Archive for the ‘Fringe’ Category

08/09/11

I don’t normally review shows that I see at my place of work due to previously stepping on a few toes with an ill-timed review, but as this show has now, sadly, left our studio for greener pastures, I simply could not contain myself any longer. I must tell you about this show.

The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik: Deep Sea Explorer has won critical praise around the world, most recently in Edinburgh when it was a complete sell-out. Try as I might, I couldn’t get tickets for it – I am reliably informed that one intrepid theatre-goer even attempted bribery in an attempt to get in to see the last show, to no avail. And it is fresh from this success that Alvin Sputnik arrived in the Burton Taylor Studio. 

One-man storyteller Tim Watts tells the tale of a post-apocalyptic world. Nature’s “Menopausal rage” has melted the ice caps, and only a few humans remain on earth, living atop skyscrapers to escape the rising ocean. Alvin Sputnik lives a quiet life with his wife, Elena, until she passes away in his arms. Alvin, with nothing left to lose and nothing to live for, decides to dive to the bottom of the ocean to search for her soul.

Watt’s has created theatrical magic here. Alvin is a triumph in puppetry – ingeniously portrayed by a white glove and a ball of foam. Watt’s breathes life into his creation (well…his hand.) in such a way that you just fall in love with Alvin. He is sweet, loving, kind and very very funny. Watt’s has also cleverly combined the live action scenes and puppetry with animation, music and film using a large circular screen with which he interacts throughout as Alvin explores the deep. The effect is completely original, and left the audience gasping in delight at times.

There is a child-like wonder to everything Watt’s has created; he is energetic, playful and charming, but also restrained when necessary. Nothing is overdone here, instead Watts allows the beautiful story to tell itself in a deceptively simple way. And that is the joy of this show – the story is funny, and heart-warming, but is also full of loss and grief, creating lots of lump-in-throat moments and some all-out heart-breakers. (I am particularly reminded of the sad and joyful cry of “I love you!” towards the end of the show.)

This show is worth every single word of praise it has already received; this is a show that kids will enjoy, but adults will probably enjoy more. To quote my boyfriend, who emerged from this show just as excited as I was, it’s almost impossibly sweet.  Wonderful, beautiful, heart-warming and tear jerking, Alvin is a story about quiet heroism and enduring love: is there anything more you could want from a trip to the theatre?

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 Shakespeare For Breakfast

 Shakespeare for Breakfast

Shakespeare For Breakfast has become a staple of my Fringe experience; putting aside the free coffee and croissant you get with your ticket, the show is really just a great way to wake yourself up if you’re feeling a bit show-fatigued. This year’s production is Macbeth, but filtered through some High School movie clichés, and, as always, it’s fast-paced, funny and rather well written.

At Castle High School, Duncan is head boy and favourite of the overbearing and glory-hunting PE teacher, Mr Macduff. Meanwhile Macbeth (Joseph Morpurgo) is visited by three Goths, one of whom is hilariously portrayed a glove puppet, who predict his rise to be head of Cawdor House and ultimately head boy. When his ambitious cheerleader girlfriend, Beth, (Felicity Russell) hears of this, she schemes to embarrass Duncan and install Macbeth as head boy.

This year’s production is much better than it has been in previous years, and i really enjoyed previous years!  The writing is slick and treads that line between traditional and more topical jokes really well – the acting is also well above the normal standard. Tomas Wolstenholme is just outstanding as Mr Macduff, and his comic timing worthy of a much much larger audience. The rest of the cast are great too, though perhaps outshone slightly by Wolstenholme’s performance.

This is essentially a Fringe panto. There is audience participation, jokes about the tiny cast, a musical number, and a few blue jokes thrown in for good measure. It’s probably not going to win awards, it may not be innovative and life changing, but it’s incredibly good fun, and will set you in good stead for a day of Fringe fun. Highly recommended. 

