So it Goes...

I had originally planned to spend the afternoon with a friend but with his final get-out calling to him I found other ways to entertain myself instead. Carting around my suitcase and two bags I power-walked from the infirmary to the Underbelly to catch the well-reviewed show, 'So It Goes'.

edinburghshowcase.britishcouncil.org

Family seemed to be a running theme with all of the shows I managed to see this year but in this one in particular, we were thrust into a world of family relationships that seemed all too familiar. The piece is based on a story following the journey of Hannah, mourning the death of her father. As she struggles to speak about her grief in the 7yrs that follow, she instead turns her focus to moping on the sofa and nights out on the town until finally she finds a way back to her mother. It was the second show I caught at the Fringe this year to avoid speech entirely, leaving a magnified emphasis on the visuals - which were bursting with originality and symbolic of the inability to see black and white at times of emotional difficulty.

incomingfestival.com

Facial expressions were at their best in this one, there was plenty of energy despite the subject matter and lack of dialogue. The show also featured lots (And lots) of whiteboards as important parts of the story were written for the audience to see - allowing us into our protagonist's world (and I applaud them on managing to write upside down)!

theartsdesk.com

We were drawn in with a high energy beginning, with enactments of memories of dad running everywhere, to work, to the shop, around the park. Dad loved to run. And our girl loved dad.

Line drawings were a huge part of the character of this show. Not only did it act to aid scene changes, explain narrative or act as scenery - it also had a kind of symbolic nature, representing the many childlike emotions that can present post-trauma. There was also something harrowing about seeing the solitary word 'cancer' written on one of the cards aided by an x-Ray like drawing of dad's insides. Despite the impact of the negative, these drawings also suggested a childish quality in our characters that gave them life and enabled us to really feel sympathy for them.

eastendreview.co.uk

I particularly enjoyed the club scene, with buckets of energy from our two actors (and buckets to catch the amount of sweat produced too), and with line drawings to represent the crowd and drinks - it was as clever visually as it was emotionally climatic. This was the moment for me that made the most sense when it comes to mourning - as we turn our energy to losing our minds and finesse the art of distraction. It's a routine I've practiced and one I could really connect with.

So it Goes... was brutally powerful. I am very much a woman of words and I find it much easier to write them down, rather than share them with anybody out loud. The show was a perfect embodiment of grief, of memory and of moving on. It was warm, it was fragile and it was human, which made it a hit at the Fringe this year and I hope on bigger stages to follow.

Find out more about the story behind the show here: http://www.ontheruntheatre.co.uk/#!current-production/cb3i

'Tree' by Daniel Kitson

'Tree', written by Daniel Kitson in August 2013, is a masterpiece of quips and laughs, playing at full capacity to an audience in the round. It is dynamic both in terms of character and in a physical sense, that being (in the style of Kitson himself) - there's a f**k-off massive tree in the middle of a theatre.

oldvictheatre.com

The production is a play for two people and the story is as follows:
Man walks underneath tree for picnic
'Why you up a tree?'
'Let's not get there straight away, why you here?'
'Let's not get there straight away'

And so the two engage in a barter of small talk that, at times became a little predictable but that, slowly but surely reveals the two men's 'real' reasons for being there.

Kitson's character is an oddball, a man that raises up cups of tea in a plastic bucket rather than leave his leafy dwelling. We gradually find out the background of this illusive bearded bard as a landlord of the house his tree stands outside of. He has instead chosen to live in the tree for 'just over nine years' and manages to survive by ordering groceries to the house below, receiving t-shirts from a guy called Robbie, 'pissin' in a bottle and shittin' in a bag'.

Of course, Key's character has no intention of believing this man first time, as a civil rights lawyer he's convinced he can work out the truth. And so, he tells of how he came to be at this particular spot. He met a girl, she suggested a picnic, he came... only he came '50mins early... not 10mins late', because the clocks went back and he hadn't 'clocked on' (sorry).

And so the narrative continues, a back-and-forth of questions and answers, appreciation of smiles that look like it's wearer has had a stroke, and of shared adoration for megaphones and blowtorches.

But it's not all as meaningless as it sounds, at around the 75minute mark it takes an unexpected turn. Those who seemed to be two innocent men with civil liberty at heart and who decide quite quickly that everyone should be addressed as 'mate', transform within seconds before our very eyes. Key's character receives a phone call, from his wife and daughter, whom he told he was working late. And so the dream date with a girl immediately becomes a stab in the heart of everything we've been led to believe. And it doesn't stop there.

take1scenicservices.co.uk

As Kitson's character works out what's going on he has a change of heart, perhaps he'll tell Key the 'truth':
'It's not true'
'What isn't'
'Me living in a tree'
'I don't believe you, why else would you be sitting in a tree'
'I'm a tree surgeon, I'm waiting'
'For what?'
'Woodchipper'

And so, the tree turns on its roots and now we have a dilemma. What is the truth of this illusive magical man in a tree? Could THIS in fact be true, that he's wearing a council t-shirt because he works for the council, not because a man called Robbie gave it to him. Or could this be his very own way of making a point about commitment.

Who knows, but it's awfully odd that he'd be waiting in a tree that late in the evening, don't you think?


A brilliantly written piece that saved the best bit 'til last and as it was being filmed, we even got a second chance to watch Key's character catch a grape his mouth! A night that really left us dwelling in the stairwells of the Old Vic to argue our case for which story was really true - and whether we could have got the grape in first time ;)