A ghost house, a Wheel of Death, a pack of wolves, and a 17-strong ensemble of acrobats from 13 different countries. Four circus shows seen at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2025 by Dorothy Max Prior

Circus Hub on the Meadows is always the first port of call for anyone attending the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with a yen for world-class circus; and for 2025 they are back with a programme of 11 shows – not only circus but also cabaret, comedy, and variety – presented in their two venues, the Lafayette Big Top and Beauty Spiegeltent.

This year, I saw three shows on the programme, all strictly circus, and all in Lafayette. 

Québec’s Flip Fabrique bring us Six° – a show previously presented online for the Edinburgh Fringe 2021, that odd Covid-ish year when the Fringe returned, but in a reduced hybrid form, with much online. I gave that a miss then, so was very pleased to see it back for real.

It starts with the sound of a thunderstorm, the rain lashing down. Which is ironic as the performance I’d originally been booked in to see the day before had been cancelled due to the massive storms, with 85mph winds sweeping Scotland, and making shows in a circus tent out of the question. So some of us are looking up anxiously – but no, it’s definitely on the soundtrack, not for real. ‘Storms make the flowers fresh again’ we are told.

This is an ensemble show with a cast of five – six if we include the house in which the action takes place, which most definitely has a personality of its own: talking to the occupants, issuing instructions, and sometimes taking the electronic controls into its own hands. There have been numerous sci-fi stories about houses that are seemingly alive, often malevolent, and Ray Bradbury’s HappyLife Home (in short story The Veld) comes to mind at a point in the narrative when a door opens to reveal a red-lit space animated by the roar of lions.

I say ‘narrative’ but this one is very much of the fractured variety. We meet five different occupants, who it would seem have received a mysterious invitation that leads them, on a stormy night, to an old abandoned building deep in the forest. But the house doesn’t look deserted; it is cosily furnished and seems to have a soul. Oddly, the five seem be in residence at different times, or perhaps in different multiverse strands – one in the 1950s, one the 1970s, one the 1990s etc. They are all there, but rarely seem to see each other: to each, the others are more like ghosts than real flesh-and-blood people. 

As for the set: the ‘house’ is a three-walled structure that is tugged around into different permutations throughout the show. There are doors and windows and picture frames and tables and bookshelves – all of which are animated throughout the piece. Frames get pulled off to be used as hoops; a small table become the site for a balancing act; book leaves fly around the space. There’s most definitely an Alice in Wonderland vibe: not least because one of the female performers is dressed in a puff-sleeved frock, Mary-Jane shoes and a large satin hair bow.  

We are given scenes of everyday at-home life that take on a surreal dream-like quality – a way of bringing the circus acts in to the equation. Often, one person is presenting their act – Robert with his deft book/brick-juggling, say – whilst others are interacting with him more as witnesses or silent partners than as co-performers. It’s an interesting dynamic. As far as the circus acts go, we get top-notch juggling, smoothly sensuous hooping, a great female Cyr wheel turn, a lovely two-man acrobalance and tumbling routine, and of course – this is Flip Fabrique, after all – some fantastic trampolining by the boys that’s nicely merged with a female hand-balancing and contortion act, performed on the ‘roof’ of the house. Sonically, there’s a palate of recognisable pre-existing tunes driving the piece forward. We veer from Harry Nilsson’s cheery ‘Coconut’ to Leonard Cohen’s gloriously moving ‘Happens to the Heart’ and on to The Commodores anthemic ‘Brick House’. 

It is no surprise that the show was made during Covid – addressing how we deal with loneliness and isolation, whilst also staying connected to others by remote. It also seems to be portraying the power of the imagination to overcome humdrum realities when stuck indoors. Six° is a very different sort of show to Flip Fabrique’s usual non-stop hi-energy work: slower, more thoughtful, but still thrilling. Most highly recommended!

 
Next up was Nose Dive Assembly, described as ‘big-top circus with heart and spectacle’ from the UK’s Revel Puck Circus. I’d missed this at Brighton Fringe earlier this year, so was glad to catch it in Edinburgh. It’s a hi-energy fun-for-all-the-family spectacle. It’s contemporary circus in its aesthetic – for example, the performers are dressed not in spangly leotards but in unisex jumpsuits or colourfully patterned trousers and shirts – but with much of the structure and good-time vibe of a traditional tented circus. 

