This has the makings of a monster hit
Joseph Morpurgo has produced some of the finest Edinburgh Fringe shows of recent years, often straddling the line between sketch comedy and theatre. In 2014’s Odessa, he turned a small clip of local TV footage into a surreal, hour-long mystery. In 2015’s magnificent Soothing Sounds for Baby, he reinvented Desert Island Discs as the story of a doomed love affair.
Now comes his magnum opus: a one-man Frankenstein, in which Morpurgo plays 85 characters, in 12 languages, across five different venues, for nine unspeakable hours. You’re not invited to it – no one is – but he’s happy for you to catch this post-show Q&A.
That’s the idea behind Hammerhead, a clever and accomplished satire of theatrical hubris, which takes the form of a televised discussion for a show that (thankfully) doesn’t exist and in which the auteur generously explains how – and why, dear God, why – he created this lumbering theatrical abomination.
At first, Morpurgo plays the preening luvvie to perfection, carefully deflecting any criticism of his obscene vanity project. But the cracks soon start to show, as the narrative builds towards a heavily signposted onstage breakdown. He’s a skilled improviser (also appearing at the Fringe with literary improv troupe Austentatious), but Morpurgo leaves no room for spontaneity here. Instead, each moment of Hammerhead is drilled to perfection, with slick use of pre-recorded sound and video as his character answers questions from social media and Skype.
From any other performer, a show this witty and well-crafted would be a cause for celebration. But by Morpurgo’s high standards, it seems almost conventional. The fake Q&A is hardly a new format. The Berserker Residents, a US theatre troupe, covered similar ground at the Fringe in 2014 with The Post Show. Meanwhile, a subplot about his estranged brother is predictable from the moment it’s introduced.
Still, even old ideas can be brought back to life with a jolt of electricity, and, when faced with Morpurgo’s crackling energy, it feels churlish to complain about the nuts and bolts. There’s plenty to enjoy here; his Frankenstein poster (designed on Microsoft Excel) could be the funniest sight gag of this year’s Fringe.
It might not be perfect, but it’s alive. It’s alive!