Poor Things: Movie Review

First off, I have to state that I adore Yorgos Lanthimos. I adore Emma Stone. I adore Mark Ruffalo and I adore Willem Dafoe.

That’s it then. Slam dunk. Movie of the year. (Or is it?)

I also have to say that I am a great admirer of Alasdair Gray who wrote the source novel in 1992 and won the Whitbread Prize for his efforts.

The novel is described as a post modern take on Frankenstein in which Dr Godwin Baxter (there’s a pun in the name) creates a very different and lovable monster that he essentially adopts – Bella Baxter – a beautiful young erotomaniac brought back to life with the brain of an infant.

Bella is played with outrageous abandon by Stone and as the (long) movie unfolds, she evolves from a ‘beautiful retard’ that can barely speak and has dysfunctional locomotion (plus is keen on a terrible twos tantrum on a regular basis), to a fully fledged young genius and palatable member of Victorian(?) society.

But the journey she takes is eventful, colourful and stunning as she visits reimagined Paris, London, Lisbon and Alexandria in houses (and brothels) that merge Willie Wonka with Wes Anderson and a bit of Jules Vernes thrown in for good measure.

Three suitors attempt to unravel Bella’s being with varying degrees of success but the stand out is Mark Ruffalo’s outrageously posh gigolo Duncan Wedderburn. Rufallo’s sublime English accent more than makes up for Dafoe’s in and out Scots Frankenstein and he steals the show repeatedly as he seduces Bella before falling on hard times.

Stone is remarkable, but I was troubled by the sexual politics at play here. In a book written by a man and a movie directed by a man the male gaze is on Stone throughout and her route to success is through prostitution. I’d be interested to know what my female friends think of this strand of the movie. Is it objectification or is it liberalised feminism boldly and proudly on show? I found it hard to decide at the time, although surely the latter is Lanthimos’s objective.

It’s a tough movie to capture the essence of. The story is actually a little thin and quite unremarkable, but the styling and much of the script is extraordinary, truly extraordinary. If, for nothing else, the succession of mutant hybrid farm animals – a duck with a full sized pig’s head for example. And all of the central performances are notable (especially Ruffalo).

But, I think it’s a movie to admire, not to love. But, as a piece of art, it’s sublime.

Pearl: Movie Review

I’ve now seen all three of Mia Goth’s extraordinary A24 movies this year. In each one she has singlehandedly carried the movie to ridiculous heights of greatness.

All three are billed as horror (X as a slasher, Infinity Pool as an unhinged psychopath study and Pearl as another psychopath gestational study).

All three deepen A24’s reputation as the distributor of the year/decade, the greatest signifier of quality in moviemaking right now.

All three mark out Goth as the leading horror female actor in history if not, increasingly, one of the great female actors of her generation full stop.

It’s Pearl that that confirms this most potently as her performance is jaw dropping throughout.

It’s the origin piece for X, but the two movies could hardly be less similar, even though the central character is the same person (60 years apart) and shot on the same farm location in Kansas.

This tells the tale of young married Pearl with her husband labouring in the European trenches of WWII, her father a wheelchair stricken quadriplegic – a victim of the Spanish Flu which is a clever reference as it was written by Goth and Director Ti West during lockdown – and her raging mother, a German immigrant trapped by her crippled husband in rural America and resentful to the back teeth because of it.

Goth (Pearl) wants to escape this and become a dancer but is thwarted at auditions for not being blonde enough. This triggers her inner psychopath and whilst we don’t get a rampage on the scale of X we do see her nascent evil emerge.

It’s Goth’s startling performance and Ti West’s dazzling direction that marks this out as a horror of sheer class, although in truth it’s not really a horror at all: not a single jump scare and very little in the way of butchery.

Two scenes stand out, both featuring Goth, a long monologue to her friend and the closing credits which are reminiscent of Sinead Connor’s classic pop video.

This is movie making at its finest and a must see in my opinion.