That trad structure and vibe is clear in the show’s use of the clown as the communicator with the audience; the person who reminds us with their actions that acrobats are fallible human creatures. The clown also traditionally keeps the audience entertained whilst the riggers and stagehands (or, as is the case in contemporary circus, the other performers) move the kit in to place for the next act. Most of the cast are British trained (I learn from the legendary Charlie Holland that seven are graduates from the National Centre for Circus Arts, aka Circus Space) – with Canadian clown and acrobat Arielle Lauzon the exception. 

Although traditional in function, the fabulous Arielle Lauzon is very much of the contemporary world: a former competitive gymnast who trained at the École de Cirque de Québec. She appears first at the rear of the big top, harnessed and desperate to fly ‘on the wings of a butterfly’. This becomes a thread developed throughout the show – at one point moving through us with a ludicrous contraption of electric fans strapped to her body that she hopes will help her take off; at another point, sporting a giant balloon that covers her whole head. (I’m one of numerous audience members roped in to pump up the balloon.) Eventually, towards the end of the show, she makes do with a butterfly costume and gives us a spectacular mat-based acrobatics routine, proving that she is more than a funny face.

After Arielle’s entrance, we go to Annie Zita on the cloudswing – a fabulously thrilling opening act. The show whizzes by, with many traditional favourites given a contemporary twist, including a great aerial straps act from Imani Vital (I love the performer’s oddly flexed feet, and the moment when she holds hands with her counter-balancer). We get a neat hand-balancing turn from Becky Robins, and a great teeterboard act from Sebastian Parker and Emily Lannigan, to the tune of the Rolling Stones’ ‘Sympathy for the Devil’. There’s also the much-touted Revel Puck USP: a circular stage that rises, with Thorne Bailey and Fiona Thornhill presenting a skilfully synchronised Cyr Wheel routine. Bailey is raised into the air on the platform, whilst Thornhill spins below, the lighting design highlighting each performer in turn. Later, they switch roles, so she is now on the raised platform, and he is below. This is one of numerous shows I see at this year’s Fringe that feature a female Cyr wheel performer: something that used to be a rare occurrence. The times they are a-changing.  

The final act of the show sees Fiona Thornhill and Emily Lannigan back, this time on the Wheel of Death, that most traditional of circus acts, although this is the only one in the UK (perhaps in the world, I don’t know!) that is performed by two women. If you don’t know what this is, imagine two giant hamster wheels on a pivoting metal structure, one performer inside each wheel, walking then twisting and turning as the wheel turns at a faster and faster pace, reversing direction now and then. The choice of music – Laurie Anderson’s ‘O Superman’ – is great. The mesmeric, repetitive loop of the song suits the act perfectly. The complicity between the performers, the timing and the sensitive response to the music makes this act more than a traditional circus spectacle. It’s a great finale to a lovely show that is daring, funny, and totally entertaining. Bravo Revel Puck – it feels that British circus is flying off with flair into new dizzying heights, occupying territories previously claimed by the traditional tented circus companies, and infusing them with a funky feminist vibe. 

Finally, Circa: Wolf is my third show of the day at the Circus Hub, again in the Lafayette big top tent – although this is a predominantly floor-based acrobatic show, so height is rarely needed. 

Hardly surprising with Wolf as the title, the show features a lot of hunting and stalking movements; and a lot of pack work. Dressed in sleek, tight-fitting black and fawn costumes (designed by Libby McDonnell), the ten-strong company arrive on stage with a ferocious energy, within minutes creating three-high towers or staggering stacks of six people on one base.  The pack runs in circles, spreads out into straight lines, huddles in big or small groups – with a breathtaking move from one complex acrobalance or hand-to-hand tableau to another, human towers rising and falling (often sideways, which is terrifying), people swung or thrown to other people; and links of fast-paced solo acrobatics into and out of position.

At one point the group moves into a capoeira-style roda or inward facing circle, different partnerships of men with men, men with women, and women with women, playing out battles to be leader of the wolf pack. This being Circa, female bases are a given – the women here are strong and fierce. There’s a lovely scene where the wolf theme seems to be taken into the domain of the gay male nightclub; an all-male tussle for intimacy and the role of top dog.