Little Matter

 The River People: Little Matter

I feel this review needs some explanation. When I stepped into the tiny theatre set around a beautiful wagon, I first registered the delightful folk music filling the space, then I inhaled and my heart sank. The River People had, I suppose in an attempt to engage all senses, filled the air with inscense. Unfortunately for me, I am violently allergic to inscence and air fresheners, so was immediately dreading the following hour. I understand that not everyone had this problem, but I was immediately put off. I noticed quite a lot of other people coughing too – and spotted one mother subtly trying to give her son his inhaler in the middle of the show. Perhaps a sign or something similar outside the tent would help to warn people?

Anyway, I was understandably a little distracted during the performance as my arms broke out in hives and my eyes started streaming, but I struggled on as, despite my whinging, I really am a big fan of The River People.

Tucked away in a car park off Chambers Street, The River People present their usual blend of puppetry, music and storytelling, telling the story of a young man who feels he has not reached his full potential, wrapping this tale in magic and myth.

There are echoes of their previous production Lilly Through The Dark here as The River People once again examine the light and dark in all of us. However, where Lilly was driven by a fantastic story, Little Matter lacks this. The music, atmosphere and tehcnical skill are all there, but the story is not. The narrative is muddled and often appeared incomplete. What started as a tale of a man who did not live up to his potential became a confusing and convoluted trip into the subconscious; encountering potential children and dark characters along the way. And then, seemingly from nowhere, the whole thing was blamed upon an absent parent. I really wanted to like this, The River People are one of my favourite companies at the moment and they have bags of potential, but this one just doesn’t match up to the very high bar they have previously set.

Saying that there were some lovely moments of storytelling and puppetry, most notable the ogre of a boss with glowing green eyes. The music was also beautifully executed, and the design was great (though the lighting a little low for intricate puppetry). All four actors were brilliant actor/musicians, and there is something incredibly endearing about seeing such talented people appear so humble.

I am confident that with some polishing this show could be just as great as their previous productions. I wonder if the wagon signals a swing towards rural touring, because The River People would no doubt bring a lot of joy to smaller communities. 

Street Dreams

 Street Dreams

It appears I am on something of a puppetry binge this Festival. Street Dreams was the only time flyering actually worked on me, as it was handed to me while I was queueing for Swamp Juice, and as I had a gap I thought I’d give it a go. This is puppetry at its simple and glorious best.

The story is a simple one. A little hobo tries desperately to read his book in peace, but is distracted by his rubbish dump companions. Because of this, he decides to emigrate to the grassy land he spotted just a short umbrella ride away. When there, he realises that home really is where the heart is, and travels back to be with his old friends.

A silent and simple puppet show, Little Cauliflower use bits of scrap and things from the rubbish bin to create a rich and engaging world. The birds are made from carrier bags, his rubbish dump friends a rubber glove and old banana skins. It’s lovely to see the young company breathe life into these ordinary objects.

The main puppet, that of the hobo, could perhaps be a little more expressive – his movements weren’t immediately clear, and took some guesswork to figure out his intent, but you were willing to make that effort, as the company had instilled in this little puppet a warm and child-like personality.

I am unaware of Little Cauliflower’s work until now, but this show shows some promise. The music and puppetry is delicate, if not totally accomplished, and the story is really quite touching.  It’s a very sweet play, and I’m sure this would be particularly great for children, though may not have the universal appeal I have seen in other puppet shows.

And The Birds Fell From the Sky

 

Sitting in a darkened and dirty waiting room, watching a broken TV relaying newsreels of a freak occurrence in America, I wondered what I had let myself in for. I had no idea what Birds Fell was when I bough the ticket, but, like most things at the Fringe, a friend had recommended it, so I had to give it a go.

Performed every 15 minutes for only 2 people, its worth seeing this piece if only for the technological innovation involved. The show takes place on some video goggles, while you and your companion are drawn, both physically and mentally into this world taking place before your eyes.

