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The
Edinburgh Fringe
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Fringe 1999 Reviews 5Berkoffs's Women What a line-up! Words by Steven Berkoff, performed by Linda Marlowe, directed by Josie Lawrence: a veritable dream team. For those who don't know, Linda Marlowe has been Berkoff's leading lady for years and created many of the women's parts in his plays, while Josie Lawrence has worked with the RSC, the National and many other companies, as well as being a popular participant in the Channel 4 television impro series Whose Line Is it Anyway? The show consists of ten extracts from six plays (Decadence, Agamemnon, East, Greek and Sturmundrang) and one from a short story, From My Point of View. They're a very varied collection. Berkoff writes magnificent roles for women, something which we sometimes forget in thinking about the influence that the physicality of his productions has had, and here Marlowe gives what can only be considered definitive performances. The extracts are very varied, as are the playing styles that she uses. There's the brash sexuality of Helen (Decadence), the towering anger of Clytaemnestra (Agamemnon), the smutty earthiness of Mum (East), and the pathos of the girl from From My Point of View. All are totally convincingly portrayed as she swings easily from one to another, aided by the absolute minimum of props but some very subtle and effective lighting. (The lighting designer is not credited in the programme, by the way, but (s)he should be, as this was very definitely the best lighting plot I've seen so far this Fringe.) Berkoff plays and Berkoff-style productions are popular at the Fringe, not just with audiences but with also companies, particularly student companies. They tend to play up the physical to the detriment of the verbal: Linda Marlowe delivers a timely reminder that his theatre is much, much more than pulling faces, twisting the body and yelling. In the hands of a consummate performer it goes far beyond the surface scratchings that, all too often, pass for performances! A Love Story There's little to criticise about this story of the relationship between two somewhat self-centred people, but there's little to get enthusiastic about too. It's competently written and competently performed, but beyond that there's not a great deal to say. The Fringe programme blurb says, "See this absorbingly comic tale of sexual obsession and lies and you'll think twice about ever saying 'I love you' again", but that implies some sort of universality which the piece doesn't possess. Yes, there is humour there. Yes, there are lies and half-truths. But sexual obsession? The pivotal moment of the relationship between Gwen and Jack - and of the play - is Jack's visit to a prostitute, but this comes out of the blue. It is totally unexpected and seemingly without reason: it just happens. It is also out of character, and this is where the play falls down. Three Weeks, the weekly newspaper which appears only during the Fringe, calls this play "frank", which it is, and suggests that it gives an insight into the nature of love, which may be what the author intended but doesn't succeed in achieving. When the central act of the play is motiveless, how can it possibly be meaningful? Unless, of course, he intends us to think that love, in fact, doesn't exist and that there is nothing but sex. But if that's the case, the rest of the play doesn't support it. A Love Story is enjoyable enough but ultimately unsatisfying. Hello Dali Atomic Oh tedium, tedium, tedium.... Actually, this exploration of Salvador Dali begins well enough. The set is interesting, as is the lighting, the subject matter has an undoubted appeal, and the first section is full of the inspired lunacy and almost frenetic energy we associate with Dali. The trouble is, it doesn't go beyond that. It stays the same: it's on a high the whole time. And that is its undoing: we can only take so much of staring eyes, manic grins and wildness. Strange as it seems, too much high energy becomes tedious. This is not a criticism of performer Avi Nassa, who does the best anyone could with the script, for it is the script which is at fault. Writer Andrew Dallmeyer has three Fringe Firsts to his credit and so is no mean talent, but one gets the impression that he has been seduced by his subject matter, and whilst what we see may be an accurate portrait of Dali, it is not good playwriting. It lacks light and shade; the pace and tone are relentlessly on a high, and we, the audience, begin to lose our concentration. It's almost as if we are being railroaded by the script. Audience reaction at the end was interesting: there were those who cheered loudly and enthusiastically, and those who sat in silence, with just a perfunctory clap or two. What a contrast to Berkoff's Women, where the whole audience applauded long and loud! Next page - - - Index |
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