Tag Archives: Louis Kavouras

POP OFF, MICHELANGELO!

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

POP OFF, MICHELANGELO!

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“this camp, fairy-tale romp of a show is going to be the best hour and fifteen of our day”

A cloud drifts across the stage. Six tall columns stand proud, with a scattering of shorter ones—Doric and Ionic, naturally—not a Corinthian in sight. The cloud becomes a marvellous projection surface, alive with images that reveal the inner thoughts and inner musings of this gloriously queer fantasia.

We begin with Beyoncé’s 2022 triumph—her Renaissance, the album that changed everything. And then, we’re told, this show is about the other Renaissance. Of course.

Cue art history gags—the sort of jokes that send art historians into delighted squeals. Like how everyone “hates” Raphael (not true, of course, but who doesn’t enjoy taking potshots at the popular girls?). Our guides are the gay ghosts of the Italian Renaissance, and instantly we know: this camp, fairy-tale romp of a show is going to be the best hour and fifteen of our day.

Enter the brothers: Michelangelo and Leonardo. Yes, those guys—but here they are flaming, fabulous, and gloriously, unapologetically gay. Gay in both the homosexual sense and the whimsical, theatrical sense. Yet, in their time, love like theirs was forbidden. Cue a parade of songs so cheeky you can’t help but grin: mischievous “truths” such as the Mona Lisa being nothing more than a cute boyfriend in drag. When asked about new student orientation, the cast cracks: “heterosexual.” The show revels in falsification, camp exaggeration, and rewriting history with fabulous flair. And yes—there is a great Pope. Of course there is.

The scenic world of this piece is a clever use of tall and short columns, which shift and support the ever-morphing scenes. Michelangelo discovers a chisel, conjures the Pietà, finds a twenty-year-old block of marble, and miraculously liberates David from the stone. But in this work, what’s truly freed from the marble is love itself.

The message is simple, yet profound: we are all brothers, sisters, siblings, lovers, or none of the above, if we are aromantic, and that is okay, too. Whether we fall in love, never love, love differently, or love not at all, every expression—or non-expression—of love is vital. That is the rainbow light bathing the white columns. For it is not the pillars that hold this world aloft, but acceptance, love, and—let’s face it—talent.

There are moments when we must cry, “Pop off, Michelangelo!”

Moments when we must sculpt the seemingly unsculptable.

Moments when we ourselves must be freed from the rock—or pried away from the orgy.

And there are moments when chapels of acceptance are built not from stone, but from art and theatre. For theatre has always done this: told whimsical, joyful stories that whisper—no, sing—to the world: it doesn’t matter what you are, or who you are. You are special. Especially if you are Marisa Tomei.

The cast is outstanding: Max Eade (Michelangelo), Aidan MacColl (Leonardo da Vinci), Michael Marouli (Pope), Laura Sillett (Savonarola), Kurrand Khand (Salai), Aoife Haakenson (Mother), and Sev Keoshgerian (Italian Chef).

The creatives are equally dazzling:

Dylan Marcaurele (Book, Music and Lyrics), Sundeep Saini (Choreographer & Intimacy Director), Emily Bestow (Costume Designer), Adam King (Lighting Designer), Joe McNeice, Emily Bestow & PJ McEvoy (Set Design), Joe McNeice (Director).

So don’t be a Pick-Me Girl. Pick this. Let it erase the homophobia of the past and remind us that love is only ever love. For love does not separate us—it connects us. Or, at the very least, gets us through “ten years of art therapy.”



POP OFF, MICHELANGELO!

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 17th August 2025 at Udderbelly at Underbelly, George Square

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Danny with a Camera

 

 

 

 

 

Pop Off

Pop Off

Pop Off

POTTY THE PLANT

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

POTTY THE PLANT

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“Theatrical brilliance.”

In ancient Greek theatre, at the end of a play, the deus ex machina would descend to tidy things up. But let’s not rush—let’s leave that thought where it belongs: at the end of this review.

The house lights dim. A spotlight reveals a humble flowerpot on a table. Inside, a retracted plant slumbers. A plant at rest.

Suddenly—the sun! A dazzling, joyful sunbeam bursts through the open window, embodied by an actor in a gloriously over-the-top solar headdress. It’s brilliant, whimsical, cheeky theatre magic.

From the pot emerges Potty the Plant (Baden Burns). The audience can hardly resist applauding such a delightfully theatrical entrance. Enter, too, the trio of hospital nurses: Mel (Stephanie Cubello), Steven (Sam Ridley), and Dave (Joe Winter). To call them “back-up” would be a crime—they are the lifeblood of Little Boo Boo General Hospital. They are day and night, sun and moon, crime-solvers, chaos-makers, losers of coma victims, and keepers of the show’s irrepressible energy. This is an ensemble piece. Sure, there are standout solos sprouting like new shoots, but the joy lies in the enchanted forest, not the individual trees.

But where there is light, darkness must follow. Enter the sinister Dr Acula (Ash K-B). Yes, that blood-sucking fellow from Transylvania—or is he? Something suspicious lurks in the hospital, where people vanish with unnerving regularity. What’s certain is that K-B commands the stage with vocal brilliance and magnetic presence: half-Buster Keaton, half-bloodthirsty mischief.

Meanwhile, Potty harbours a tender love for Miss Lacy (Lucy Appleton). She calls herself an “easy girl,” yet struggles to truly connect. She is the perfect twisted ingénue—sweet as petals, but with a wild streak in her foliage. She waters Potty, never realising how deeply his love runs. Humans falling for plants is called phytophilia—but can a plant return the favour with anthropophilia? Potty does. And in this world, where absurdity and joy reign, anything is possible.

Potty the Plant began life as a film project, and thank goodness it sprouted into a stage musical. Sometimes the best art grows in the strangest soil. The six-person cast is riotously joyful: charming, foul-mouthed, irreverent, and utterly inclusive. With a witty libretto, glorious harmonies, and musical theatre sparkle, this is a fringe show that takes a minuscule stage and blossoms into a universe. The props are ingenious; every secret is in plain sight, just like life. Songs like I Don’t Care are cheeky delights.

Baden Burns is sensational as Potty. Puppetry, after all, is alchemy. With a flick of a leaf, a tilt of the head, a smirk or grin, the puppet becomes a person. We believe. We forget he is cloth and wire; he is. Descartes declared, “I think, therefore I am”—well, Potty loves, therefore he truly is. Puppets have always been theatre’s tricksters and truth-tellers, distilling human experience into something at once more concentrated and more universal.

Behind the magic are three clever minds: Baden Burns, Aeddan Sussex, and Sarah Oakland. They’ve taken a seedling of an idea and nurtured it into a sprawling, whimsical world. Neve Pearce’s reimagining of the puppet is ingenious—Potty shifts between being rooted and mobile, and even grows into a large-scale version for a dream ballet. Theatrical brilliance.

And now, back to the Greeks. At the end of their dramas, the deus ex machina—literally “god from the machine”—would appear, usually lowered in by crane, to resolve the unresolvable. In Potty the Plant, Potty himself is the deus ex machina. He’s with us the whole way, teaching that life is gloriously, irreverently absurd: where a jubilant sun dances with a groovy moon, where theatre laughs at itself even as it explains why it exists at all.

By the end, you find yourself in love with Potty the Plant—becoming a proud phytophile. And what could be more brilliantly theatrical than that?



POTTY THE PLANT

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 17th August 2025 at Braeburn at Gilded Balloon at Appleton Tower

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Roan Lenihan (from previous production)

 

 

 

 

 

POTTY THE PLANT

POTTY THE PLANT

POTTY THE PLANT