The smells and sensations around you completely match up with what you are experiencing visually – a clown spits alcohol over you and you feel it hit your skin, smelling the pungent alcohol smell in your nostrils. Objects are placed in your hands, and you are seated in a car and taken on a wild ride.

The difficulty with this show is the story itself. If there was a story, I was so disoriented by the style that I found it impossible to follow, and even if I were completely nonplussed by the goggles, it would still have been incredibly difficult to understand. As a piece of art it was certainly interesting. The car full of clowns was a powerful image, but they overcomplicated the story for the audience who are new to this style.

Those niggles aside, this is a nicely innovative show that stays with you for some time. I particularly enjoyed all the small touches that made the show that bit more special: a phone number you can call afterwards, a keepsake that unravels to become a tarot reading, and a parish newsletter in the waiting room. This appears to be the start of something new. It covers ground that Alma Mater tackles a little more delicately, but the intent is the same. This is the next level of immersive theatre – first person theatre, if you will.

Swamp Juice

Swamp Juice

What an unexpected delight. Scamp’s reputation precedes them, but my only experience of them was the beautifully crafted Private Peaceful (also at the Fringe this year – though I saw it in 2009) – I wasn’t expecting the puppet menagerie awaiting me.

Set in the eponymous swamp, Jeff Achtem fills the story with creatures in various forms, but the main story follows the journey of one little man’s determined pursuit of Birdie, his Roadrunner styled nemesis who is always one step ahead of him.

The apppeal of this show is its simplicity – it’s a very basic story performed incredibly well by a supremely talented actor. Achtem is superb – bumbling, shy and instantly endearing, he effortlessly brings his shadow puppets to life with breathtaking realism, despite being made from cardboard and bits of scrap. His adorable performance style means that, even in the shows darker moments, no child is frightened as Achtem draws them into his world as though a child himself. (“That took me a week!” he exclaims proudly, pointing to one of his puppet creations)

At various stages he involves the audience in creating his beautiful shadow world, inducing squeals of delight from adults and kids alike, and as we reach the end he adds another fantastic element as we all don those familiar red and blue glasses and the shadows become 3D! “Avatar, eat your heart out,” says Jeff – I have to agree!

This show is perfect fringe fodder, and deserves to be seen by a much wider audience. I doubt you will ever see shadow puppets so lifelike and full of character – and you’ll find yourself thinking “Here Birdie Birdie Birdie” long after you’ve left the theatre.

 
Translunar Paradise

I went to this show on the recommendation of my twitter feed and thank goodness I did. Theatre Ad Infinitum tell the story of a man who is lost following the death of his wife. Lonely and mourning, he copes by reliving treasured memories of his wife and their life together, from meeting and courtship, through to sadder memories of heartbreak and loss.

Told entirely without words, with only an accordion/singer for accompaniment, this show could very easily have slipped into schmaltz, but instead this show packs an emotional punch I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before in a theatre.
The masks used to portray the elderly couple force meaning into the simplest of gesture. A tapping finger, a glance to the left – all create a full and moving picture of a man bereft of his life partner. The lack of words was heartbreaking – there was no weeping or wailing, no beating of the chest – instead there was an unspoken sense of loss that needed no words.

The man and his wife’s older selves are played using handheld masks that are pulled away when they play the younger versions of themselves. The effect is extraordinarily poignant, their whole bodies becoming younger and more full of life. George Mann and Deborah Pugh delicately portray these scenes of the younger couple – the movements suggesting snapshots of utter happiness. Even an argument between the couple becomes just another expression of love.

Perhaps the moment that will remains with me longest is that of our elderly friend distracting himself from his loneliness by making a cup of tea – only to absent-mindedly pick up two cups from the cupboard. As I describe this I realise I am making it sound like a maudlin and depressing tale, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. For each moment of sadness there is another of joy as we celebrate their incredible life together.

