FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

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

Fault Lines, written by Nick Walker and performed by Lîla Dance, pulls no punches. Whilst it’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 by 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 he’s attacked with poles by the other dancers who don’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 – it’s torture, it’s desperation, it’s humanity – triggers one’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 it’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

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★★★★

“a very personal story in the midst of an institutional one, with plenty of humour and compassion throughout”

Duck is vivid in a way few pieces or storytelling, let alone theatre, manage to be. It tells the story of Ismael “Smiles” Akhad, a stereotypically insecure and competitive fifteen year old boy whose whole life revolves around cricket. His ambitions are curtailed, however, by racism amongst the ranks of his private school cricket team, both implicit racism, through his manipulative “old boy” cricket coach, Mr Eagles, and explicit racism: the bullying and by-standing of his teammates.

Indeed, the fundamental strength of Maatin’s writing, though there are many strengths, is how nuanced, flawed, redeemable and sympathetic Ismael is. “Smiley” is a real talent, but he’s fallible; we never actually see him score anything but ducks (a big fat 0). He’s rambunctious, rebellious, resentful, but nevertheless not blind to the sacrifices of his father, who Qasim Mahmood, the sole actor in the play, performs with similarly wonderful joy and depth. Indeed, it’s the relationship between father and son which acts as the spine of the play; they fight, though both just want the other to be happy. They listen to each other. They want to understand each other, even when the teenage brain makes that understandably hard. The love traceable in this relationship despite the complications makes you root hard for their mutual success despite their faults.

In general, the writing is excellent. It’s never poetic but it never needs to be, because honesty and vivid realism is the order of the day and Maatin executes it with near perfection. Indeed, my performance was stopped halfway through for a tech issue, breaking immersion in the most explicit sense, and yet I never felt detached once it restarted, which is a testament to the breadth and colour of the world Maatin creates. It immerses you immediately and permeates; each character so vividly alive that a short incidental interval can’t possibly make them fade.

Furthermore, Mahmood’s acting is as strong as the writing. From the opening “Howzaaaaat?”, the energy never dies; even in the powerful, emotional moments, such as when his father elucidates the reality of xenophobia in England, where silences last longer than dialogue, the intensity of the character and the story never dissipates. The directorial pacing (ImyWyatt Corner) and writing can be thanked in part, but the control and energy Mahmood exhibits is just as significant. He never overdoes it, never loses your attention, and though sometimes the emotional development can feel chaotic and discordant, such are the tortures of a teenage brain.

Alongside this direct talent, the use of tech in the show is outstanding; direct, but executed to perfection. Throughout, two imaginary cricket commentators narrate the ups and downs of Ismael’s experience. Voiceovers can often be tacky and messy, but they’re incredibly sharp here, and we sense that Mahmood knows each one of them – their pace, cadence and rhythm – as well as he knows his live lines. The use of duck sound effects (Holly Khan) is tempered but perfectly timed, and the many simple lighting (Jonathan Chan) changes to convey warm summer days, movie nights and classroom monotony is, at risk of sounding like a broken record, executed perfectly.

The show deals with heavy, important themes throughout – micro aggressive and outward racism, institutional prejudice, and the 7/7 bombings – but never becomes didactic, rather treating each issue with the personal perspective they warrant. Its presentation of the “boys club” racism is visceral in its distaste, and the isolation Ismael suffers emits equally so. But regardless, Duck manages to tell a very personal story in the midst of an institutional one, with plenty of humour and compassion throughout. It’s a vivid delight, and I recommend it unreservedly

Tag Archives: Horatio Holloway

FAULT LINES

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

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