Tag Archives: House of Oz

TRIPTYCH REDUX

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

TRIPTYCH REDUX

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“It is dance you can read, dance that is language, dance that is legible”

Australian choreographer Lewis Major’s mixed repertory Triptych Redux sweeps between the inner and outer worlds—a whirling maelstrom of motion, sound, and light—holding us in its pull from first breath to final blackout.

Comprising Prologue, Unfolding, and Epilogue (in two parts: Lament and Act 2), the evening is sculpted with a precision that balances momentum and pause. Major’s movement language spins into stillness, weight folding into the body’s centre before rolling outwards in waves. At its heart is a motif: the sudden cascade of motion and a turn that halts as if time itself has caught its breath, the dancer suspended between propulsion and repose, like that moment in a cascading ocean wave when we have a divine yet potent stillness. These are three works and four sections, but mostly, they feel like one thing. One glimpse into a specific topography.

The cast—Rebecca Bassett-Graham, Abbey Harby, Felicity Chadwick, Lewis Major, Stefaan Morrow, and Elsi Faulks—navigate this vocabulary with unerring focus: sliding in socks across the floor, turning and arresting, lifting and sculpting, sketching chalky lines in white powder, tossing it skywards so it drifts and clings like a ghost of movement. There is a known language here.

The structure unfolds with the quiet logic of an ecosystem: trio, duet, quartet, duet for women, duet for men, mixed duet, and a final solo. Music shifts between sections, yet the transitions are seamless—each dance feeding the next, unfolding unhurried and organically. The opening has the feel of ritual, port de bras carried in unison, then broken into counterpointed foldings of the body, as though testing the architecture of the space. There is a haunting duet of stunning partnering where Graham never touches the floor.

Most theatrical reviews fail to mention lighting designers. If the lighting designer does their job well, we often take the illumination for granted; our minds focus on what is being lit, rather than the process of illumination. Lighting, here, is no afterthought but a partner. Co-designed by Major and Fausto Brusamolino, it shapes bodies into relief, flickers like memory, or cuts lines across the stage, always one state dissolves into another without a seam. In Unfolding, Brusamolino casts lines that scan the space, fabrics of shifting patterns, and a spinning “balance beam” of light that demands the dancer’s absolute precision—another kind of movement feat, this time in illumination, and the dancer dancing with light. Lighting designers are fascinating—many spend their days in darkened spaces, sculpting with lumens. The best, like Brusamolino and Major, give only what is needed—never a lumen more. They make our eyes reach for the image, forcing us to focus.

And I have to mention that when the side lights came on, casting warm sculptural amber light on the dancer’s body, those of us who have been watching dance at the fringe drank it in the way an unwatered house plant soaks up a long-awaited drink. Thank you.

Debussy’s Gymnopédies closes the work: a single dancer, powdered and solitary, bathed in a narrow shaft of light. A foot draws a circle; the body answers with arcs of its own—a prayer, a farewell. The music erodes into drone and dissonance, tension mounting until the final swell tips us into a sudden, absolute blackout.

Major’s world is one where light and body are inseparable, where every turn risks arrest, and every arrest holds the seed of the next release. It is dance you can read, dance that is language, dance that is legible, but also dance you can feel without needing to translate.



TRIPTYCH REDUX

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 14th August 2025 at Main House at ZOO Southside

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Ven Tithing

 

 

 

 

 

TRIPTYCH REDUX

TRIPTYCH REDUX

TRIPTYCH REDUX

FLICK

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

FLICK

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

“Nunn’s performance is magnetic; she’s endlessly animated, holding the room as if we’re her closest confidants”

Madelaine Nunn strolls onto the stage in her teal scrubs, beaming like she’s about to let you in on a juicy secret. She’s a palliative care nurse, used to looking after elderly patients, until one day a new admission catches her off-guard. PhD candidate Mark is young, good-looking and, as much as she tries to be professional, she can’t help how attracted she is to him. After doing him a small favour, this quickly escalates into something much darker, and goes to places you probably wouldn’t expect.

It’s a tricky piece to talk about without giving too much away. Nunn’s performance is magnetic; she’s endlessly animated, holding the room as if we’re her closest confidants. Her warmth and wit make it almost impossible not to root for her, even as her actions tilt from questionable to downright alarming. There’s an interesting gender thing at play as well, and it’s hard to believe if the genders were swapped that we’d be viewing any of the character’s decisions in the same light.

The central story is actually quite slim, and could itself be condensed into a much shorter play, but Nunn peppers the journey with tangents about colleagues, other patients, and hospital life. Some of these feel like narrative detours, others lean into moments of image-rich comedy with recurring points.

The tonal shifts are where Flick really thrives. Director Emily O’Brien-Brown balances the humour and menace with care, so when the big twist arrives, it lands with emotional force. A scene lit with soft, warm light gives us a glimpse of the character at her most vulnerable, transforming her from chaotic rule-breaker to someone carrying a grief so heavy it shapes every decision she makes.

Sound designer Christian Biko adds a curious texture to the world, with plucked strings underscoring moments with an off-kilter tension. It’s perhaps the one element of the show which doesn’t necessarily best serve the moments when it appears, but it certainly adds to the unease simmering beneath the comedy.

When the big reveal happens, we suddenly realise that this is an entirely different story to the one we’ve been following. What starts as a fairly light comedy slips into something much darker, and then into something incredibly sad. That Nunn is able to keep us on side throughout all of this, and play the weight of the underlying grief as effortlessly as she does the humour in the build-up, is a real credit to her as a performer.

Flick does that brilliant thing of taking a really sad and serious theme and finding a way of turning it into a story filled with chaos and humour. It’s a clever vehicle, and makes for a really entertaining hour of storytelling.



FLICK

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 9th August 2025 at Red Lecture Theatre at Summerhall

by Joseph Dunitz

Photography by Darren Gill

 

 

 

 

 

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FLICK

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