Alan Cumming faces his demons in a cabaret
The Edinburgh International Festival was established to celebrate the human spirit in the wake of the World War II but it can sometimes look like a stern Presbyterian widow at a feast when set beside the gaiety of the fringe.
What better way to signal to the public that life-affirming fun is on the menu than by inviting that most impish and devil-may-care of Scottish actors Alan Cumming back to his native land to do what he does best: get a party started?
Last time the sexually liberated star (who lives with his husband in New York) was here, in 2007, he played Dionysus in The Bacchae. Now hedonism is on the menu once again as he takes over the festival’s main-base for a late-night 90-minute mix of favourite songs and gossipy anecdotage, first presented in Manhattan last summer.
In some senses he’s on home-turf — many devotees still worship him for his Nineties breakthrough turn as the louche Emcee in Cabaret, a huge hit on both sides of the pond and here, he’s effectively master of ceremonies. But he’s also facing the music, having put his foot in it last month by denouncing those who voted Leave as “Stupid. English. People”. Cue a furore for alleged racism. Though he protested it was the misunderstood humour of “a daft jock”, I have to say that I entered the Hub very much in the “undecided’”camp.
As he joined his band (Lance Horne, piano; Eleanor Norton, cello; Chris Jego, drums), I noted the swanky-shiny black suit, the stillboyish dimples and the warm reception that greeted him but waited to be convinced. Heading straight into a rendition of Annie Lennox’s lovelorn lament “Why?”, and getting a conspiratorial laugh on the line “Why don’t you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut?” (as close to addressing the Brexit hoo-ha as he gets), he displays a smirking confidence that’s borderline self-admiring. His vocal emphasis is markedly Scottish, every “r” rolled from here all the way down to Leith. Stylish, yes, but manufactured too.
Swiftly, though, his puckish charisma wins out and a sense of an intimate conversation takes hold. His selection of songs refuses to be cowed by received ideas of good taste: including a melancholy dash of Keane, a tongue-in-cheek mashup of Adele, Lady Gaga and Katy Perry, and a Sondheim parody.
Above all, there are songs in a heart-felt key: among them Billy Joel’s Goodnight Saigon, dedicated to a combat-traumatised grand-father, and Rufus Wainwright’s ballad about father-son estrangement Dinner at Eight which cuts so deep it leaves him dabbing his eyes, head firmly bowed. No performance that — more a public reckoning with his demons (Cumming’s tormented relationship with his dad was If you go
Until Aug 27. Tickets: 0131 473 2000; eif.co.uk
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He’s really good at impressions – but you knew that, and he’s not giving up on them yet. Expect Andy Murray, John Bishop, “football’s man of the moment” Harry Kane, and many more. Gilded Balloon Teviot (0131 622 6555), Aug 16-28 Dance: Monumental — Celebrated Montreal art-rock collective Godspeed You Black Emperor team up with Vancouver-based contemporary dance troupe The Holy Body Tattoo for a piece that appears to dive headfirst into the tragedy of everyday existence. Playhouse (0131 473 2056), Aug 8 & 9 Theatre: Anything That Gives Off Light — Enticing new co-production from Brooklynbased company The Team and the National Theatre of Scotland, blending American and Scottish traditional legends and music for a Highland road-trip story about self-interest, identity and sacrifice. Edinburgh International Conference Centre (0131 473 2000), Aug 18-26 (not 21)
explored in his memoir, Not My Father’s Son).
Entertaining anecdotes about Liza Minnelli? Cumming got ’em. But he’s got something else too: an individualist defiance and steadfastness that surpasses the superficial appeal of his smoke-andmirrors showmanship. He’s not so much an actor — more a way of life. The easy thing to do would have been for him to have appeared in another play, or perhaps not come back at all. But he didn’t. And it has paid off handsomely.
All hail, then, Alan the brave.