My Edinburgh Festival and exhaustion.

OK, I have an excuse for my profound exhaustion. I’m 61 and I’m holding a job down whilst taking in exactly 60 shows.

God knows what it must be like for performers doing multiple shows, there are plenty of them, me and my wife’s favourite being Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland (And then the Rodeo Burned Down and What if They Ate The Baby), who put on two shows and, when we talked to them, told us they were taking shows in too.

It turned out to be the fifth biggest Fringe ever in terms of ticket sales, but it was a stripped down official EIF and an uninspiring programme, apart from the dance which was excellent. What theatre I saw was sub-optimal. That said Nicola Benedetti is an inspiration.

So, as said, 60 shows with a big mix of comedy, theatre, dance and music.

What stood out?

Much, I have to say.

I get accused of gushing about what I see, but I spent months planning (advance planning) my itinerary and that paid off well with experience playing a role.

Certain venues are more likely to offer quality than others and that forms the basis of my summary.

Before I start I have to say that week one was banging with those in the know taking advantage of lower ticket prices, the second weekend saw Edinburgh simply overwhelmed, but it tailed off rapidly after that. The cost of the Fringe is scary , although I believe there is astonishing value to be had in ticket prices, even at full price. It really is a bargain if you can find good value accommodation and is surely the greatest place to be on planet Earth for culture lovers like me, in August..

The shows/Venues

Roundabout with Paines Plough at Summerhall provided England & Son (utterly stunning), Daniel Kitson and Strategic Love Play all of which were brilliant. Lady Dealer was good and so was Salty Irina, but Bangers disappointed.

Summerhall itself always inspires and Mass Effect, Ben Target: Lorenzo, An Interrogation, Klanghaus: Inhaus and Club Nights were all amazing. I didn’t see a bad show at Summerhall. I just wish I’d got Gunter and Woodhill tickets.

The Traverse had a mixed bag. Bloody Elle and No Love Songs (you need to see this in Dundee) were both gig theatre inspiration, but The Grand Old Opera House Hotel disappointed, despite the inevitable hype. After the Act was truly awful.

The surprise pick of venues (although it has been rising in my opinion) was Zoo Venues, it picked up three brilliant Fringe First and I saw them all, the Danish Insider, Funeral by Ontreroed Goed and Beasts(Why Girls Shouldn’t be afraid of the Dark) but also a great show from Belgium called the Van Paemel Family. They punched above their weight.

In dance I was blown away by EIF shows Rite of Spring, L-E-V and Alvin Ailey in that order but also the aforementioned Summerhall dance spectacle, Mass Effect.

The Pleasance delivered for me with great shows like Hello Kitty Must Die ( although still a WIP in my view) and the five star Lucy and Friends and the ever reliable Showstoppers (I also hear Icehouse was amazing).

Assembly definitely delivered. Mythos Ragnarock (Death metal Norse mythology wrestling), Baby Wants Candy, Party Ghosts and Tutu,

And even Underbelly had some quality with Kathy and Stella Solve a Murder and the quite good Choir Choir Choir.

Space nailed it with the aforementioned Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland (And then the Rodeo Burned Down and What if They Ate The Baby).

And then, right at the end I saw Singing Sands a new Scottish play by Our Theatre at Greenhill. Magically heartwarming.

On the Festival, official, Food delighted but the theatre programme was gash.

All, in all a brilliant Fringe with one life changer. Funeral.

Edinburgh Festival and Fringe Reviews: Day 19

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better…

If Carlsberg did cultural festivals.

Two Fringe Firsts, a Five Star EIF Alvin Ailey part two, a performance art piece at the Talbot Rice art gallery, an hour’s talk and a signed book from Jesse Armstrong (Showrunner of Succession) and a preview of first works (x4) by young writers at Summerhall.

Let’s start with The Summerhall Surgeries, the last of four such one hour sessions funded jointly by Summerhall and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe Society in which four writers previewed 10 minute work in progress pieces to a small audience. A simply brilliant initiative and a peek behind the curtain of the writing process. My thoughts are captured below as all audience members were invited to do.

