Two puppets and six stars

Canada Hub @ King’s Hall in association with Summerhall (Venue 73) JJJ ”An electrifying piece of existential pop” says the blurb – and while there might be more philosophical musings in this show than there are rousing musical numbers, it’s nevertheless an idiosyncratic experience that has moments of being simultaneously uplifting and profound. Four performers take it in turns to deliver unusual and provocative monologues covering a variety of subjects: from embracing being “an arsehole” to dealing with injustice in a world that we’re all responsible for creating.

Directed by author Étienne Lepage and choreographed by Frédérick Gravel, the juxtaposition of understated verbal delivery with impassioned, defiant movement pieces – accompanied by Jimi Hendrix’s music – creates a distinctive, punk-like atmosphere. We’re challenged to consider what we expect from a show, while simultaneously presented with something that deliberately defies this. We’re presented with the company’s thoughts, but also encouraged to add these to our own in a shared experience between equals.

There’s too many ideas to fully explore in an hour – and more focus would allow for greater impact – but as a piece of thoughtful escapism, it’s a refreshing chance to assess life, love and everything in between in a more contemplative atmosphere than the Fringe sometimes allows space for. SALLY STOTT One of the advantages of finding it difficult to speak is it forces you to think about every word.

You get a real sense of precision with Katy Jones: every word is carefully chosen, her punchlines always land and her sense of timing is superb.

Katy works in television, comes from the north of England and has cerebral palsy.

It is, as she says, the elephant in the room. And a good portion of her show is spent discussing both the difficulties of her condition and the reaction she faces from Assembly George Square Theatre (Venue 8) JJJJ A huge thank you has to go to Japan, who created Bunraku puppet theatre. Flabbergast Theatre have taken the genre and, as Louis Walsh would say, made it their own.

The show is impressive on many levels. Even before we get to the humour, the plot twists, the unexpected ‘racist interlude’, the special effects, the tense fight scenes with little swords and tiny fists flying, to say nothing of the final, wither-wringing tragedy, you have to marvel at the incredible technical choreography that allows a team of six to manipulate two tiny leather puppets, at breakneck speed through this gripping drama of brothers torn apart by theatrical ambition.

Boris’s journey takes him from the Balkans to fame, fortune and Broadway, while Sergey’s artistic angst leads him via Fringe theatre to destitution and living rough.

Harsh as this might sound, other people. There is a lot of observational mileage in the daily challenges faced by people with disabilities. And Jones is delightfully mischievous and playful in her approach to the obstacles she faces in life She’s called her show Inspiration because she’s tired of being patronised – she’d much rather we didn’t think of her as brave.

This debut show is only 45 minutes long – which doesn’t give much time to explore other topics. But it would be nice to see Jones branch out and tackle broader issues.

At the end she has a message for non-disabled people which is both surprising and brings tears to your eyes. CLAIRE SMITH Gilded Balloon Rose Theatre (Venue 76) JJJ “Everyone’s a little bit racist,” the racy puppets of Avenue Q sing. That certainly includes it is absolutely hilarious. As he sits begging in the winter cold, look out for my favourite joke of my Fringe so far.

Sergey’s one-man show is a glorious paradigm of artistic over-indulgence. And Boris’s death scene is, while not quite worth the five stars he suggests, a towering moment in tiny theatre.

But it is not all acting and fighting. The breadth of this pair’s talents as light entertainers is displayed in an exciting episode of the boys’ new gameshow, called What’s In The Box? The outcome, however, I think might be fixed.

From the moment the brothers hit the stage until the unexpected truth is revealed you are captivated by these little leather men.

The costume department has done the stars proud, and the sound and lighting makes for a 360-degree atmospheric experience.

Boris and Sergey are both the funniest and oddest thing to come out of Russia since that first photograph of Vladimir Putin with his top off. KATE COPSTICK Christopher Macarthurboyd’s Nana and Grandad, who drop decidedly, deservedly verboten terms like a pigeon plopping poo. He still loves them, though... it’s generational rather than malice.

In fact, this Glasgow East End boy loves his gran so much he got a tattoo in her honour (which she hates). For his part, Macarthurboyd’s gone right off his girlfriend (since she dumped him). If only Scotland had voted for independence, all would have been well, no?

What’s any of this got to do with The Smiths? The title’s a reference to the band, after all. Well, miserabilist Morrissey does come into the show via that time he compared KFC to the Holocaust, but really, this is just a charming young comic talking about everyday things. And the Apocalypse. Macarthurboyd’s material is well honed, and well delivered, and he quickly gets a nice rapport going with the audience. It’s his first solo show at the Fringe, and if the gods of comedy are just, the first of many. MARTIN GRAY

0 Skilled choreography is needed to manipulate the tiny puppets

JJJ Visual pranks, games and tricks are Adam Larter’s thing. The force behind the wonderful Weirdos Pantomime loves cartoons, video games and Pringles.

Oh, and props. He loves a prop. In his (almost) solo show, Larter has assembled probably the largest number of props ever seen on a single Fringe stage.

There are telescopic Pringles cans, nylon flowers, toilet rolls, and lots and lots of lycra – not to mention a costume which incorporates a fullsized cardboard lavatory.

Larter leads the audience in a singalong, conducts a quiz, gets them to throw things and transforms himself into Sonic the Hedgehog for an interactive computer game.

There’s certainly plenty to look at and for a lot of the time the audience is entranced by the sheer volume of physical chaos happening on and off the stage.

What Larter lacks is a sense of himself as a performer. He’s good at being the gang leader but needs to slow down, speak more clearly and put some effort into the narrative.

He’s spent hours and hours alone in his bedroom making all this stuff but he can’t hide behind it. He needs to give his audience a bit more space to enjoy the jokes. CLAIRE SMITH

J Amy is a fashion photographer’s assistant living in Chicago with the possibility of a hot date. Her smartypants pal Alison has the inside track on the crucial points of social (media) etiquette.

This thin sketch of two school friends meeting up again in their mid-20s and doing girl stuff over the course of one evening plays out like a mediocre episode of a US sitcom about urban millennials. FIONA SHEPHERD There’s an intriguing idea that lands a little too late in Julie Cafmeyer’s charming, if self-absorbed, Big in Belgium show about a twentysomething’s quest for love. It’s when she makes the connection between the impersonal numbers of a library membership barcode and the weird geographical coordinates once given to her by a dowser in an effort to bring her peace. Somewhere between these strings of digits and the infinity of the universe, she suspects there’s a mathematical solution to love’s impossible equation.

Without the mystery solution, she’s all at sea. In a Spalding Gray-inspired monologue, she takes us through a litany of short-lived relationships and the paper trail of intemperate texts, explicit diary entries and unsent letters that chart their decline. The free-living man in a camper van meets her bombastic declaration of love with indifference. Believing there’s always something better round the corner, she shows similar indifference to another lover over a depressing bottle of champagne.

With frequent audience exchanges and a diverting audio-visual accompaniment, it’s a lightweight piece of gossipy soul-searching – a breezy start to the morning, but more like raw material than the fully-developed show it could yet become. MARK FISHER Two manic TV presenters alternatively cajole and bully a young couple in this incomprehensible hour from waveysoc theatre company.

Jude (Maya Achan) is an unemployed ticket collector; Leon (Malcolm Ebose), the magician who catches her attention on the train, and who may possess actual magical powers. Charlotte Cromie and Ed Paget are great fun as the surreal, high-energy Blind Date-style game show hosts, but the plot unfolds clumsily and it’s unclear where the characters end up. NIKI BOYLE