Psychodrama

VENUE: Traverse Theatre TIME: times vary, 4–28 Aug, not 8, 15, 22

Matt Wilkinson’s Psychodrama is billed as a revenge tale but really its focus is the career death by a thousand humiliations of a talented thespian in her 40s who’s reached breaking point.

The show unravels as a fierce and funny monologue from Emily Bruni, who’s perched on a high stool on a black box stage with only a light dusting of dry ice for props. She explains that in her 20s, when she hardly ate, she was never off the telly. The work dried up in her 30s, however. A breakdown followed and now she works as a sales assistant in a pretentious boutique. But out of the blue, there’s a reprieve: the great theatrical ‘genius’ Peter Coevorden has requested she audition for his new stage adaptation of Psycho Bruni’s character, who remains unnamed, would be perfect for the play. After all, she’s no stranger to the reckless desperation of Marion Crane, played by Janet Leigh in the Hitchcock film, although her wild shifts in temperament, swivelling from meekly pliable to apoplectic in a heartbeat, suggest she knows a thing or two about Norman Bates too. Her subsequent close collaboration with Coevorden exposes the dark underbelly of the theatre world: the sexism, the starfucking, the double standards.

Run to this show for Bruni’s scorching performance, which fizzes with indignation and more than a hint of catharsis as the play takes a sledgehammer – and Bruni’s character a Stanley knife – to the deep injustices at the heart of show business. ✏︎ Jamie Dunn

VENUE: Summerhall

TIME: 1:15pm – 2:15pm, 3–28

Aug, not 15, 22

Don’t be scared. The room is mainly dark and the pile of yellow bricks is there for a reason. work.txt defies the usual categorisation for theatre. It’s perhaps best described as immersive theatre where the audience participates in a working day. In doing so, it questions capitalist systems, the ever imbalanced worklife balance, and the financial instability which refuses to quit. The audience have paid to enjoy their precious free time away from work and suddenly they’re working yet again, with no say – or, more accurately, too much forced say – in the matter, something that’s all too similar to our real lives. This play/experience/ thing is utterly hilarious and depressing and somehow even heartbreaking.

It’s experimental, obviously, but it doesn’t leave anyone behind with ugly pretentiousness. Rather, it (or, we) speaks of our relationship with work – how we keep doing it and hating it yet pinning all of our self worth on it – with penetrating insight. There is something confessional to it, each audience member taking on this simultaneously individual and collective role of the worker. Through this, it’s an exercise in trust: the audience must trust the ‘script’ to put on a ‘show’: the script must trust the audience to say and do what needs to be said and done; and, the audience must trust each other, to carry one another through. Frankly, there is something quite beautiful about the collectivity it so forcefully fosters. It’s a joy to be part of.

By the end, the audience’s tone is confused and appropriately so: the text is sinister and it gets caught in the throat with unease, but it’s also brilliantly funny. For work.txt, the phrase “if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry” is a false dichotomy – you’ll probably do both and be grateful for it.”

Is it working?” it asks, again and again. It is working as hard as hustle culture, stagnant wages, and the 50 hour work week – and it is a triumph to witness. ✏︎

Eilidh Akilade

HHHHH

VENUE: Pleasance Courtyard

TIME: 1:40pm – 2:40pm, 3–29

Aug, not 9, 16, 23

Rinkoo Barpaga has led an extraordinary life. The actor, filmmaker and multidisciplinary artist, who regularly worked as a BSL presenter on telly, has navigated racism, ableism and a multicultural upbringing since he was a child in 1980s’ Birmingham. In this autobiographical monologue, told in BSL with an English-speaking interpreter, Barpaga candidly narrates his experiences of: growing up deaf in a hearing world; being Brown in a white supremacist country; and, working in a time when disabled people are still considered expendable.

Barpaga is a remarkable storyteller. Though simply told with only a few design elements, his range of physical and emotional expression is vast and hugely engaging. He also does not hold back when describing his treatment at the hands of racists. While his performance is often entertaining, he prompts reflection on how ableism and racism are perpetuated in everyday circumstances. Including an English speaking interpreter smartly subverts the norm of having a BSL interpreter sign for hearing performers. Here, hearing audience members – who presumably don’t use BSL – are granted provisions to meet their access needs. This situates the entire production within the deaf world. Though simple in concept, it’s remarkable progress in terms of accessibility.

Overall, there’s little to fault in this production. Apart from a few instances where the lighting choices cast stark shadows over Barpaga’s face and a disjointed ending that hasn’t quite come together with the rest of his story, this is vitally important theatre. ✏︎ Laura

Kressly