A selection of plays in the Dublin Fringe Theatre Festival are reviewed
Food for Life at SS Michael and John, Temple Bar ***
Renowned chef Kevin Thornton's one-man show, presented four times over the weekend, left this reviewer wanting more.
As he liberated a sea-urchin from its spiny shell, seared a couple of scallops, decorated a plate with a fishy picture painted in sauces, finished a dish with a sliver of gold leaf, skinned a rabbit, and froze something pink in dry ice, Thornton silently illustrated that the production of top-class food has something of real drama about it.
Personally, I'd have liked more substance: the cooking lasted only about 40 minutes and the audience, having been fed tit-bits from the chef's labours, was then invited to view his admittedly brilliant food photographs. (These formed the basis of his book Food for Life, produced for charity earlier this year.) But perhaps this is how it should be: like good food, theatre should sharpen, not sate, the appetite.
NOELEEN DOWLING
An Image For The Rose at Meeting House Square ****
A rumbling display of battles, political collapse and sordid sexual encounters, Whiplash Production's lurid spin on Henry VI made for a frantic and fun history lesson.
In the hands of director/ adaptor Paul Burke, the play is stripped, pumped and styled into a punk-goth fetish of leathers and tatters. With more heart-pumping consideration than a one-off performance might warrant, Burke's "cast of thousands" punched, gnashed and spat their way through an otherwise pleasant sunny afternoon. For all the over- amped, orgiastic pleasures of the spectacle, however, Burke's adaptation was more revelatory.
Lucid and nasty, it lost the jingoistic slant of Shakespeare's original for a grubbily simple stand-off between witchcraft- fixated poseurs and tabloid- waving football hooligans.
Broad, perhaps, but exactly what the space demands.
Neither the performances - particularly those of Aidan Kelly's hulking Talbot and Paul Reid's lily-livered Dauphin - nor inspired little touches, such as the child king reading lines from a prompt board, were lost in the melee. The campaign for a revival starts here.
PETER CRAWLEY
Invertigo at Filmbase *****
There is nothing more disconcerting than forced intimacy with strangers. Invertigo, performed by Frédéric Etcheverry and Gloria Aras, is designed to break down the boundaries between strangers, and the boundaries between passive audience member and active participant.
Sitting on chairs angled so that eye contact with several other spectators is unavoidable, the strange and thrilling 45-minute performance is as much a journey for each individual in the room as it is for the lithe and intense dancers. As they writhe around on the floor beneath and between the chairs like torture victims, the audience's impulse to flee from embarrassment is gradually changed to a desire to comfort the two suffering performers who, like children, are reaching for something that they're not sure they want.
At the end they sit down in their original positions like nothing has happened, but everything has changed, and strangers now meet each others' eyes like old friends. Weird. Terrifying. Brilliant.
SARA KEATING
Nicole Willis and the Soul Investigators at Spiegeltent ***
For a small person, Nicole Willis has a big voice. And for a very Finnish-looking band (think high cheekbones and angular haircuts), the Soul Investigators have a very Motown sound. Together, they're an incredibly convincing new soul outfit with an added sprinkling of funk and perfect for the Spiegeltent's retro ambience.
Willis may be Brooklyn born, but her singing voice is pure Detroit. The Finnish connection is her husband, synth-pop star Jimi Tenor, and the nine-strong Soul Investigators make "Finnish funk" sound as credible a movement as northern soul.
That said, while their material sounds like classic Motown, there is a certain inevitability about each song and a consequent lack of freshness. The line between skilled tribute band and genuine soul investigators is a fine one, and Nicole Willis and friends tread it carefully, without establishing exactly which side they are on.
DAVIN O'DWYER
Sunday Roast at the Spiegeltent ***
Every so often Kieron Black - co-organiser, chief compère, musical participant and easily the most excitable person on earth - updates us on the potato situation. They're ready for consumption. They're running low. They're all gone. No wait, there's some left. No. That's it.
A music revue, vaguely modelled on that of Later with Jools Holland, but augmented with warm, garlicky mouthfuls of carbohydrate and onsite board games, Sunday Roast has been running in Thomas Read's for almost three years. Relocated to the sumptuous Spiegeltent, it is expectedly high on indie rock but admirably low on stodge. The shimmer of The Maladies is met with homespun folk from Gar Cox, the proggy drive of Twin Kranes and the geeky jumps of The Immediate are leavened with oddball a cappella and tiresome slam poetry. Indeed, such jittery variety makes dependable headliners Sack feel a tad stale, but really it's the random, hot-potato format that is the true star.
PETER CRAWLEY
The Magnet Entertainment Dublin Fringe Festival runs until September 24th. For details see www.fringefest.com. Box office: 1850-374643
