Tag Archives: Summerhall

PALDEM

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

PALDEM

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

“so many fascinating ideas and visceral moments”

From the instant you walk into the Summerhall theatre, you’re struck with a rush of hot, sticky air; an intensity that never really abates throughout the narrative to come. The set is minimalistic but tactfully constructed; an Ikea white room fit with sofa and projector sheet that doubles as a somewhat claustrophobic wall. However, the real virtue of the set’s minimalism emerges once the actors enter, and their electric characterisation engulfs the stage and the audience’s attention.

Paldem follows two friends and ex-lovers – Megan and Kevin – who, after erroneously filming a casual hook up, decide to create an OnlyFans ostensibly for the potential financial dividends. The concept is immediately catching; very much a contemporary zeitgeist in its deconstruction of modern intimacy in the age of parasocial publicity and AI, and its characters feel vivid enough to transform it from concept into fully-fledged, deeply human story. The tension that emerges between the characters also feels organic and palpable; Kevin becomes more and more fixated on the cinematic facets of his work, seemingly in an attempt to detach himself from the growing affection he feels for Megan, who starts doing solo videos in an attempt to avoid this intimate confrontation and continue reducing their work to a performance. This success is in large part due to the writing: David Jonsson has an abundance of wit and imagination which he utilises in perfect proportion. The dialogue still sounds authentic despite being quicker and punchier than any real human conversation, and the characters’ idiosyncrasies, personalities and cadences all feel thorough; particularly the two protagonists.

This leads me to the performances; Michael Workeye is superb as Kevin, imbuing him simultaneously with an infectious humour and a palpable vulnerability that it attempts to mask. I would have liked to see slightly more exploration of his seemingly nihilistic or at the very least emotionally abstracted outlook, but Wakéyè himself finds this facet without breaking a sweat. He is matched stride for stride by Natasha Cowley, who plays the opinionated, intense and conscientious Megan, at once shy / reserved and intensely passionate. Cowley makes Megan very sympathetic despite a script that sometimes makes her out to be the more dislikeable of the two, with her frequent condescension as a white woman to Kevin about his race and social justice positions exemplifying an entitled streak. Indeed, I think Kevin’s quiet misogyny could have been explored with a little more depth to perhaps complicate this dynamic, but this is not a reflection on the two performers who are near flawless in their performances. Lewis Peek is also very impressive in his multi-rolling, capturing his pretentious French pornstar and inauthentic American trust fund baby alter egos with equal authenticity, humour and cringe-conjuring engagement.

The directing and its technical assistance was superb throughout. A particular highlight for me was a montage of tableaux in a series of intense, neon blue flashes, with much about the characters changing dynamics illustrated through images of strained posing and new sex toys. Director Zi Alikhan gives the naturalistic concept a stylistic spin and for the most part the outcomes are dynamic and subsequently thematically impactful; the proxemics utilise the totality of the stage and create both intense social intimacy and crushing isolation within the same, malleable space. There are certain choices, particularly in more intimate filming scenes, where the dynamic feels a little confused: people can be contradictory of course, but characters occasionally felt puppeteered to achieve a thematic end rather than organically left to do so of their own accord. However, this doesn’t detract significantly from the overall efficacy of the directorial choices and their impacts on characterisation.

My primary issue with Paldem in its current interaction is its narrative structure; more specifically, the sudden whiplash between primary and tertiary themes in the final third. Largely the play seemed to focus on intimacy and its relationship with media, theatricality and money; the social and racial dynamics of the relationship were touched on in the occasional mention of fetishisation and the porn categories therewithin, but suddenly in the final act supersede every other theme, transforming the play into a conflict oriented primarily around that. The final scene is exceptional in writing, directing and acting in a vacuum, but for me it just came too suddenly and too immediately, so that other thematic strings were left untied. I think maybe a slight extension of the penultimate act which makes this transition feel more organic could take Paldem into the stratosphere as a really superb piece of work. Because every major element is absolutely there, with acting, writing, directing and technical talent abound.

Paldem is a production that I know is going to stick with me; I chatted about it for hours afterward and didn’t feel satisfied. There’s so much to sink one’s teeth into – so many fascinating ideas and visceral moments – and I encourage anyone instinctively interested in our modern love to go forth, fangs bared.

 



PALDEM

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 14th August 2025 at TechCube 0 at Summerhall by Horatio Holloway

Photography by Giulia Ferrando

 

 

 

 

 

PALDEM

PALDEM

PALDEM

300 PAINTINGS

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

300 PAINTINGS

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

“compelling, funny, and, at times, quietly challenging”

Sam Kissajukian opens 300 Paintings by telling us he is quitting comedy to become an artist. It is a ridiculous premise, he admits, and one that becomes the launchpad for a fast-paced, funny, and unexpectedly thoughtful hour that straddles stand-up, TED Talk, and autobiographical theatre.

In 2021, during a six-month manic episode, Kissajukian created 300 paintings, unknowingly documenting his mental state through the process. The show charts this period and its aftermath, skipping at speed through his evolving artistic styles, obsessions, and experiments. One recurring joke is just how quickly he abandons each new phase in pursuit of the next, a habit both comic and revealing. His philosophy, he tells us, is quantity over quality.

The set-up could feel minimal – just Kissajukian, a projection screen, and his story – but his charisma more than fills the space. He knows how to land a punchline, how to keep a rhythm, and how to pull the audience along even when the journey veers from art-world satire into something stranger and more personal. His recounting of a phase in his journey to create 30 inventions in 30 days, and eventually securing a $10,000 investment, is both absurd and oddly moving, throwing up questions about what art is, how we measure its value, and how business and creativity intersect.

There is a self-awareness here about form, too. Kissajukian uses the tools of stand-up to deliver a show that is not quite stand-up, playing with audience expectations of comedy while giving us something closer to a storytelling lecture. The effect is both disarming and refreshing, and it gives space for more serious reflections to land.

Those reflections are often on mental health, specifically his experience of bipolar disorder. At points, he shows us the symptoms of bipolar and depression, triggering that familiar audience reflex of self-diagnosis, only to turn it on its head with a comment about the creative peaks such states can sometimes bring. It opens up a fascinating tension: how far should we push ourselves for our art, and is great work worth it if it comes at the cost of wellbeing?

The simplicity of the staging keeps the focus firmly on Kissajukian as a storyteller. There is a thrill in watching someone take such big risks, not just in the work he makes, but in the way he shares it. His willingness to embrace absurdity and to place his mental health experiences at the centre of his art makes for an hour that is compelling, funny, and, at times, quietly challenging.

There are moments when the pace dips, but the overall effect is one of openness and curiosity, a show that invites us to think about art and mental health not as separate concerns but as intertwined processes. It is messy, human, and really very funny.



300 PAINTINGS

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 10th August 2025 at Main Hall at Summerhall

by Joseph Dunitz

Photography by Limor Garfinkle

 

 

 

 

 

300 PAINTINGS

300 PAINTINGS

300 PAINTINGS