I rarely give praise without fault, but I fell completely in love with this show. I, like most of the sell-out audience, wept unashamedly as Theatre Ad Infinitum taught us that death isn’t really the end, so long as we keep the memory of loved ones alive. See this show. Bring tissues and tell your friends, such a sublime and beautiful piece of theatre should be seen by as many people as possible. It’s astounding how much you can say without words, and this company says it perfectly. 

Comedian Dies in the Middle of Joke

cditmoj image

            Forest Fringe is, in my opinion, the greatest venue the fringe has to offer. With free tickets and a bohemian style, the place seems to encapsulate exactly what the Fringe is all about. This fun little show is set in the middle of a comedians failing comedy set, and as if his day couldn’t get any worse, he’s going to be shot at the end of the set.

Written by Ross Sutherland Comedian Dies In The Middle Of Joke is an interactive play for small groups, where audience members take it in turns to play the various parts on offer. There’s the sycophantic agent, the party table, the insulted soldier and many more, and a fortunate few even get a chance to be the comedian. The reason everyone changes around so much is that our eponymous comedian is stuck in a 6 minute time loop – and no matter what happens, he’s going to die at the end of that 6 minutes.

            If nothing else, this show was really great fun. There was something really engaging about coming up with various lines and barbs depending on the character you were playing, and the ‘6 minute loop’ repetition was quite effective as we witnessed our comedian struggling to overcome the inevitable. It was also a very social event – I went in alone, but I emerged chatting animatedly about the show and agreeing to meet my fellow audience members for a drink.

            Saying that, this show isn’t going to change lives. It has a powerful ending, and the repetition is very effective, but when you boil this show down, it’s really just a very clever parlour game. However, this was a parlour game I was more than happy to play.

Crunch

 

Another Forest Fringe show (I told you I love that venue!), Crunch is pretty unique for fringe shows. Part lecture, part sales pitch, part motivational life coaching, Crunch examines the worlds over-reliance on money, and asks us to question this once in a while.

            In his sharp suit and slicked back hair style, Gary McNair presents his lecture on the money, explaining its history, and presenting it to us for what it really is, just a belief system like any other. He asks us to enter his five-step programme to rid ourselves of the tyranny of money and take back control. After all, he explains, we are the ones who really decide the value of that bit of paper with £10 printed on it.

McNair is honest and charming, and uses various techniques to show audiences the true value of money. There is an auction for a sealed envelope containing an unknown sum of money, and as he attempts to purchase a bag from an audience member he offers things that, perhaps, have more worth – building your flat pack furniture for example, or cooking you a meal.

However, what most people will be talking about when they leave is the moment when Mcnair, like a faith healer or preacher, invites people up onto the stage to be ‘cured’ of their obsession with money. He then unveils a shredder and asks for volunteers to take the money from their wallets and shred it. What is fascinating is the amount of people that queue up to do it. They laugh in delight as their money is shredded before their eyes and take away the tiny pieces as a souvenir. Some throw them in the air like confetti, some take them grinning back to their seats, but all look happy and satisfied with their decision to do it.

            Crunch, oddly, leaves you feeling quite good about yourself. McNair isn’t telling anyone to live without money, that would be impossible, but he is asking his audience to see it for what it is – unimportant in the grand scheme of things. It’s a refreshing message, and while I didn’t get up there to shred my hard-earned cash, I did leave with a much lighter view of my financial situation: after all, it’s only money.

Yesterday I got my programme for Edinburgh Fringe.

Edinburgh is quite simply my favourite time in the entire theatrical calendar – a time when the little companies that normally work throughout the country, touring alone or fleetingly visiting cities, all converge within the space of one tiny street. The Royal Mile is a piece of theatre in itself, with companies vying for your attention by any means necessary – there is performance art, offers of free food, free drink, anything to get you to see their show. What is normally a little sub-culture, where everyone knows everyone, suddenly becomes a massive international event, and everyone wants to join our club!

