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THE
MAIL ON SUNDAY |
Copyright
2004 Associated Newspapers Ltd. |
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You can't beat Edinburgh at Festival time. The buzz seems to hang in the city's very air, and its historic streets fill with thousands of fluttering flyers, extravagant costumes, fire-swallowing jesters and so much more. As staged laughter resounds on the cobbles, it's impossible to tell who's involved and who's not. Perhaps that's why, ever so quickly, everybody is. On arrival, I asked a lad for directions. He nodded and fished out a map but the coordination required was too much for him and the giant papier mache apple he'd been holding between his knees began to roll away down the Royal Mile. I spent the next ten minutes holding the apple above my head while my new friend picked out my route. No doubt, I seemed part of some bizarre calypso act but I felt quite acclimatised. It's not my first Fringe. I've been twice before with friends as a spectator but this year is special, not just because I'm here covering the festival for Night & Day, but also because some of my university mates have crossed the pond from Canada to put on their show. Scouring my programme in London before I went, I was surprised that so many established, even Hollywood, stars were involved in the Fringe. I thought the whole point of a fringe festival was the chance it gave amateurs to flaunt their talents. The gripes of artists from past fringes reinforced my fears that mainstream names such as Paul Merton and Jenny Eclair might be poaching all the top slots. Within a short time of arriving, though, I find that in fact neither audiences nor amateurs seem to mind. In fact, if anything, they felt boosted by the calibre of the best. The press office for the Festival defends the line-up, claiming the Fringe has always had its share of top names, such as Susan Sarandon in 2002. No doubt bigger names bring bigger crowds and, I suspect, a greater sense of festival fun. How drab would the inter-show atmosphere have been without the speculation over Christian Slater's chicken pox? I get tickets to shows very quickly thanks to my assignment. Irish comic Ed Byrne is an utter genius, and despite being established already, well deserves his slot. His wit tumbles faster than the smoke from his jaws as he draws on endless cigarettes. One of my favourites in his repertoire was the line, 'I'd wanna meet my fantasy woman, sure but my dream woman? No, I wouldn't like to meet her. She hasn't got a face, for a kick-off.' Byrne is one of the Festival's hottest comedy tickets, as is The Office star Ricky Gervais, on for one night only, at the end of the month in his stand-up show Politics. Nancy Cartwright, better known as the voice of Bart Simpson, has also been hyped to the rafters for her show My Life as a Ten-year-old Boy. Having hidden behind the role of Bart Simpson for 17 years, Cartwright thought it about time to come out and finally reveal her identity. While clearly a brilliantly talented mimic, I'm left feeling dubious about her act. I can't understand why a woman who wants recognition in her own terms as a performer flaunts Bart pictures all over her backdrop and puts a stuffed Bart by her chair. And Bart's smart-ass one-liners, willingly reproduced by the bright-eyed Nancy, far overshadow the moments when the actress plays herself. Is Bart Simpson really responsible for the voice of Nancy Cartwright? According to the organisers, there are more foreign performers in Edinburgh this year than ever before, to the extent that a 'travel and tourism press officer' has now been appointed to help out the international artists. What struck me most was the incredibly high calibre of international acts, who have to travel (and somehow find a way to fund) often immense journeys to Edinburgh and still stay on top of their acts by the time they arrive. 'In general, it's an extremely expensive festival to play at, especially coming from North America,' says my friend, Canadian performer Eli Batalion. 'Compared to US fringe, Edinburgh's about 20 times more expensive. There's rental of the venue, plus promotions, a publicist, posters, flyers, email expenses- the list can be endless.' So why is it that more and more overseas performers are willing to raise the stakes financially for Edinburgh's Fringe? 'It's become the biggest performing arts festival in the world,' says Batalion. With awareness of Edinburgh's prestige as a fringe venue at an all-time high, international acts are competing for performance slots like never before, and as a result, the quality of the shows has gone up. 