Next up I nabbed a return for Fringe First winning Ben Target (or Ben Target – with an acute to some – but WordPress won’t let me type an acute) and his show Lorenzo at Summerhall.

It’s a retelling of his inadvertent spell as a carer for his uncle (not uncle) Lorenzo Fong – there’s a clue somewhere in their respective surnames – during lockdown. His (not) uncle is nevertheless his most beloved extended family member since his childhood, which Target explores through the use of a shadow puppetry house (much better than Jesse Cave‘s incidentally).

Target is a stand up and repeatedly reminds us of his fall from a small height as winner of most promising comedian at the Fringe in 2012. And although this show is hilariously funny at times it’s really a sad story of death and palliative care administered in a truly DIY way, that gets close to euthanasia by Target and Fong, the Odd Couple of Death Row.

It’s entirely engrossing, spellbinding in fact, and Target should hopefully see a resurrection of his crumbling career as a result of this truly 5 star masterpiece.

I took a break at the University Courtyard and visited Jesse Jones‘ performance art piece called The Tower at The Talbot Rice. It’s rather lovely. The other show on just now isn’t.

Next to Zoo Playground (Blimey Zoo has had a great Festival) to see the third of their Fringe First winning shows. These included The Insider and Funeral, both reviewed earlier in the Fringe, But today’s winner was Beasts (Why Girls Shouldn’t Fear the Dark) a one woman play by Zimbabwean Londoner, Mandi Chivasa.

It’s a towering performance that charts the story of a young black London girl who is being followed through her neighbourhood by a man (although she describes him as a creature) at Twilight.

It’s told in rhyming poetry, although it’s kind of like a soft rap, that never stops the naturalism of the performance and often lifts it to glorious heights.

Appropriately in Edinburgh it almost feels like a riff on Jekyll and Hyde as our heroine Ruva changes role from victim (ignored by the police when she reports her uncomfortable experience) to victor as she assumes the persona of a lion-like ‘Beast’ and exacts revenge on the Creature. clearly a repeat offender in his stalking of young women.

It feels mythological, it’s somewhat fantastical but most importantly it’s riveting and Chivasa is a highly accomplished actor. Sadly only half full, despite its Fringe First, I’d highly recommend it.

The fourth event of the day truly was an EVENT.

Jesse Armstrong was in town for the TV Festival, but somehow the Portobello Bookshop had persuaded him to come to Port Town Hall to talk to 1,000 of us and sign his newly published scripts to Succession Season 4. To say he was entrancing was an understatement. The hour’s talk zipped by in an instant. My female companions were salivating.

Thank you Jesse. Like an audience with the Pope (as I told him while he signed my book).

And finally Alvin Ailey Programme 1. A step up from Programme 2 with Revelations again and pieces by Twyla Tharp (A jazzy Roy’s Joys) and another by Kyle Abraham (a funky hip hoppy Are You in Your Feelings?). Both were considerably better than the support pieces to Revelations the night before and rounded off an extraordinary day of culture.

But, man, am I bushed.

Edinburgh International Festival Review: Day 18

The day started at the Amplify Festival event by the Marketing Society at Assembly where the main speaker was Frank Cottrell Boyce. He of children’s book writing, the 2012 Olympics opening ceremony and The Queen x Paddington fame. He gave a talk about humour and its value that was interesting, seemingly pretty spontaneous, totally self-effacing and utterly charming. His best line, being a staunch Catholic, was that he thought the Ogilvy Lecture – that he was delivering – was about St John Ogilvy. (It’s not, it’s in memory of advertising super hero, David Ogilvy).

He made being Catholic with seven children seem pretty cool.