My first trip to the Fringe was in 2008. During that time I worked at C Venues, working anything from 9 to 16 hour days for barely any pay. I worked night shifts, wired up emergency lighting for an entire 5 storey building despite having no experience whatsoever, I painted, mopped, chopped, sawed, stapled, gaffa’d, tied, swept and wept for 3 weeks, and that was before the fringe even began. But when the fringe begins it’s all worthwhile. It was the post-graduation impetus I needed to make sure I stayed in theatre. It’s the main reason I’m so passionate about innovative theatre, and it introduced me to some of the best companies working in theatre today.

 Receiving the Fringe programme is incredibly exciting; partly just to allow you to plan the visit you’ve been looking forward to all year, but also to give you an idea of where the industry is at this year. What companies have chosen to make the perilous journey up north? Because it certainly is perilous. It is considered a success at the fringe if you break even – and it’s a rare company indeed that goes up there making a huge profit, despite spending thousands on venue hire, living costs and accommodation.

There is an art to reading the Fringe Programme, and it’s very much a ‘How do you eat yours’ dilemma. Obviously, like any sane individual, I jump straight to the theatre section. I then pore over each page, reading the company names first to see if anyone exciting is up. Once the favourite companies have been noted, I’ll go through to find some hidden gems from lesser-known companies – it’s all about the blurb in this part. And then I’ll go through children’s/musical/comedy sections and do the same thing.

 So with that in mind, it’s time to celebrate the wonderful world of theatre, and highlight some of my Fringe Picks meticulously selected from my first few sweeps of the brochure.

 Clockheart Boy -Dumbshow Theatre

Saw this when it was up in 2008 and fell in love with it. Heartbreakingly beautiful – magical, joyous, everything you could want for a fringe piece. Miss it at your peril.

Little Matter – The River People

These are one of my favourite companies working today, and this looks to continue the success of ‘Lilly Through the Dark’ – keeping their home at Bedlam, The River People have their own wagon for this. that’s good enough for me!

 Audience – Ontroerend Goed

After the disturbing, beautiful and slightly baffling ‘Internal’, I’m interested in anything this company has to offer. From the sounds of it, this will, once again, put the audience at the heart of the show.

The Boy James – Belt Up Theatre

Darlings of the Fringe scene, Belt Up, appear to have listened to criticism and scaled down for this fringe. Taking only three actors with them, their season is a muted affair (for them, anyway!) with only three shows in C Soco. I haven’t seen The Boy James yet, so will be favouring that over their two new shows, Outland and Twenty to Nine, which I am certain will arrive in London at some point.

I, Malvolio – Tim Crouch

Having been introduced to Tim with his production of ‘My Arm’, I am continually fascinated by his process and writing choices. Going by past experience, this seems to be about as normal as he gets, so I’m intrigued to see what he does with the character of Malvolio.

What Remains – Grid Iron Theatre

You may have read earlier in this blog, that ‘Decky Does a Bronco’ was one of my highlights of 2010 – and it solely for this reason that I’m going to see ‘What Remains’. They’re a great company, and some of the nicest I’ve worked with when they toured to Oxford last year.

Oedipus – Stephen Berkoff

Something tells me this is going to be the hot ticket this year. You get where this is going, Oedipus seen through the ungouged eyes of Berkoff – what isn’t there to like?

The Wright Brothers – Oxford Playhouse

 Okay, I admit it; I’m a company girl. The people that pay me a lot of money every month are taking their show up this year. Having seen the preview of this already, I’m really interested in how it’s changed, and how a Fringe audience receives it. If the previews were anything to go by, I think this may be an unexpected hit

 Assorted Forest Fringe

At the time of writing, the Forest Fringe programme has not yet been released, but rest assured, I have blocked off many hours to fill with whatever they have to offer. Action Hero are a particular draw for me, but I trust the Forest to provide something interesting no matter what.

