Tag Archives: Sarah Lamb

CRYING SHAME

★★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

CRYING SHAME at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★★

“a masterclass in creativity and playfulness”

Crying Shame is a masterpiece of heartfelt and fun-filled cabaret, made perfectly for all of Edinburgh’s lonely hearts. Exploring what it means to be lonely, how to cure it, and how to identify it, this show leaves no theatrical stone unturned as it dismantles itself (and us) before our very eyes.

Excited (and self-admittedly pathetic) clowns join the audience in the queue before beckoning us into the theatre space at Pleasance Dome; dressed beautifully in bright stage curtains and lit magically (set design Shahaf Beer, lighting John Chan). The sparkle and crookedness of the costuming is sublime and immediately sets the tone for the performers to indulge in their eccentricity and self-pity. The spill of unpolished makeup and odd angular costumes (also Shahaf Beer) add a certain je ne sais quoi to the brilliance of the piece.

The verbatim and lip-syncing are utterly breath-taking and intricately choreographed, as are the stylised and disjointed dancing interludes. Hilarious and beautiful, the voices of audience members, celebrities, and the public have their piece on the matter of feeling not worth it. Crying Shame is a masterclass in creativity and playfulness. It doesn’t shy from blending the silly and the touching into one big brilliant messy extravaganza. Crying Shame is unafraid to get up, close, and personal. Emphasis on the close. The production and delivery are faultless, and the detail of the show’s message and vision shine. Who knew sock puppets with googly eyes could be so moving?

Through an hour of high-paced and high-octane cabaret, songs, tap-dance, mime, and dance are used to empower the audience to love themselves and tackle their own (and each other’s loneliness) head on. In increasingly creative ways, Crying Shame brings an empowering and relatable message about being lonely that is like nothing you will ever see. As actors (Conor Dumbrell, Jordan Barton, Rachel Hunter and Nkara Stephenson) take the audience on a wellness journey simply like no other, they are pulled into a glorious tornado of camp and careful consideration for emotional sucker punches. As the structure of the cabaret collapses, as does the set – creating chilling tableaus of ghost like clowning and allowing the unhinged MC to let out their “frustration” on their own isolation.

Each clown has their moment to shine, as well as their own personal reflective moments which reduce the room to complete silence. Their performances powerfully dazzle with musical and theatrical talent – with stunning tap-dancing and soulful singing. As the piece twists and contorts, the audience is met with well-earned tear-jerkingly honest exchanges. From start to finish, Crying Shame will have your eyes watering for all the right reasons. Without a doubt, missing out on this fantastically thoughtful performance is something to cry about this Fringe.

 


CRYING SHAME at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – Pleasance Dome – King Dome

Reviewed on 21st August 2024

by Molly Knox

Photography by Rona Bar & Ofek Avshalom

 

 


CRYING SHAME

CRYING SHAME

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Tinted

Tinted

★★★

VAULT Festival 2020

Tinted

Tinted

Studio – The Vaults

Reviewed – 13th February

★★★

 

“has the right foundations, but could do with fleshing things out further”

 

Scripped Up theatre company are making their voice known at the VAULT Festival this year, championing the work of D/deaf, disabled, and neurodivergent artists. Tinted, their debut one-woman performance, written by disabled playwright Amy Bethan Evans, cracks open the lid of life with an impairment with honesty and humour.

Laura’s still living at home with her parents. They still drive her places and wipe her face. Laura’s friends aren’t doing that. They’re living their best twenty-something lives, flat sharing and having sex whenever they want. Laura wants those sorts of things. But so far her disability has made things tricky. So has her last relationship which took an unexpected turn. With flashbacks to childhood and her teens, Laura builds up a picture of events that make her the person she is today, as well questioning the current climate of #MeToo, and where her voice as a disabled person lies within it.

As thought provoking and arresting as Tinted is, the final execution of the piece doesn’t quite live up to what I think it wants to achieve. Even though you get an appreciation of what it’s like living without full ability, and seeing how sexual discrimination can affect absolutely anyone, the story gets a bit stuck in the mud, until the apex of the monologue is reached towards the end. The characters development and revelation could be stronger and more precise. The jumping in time works effectively, however, the jumping in subject matter can be jarring and confusing. Amy Bethan Evans strength is in creating a world of nostalgia. The cultural references of the late Nineties/early Noughties gets huge chuckles of remembrance from the audience.

Charlotte Eyres as Laura is “cool. And cute”. To quote what Laura’s friends think of her. There’s an endearing quality that makes her likeable to watch, with an effortless funny bone. The emotional climax she hits spot on, with an honest believability. Eyres comes across rather natural throughout, it feels like a verbatim piece at times. One small criticism is Eyre’s habit of constantly tucking her hair behind her ear, a nervous tick, or a character choice, it’s uncertain. Not to sound nit-picky, but it happens so often it becomes distracting.

This long-form monologue requires no set other than a chair. The power and vividness is in the words, in the story. More interesting choices could have been made with the one and only prop, or it may have been better to have just left it static, as some occasions the chair would be moved for no apparent reason, becoming off putting.

All in all, Tinted has the right foundations, but could do with fleshing things out further. You get fleeting snap shots into Laura’s life, but it doesn’t always go deep enough under the surface. The performance can come across feeling like a high school drama piece but it’s hard to distinguish if this is more of an issue with the writing or with Eyre’s depiction. Regardless, it’s still an absorbing story. It hits the right balance of being funny and moving. It’s highly refreshing to hear the voice of someone less abled and we need more stories like this in the world of theatre. Scripped Up, absolutely need to keep throwing work out there, kicking up a fuss and demanding those with a disability deserve a place at the (theatre) table.

 

Reviewed by Phoebe Cole

Photography by Georgia Harris

 

VAULT Festival 2020

 

 

Click here to see all our reviews from VAULT Festival 2020