Empathy through puppetry

0 Absurdism, humour and charm are all part of the puppet show

of operatic ballads constantly crushed in mid-aria by a giant foot, along with sad lost figures seeking one another in romantic tempests, odd Mervyn Peake-like fantasies of sad demise presented in shadow-play, a giant book

that opens to hint at a story of fatal domestic violence, and occasional moments of all-too-vivid realism, as an elderly figure on a bed breathes their last.

There’s plenty of humour and absurdism to these Famous Puppet Death Scenes, in other words, but also, sometimes, a Beckettian sense of stoicism about our lives on the edge of the abyss. And there’s also an old philosopher-puppet figure who comes and goes throughout the 70 minutes of the show, offering us his thoughts on mortality – and towards the end, facing his own final moments. “We cannot protect our hearts,” he tells the audience at the last. “We must not do this alone.”

And in those moments, this endlessly rich, inventive and amusing show achieves what only the greatest puppetry can: making it easier for us to empathise with the little, simplified version of humanity in the puppet that stands before us, than it might be to feel at one with a breathing, complex human actor, speaking exactly the same words.

JOYCE MCMILLAN

Until 26 August. Tomorrow 8:30pm. Summerhall (Venue 26) JJJ

Laying yourself bare on stage is increasingly commonplace at the Fringe, but it’s hard to imagine a more personal work than this solo show from Jess Love. The Australian has toured the world with such esteemed troupes as Circus Oz, La Clique and Circa amongst others – and, during the brief bursts of hula hooping and aerial work, her skill is more than evident.

But once you realise how this transient career, and the nightly challenge of facing an audience, has exacerbated Love’s troubled personal life, it’s harder to take pleasure in.

From raiding her parents’ drinks cabinet aged 14 to waking up blind drunk, naked, several blocks from her hotel, Love shares her ongoing struggle with drug and alcohol addiction. It’s a warts and all confessional, with a bit of educational science thrown in, as Love explains the genes passed down to her from her equally troubled great, great grandmother. Equally worth our empathy is her overtly Christian upbringing and nonchalant parents.

But at times – such as when Love ventures into the crowd, acting like that friend we’ve all known who always turns into a drunken mess and needs looking after – the line between entertainment and therapy becomes a little too blurred.

KELLY APTER

Until 26 August. Tomorrow 9:55pm.