The main draw of the day was the first of two excursions to the wonderful Festival Theatre to see the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater of New York – founded by the now deceased eponymous dancer in the late 1950’s. The main event was his global phenomenon Revelations which closed a triple bill of 30 minute pieces (Programme 2). The first (Memoria) was unremarkable, save for the introduction of a large group of young Scottish dancers who had been trained by the troupe for two weeks, surely a life changing experience for these youngsters who looked every bit as accomplished as the main dancing corps.

The second piece (the River) was way too episodic for me and felt almost like individual or duet/trio audition pieces.

What struck me about both of these openers was the highly dated lighting, with a square speckled gobo effect that I really didn’t like and a lack of overall modernity. So far so meh.

But Revelations was to change all that.

You could say it was, indeed, a revelation.

An 18 strong piece about the history of black America (to 1960 when it was conceived, although I feel the music may have been updated since then) so it’s not a complete history, but does track the story from slavery to a degree of gentrification, at least in one demographic of the black struggle against oppression.

It’s stunning, ranging from one gorgeous male solo to a rumbustious finale when the full corpe is resplendent in golden dresses and dinner suits.

The gospel and spiritual music that combines in this ultimately joyous, but initially oppressive, dance is glorious in itself and the finale brought the house down and up on its feet. Me included.

It was even better on my second visit.

(But hey, that’s a spoiler alert and me looking into the future).

Edinburgh Fringe and Festival reviews: Day 15

A right old variety of good and bloody awful today.

Mass Effect is a Danish dance show at Summerhall. Dance with a difference as, for most of it, there’s no music just five dancers (2M,3F) dressed as runners who do exactly that for the first half hour building up a considerable sweat in the process. There’s comedic nods and winks to the audience, knowing looks that had us in stitches. 

Of course, all that sweat can only be dealt with on one way, by gradually disrobing until all five are stark naked, as are several of the 15 “community” dancers who sprung from the audience and the wings to join in for the final act. 

It’s unexpected but great fun. Proper Fringe fare.

Next to The Hub for an EIF talk with Domo Branch, an extraordinary 23 year old jazz drummer from Portland who was interviewed by the king of pretension who hogged the event with his “I know more than anyone, including Domo” approach. He’s no Parkie. But we were treated to some extraordinary drumming too.

Our third show was the wonderful What if they ate The Baby by Xhloe Rice and Natasha Roland who gave us the excellent deserved Fringe First winning And Then The Rodeo Burned Down last year. It’s playing this year too and both shows are must sees. The new show is another surreal clowning romp in which the two writers actors and choreographers tell a more Groundhog Day than the movie story of two mid American queer housewives who can’t consummate their passion for each other fully, but give it a go, because to be queer in 50’s America during McCarthyism, was a distinct no no. It turns out, from their show research that McCarthyism not only outed Commies but gay people too. It’s funny, but also incredibly sweet and lovable, their stock in trade.

We met them both after the show, as we did last year, and I, for one, sincerely hope they land back to back Fringe Firsts. Please go see both shows, they’re a treat.

Finally, another EIF show at the Festival Theatre. The Threepenny Opera. I walked out of a production of this a decade ago and sadly reached the same conclusion this time too. 95 minutes (act one) of grim Brechtian and Weillian discord and ham singing and acting (although I think it was meant to be – is it maybe theatre of the absurd?) with a very dated script, made it teeth grinding stuff. Too much for this luvvie.

Home James.

Edinburgh Festival Review: Day 14 (Right, this one’s a proper gusher)

Another Festival day after a full on office day.

Only the one show and a game of two extraordinarily contrasting halves. The feeble common ground(s) needs no comment I’m afraid, but I was there for the main act.

Igor Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring by the Pina Bausch Foundation / École des Sables / Sadler’s Wells featuring an African dance troupe of 15 men and 15 women. 

All black dancers, the women in white, the men in black on a set of earth that was laid to loud applause in a frenetic 20 minute interval by the stage crew. A show in itself.

Stravinsky’s music outraged the establishment on its premier in 1913 and seemingly Pina Bausch’s choreography did the same when it was revealed to the world in the 1970’s. I cannot imagine why.