'Everything is possible if you are good and work hard on your act,' says Japanese mime artist Ketch! It wasn't always this way, though. Last time I was here, I happened upon The Japanese Beatles. Had the act been listed under comedy, I'm sure it would have scored better. As a musical entry, though, it was like bad karaoke. With this act playing on my mind, I have to say I approached Ketch!'s show Gamarjobat with caution. 'A shut-up comedy', the listing read. In fact, Ketch! and his co-star, Hiropol, were utterly mesmerising as, flawlessly, they combined magic with high-energy slapstick, and all without uttering a word. Hiropol even acts out an entire boxing match with an invisible opponent, dealing and receiving blows in slow motion. The result is as meticulous as their approach. 'We try very hard, and we even got a sell-out on our first day,' says Hiropol excitedly. For Batalion, and partner Jerome Saibil, the journey to the Fringe has been long, chaotic and expensive. The pair first launched their show Job: The Hip Hop Musical, a fast-paced, corporate 'record industry' retelling of the Book of Job with MCs Cain and Abel at the helm, in 2002. Edinburgh's certain to be a great showcase for them, but finding a venue and sifting through all the logistics involved in putting on the show were tougher than they had imagined. 'Canadian festivals are very well organised. They set up the venues for you. Of course, this is a mammoth festival, and certainly the set-up allows for more freedom in terms of what you want to do, but it's also a lot more difficult. There are a lot of trials and tribulations involved with getting a venue in Edinburgh. We were scheduled to be in Wigwam, the theatrical tent. But we found out about a month ago that the project had collapsed because there wasn't any sponsorship for it. 'If you are a large headliner like a TV personality, it's fine. You have management groups who take care of you. But if you're not coming from that angle, it really is more difficult.' Eventually the pair found a new venue, Pod Deco. Now they're here, they're thrilled to discover that artists receive free entry into unsold-out shows. 'They should do that in Canada', says Batalion. They're also thrilled with the reception they're getting. 'We've only been here four days, and already there's been loads of support- the people, the media, other performers. In Canada, we were told the Edinburgh Fringe was "war", so I was worried it would be that type of environment, but I haven't found that at all,' says Batalion. Like Batalion, other foreign acts view the Fringe as a great stepping stone. Before coming to Edinburgh, The Wau Wau Sisters, Tanya and Adrienne, were in awe of the Festival's reputation. The pair hail not quite from Nashwood as they claim in their circus burlesque show but from New York. Their trapeze act to the accompaniment of Guns N' Roses track Welcome to the Jungle is truly something to be seen a delicious mix of unpolished vaudeville enthusiasm and amazing acrobatics. Another brilliant newcomer is Carl-Einar Hackner with his show Heart. Inspired by the genius of Charlie Chaplin, Tommy Cooper, Buster Keaton and John Cleese, Hackner has been hailed as Sweden's top comedian, and for good reason. He has absolutely no qualms about challenging his audience's preconceptions, and has a cruel sense of spectacle, miming to Rachmaninov with a harmonica wedged inside his mouth. He burns bird cages, canes leap from his crotch, he swallows microphones and puts a violin bow through his head. Hackner tells me that children and their mothers have been known to leave his shows crying. But he's toned down his act for his new audiences. 'This is a very soft show. I usually "eat" a real pigeon. Its head comes off, then comes back again. Anyway, I couldn't do it here- no animals are allowed on stage. In Sweden, I actually have to make it more and more horrific because they know what I do by now.' British audiences might have to acclimatise to Carl-Einar a little, but he has faith. 'I dreamed a lot about Edinburgh and fantasised about getting here. I like British comedians.'
What will I take away from Edinburgh? Though I've still to try haggis,
I'm certainly feeling more experienced in the ways of harmonicas and have
laughed out loud many times. Unlike past haphazard forays through the
Fringe, my experience this year was terrific. I've never seen so many
invigorating shows in such a short space of time, nor met such extraordinary
artists. It's been an inspiration.
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