Those who don't want to open the theatre season in 'Black Tie' and with a gala would do well to go to the Fringe Festival. Already in its tenth year, the festival is bouncing in all directions, this year with 80 performances. Unselected, untamed and unjudged, as they call it themselves. In other words, sometimes you see something wonderful and sometimes you see something that sticks in good intentions. Throwing darts, I picked 3 performances, all of which turned out to be Best of Fringe.
Spirited gargling
Composer/singer/performer Gabriel Dharmoo had far too little audience for his surprising Imaginary Anthropologies. He sang and gargled the indigenous ritual chants of non-existent endangered peoples. In the background, fake scientists in a 'mockumentary' told what was so special about it. That sounds like it could get incredibly corny, but it wasn't. While undoubtedly witty - who wouldn't want to sing underwater in a big bowl? - there was a critical tone to it. As the evening progressed, the fake scientists became more badinating in their tone: "if these people had put a little more energy into useful things like Mining, and not into weird tunes like this, they might still exist". And so the trap of anthropology from a white, Western point of view was flawlessly exhibited.
World gathered together
Not everything turned out to be a hoot. Pete Se Optelgoed by South African Liezl de Kock is proving to be an audience favourite. International reviews also express nothing but praise. For me, unfortunately, it didn't work. What should be a dark fairy tale about a woman beyond the edge of society could not enchant me. Although de Kock is an excellent actress, with a wonderful command of her facial expressions, the tragedy of her character just did not want to work. Perhaps the setting was too explicit. The world of 'throw-away kids' and peripheral characters constructed from cardboard boxes and rubbish bags was too literal for me. As a result, I saw only the rubbish bags and they became but no wings, despite the lighting that gave them a peacock-like glass. As said, I was a bit alone in that.
Playing with fire
I did the same in my enthusiasm for An Evening With John Moran. What a performer! What a sense of timing, not just in his playbacking of his own voice. A performance that is about how hard it is to perform and how hard it is to come up with something new. That's playing with fire. It can quickly become a trick, a bland and easy game with the audience. Not so with Moran. In an increasingly hysterical run, he elevates his lack of new content to a theme and sucks you into his writer's block. I heard grumbling at the walk-out, including about the length of the performance (about 45 minutes), but I was sold.
I have not been able to see 77 performances. Unfortunately. It tasted like more, much more. But after this weekend, the festival ends and the craziness is over. Then we have to get back to curated content. I just had to get my evening dress out of mothballs again.
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