Fringe: Party Ghost - The Retreat - Angela Beevers

Party Ghost ★★★★
with Jarred Dewey, Olivia Porter
director Nicci Wilks 
Assembly Checkpoint • Fringe, Aug.23

Delightfully ridiculous, this surreal physical theatre performance is packed with witty nuttiness and seriously impressive skills including dance, aerial work, acrobatics, juggling and rather a lot of expertly staged and painful-looking pratfalls. All of this is deployed in a spooky setting that starts out as a funeral before transforming into a series of nutty ghostly birthday (or perhaps "deathday") parties. Add very clever costumes, plus striking lighting and musical choices, and this becomes the kind of show that will definitely develop a cult following. I'd happily watch it again and again.

On entering, we are greeted by a sobbing widow (Dewey) who hands out sandwiches and tissues, next to an enormous pile of crumpled tissues on the stage. Dewey then ascends (via hangman's noose) to a trapeze and performs a series of stunning, unusual moves that require extreme physical strength. This transforms him into a ghost (under a white sheet of course) who is joined by another ghost (Porter) for a series of riotous slapstick antics that involve demanding dance choreography, miming and acrobatics. Musical tracks shift the tone dramatically, creating scenes that are funny, sad, intense and comically violent. There's some Unchained Melody for Ghost fans, plus a bonkers routine to Adele's Hello.

A repeated birthday-gift scenario offers each performer a chance to mess with the other in outrageously physical ways, and their choreography demands intense precision as they use strength, balance and weight in cooperation with each other. They also draw the audience into a game of pass the parcel, Dewey does some sexy burlesque involving a balloon animal, and Porter performs a jaw-droppingly smooth routine juggling beanbags with her hands and feet. The generally creepy atmosphere balances perfectly with the dark humour on display, and the witty choreography hits a terrific climax with some UV-light trickery. It may be silly, but the general moodiness adds a surprisingly powerful undertone.

For details, PARTY GHOST >

photos by Hamish McCormick, Arrom Walker • 16.Aug.23

The Retreat ★★★★
with Rebekka Johnson, Anne Gregory, Kate Nash
Underbelly Cowgate, Big Belly • Fringe, Aug.23

Set up as a deranged welcome session at a corporate conference, this show is a blast of high-energy craziness designed to whip the crowd into cheering, chanting loons. Each performance features different guests, and the speakers tonight include a deeply wrong HR official, a woman who improvises raps to audience members' guilty pleasures, a gifted singing drag queen, and finally a couple of songs performed by Kate Nash, who produces the show. It's simply outrageous, but every moment of this female empowerment extravaganza has a sharp point without ever being heavy-handed.

Our chirpy hosts are the She-E-Os of Men-ses, a brand of ugly, oversized undies designed specifically for periods. Although of course the technology doesn't exist, so they don't actually work. Diana Corn (Gregory) is the exuberant feminist boss, while Silver Surfer (Johnson) is stinking rich. They introduce each special guest, and in between get the audience to sync their periods and howl at the moon. They also participate in each challenge that comes. When asked about their guilty pleasures, Diana replies happily, "Nothing, I'm a sociopath," while Silver says it's using her private jet. They also read out ridiculous reviews of their panties, revelling in the vitriol.

Essentially, it feels like Johnson and Gregory are making all of this up as they go, giving the show a freewheeling vibe that's both hilarious and a bit dangerous. And the silliness has offbeat resonance as it lampoons both corporate culture and female topics. Even the guests feed into this, as HR boss Herman Reid reminds women that "we hear you and we are listening". As Nash plays her knowingly pointed songs, including her hit Foundations, Johnson and Gregory become wildly nutty background dancers. Even their choreography has a point to make, but like everything else, the ridiculous absurdity zeroes in on society's idiotic attitudes toward bodies and shame. So the show becomes a celebration of everything we've been told to hide.

For details, THE RETREAT >

16.Aug.23

How to Write a Eulogy That Kills ★★★
Angela Beevers
Gilded Balloon Patter Hoose, Snug • Fringe, Aug.23

It's easy to see what Beevers has in mind with this piece, which explores her mother's death as she overthinks everything on the night before the funeral, procrastinating about writing her speech. The show is packed with moments of insight about grief and dealing with fatal illness, and it emerges as a lovely homage to her mother. But it's performed with an odd tone that feels distant, as if Beevers is afraid to simply be herself and prefers hiding behind a series of punchlines. And it is awkward to laugh at the pain she won't quite let out.

Adopting a heightened version of herself, Beevers has returned home to her childhood bedroom and is trying to compose her thoughts for tomorrow, knowing that she can rely on her recent improv class if there's no other inspiration. Around her are various items from her mother's life: a series of bright red wigs, a box of clothing and other items, a deck of tarot cards. Her mother was a larger-than-life fortune teller and belly dancer, revealed in home movies projected on a screen. Instead of getting to work, Beevers gets distracted trying to convince her crush James to drive four hours from Los Angeles to Fresno to attend the funeral with her, posting "funeral thirst trap" photos on Insta. She also discusses her experiences working as an assistant in Hollywood to Josh Gad.

For much of this show, it feels like Beevers is an adult hiding behind a naive teen version of herself. Indeed, she admits that she doesn't like to open up, so she makes this funeral all about herself. Saying that "dying of cancer is so cliche" may make a blackly comical point, but it's uncomfortable when many audience members have lost family members this way. Beevers longs to get the cancer movie treatment, surrounded by friends who find hope, love and sex in grief, but of course real life isn't like the movies, and it's difficult to believe that this a surprise to her. More resonant are comments about how talking about cancer makes everyone feel uncomfortable. Beevers is endearing, goofy and often witty, but the show never quite finds its own original niche. Even so, the way she ultimately embraces her mother's offbeat identity is remarkably moving.

For details, ANGELA BEEVERS >

photos by Joseph Canoza • 15.Aug.23

Full information at EDINBURGH FRINGE >