It’s febrile and intoxicating as the 30 dancers with the female lead eventually dressed in red like the little girl in Spielberg’s nazi movie, Schindler’s List.

Gradually as the sweat gathers so does the dark brown substrate on the dancers’ dresses as they enact a passage of adolescent rites. 

Of course Stravinsky’s music is unparalleled before or since its outrageous premier and is the ultimate soundtrack for dance.

It originated 30 years before Bernstein’s West Side Story but is reminiscent and the dance feels so attuned to the play’s Romeo and Juliet theme although in this case the Sharks and Jets are the rival sexes, rather than warring gangs.

It also feels like Hitchcock’s very best film scores. Psycho particularly, with its menace and endlessly growing tension

What Bausch does with this music is breathtaking. Don’t breathe or you might miss something special. It ranges from confrontation to conflagration with moments of intimacy but mostly of sexual parading, preening and uncertainty. 

The final solo by our heroine, now fully clad in red but also semi naked, is a wild dervish dance that’s a fitting finale to a truly wonderful spectacle.

Was the dancing perfect? I don’t know. I don’t have the technical nous to tell you one way or the other. But is it a visceral experience that enthralled a sold out Edinburgh Playhouse? Yes it was. We rose to our feet in unison, awestruck by the beautiful ferocity of a masterpiece.

After a challenging Festival Theatre programme this proved that Edinburgh in August is the place to be for world class art. Truly magnificent.

Edinburgh International Festival Reviews: Day 12

It’s the second time I’ve seen Israeli dance company L-E-V, this time performing Chapter 3: The Brutal Journey Of The Heart at the Festival Theatre in the Official Festival.

The last time I saw L-E-V was in 2018 and I raved about them then. (Even though, like tonight, there was a Palestinian demo outside the theatre, screeching that our tickets were covered in Palestinian blood.)

I’m raving about them even more now. And GET THIS you can see them tomorrow night, and I will probably go again, availing myself of the fabulous Tenner On The Day deal that the Festival provides.

The set is a big black box, no decor, and only four lights are used in the entire show but to outstanding effect.

The absorbing and beautiful techno music, by Ori Lichtic, keeps up a relentless 160bpm beat for 50 minutes with no breaks as the piece is performed “straight through”, as it was the last time I saw L-E-V .

I know nothing of the dance peice’s meaning but it’s ecstatic.

The seven dancers (4M,4F) are dressed in tattooed flesh coloured body suits (from Maria Grazia Chiuri, the Creative Director of Christian Dior Couture) and their make up looks as if they have been bruised. The performance largely consists of micro movements, tics and robotic movement, largely as a unit as they crawl across the vast Festival Theatre stage like a giant crustacean. Rarely is there physical contact between the dancers. It’s exquisitely realised, completely mesmeric and all aspects of the company’s component parts are rendered completely as one.

This description of the piece by Sharon Eyal sheds not a morsel of insight into what it’s about, but maybe you will understand it.

Moment. Silence. Dryness. Emptiness. Fear. Wholeness. Concealment. Longing. Black. Moon. Water. Corner. Smell. Demon. Gap. Coldness. Eyes. Intension. Impulse. Fold. Hideout. Color. Lis. Salt. huge. Side. Stitches. Love. Point.
Sharon Eyal

Nonetheless, it’s extraordinary and the 50 minutes vanish in the blink of an eye. Although there’s no grandstanding going on by the end we could see rivers of sweat pouring off the troupe as it’s minimalist attention to detail and rigour took its toll.

I’ve seen magnificent dance at the Edinburgh International Festival and this certainly cements L-E-V’s position at the top of the hierarchy. Magnificent. 5 Stars.

Interesting to note that L-E-V’s founder, Sharon Eyal, who is now based in France (Not Isreal) has been commissioned 7 times by my all time favourite Dance company (NDT) to create works for them, so her status amongst the world’s greats is unquestionable.