But what if everyone has been in long rehearsals, primed to electrify the audience, except for one member who’s been thrust onto the stage on the very evening of the performance, completely oblivious to the plot, the tone or the lines? That’s the conceptual spark of writer and director Kieran Jordan for Scriptless, a production that was first presented as a work-in-progress at the Camden Fringe a couple of years ago and is now premiering at the same event, at The Lion & Unicorn Theatre.

The play centres around an engagement party, to which a few friends are invited, yet a sordid secret looms, threatening the future happiness of the celebrated couple. What was set to unravel as a blend of drama and a whodunnit instead hilariously unfolds as a comedy, given the actor playing the fiancé – a key figure in this ensemble – had only just joined the company moments before the curtain went up.

The five official characters are well-drawn, each bringing distinct personalities that add to the story and scenes, creating numerous humorous moments as the impromptu husband-to-be flubs his lines, or their attempts at seriousness are undone by an unintended gesture or mimicry that makes theatregoers crack up.

It’s a clever strategy to change the sixth (the scriptless) performer every night, injecting a fresh unpredictability into the show and adding startling twists and turns. It remains somewhat ambiguous whether those stepping into the role are artists themselves or merely random friends. However, given the scripted arrival of a scriptless character, it would perhaps be beneficial to establish some guidelines to foster more entertaining exchanges and reduce breaking the flow of the performance. On the evening this writer attended, for instance, the cast themselves frequently erupted in laughter, which disrupted the tension crucial to making the absurdity of the setup work.

That said, the actors keep a brisk pace in the second half of the production, and their overall stage presence is masterful.

Cristiana Ferrauti
Photo: Courtesy of the show

Scriptless is at Lion & Unicorn Theatre from 22^nd until 24^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Written by Alex Rawnsley and directed by Harriet Gill, with musical direction by Isobel Connolly, the whimsically titled production unfolds as Freud’s presence becomes increasingly invasive and Fran’s lighthearted curiosity about psychoanalysis starts to morph into a darker obsession, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. It’s unapologetically coming-of-age and unpretentious – the production’s title is immediately reminiscent of Marisha Pessel’s Special Topics in Calamity Physics (2006), and the imaginary Freud carries himself with a humorous absurdity paired with an underlying sense of authority in a similar manner as the Squip in Be More Chill.

While Fran’s romance takes centre stage, her relationship with her housemates reflects the isolating, coming-of-age experience of trying to find reliable support during a time when everyone else is similarly struggling. Despite their best efforts and intentions, her friends lack the experience or clarity to offer Fran truly sound advice, leaving her vulnerable to the pull of her inner devil for the duration of the play. And while her best friend Xylia (Lexie Turner) is the one who confronts her about the dangers of taking Freud’s theories as gospel, Fran is ultimately the one who has to remove herself from his influence.

With Freud as the devil on her shoulder, preying on her desire for an easy, definitive answer to every relationship challenge, Fran notably lacks an angelic counterpart to provide balance and helpful guidance. There is no personification of virtue or conscience, and the relentless influence of Freud’s ideas about primal instincts and Oedipus complexes is ultimately defeated only by Fran’s realisation that she must navigate her own path and determine her own course. Despite its surreal elements and graceful humour, the “lecture” ends on a surprisingly sober note, grounded in the hard, simple lesson of personal agency as self-determination in the coming-of-age narrative.

Christina Yang
Photos: Kataria Media

A Series of Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis: The Musical is at King’s Head Theatre from 20^th until 24^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

None of the characterisations are particularly deep or serious; it’s largely played for laughs, despite some of the darker themes that are tackled. John is an arrogant Londoner who thinks way too highly of himself, loves his mother too much, and whose central conflict in life centres around whether it’s still acceptable to enjoy Kanye West’s music; Mordy is an American camp counsellor who tries a little too hard to be liked by the children; Aaron is a flamboyant boy coming to grips with his approaching Bar Mitzvah; Yoni is a parody of Ben Shapiro at his worst; and the last is a teacher giving detention who gets too involved with the students.

All characters are presented by Yaya As, who seamlessly switches from role to role in a performance that requires immense flexibility. Their comedic timing is strong and they demonstrate nuance in conjuring certain characteristics in the diverse cast – such as the nervous laughter in Aaron or Yoni’s quick-paced speaking.

The heart of the play is the exploration of Jewish values, many of which are touched upon here, although at times some topics could have been explored in greater depth – such as Aaron’s homosexuality in a conservative setting or John’s apparent struggles with being Jewish at all. It’s simply the result of such a breadth of characters: it offers variety and enjoyment, but detracts from what might have been done.

