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.”