 

Notable Absences

Little Bulb Theatre- Though I have been assured by them that they will be appearing BAC Summer Hall at some point – so keep an eye on their schedule!

Dancing Brick – hot on the heels of Thomas Eccleshare’s recent award, it would have been lovely to see them at the Fringe again. One can only assume they’re continuing their international success elsewhere!

Pappys Fun Club – genuinely upset about their absence, and can only hope they’ll be back next year.

 

And that should do it for now. There are many many many more shows I’ll be seeing this year, but that’s just a little taster of what I’m certain will be a spectacular programme. Hope you will all be visiting the ‘Burgh this year – see you up there!

05/05/11

On a warm summers night in Oxford, I am sitting in a café, sipping on a glass of water. Beside me, a woman reads a magazine, and outside, a man in a red velvet smoking jacket and bowler hat peers curiously through the window. This was the setting for Mettta theatres new adaptation of Pirandello’s one act play ‘The Man with the Flower in his Mouth’, and its story is a very simple one.

In a late-night café, a man strikes up a conversation with a woman who has missed her train. He learns a little about her, then speak to her about savouring the small details, and living an imaginative life. It is almost idyllic in it’s tone, were it not for the dark moments peppered throughout.

 Pirandello presents to us a man with a feverish imagination and a burning desire to live, and a woman, burdened with parcels and troubles, killing time after missing the last train. In a way, they are the antithesis of one another, but the script allows our ‘man with a flower’ to speak with such passion and intellect, that their common ground become increasingly clear.

‘My imagination takes hold of the smallest detail,’ he says and we can readily believe him. For reasons, which gradually emerge, the unnamed Man is living his life with a an almost reckless intensity, marvelling at details such as the beauty of a sales assistant wrapping a package, and revelling in the pleasures of his imagination. But his love of life is inextricably linked with death. He sees people all around ignoring death, distracted by petty irritations. “I’d kill myself”, he says in a disturbingly warm manner, “but the plums are just ripening”.

It is testament to the quality of the production that ripening plums somehow become a logical antidote to suicide, and the number of blades in a handful of grass evidently measure out the remainder of a mans life. Samuel Collings was certainly inspiring as our ‘man’ – I felt I was witnessing a man on the verge of a breakdown, grasping onto the small details in a bid to remain calm in the face of his own demise. It was as though we were only permitted to see a glimpse of his anguish, the rest safely locked away beneath the surface, but it came out in occasional stilted bursts that were heartbreaking to watch.

 I felt it a shame that his counterpart, Liana Weafer, did not have more to do, but she certainly did an admirable job of allowing Collings to feed from her physical responses. It did leave me wondering, though, if the adaptation was flawed. Wile Burton-Morgan has sensibly avoided completely modernizing the story, by changing the gender of our stranger to a female; she has allowed herself some liberties with the text. Surely this could have continued by giving her a voice? I couldn’t help but feel that a new adaptation was the perfect opportunity to create a dialogue between these two characters.

The café setting is clever, as we can allow ourselves to believe we are truly witnessing this exchange. The waitress behind the counter genuinely works at the coffee shop, and the smell of the coffee they drink drifts over to the audience. We are entirely immersed in their world, which allows us to pay attention to the finer details of this performance. I did wonder, however, why the company chose to set the audience as though it were an end-on performance – surely this was what they were trying to avoid by staging this piece in a café? A braver decision might have been to leave the café exactly as it was, and let audience’s strain to see the action, though this may be my penchant for immersive theatre filtering through.

I was struck by the simplicity of the piece as a whole: and the direction was splendid, but there were flaws. All the same, I could excuse these flaws in the face of such an outstanding performance from Collings, and the script certainly left me thinking. ‘Good, not great’ seems an apt description, but a rather dour one, considering the deeper questions this play asks. Is he right? Can life really be lived with complete commitment? – any play that leaves me pondering this question long into the night should surely be worth a look.