But this only mars what is a lovely piece of fringe theatre to a small extent. Directed by Lara Robinson, it’s an enjoyable experience well worth a look.

Michael Higgs
Photos: Brandon Hepworth for Bones Productions

The Wise Men of Chelm is at Camden People’s Theatre from 12^th until 13^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Tucked away from the chaos of central London, in the crypt of the Grade 1 listed Church of Saint George, to describe the Museum of Comedy as “intimate” would be an understatement. It was the Russian Doll equivalent of architecture and David Lynch equivalent of set design; the rooms got smaller as one progressed further into the theatre. Passing through the main stage and the well–stocked bar, which led to yet another hidden miniature stage behind curtains and seated no more than 20 people, this basement space has been a platform for up–and–coming comedians and thespians such as Frankie Boyle since 2014, when it first opened on April Fool’s Day.

Nina Doroushi

Break a Leg Babe is at the Museum of Comedy from 10^th until 14^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Written by Anton Chesnokov, who directs alongside Alexandra Simonet, the whimsically titled I Love to Fly features an ensemble cast and explores the lives of passengers at Gate 17, where their journey seamlessly becomes part of the destination

From the emotional parting of an overbearing Italian-American mother, who buys a ticket just to see her 16-year-old son, Giuseppe, off at the gate, to the chance meeting between a toothpaste entrepreneur in a failing marriage and a pilot intent on crashing the flight he is about to board, the production brings together personal crises and existential dread in a confined space – a powerful setting for exploring fear. Amidst these intense moments, the show also features hilarious comedic interludes and witty musical numbers that offer a refreshing contrast, blending humour with the drama to create a uniquely engaging experience.

The narrative unfolds as colourful characters, who come and go much like passengers in an airport, frequently remind the audience through song that the show is a play, not a musical. Riveting stories emerge, including two newlyweds arguing before their honeymoon, and the bitter split of a rock band made up of two brothers, Jack and John, who dress, act and argue as if they were Gallagher brothers from the Deep South. 

Throughout the play, the characters’ paths cross in unforeseen ways. The inhabitants of Gate 17 are caught between destinations, and the usual rules of everyday life seem to fade away; with every encounter taking on a surreal quality. From Giuseppe, who questions his mother about the accident that left a scar on his forehead and intensified her overprotective behaviour, to the newly-married Meg, who chooses to spend her honeymoon in Sharm El Sheikh with Jack instead of her husband, the liminal space – suspended between what has been and what is yet to come – imbues each interaction with a sense of hopeful possibility amidst the comedy.

Christina Yang
Photo: Joanna Krupka

I Love to Fly is at Little Angel Theatre from 9^th until 17^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Watch the hilarious audience reaction teaser for I Love to Fly at Little Angel Theatre here:

Based on the book by Mikhail Bulgakov, which was originally banned in the USSR, Heart of a Dog follows Professor Philip Philipovich, a bourgeois holdout against the workers’ party who want his seven-room flat to share out, and his dog Sharik, a stray from the streets of Russia. One night, Philipovich performs an operation on Sharik, successfully transplanting a human endocrine system into him. Sharik begins to talk and stand on his hind legs, becoming a creature that is not quite man but man enough to fool those around him. Much to Philipovich’s disdain, the dog becomes involved in the party and starts to cause all sorts of trouble.

It’s a satire of the early Soviet Union, exposing its inconsistencies and showing that even a dog would become a respected and upstanding member. But beyond the comedy, there are some subtler themes to ponder over. That of ripping a being out of one existence and plonking them into an entirely different one. And at what point should such a creature be considered human? If they can talk and read and work and have political views, are they not a man? Or does their history define them forever?

It’s an interesting story, packed into a tight 75 minutes. While even in its source material, it was never long, writer Miles Hitchens has still done an excellent job of nipping and tucking to create a streamlined performance with never a dull moment.

Add to that a set of solid performances from Hitchens and his co-stars, polished direction from Olivia Krauze and simple yet effective set design by Matilda Maguire and it’s a £10 well-spent.

Heart of a Dog is an all-round well-crafted show with a genuinely compelling story. There’s always so much on offer at any performing arts festival, and while not everything will appeal to everyone, this has got to be one of the highlights of Camden Fringe 2024.

