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The
Edinburgh Fringe
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Fringe 2003 Reviews (14)They Don't Shoot Poets The life and death of Frederico Garcia Lorca told "through powerful drama, authentic music & passionate contemporary Flaminco dance." Well, not really. And I was looking for it. Yes, there was music. And dance. But although the music was good, the dance seemed ill placed and forced in a passionless production, more biographical than theatrical. And not really biographical at all. Arda Kanpolat as Lorca showed potential but could not pull off Salvador Dali. Marielle Dawson, playing several roles, said her words prettily enough but with icy delivery. And far too much fussy business pulling the focus. The dry dialogue was chopped up with bit of dance by a somewhat stiff and leadened footed Carmela Cruz. Admittedly, this was compounded by the "live" accoustics of the theatrical space and hollowed stage surface. She found it hard to fit into the piece but warmed up to a solo near the end. The fault must, in the end, lie with the director, David Rolfe, who could not make any of his choices work or, worse, made choices that would not work. This was not a film or television piece where editing can bring the audience along. This was not even presented 3/4 round where actors upstaging each other and pulling focus is a problem easily dealt with by an editor. Worst of all, sadly, I came away knowing little about Lorca, the man. The Damage One does not have to know the world of professional darts or betting and loan sharking to appreciate the poetry of these two one-act plays which are united by the author, performer, and director. But it would help. Told from the point of view of his grown son, part one, Killer, refers to a particular dart game or way of scoring. Robert Topping (Bobby Tops), unable to get work because of a prison past, finds himself in the world of semi-pro darts. He does well enough to earn a living and a reputation. His son, as companion and cheering fan, makes it up to knock on the door of professional darts not once but twice. And our hearts go with him. He leaves his son with his debts which brings us seamlessly and effortlessly to The Stake. The young man works for the loanshark to pay off the debt. But the day comes when this shylock calls in the chit. The script or poem is heartily written by Sellar and played by Andrew Dickens. And, to his credit, is directed with feather light touch by Ken Bentley. Sadly, it cannot make up for the fact that whole chunks of the play are heavy with the language of the sports that only the avid fan would understand. Still, the play, performer and director are well worth the look. Hardcore This thinly written, salaciously titled play feels like an excuse to examine the gay porn industry instead of focusing on the players. Not that we don't get to see a lot of the players. Craig (Alex Hassel) is the icey, jaded ring-leader of the group of porn recruits. He's in it for the money and because he's good at it. Martin (Phil Matthews), his foil, wants in "to meet people". Kevin (Simon Thomas), the token straight, wants in to jump-start his career. Robert (Christopher Redmond) wants in it for the adventure. But they all want in it for the money. Craig, who looks to L.A. for his fame and fortune, knows that "gay porn is one step up from home movies" and that, in the end, the plot should not get in the way of "page 27", where they are doing "the thing." A very telling piece of dialogue as this seems to be the playwrite's approach, as well. Kevin leads them through the initiation up to the shooting of the film. Along the way we get a single shot view of the demon that have brought them there. The characters are so thinly drawn that it is only the actors who bring them to life. A nod should go to the solid direction of Russell Labey, spartan design of Jason Denvir, lighting of Richard House and music of Leon Parris. |
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