  What's on: Paper Birds Theatre's Company's Others

Using the company’s trademark mix of verbatim, movement and storytelling, Others is a piece about women, and the ill-informed assumptions we make about those around us.

Paper Birds tell the story of three women, filtering their tales through movement, comedy and pathos. The principle is that the company write to women all over the world in order to better understand their life. The questions range from the mundane (what TV do you enjoy?), through to deeper questions about the women’s life and history. The result is a poetic, often moving insight into these three women’s lives. Paper Birds deconstruct the stories and voices of these women, revealing secrets, self-portraits,

The Iranian theatre-maker speaks with eloquence of pride in her culture, and the company use her letter to highlight how little we really know about the women of Iran. This is the highlight of the show – the language is beautiful and the movement sequence, as the girls spill out their various inaccurate perceptions of Iranian culture, walks the line between comedy and pathos with ease. The prisoner speaks eagerly about her life, though the more she speaks, the more heartbreaking her story becomes. And then there is the celebrity. Our celebrity never speaks – she is noticeable in her lack of response to the company’s letters, and it is this that the company use to tell her story.

The movement and use of poetic language in this piece is captivating, and there is a subtlety to the piece that is quite refreshing. I enjoyed the way it engaged the audience, and encouraged them to make their own minds up about these women. I should explain that I saw this piece based solely on my regard for the company – I watched In a Thousand Pieces with tears rolling down my cheeks, and hoped for a similar experience in Others.

Unfortunately, Others did not impress me quite as much as their previous offering, and I was left feeling as though the piece lacked coherence. There seemed to be an attempt at deeper themes of perception, but this was not explored enough to be fully understood by an audience. The assertion that the Iranian theatre-maker was not their ‘Other’ suggests there was an attempt to find their equivalent in another woman, but this is an idea that is brushed away as quickly as it arrives. It feels a little like a wasted opportunity, as the theme we are left with, that we should cast judgement on those around us just because of their circumstances, is a somewhat muddy one considering the amount of themes and ideas that have been thrown at us.

Though the production is flawed,, I still enjoyed its gentle nature – and loved the way this company really seems to have carved out a signature style for themselves. Their fluidity as a group is intriguing, and I would like to see another of their pieces, as I really think this company has something relevant to say.

15/02/11

You could be fooled into thinking that Uninvited Guests piece is simply an exercise in tugging at the heartstrings, but within a few minutes of taking your seat, it becomes clear that this is not the case.

Uninvited Guest’s concept is one so basic you will marvel that no one has done it before. We are given a glass of sparkling wine and a seated around a large party table. Our hosts, seated at either end of this table, then proceed to play song after song as they read out anonymous dedications from the audience. Love Letters is unashamedly sentimental, and in this world, it is always Valentines Day.

At one point Jess Hoffman recreates the exhilaration and excitement of her first love. Richard Dufty then expresses his love for his girlfriend through interpretive dance, and the audience are asked to throw flowers over reconciled lovers, cradling one another in the centre of our party. But despite these gloriously theatrical moments. the real star of this show is the audience.

Even the most stoic audience member would shed a tear at some of the beautiful moments that were created for us. Each dedication becomes a brief glimpse into the lives of those seated around you. Some are so beautifully written they become a form of poetry, while some are shorter though by no means less moving.  There are toasts to lovers, to absent friends, and moments of silence for those who have passed.

The anonymity of these dedications allow a certain freedom amongst the group. In a way it doesn’t matter who the songs are for –you begin to feel like you are in a room full of friends as these stories about life, love and loss are played out through music. By the end of the show the emotion in the room is palpable, and it is nigh on impossible to remain unmoved.

This show, for me, is exactly what theatre should be. It is honest, beautiful, heartbreaking, and joyous. I cannot praise it highly enough, and I urge anyone and everyone to see it. Send in a dedication, bring a friend and a box of tissues, and enjoy an evening of music and stories.