Jim Compton-Hall
Photo: Matilda Maguire

Heart of a Dog is at Camden People’s Theatre from 7^th until 11^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Prepare to be lifted off your feet at the Little Angel Theatre this August: I Love to Fly, written by Anton Chesnokov, who also co-directs with Alexandra Simonet, merges humour, music and fragmented storytelling into a theatrical experience not to be missed. From 9^th until 17^th August, this comedy set at an airport attempts to explore the passengers of Gate 17 and their fear of flying.

Just like Cubism rejected the idea of representing objects from a single, fixed viewpoint, I Love to Fly rejects conventional storytelling and intricately weaves together five unique tales about different personalities and relationships.

Inspired by Pablo Picasso and Jim Jarmusch, I Love to Fly cleverly unites different perspectives with one theme of flying. The show, starring  Keegan Carr, Jess Coppen-Gardner, Max Potter, Jack Chambers and Vivel Fredriksen, is infused with witty dialogues and unforgettable songs that highlight the beauty  of human beings and the absurdity of fear. The audience is taken on an emotional rollercoaster, where each scene promises not just entertainment but a reflection on why we are afraid.

But that’s not all! The producers are encouraging attendees to fly to their dream destinations this year. Book your ticket under your real name for a chance to win a £200 airline voucher. The winner will be selected by a random number generator during the final show.

Tickets are available now at https://camdenfringe.com/events/i-love-to-fly/ and you can follow @antithese_prod on Instagram for exclusive behind-the-scenes glimpses and updates. Make sure you’re in the audience for a memorable evening that celebrates theatre, love and flying.

The editorial unit

I Love to Fly is at Little Angel Theatre on 9^th, 10^th, 11^th, 15^th, 16^th and 17^th August 2024. Book your tickets here.

I Love to Fly
Genre: Comedy play with songs
Duration: 60 minutes
Tickets: £13 (£11 concessions)
Venue: Little Angel Theatre (Angel, Highbury & Islington)
When: 9^th, 10^th, 11^th, 15^th, 16^th and 17^th August 2024

Ruweyda Sheik Ali

Rosaline and Juliet is at Lion & Unicorn Theatre from 29^th until 1^st August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

Lessons on Revolution is a real-life example of how something minute and simple can snowball into something bigger, with the potential to resonate with many different people. Its focus on revolutions that failed rather than success stories from across history perfectly captures the enduring effort of everyday people who want to create positive change and make their own mark on the world, yet constantly face rejection and hardship. This vivid reflection of the grander picture of historical change against people just trying their best to live, thrive and survive, is where the excellence of Lessons on Revolution lies. The Upcoming caught up with one half of the creative duo, Rees, to discuss the initial catalyst for the play, the collaboration process with Uboldi, the significance of The Hope Theatre as an initial venue and the show’s transfer to Edinburgh Fringe.

Can you give us a brief introduction to your upcoming show at the Edinburgh Fringe, Lessons on Revolution?

Part of it is the story of the 1968 student protest at the London School of Economics where students occupied the library at the school in protest to the university investing in apartheid regimes in Africa; part of the show is also an exploration of mine and Gabriele Uboldi’s own lives and our place within the history; another part of it is a kind of examination on what theatricality and what performance actually means. There’s lots of exploration of meta theatre in it, lots of exploration of what a play about making a play looks like – there’s lots of commentary on our research and the stuff we decided to miss out on. We try and spin that into a wider conversation about whether it’s possible for art to change the world and use it as a mechanism to question the extent to which we actually help affect positive change, or if it’s even feasible for us to do that. There’s a lot happening in the show because, on top of that, there’s also this constant dance with the audience as well. We get them to read out historical documents and we cast them as characters in the historical story of the play. The relationship with them is the actual key to the show. A lot of shows will talk about how much they need their audience and, on this occasion, it couldn’t be truer. The show can’t happen; it’s an event that needs an audience and it isn’t fully complete until the audience are invited to make this active collaboration with us and help us tell the story.

What was the initial catalyst for the making of Lessons on Revolution? Who sparked the idea – you or Gabriele?

I read a book about 1968, which was a massive global event. They were protesting an uprising and there were various activist movements across the world that year. I got interested in some of the experiences being made within this book, which was an archive in itself about that year. Collaboration for me is a massive form of the style that I do. A lot of the time, my friendships are formed through an interest in connecting through creating stuff together. Finding the right person to create an idea with is always really key to me. I’m interested in what happens when my work and someone else’s work collide, and what the product of that is. On this occasion, it felt, as I was reading [the book] and kind of having various hunches, that Gab might just be the perfect person to broach that with. Although it was my foundational idea, he was on board and was in the conversations and in the consideration of the piece very early on. It feels very mutual.

