Fringe

LYNN FACES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

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“a provocative piece that isnโ€™t quite ready for primetime”

Laura Hortonโ€™s new play, Lynn Faces, is a raw take on a woman who is on the verge of turning 40, and trying to escape from a coercive relationship. For protagonist Leah, this means forming a punk rock band with two of her friends and an unknown drummer, and hiring the local bingo hall for the bandโ€™s first performance in front of an audience. The group is named Lynn Faces, after Lynn, the long suffering PA in TVโ€™s Alan Partridge Show. Itโ€™s an engaging set up, but taken as a whole, this play fails to deliver on its initial promise.

Lynn Faces relies on the audience to know who โ€œLynnโ€ is. And also to understand why a large stuffed cow might fall on top of the drummer. References to the Alan Partridge Show are littered throughout, beginning with the appearance of the band in Lynn masks, and โ€œsnazzy cardigans.โ€ We learn that Leah, prompted by best friend Ali (vocals, keyboards) once went around with a camera asking random people to put on โ€œLynn facesโ€ so she could photograph them. Thatโ€™s how she met ex-partner Pete who she is attempting to exorcise by forming a punk band. If all this sounds a bit confused, thatโ€™s because it is. Lynn Faces jumps around from being a punk band with actively bad musicians and even worse songs (based, you guessed it, on catch phrases from the Alan Partridge Show), to a woman on the verge of middle age having a breakdown.

Madeleine MacMahon as Leah, Peyvand Sadeghian as Ali, and Holly Kavanagh as Shonagh are all talented actresses. Playwright Horton makes a surprise appearance on drums. She appears late in the show playing the mysterious drummer Joy, before being felled by the aforementioned cow. The team make good work of establishing their characters, often with the bare minimum of dialogue. The antics between tough talking Ali and the innocent crafter and teacher Shonagh generate enough energy to crochet Lynn Faces together when Leahโ€™s breakdown threatens to stop the show in its tracks. But the biggest energy drain on the show is not Leahโ€™s breakdown, and her refusal to call ex-boyfriendโ€™s behaviour for what it is. The show lacks the raw energy of punk to drive it forward because the musicians are terrible. Even though theyโ€™re supposed to be. Without authentic punk energy, however, this show threatens to be just a patchwork of snazzy cardigans and pearls, fishnet stockings and tartan trousers. Without punk, thereโ€™s no power to fry coercive boyfriends on the spot. Pete lingers instead offstage, or as a minuscule avatar back projected with gaslighting phone texts that trigger Leahโ€™s traumatic memories.

Lynn Faces is a provocative piece that isnโ€™t quite ready for primetime. Sometimes oneโ€™s favourite TV show can be a distraction from the main event. Punk, on the other hand, is an instrument for reclaiming power. Even if we have to fake it. The redemptive power of punk is the real story in this show. And despite the weaknesses in the plot, Hortonโ€™s imagination shines through. With some rewriting, and some genuinely good musicians who know how to play really bad music, Lynn Faces could be a winner.


LYNN FACES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – Summerhall – Main Hall

Reviewed on 25th August 2024

byย Dominica Plummer

Photography by Dom Moore

 

 


LYNN FACES

LYNN FACES

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Untold

Untold Stories

SLAM, King’s Cross

Reviewed – 1st October 2017

 

โญ๏ธโญ๏ธย 1/2

for the evening as a whole

 

“the hugely divergent standard of work ultimately left me feeling nothing very strongly”

 

Untold Artsโ€™ Untold Stories, staged in the beautiful blank canvas of SLAM, King’s Cross, was an eclectic evening of diversely varying quality. The setting was, in the words of Holly Kavanaghโ€™s piece, โ€˜a bit of atmosphereโ€™: a relaxed, fairly priced bar and small tables in a cabaret arrangement with candles in the centre, created a warmly welcoming space and aura of storytelling. Kavanaghโ€™s self-authored and performed Singles Night: Over 50s, was sharply observed, expertly realised, wittily and sensitively communicated. Her multi-roling was marvellous and memorable. She was truly riveting to watch, and set the bar for the evening very high.

UntoldGoulburn

Mike Shephardโ€™s Goulburn provided an immediate tonal contrast. The premise was interesting, and the build to the murder and role reversal was well-achieved. But the piece rested on two-dimensional stereotypes of female interaction, propelled by brashly-drawn characters (nonetheless convincingly performed), which meant the denouement had no depth, but only a shallow shock factor.

Nick Mylesโ€™ Knees started bravely, with David Lenik as Jay bursting onto the stage through the audience crying โ€˜Help me!โ€™: but Knees did not commit itself to one feeling or line of communication, either in writing or directing, thus the piece was too erratic to engage with.

UntoldSingles

Both Rebecca Jonesโ€™ Stevie and Mark Lindowโ€™s Iโ€™ll be Along Dโ€™reckly shared the same pitfall as the second two items on the programme: they were not staged for the audience, but rather an insular foray into two imagined psychologies of two people whom the writers seemed to have thought and researched very little about. The fact that Stevie was not performed by a disabled actor was a lazy and upsetting decision by the production team. Watching as Dave Perry as Noah wheeled himself off stage only to bound back on thirty seconds later to collect his applause was almost unbelievable. The piece was not worth it for such cavalier offence. A dash of scrutiny would not have gone amiss.

Bakersfield (heading image on this page) had many merits. Compellingly and strikingly performed by Kingsley Amadi and well-lit by Florence Bell, it was bursting at the seams with ideas and moving subject matter. If anything, the piece had too much in it for the format of the evening, and Chris Oduh would do well considering developing it into a longer work. By comparison, Mark Lindowโ€™s Iโ€™ll be Along Dโ€™reckly was thinly written, and though Silas Hawkinsโ€™ performance was lived-in and honest, the content did not have enough backbone to support him.

Shyam Bhattโ€™s Treyaโ€™s Last Dance was funny and full of life, which made the slow reveal of her brotherโ€™s death and the complex social circumstances which provoked it all-the-more poignant. A little too long in places, but energetically directed and beautifully performed by Bhatt, the piece was the perfect close to the evening.

Untold Stories was a showcase not without flashes of theatre at its best, but the hugely divergent standard of work ultimately left me feeling nothing very strongly, except that I wished I had been told some different ones; or similar stories much better.

 

Reviewed by Eloรฏse Poulton

Photography by Nathalie St Clair

 

 

UNTOLD STORIES

was at SLAM, King’s Cross

 

 

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