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1999 Fringe Diary : Week 1

Monday 9th August

Another cold, grey day. I suppose this is the real Edinburgh, but for the last two years the weather for the Fringe has been so hot that this typically Scottish weather comes as a surprise! The problem is that I've only brought short-sleeved shirts with me so a coat is very definitely needed to go out of doors.

Four shows today, and what a variety they were. I deliberately planned that they should all be at the same venue - the Hill Street Theatre - so I didn't have any mad dashes around the town, and it has made for a much more relaxing day. But I do miss the hustle and bustle of the old town: there's no doubt that High Street captures the atmosphere of the Fringe far more than anywhere else.

The day began with writing yesterday's reviews. People often ask me how I remember each show and whether they get mixed up in my mind. The answer, of course, is that I make notes as I go along. I don't do it in the theatre during the show, although I have seen other reviewers doing that. I don't like it: to me it smacks of drawing attention to oneself - "Look at me! I'm a critic!" When the show's over, I head off to a bar or cafe and scribble my thoughts then. I certainly don't try to write the review, just first impressions and notes on things that I want to remember particularly.

I'm not really one for bashing out my review there and then. There are times when I have to - when I'm reviewing for the local paper at home, for instance - but I do prefer to mull over what I've seen.

The first show was a Commedia dell'Arte-inspired version of the Faust legend, and what a great start to the day! Five well-deserved stars. Then I had an hour to wait for the next show, so I wandered along to the Observer Assembly in George Street, just a few minutes' walk away, and scribbled a few notes over a glass of fresh orange.

Then it was back to the theatre for the second show, Exiled. The programme blurb looked interesting, with references to Marlene Dietrich whose music I enjoy. That's the thing about the Fringe: you have to base choices on things like that because there is just simply too much to see. Sometimes these choices work out well: sometimes they're big disappointments. This was one of the latter, I'm afraid.

Nearly five hours to go to the next show, so I wondered about heading off to High Street to sample what is on offer there, but decided it was too cold and unpleasant a day, so I went back to the digs to write up the afternoon's shows, drink copious cups of tea and relax and read a bit.

I decided to eat before the first show and chose Alfredo's Italian Restaurant in Frederick Street, just around the corner from my digs and quite close to the theatre. I'll definitely be going back: reasonably priced and very good food. And the house wine was worth drinking, which all too often isn't the case!

Then back to Hill Street for Ashes to Ashes, a play about the Holocaust. Amazing! a second five star show in the one day. I hope I haven't used up my luck on Day 2!

There was an hour and a half to go to the next show which started at quarter to midnight, so I thought I'd just stay in Hill Street's own bar. I was approached by Steve Lambert, the writer and director and a performer in Ashes to Ashes. I'd been scribbling a few notes so he'd sussed me for a reviewer. He'd also seen me in the audience, so he wanted to talk about what I thought.

We moved on to more general theatre topics and discovered a shared concern for the future of the straight theatre in Britain. He came up with an interesting analogy. Back in the eighties football (his other passion) (and, by the way, that's soccer, not the American game) was dead on its feet. There was violence and hooliganism, and the arrival of British fans in other countries brought the police out in force - and quite justifiably so. But in the nineties football has re-invented itself completely. Theatre needs to do this, he argued, otherwise it will lose the battle with television and will sink without trace. He's right, too.

Then the call came for Fanny Hill, and off I went. And what a disappointment that was! Still, two really good shows in one day is a real bonus at the Fringe, so at around two in the morning I went off to bed quite happy.

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©Peter Lathan 2001