You talk within the play about the research that went into making this piece and even mention some of the things you had to cut out. Was there anything that didn’t even get a mention in the play?

Like, it didn’t even get a mention of not being in the play? Well, nothing springs to mind specifically. But that did prompt in my head that initially, I was interested in exploring the global movements of that year. It probably lasted for all of five minutes but initially, the play was going to be an exploration of stuff that was happening in Asia, or stuff that was happening in South America, and all these different places. I eventually realised that that was completely unrealistic, not something we were equipped to do, and probably not something that anybody could do adequately within an hour of theatre. We zoned in very quickly on London – our local area and what was happening there. But at the same time, the ghost of that initial idea is all over the show. You see that in the show, there’s still an internationalist perspective there. Wherever we can pull in an international context to what’s happening in London at that time, we kind of do. The play spans about four continents still, it’s just that it has a much more focused exploration than it initially did.

You mention Gabriele as the perfect person to do this with. Did you have any moments of disagreements with him throughout the creative process of Lessons on Revolution?

In a collaborative process, I thrive off debate, discourse and hashing things out. In some ways, the edge to both our personalities – which can be at times combative – is also baked into why I thought he was the right person for it. Because I wanted someone who could hold me to account. Something we both said about the other is that we both got rid of each other’s sh*t ideas; we both stopped each other from doing quite stupid things. If we’d been left to our own devices, there would’ve been wrong decisions that no one would’ve told us that we didn’t have to do. [The difference] wasn’t in a way that wasn’t generative or productive. I think, if you’re doing something that you care about, and you think it matters and that it’s important and worthwhile, then a certain level of disagreement is baked in that. But nothing that ever felt it got personal or we couldn’t ever come back from. I think we both kind of thrive off of challenging each other.

The Hope Theatre, where the play was first staged, seemed like the perfect venue, given its message of revolution, change, failure and “hope”. What was the process of acquiring that venue?

To be honest with you, there are a couple of things there. One of which is that there’s a certain level of reverse-engineering that happened where I had a good relationship with the AD of The Hope at the time. Particularly, if I had a new piece that hadn’t been tested yet, he would probably be amiable to having it on there – as long as it didn’t sound abjectly awful. In that sense, it kind of could have been anywhere. However, the really important thing to bear in mind [when we were] at The Hope, was what possibilities can be contained within that space? In terms of the physical make-up, for instance, the chairs were moveable at The Hope so we got to experiment with quite crazy staging and seating arrangements where the audience were sat on cushions on the floor. We also got to think about the location of the place and what that meant. Also, we got to investigate an area of theatre-making which really interests me, which is, particularly at pub theatre and fringe theatre level, creating work that is clearly not fighting against the constraints of that place but embracing them. Maybe if we acknowledge that we’re in a small room, that hasn’t got the most complicated tech set-up, isn’t sound-proofed, all these things that people see as a hindrance – I think there’s a huge amount of possibility in embracing them. All of which is to say, once we knew we were in The Hope, it was absolutely imperative that we think about The Hope as the place for it. That’s kind of continued throughout the rest of this. Because wherever we are, we sort of have to think about how that changes the piece and what new version of the piece it now is. Because it’s literally baked into the lines of the show – we discuss the venue that we’re in that day and what the nature of that venue is and what you can hear downstairs, what you can hear outside or whatever. It’s just right there, front and centre, all the time in the show.

With moving from venue to venue, from The Hope Theatre then to Soho Theatre in London, to now being at the Edinburgh Fringe, was there any further research you had to do and add to the show to incorporate the new locations?

No, when we performed at Soho, there was actually a strange type of research that happened with that: because everything was kind of in our hands at The Hope, and we could stage it however we wanted, we sort of knew that if we ever went somewhere else, we would have to refine it to work in a more traditional “theatre” space. In that sense, Soho was a really vital part of that process in [working out] what it feels like in a room that’s a bit more put-together, and whether it can work as an end-on piece of theatre. I don’t necessarily know where we landed on that, but it was a really important investigation for us to do. In terms of the actual history of it – no. But there’s something that is really interesting regarding us having to consider more of its relevance to now. For instance, right now, the LSE Student Union are occupying the library again because of a protest against the university’s investment in Israel. Aside from the normal clichés about history repeating itself, it’s also really, really important that we work out our position in that. Not from a promotional marketing perspective, but because there’s an authenticity in the heart of the show that means that we are obliged to discuss what’s happening now – not within the show itself, but in a broader sense. Because if we just put our fingers in our ears and pretend we just read a piece out of history and what actually is happening now has no bearing in it, the piece completely loses its vitality. There’s no actual additional material within the context of the show. But there’s always a conversation occurring about how the world – as it changes in real-time – is impacting what we’re doing and how we present our work.

