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BERNIE DIETER’S CLUB KABARETT

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

BERNIE DIETER’S CLUB KABARETT

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

“largely the warmth, affection and beauty shone through and beyond the tent”

Where to start? The full frontal nudity? The death defying acrobotics? The public desecration of a cake? Bernie Dieter’s Club Kabarett has almost everything one could ask for from a Cabaret: an hour’s worth of beautiful burlesque, camp talent (of the circus variety) with an energy so infectious you couldn’t resist clapping and stomping along. By the nature of a variety show each section functioned as its own unique display, so I think the best way to review it is to trace it linearly: starting first with the MC herself.

Bernie Dieter’s story sounds fictitious when she tells it; an eccentric grandmother from behind the iron curtain who formed a sexually liberating travelling circus. But its authenticity, and it is indeed authentic, is so palpable in everything Dieter does; her raunchy audience interactions have so much heart and warmth imbued within the innuendos. Her voice is just stunning and her characterisation immediately harkens back to the cabaret MCs of old. Her “beautiful” acts follow suit without ever missing a beat. First we have a smaller, acrobatic man (Danik Abishev) with truly unfathomably upper core strength. Much of the cabaret to varied extents is explicitly sexy, but I was often so engrossed in the athletic prowess on display that when he stripped to raucous whoops and cheers, I almost couldn’t compute the sudden change in reaction. Dieter asks the audience if we’re “so turned on right now?”, but with every act, it was the sort of “on” I imagine Kant got looking at a big mountain or waterfall. Indeed, when the third act, a wonderful drag ballad from Iva Rosebud culminates in the tearing off of a strap and a full down there exposure, it was the last part of the body that one thought of, since every other muscle was so evidently in tense, spectacular focus.

The second act is a very impressive fire breathing routine from Jacqueline Furey, followed later by the wonderful acrobat Soliana Ersie. The outfits throughout was dazzling if perhaps a little kitsch, and the production design at large was at its zenith here, with an impossibly small box unleashing incredible feats of balance and flexibility which often made me do a double take. It was a shame that she didn’t return, as many others did, for a second show, and indeed, that she and the other acts didn’t collaborate more towards the climax of the production. I would have liked to see how their various skills could have interacted a little bit more, particularly in light of the implicit and explicit ethos of mutual affection and collaboration.

However, that doesn’t detract from the beauty of the acts themselves: finally, we are treated to a truly magnificent trapeze artist (Jarred Dewey) who combined incredible, sculpted strength with angelic grace, flying between their bars as if they were born with them. Scoring all these acts was a wonderful rock three piece who seemed truly flawless throughout, and were justly given their moments to shine. Indeed, the weakest facets were perhaps when their energy was suppressed, momentarily, for more explicit political rebellion. I am not opposed whatsoever to saying that quiet part out loud, particularly in our current political climate, but the tonal whiplash of these moments between a performer nakedly sitting on a cake and another swallowing an LED light felt slightly didactic, and could have been weaved more fluidly into the wider style in my view whilst still maintaining its emotional resonance. Indeed, I felt the explicit expression of queer talent and exploration spoke for itself in large part. But that’s a testament to the vivid wonder of this Kabarett, with its campness never disguising its astounding talent and good heart. There were some odd choices – particularly a random bump of pretend coke during one act which seemed ethically to contradict the show’s messaging – but largely the warmth, affection and beauty shone through and beyond the tent, like a beacon attracting wonderful weirdos from miles around.

 



BERNIE DIETER’S CLUB KABARETT

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 13th August 2025 at The Beauty at Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows

by Horatio Holloway

Photography by Alexis D Lea

 

 

 

 

 

BERNIE DIETER

BERNIE DIETER

BERNIE DIETER

🎭 TOP EDINBURGH FRINGE DANCE 2024 🎭

THE SHOW FOR YOUNG MEN

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

THE SHOW FOR YOUNG MEN at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“an innocent, wondrous delight”

The Show for Young Men will not change the world. It doesn’t have an obvious “point”, or “message”, or even structure. But none of that matters. Because in its simplicity and tenderness, it touched my soul more than any other piece I’ve seen at Fringe.

The plot and setting are a singular, sustaining note. A construction worker is toyed by and toys with a young boy who has stumbled upon his site. That’s it. For the whole hour. The set (Rachel O’Neil) itself is simple: three carbon tubes of various lengths (all conspicuously small-child-sized in width), a few moving boards and a retractable ladder. With this starting tool box, the choreographers (lead artist Eoin McKenzie with choreographic support from Aya Kobayashi) concoct a whole world’s worth of playthings. Like a creative child not gifted store-bought toys, they turn their mundane objects into rockets and tanks and slides and every material facet of adventure. A personal high light of this ingenuity comes just after the halfway point. The construction worker, struck into a depression by his conflicted resistance to vulnerability and intimacy, has his pain illuminated by a small light shown through the circular boundary of the industrial tube. He is sung a song by his young counterpart, who it transpires, once the construction worker leaves, is directly in the line of the light. As such, he shines.

Indeed, this shining is accentuated by the wonderful talent and chemistry of the two performers. Robbie Synge plays the construction worker, and brings an evident vulnerability of masculinity desperately scratching to drag down a fundamentally playful, compassionate, wonderful heart. This vulnerability overtakes him sometimes, and the rift between the two this causes is damaging and profound, but it makes the resolution and rekindling all the more wonderful; a rekindling which is already highly rewarding due to the innocent joy that’s sparked between the two. Much of this joy is attributable to Alfie, more or less playing himself, the adorably cheeky but impressively organized 10 year old who sends Robbie into (somewhat voluntary) loops. Their chases around ladders and swings around (and into) industrial tubing bring out the inner child not just in Robbie but in all of us. In an age of cynicism, the overwhelming innocence and friendliness of their interactions are irresistible.

However, it’s after the resolution where the play really enters visionary territory, delving into more exploratory and stylistic sequences which highlight the wonder of shared struggle and the absurdity of bottling it up under the auspice of being ‘a man’. A joy shared is a joy doubled and sorrow shared is a sorrow halved: an idiom this play embodies to its every detail. Indeed, the aforementioned scene where Alfie sings “Half the world away”, a song written by an ex-construction worker as it happens, is massively powerful; an affectionate, calming melancholy that feels like a warm patch of sun striking one’s skin. Indeed, the technical aspects of the play are superb throughout. The lighting (Katharine Williams) is simple and largely diegetic, save for the occasional blackout, but the urban-auburn spotlights that visually reflect that sense of melancholic sunset, and the party lighting which accentuates the high-energy moments of the play, are perfectly executed. The sound design (Greg Sinclair) is perhaps even more creative and effective; a football podcast featuring Lineker, Shearer and Wright sets a day-to-day scene wonderfully, and its shift to pop songs and dance anthems at the bequest of Alfie is hilarious and joyful in equal measure.

The Show for Young Men is an innocent, wondrous delight. It shoves toxic masculinity’s face in the dirt without ever having to explicitly acknowledge it, by playfully illustrating the possibility for healthy, vulnerable, loyal relationships between any kind of man.


THE SHOW FOR YOUNG MEN at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – Assembly @ Dance Base

Reviewed on 23rd August 2024

by Horatio Holloway

Photography by Andrew Perry

 

 


THE SHOW FOR YOUNG MEN

THE SHOW FOR YOUNG MEN

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