Dublin’s dancing queen
0 Margaret Mcauliffe brings the world of Irish competitive dancing to life hard-won from 18 years on the competitive circuit. Pulling on three different kinds of footwear, she demonstrates the various sections of the competition, clicking her heels in the hard shoes, bouncing delicately in the soft.
The show’s title takes its name from a four-person Irish jig, often danced in competitions, and one which Annie is told she excels in by her almost obsessive dance teacher. But in the end it’s the joy of dancing that shines through, even though it’s made clear that sadly, that’s often lost when every step ‘vanishing points’, becomes a metaphor for capturing the past: the mechanical, clockwork machinery now gone and the horses – or perhaps their ghosts – still trapped where it once churned.
A clearer and more focussed story would give the piece more shape, but as a dark play, late at night, it’s a fittingly atmospheric 45 minutes of idiosyncratic intrigue, with Robert Brice on didgeridoo adding to its otherworldly quality. SALLY STOTT you take has a score attached to it.
Witty and poignant, this is a story that invites you to climb inside and enjoy the ride, told by a performer who has lived and breathed the world she so expertly conveys. KELLY APTER replaced instead by a scared woman in a leotard: Grace Gibson, as a clown-like version of her childhood self. As she performs her strippedback routines – ballet, tap and jazz – she reveals the practice behind the performance, as well as the pain of criticism when she fails. Her steps go wrong; her costume isn’t right; water falls on her head.
Public failure is what the show’s all about: an analogy for the way all performers must risk and accept it in exchange for the possibility of creating something great.
In places, the minimalistic approach relies a bit too heavily on stillness and space. It also strips out a lot of the joys of dance. But when we finally see Grace as a child, doing the routine from which the show is formed, it’s a thought-provoking moment that enables the pain of practice and the polish of performance to sit side by side. SALLY STOTT “Trash talking the shit out of 2016’s political madness”, Emily Parker-barratt’s lively look at Brexit sidesteps the weightier issues of the EU referendum vote to focus on the divisions it caused between friends and families – in this instance, two young actresses sharing a flat in London. Politics enthusiast Lydia (Parker-barratt) finds Eastenderswatching Molly (Keri Bastiman) almost as frustrating as the fact they can’t pay their rent. They clash over tea and David Dimbleby, their arguments over whether to ‘stay’ or ‘leave’ increasingly fraught.
While the play’s depiction of Lydia, a condescending proeu southerner, and Molly, a less informed potential Brexiteer from Yorkshire, doesn’t delve too deeply into the reasons behind both side’s voting decisions, the writing attempts to explore the complex, often contradictory, nature of people’s political allegiances in a way that is full of humour and empathy.
“How do you sleep at a time like this?” Lydia demands as the election results come out. “By closing my eyes,” Molly replies. Her dry, understated performance perfectly suits the script’s witty moments, even if Lydia’s melodramatic laments feel heightened in comparison. A celebration of female friendship and flatshares, it’s great to see two women centre stage in a genre often populated by young men. SALLY STOTT Gilded Balloon at Rose Theatre (Venue 76) JJ In a desperate search for something topical to lure in unfussy Fringegoers, Zap Productions and Tadpole Studios have opted for a gay, Trump-bashing musical tenuously inspired by Disney’s Beauty and the Beast – tenuously as in it’s set in France, there’s a wilting rose motif and one of the songs rips off ‘Be Our Guest’.
The performers can carry a beautiful harmony and there’s the odd funny joke, but the blunt parody and threadbare plotting leave a lot to be desired. NIKI BOYLE