Why was it important for you to focus on protests that didn’t work or had failed?

Something I’m particularly interested in a show is the idea of failure. What intrigues us as well about that is the idea that failure is a political thing but also an artistic thing as well. In some ways, we answer that question in the same way. So, whether we’re talking about a protest or creating theatre, there’s this notion of perhaps a kind of objective success or lack thereof in any particular endeavour. It’s not the point; the point is that what you have done is create a glimmer of light for a moment in which you can imagine something better. There’s an important utopia as it’s happening within the context of what is going in the 1960s at LSE and also the simple idea of – is it worth putting on a show in the first place? In both cases, perhaps one could argue, the state of objectives of those activities were not met. But what did happen is there was a space created to imagine a better future. Without that kind of prefiguration of the idea of working out and creatively imagining what the world might look like if it were a better place, then that future won’t ever come, right? Failure is a useful means to formulate your thinking.

When you began working on this project, did you ever think it could snowball into something bigger? Do you have a new appreciation for Lessons on Revolution now that it has reached the heights it has now?

I think if anybody has any sort of even subconscious dismissiveness or condescension towards pub theatre, it’s a really good example of why that’s a silly opinion, [of] why the stuff that’s happening in these places is viable and can have a future life. It’s such a low-risk avenue; it’s a cheap night out and you’ll either get something that you don’t like and it’s over in an hour, or you might have your life changed for a tenner. It’s an amazing way of experiencing new work and it has given me a new appreciation of that, for sure. I think the thing about the show itself is that we give so much power to the audience. It’s always kind of hard talking about that because it’s one of the show’s interesting selling points, but at the same time, it requires you to spoil it. Sufficed to say, there are moments at the end of the show when the audience’s autonomy is almost total and we kind of abstain from the show. It’s put in the audience’s hands. Because of that, it means every time that we do it, there’s a new colour and shape to everything. [The audience] hear everything anew because people will bring their own shape and their own ideas about the world to it. I like to think of my work as a conversation. It involves a mutual exchange of experience between myself and the audience. In that way, you hope that no matter how rogue and dry the work becomes for you, the audience’s side of that conversation will always provide you with something new and exciting. That’s the way I learned to appreciate it over and over again.

Mae Trumata
Photos: Jack Sain

Lessons on Revolution is at Summerhall from 1^st until 26^th August 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

When the performance begins, Oberski as the Wild Woman, hangs upside down from a trapeze in near-total darkness, her only company the large shadows on the walls. She is naked and a mass of dark hair covers her face. The dirt on the floor and the jungle sounds that play softly in the background further contribute to the sense of her isolation from human society. As the Wild Woman begins to move, propelling herself onto her trapeze bar in an unbelievably fluid motion, the lines between her humanity and animalistic tendencies are blurred. 

The decision to perform naked highlights the Wild Woman’s humanity, as viewers come face-to-face with the body in its purest form. Yet the intentionally uncertain nature of her movements, as well as the decision to keep her face covered for the first half of the show, speak to the Wild Woman’s discomfort in herself and her own humanity. However, this all changes when she encounters the skull of a horned animal that descends from the ceiling, implying it may in fact be descending from another world. As she takes on and experiments with the identity of the creature, she ultimately learns to enter another existence: that of her true self. 

Oberski’s skill renders her trapeze performance utterly remarkable. She executes tasks requiring incredible bodily strength in a way that makes them appear effortless. The show features no dialogue, and thus its capacity to inspire comes nearly entirely down to the artist’s physicality. Also contributing to the mystical atmosphere is the sound design by Chris Gorman and lighting by Ian “Cookie” Brooks. The murky lighting and eerie, otherworldly sounds that accompany the Wild Woman’s metamorphosis help to immerse viewers entirely in her world. 

While it may initially seem like a fun bit of circus art, and while the aerial trapeze element is indeed remarkable, Dreams of the Small Gods is more than just physical theatre. It is primarily a show about transformation, as the Wild Woman learns to embrace the animal, human and spiritual elements of herself. It speaks to the challenges of finding one’s own identity and especially to the difficulty of bringing together the parts of the self that may seem disparate.

Madison Sotos

Dreams of the Small Gods is at Summerhall from 23^rd August until 28^th August 2022. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.

For further information about Edinburgh Fringe 2022 visit the festival website here.

Watch a trailer for the production here: