You won't often find a Readosaurus outwith the wombed environs of an oak panelled library quaffing book. However, circumstances do occasionally conspire to thrust this noble beast into the thespian thicket of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. As with 'fringe science', this word can sometimes be found functioning as a handy euphemism for, 'shite'. Thankfully, this 'saurus was lucky enough to have an exceptionally learned and cultivated guide ensuring that the most gratuitous excreta was circumnavigated. Nonetheless, despite this expert assistance it would probably be generous to describe the 'saurus as a 'fringe reviewer'. Its knowledge and natural talents lie firmly and decidedly in other, yet to be discovered, areas. Here's what I have to report from this happy concatenation:
Backstage in Biscuit Land - Jess Thom & Jess Jones
This was almost unspeakably enjoyable. Jess Thom, Tourette's sufferer and force of nature, blasts through an hour of anecdotes, jokes, education on Tourette's and extraordinarily unlikely verbal combinations thrown up by her ticks. She is expertly assisted by the equally amusing Jess Jones who effortlessly effects set changes, improvisation and keeps the roller coaster ride vaguely on the rails. The pair use Thom's ticks as a form of random linguistic comedy generator from which both elaborate and improvise in unfathomably clever and varied ways. This makes for an incredibly vivacious show with none of the 'set piece' feel I usually associate with the theatre. Nonetheless, the pair somehow manage to mix pithy information on having Tourette's, how it feels and what it means to live with it into the riotous avalanche of biscuits, cats, C-list celebs in unlikely scenarios and sexy Roman centurions. I was dazzled by the way these two create such a smooth, enjoyable cocktail from seemingly immiscible ingredients. Bravo!
Score: Three Stegosaurus
Sophie Wu is Minging She Looks Like She is Dead
I suppose if you're going to write a show featuring your actual name in the title it's probably better to err on the side of self-deprecation. People like self-deprecation and may emphathise with your strife. In this case, with the hideous awkwardness and hilarious fuck ups we all experience growing up. Alternatively, if you use an arrogant and self-congratulatory title there is a slight risk people will think you're arrogant, and self-congratulatory. If I were Ms. Wu then I would have called it 'Sophie Wu is a famous actress now so how'd you like them apples, shit-munchers?' but that's because I'm amazing and the best person alive. In either case, I was left wondering, "is this actually about the actual person who's actual name is in the title or is it actually just acting? But if it's actually just acting why has it got her actual name in it?". Pithy. Similarly, she isn't minging and doesn't look like she's dead, which gives the performance near murder mystery complexity before it has even begun. The what-the-hell-is-going-on cherry on the fucking-with-your-head cupcake is a pre-performance announcement, "did anyone go to The Edinburgh Academy between 1998-2000?". No one says anything or raises a hand, but I wish they did. What would happen? Probably something fucking awesome. The monologue is impressively performed and is redolent of the candid, slightly revolting brand of childhood reminisce that 'The Inbetweeners' got so spot on for teenage boys. Some of the writing is hilarious; 'I scuttle along behind like a crab; only not sideways', and the impressions of teenage Scottish tarts are bang on. However, words like 'sashay' and 'sans' aren't really that funny of themselves. Is it really about her though? I kept wondering and, all told, it surely isn't. The situations are simply too far fetched even for the absurdity of adolescence. However, this begs the question why they're being presented as reality or reminiscence? Is it 'scripted reality'; like TOWIE or Made in Chelsea? Is it a joke? Is it something so conceptual, so highbrow and avant garde that I don't even know about it? Probably the latter. So, following these extensive and erudite ruminations the final analysis is: It should be called 'Sophie Wu is a good actor and has written quite a funny play about growing up, which isn't autobiographical but does feature her actual name'. I've fucking nailed it!
Score: Racoon's dinosaur ancestor
Unfaithful
Auld boy drinking alone in a bar gets propositioned by hot, young bird who says she's a maths student. The pair spar entertainingly about whether or not she is going to buy him a drink and whether or not he is going to fuck her. Auld boy's wife calls and he chins her right off before leaving with the young lass. Later on he's back at his gaff getting torn off by his missus. He tells her, in graphic detail, how he shagged this young lady in a doorway, which goes down fucking terribly. Auld boy's missus takes revenge by hiring a rent boy and shagging him in the same hotel where her husband picked up the young bird. Back at the rent boy's yard we find out he is in a relationship with the young lass! Moreover, she's not a maths student at all; she works at Tesco! She tells him she tried to pick up a random auld boy to see what it's like being a gigolo but that the guy only kissed her and then bottled it. Back at the older couple's abode a reconciliation of sorts is being effected. I liked a lot about this play. The script is funny, the characters are engaging and the set is clever and convincing. However, it was the subject matter that really made it so good for me. We're all liars, mugging off our nearest and dearest, random people we meet and, most importantly, ourselves. However, amidst this cesspool of untruths we remain indelibly and irrevocably ourselves. Something we once thought was exciting now bores us to death. What was once cherished is now detested. What we thought would be exciting turns out to be empty and meaningless. Despite these somewhat depressing realisations, the play also offered hope that the kind of internal insanity displayed by the protagonists may be overcome by honest self-assessment and open discussion.
Score: Tyradactyl cheats on husband with older Diplodocus but never tells anyone
Backstage in Biscuit Land - Jess Thom & Jess Jones
This was almost unspeakably enjoyable. Jess Thom, Tourette's sufferer and force of nature, blasts through an hour of anecdotes, jokes, education on Tourette's and extraordinarily unlikely verbal combinations thrown up by her ticks. She is expertly assisted by the equally amusing Jess Jones who effortlessly effects set changes, improvisation and keeps the roller coaster ride vaguely on the rails. The pair use Thom's ticks as a form of random linguistic comedy generator from which both elaborate and improvise in unfathomably clever and varied ways. This makes for an incredibly vivacious show with none of the 'set piece' feel I usually associate with the theatre. Nonetheless, the pair somehow manage to mix pithy information on having Tourette's, how it feels and what it means to live with it into the riotous avalanche of biscuits, cats, C-list celebs in unlikely scenarios and sexy Roman centurions. I was dazzled by the way these two create such a smooth, enjoyable cocktail from seemingly immiscible ingredients. Bravo!
Score: Three Stegosaurus
Sophie Wu is Minging She Looks Like She is Dead
I suppose if you're going to write a show featuring your actual name in the title it's probably better to err on the side of self-deprecation. People like self-deprecation and may emphathise with your strife. In this case, with the hideous awkwardness and hilarious fuck ups we all experience growing up. Alternatively, if you use an arrogant and self-congratulatory title there is a slight risk people will think you're arrogant, and self-congratulatory. If I were Ms. Wu then I would have called it 'Sophie Wu is a famous actress now so how'd you like them apples, shit-munchers?' but that's because I'm amazing and the best person alive. In either case, I was left wondering, "is this actually about the actual person who's actual name is in the title or is it actually just acting? But if it's actually just acting why has it got her actual name in it?". Pithy. Similarly, she isn't minging and doesn't look like she's dead, which gives the performance near murder mystery complexity before it has even begun. The what-the-hell-is-going-on cherry on the fucking-with-your-head cupcake is a pre-performance announcement, "did anyone go to The Edinburgh Academy between 1998-2000?". No one says anything or raises a hand, but I wish they did. What would happen? Probably something fucking awesome. The monologue is impressively performed and is redolent of the candid, slightly revolting brand of childhood reminisce that 'The Inbetweeners' got so spot on for teenage boys. Some of the writing is hilarious; 'I scuttle along behind like a crab; only not sideways', and the impressions of teenage Scottish tarts are bang on. However, words like 'sashay' and 'sans' aren't really that funny of themselves. Is it really about her though? I kept wondering and, all told, it surely isn't. The situations are simply too far fetched even for the absurdity of adolescence. However, this begs the question why they're being presented as reality or reminiscence? Is it 'scripted reality'; like TOWIE or Made in Chelsea? Is it a joke? Is it something so conceptual, so highbrow and avant garde that I don't even know about it? Probably the latter. So, following these extensive and erudite ruminations the final analysis is: It should be called 'Sophie Wu is a good actor and has written quite a funny play about growing up, which isn't autobiographical but does feature her actual name'. I've fucking nailed it!
Score: Racoon's dinosaur ancestor
Unfaithful
Auld boy drinking alone in a bar gets propositioned by hot, young bird who says she's a maths student. The pair spar entertainingly about whether or not she is going to buy him a drink and whether or not he is going to fuck her. Auld boy's wife calls and he chins her right off before leaving with the young lass. Later on he's back at his gaff getting torn off by his missus. He tells her, in graphic detail, how he shagged this young lady in a doorway, which goes down fucking terribly. Auld boy's missus takes revenge by hiring a rent boy and shagging him in the same hotel where her husband picked up the young bird. Back at the rent boy's yard we find out he is in a relationship with the young lass! Moreover, she's not a maths student at all; she works at Tesco! She tells him she tried to pick up a random auld boy to see what it's like being a gigolo but that the guy only kissed her and then bottled it. Back at the older couple's abode a reconciliation of sorts is being effected. I liked a lot about this play. The script is funny, the characters are engaging and the set is clever and convincing. However, it was the subject matter that really made it so good for me. We're all liars, mugging off our nearest and dearest, random people we meet and, most importantly, ourselves. However, amidst this cesspool of untruths we remain indelibly and irrevocably ourselves. Something we once thought was exciting now bores us to death. What was once cherished is now detested. What we thought would be exciting turns out to be empty and meaningless. Despite these somewhat depressing realisations, the play also offered hope that the kind of internal insanity displayed by the protagonists may be overcome by honest self-assessment and open discussion.
Score: Tyradactyl cheats on husband with older Diplodocus but never tells anyone