There are just two breaks in the ferociously fast floor action, one for a female aerial straps performer who acts out what seems to be a twisted marionette motif, although perhaps it is intended as a captured animal. But this is me constructing narrative: it is robotic and staccato, and feels quite different in tone to the rest of the show. There’s also a male rope act – like the straps act, top-notch of course (there wouldn’t be anything less in a Circa show) but again I can’t quite decide if it is really needed. Perhaps if everything were floor-based I might be craving something else, but both times the arrival of aerial equipment feels slightly out of kilter. 

As for the scenography and sound design: Circa have commissioned a hardcore techno score for Wolf from DJ Ori Lichtik. And it is pretty relentless! At times the bass really works its way into your guts, adding to the edginess of the piece. There is no set, and no equipment other than the aforementioned aerial straps and corde lisse rope. The lighting design gives us scenes lit with a tooth-and-claw blood red, and an eery jungle green. There is sometimes smoke haze. But the main impression is of a tabula rasa, on which director Yaron Lifschitz has written a thrilling physical story  – animal magic meets stupendous human achievement. As ever, Circa are the crowing glory of the Circus Hub programme.

Away from The Meadows and over at the grandiose indoor venue Assembly at the Mound, we find The Genesis from Copenhagen Collective – a 17-strong ensemble based in Scandinavia but drawn from all over the world, with artists from Denmark, Australia, Peru, Canada, UK, Uruguay, Chile, Portugal, USA, Germany, Ireland, France and Guinea. Phew, that is indeed an international line-up!

There are many crossovers with Circa, and I think it would be fair to say that without Circa, The Genesis (and very many other contemporary circus shows) would never have existed. Dressed like gymnasts, not entertainers, in unisex dark lycra? Check. Amazing ensemble skills, with phenomenal complicity, super-precise timing, and a breathtaking move from one ‘picture’ to another? Check. Female strength and power highlighted, with women bases the norm throughout the show rather than the exception? Check. This is no criticism: the Copenhagen Collective are a newly-formed ensemble, and Circa have been going for 20-plus years. I remember seeing Circa’s first appearance at the Edinburgh Fringe, and like everyone else was astonished at witnessing the role that the women performers played, the focus on power not prettiness. We hadn’t seen anything like it! Two decades on, this is routine in much contemporary circus worldwide – younger artists probably think nothing of it.  Which can only be a good thing.

The Genesis, like Circa’s Wolf, is less a narrative show than a themed show, and on similar territory. We seem to be witnessing the exploration of the human soul versus the animal spirit. It is purely floor-based: there is no aerial or other non-acrobatic acts. No equipment, no set. Everything is down to the human body – and mostly the 17-strong ensemble are all on stage at once, morphing from one extraordinary grouping to another. Thus, we have at one point early in the show a five triple towers, which makes for a fantastic stage image. There’s a lot of hero-and-chorus work – solo performers emerging from circles or huddles. I love the strange tower of bodies that grows from a heap on the floor, people standing on the shoulders or chests of others. There’s a fabulous ‘resurrection’ scene where 16 bodies are lying prone on the floor and one person animates them by tugging on a body part, each revived person going on to revive another. There’s also a great party scene, with waves of performers progressing forward in different combos, vogueing and reaching out to the audience – one of the few points when the fourth wall is broken. Another occurs when a lone man is thrown out of an upstage huddle of bodies, rights himself, and says ‘hi’ to us slightly sheepishly. I enjoy these theatrical moments – the first half of the piece is full of fabulously skilled acrobatics, but rather dense in its relentless onslaught of astonishing tricks and turns, with towers rising and falling, three- or four- or five-way acrobalance ‘sculptures’ developing and dissolving – but with a feeling that the performers are behind a glass wall. When that wall is shattered, the show becomes stronger.

The stage set-up is simple – looking quite a bit like a school gymnasium, in fact. The lighting is minimal, mostly blue and white; and the music a good mix, interspersing relentlessly beat-driven scenes with more moody string sections, and including a few pre-recorded autobiographical-confessional texts about control and vulnerability, reminding me of Les 7 Doigts’ show Traces. So yes – echoes of other company’s work – but it’s own thing too. What is most extraordinary is to see so many fabulously skilled human bodies working together so harmoniously. And really – how often do you see a four-high tower? As they take their bow, the full house at the Mound go wild in their appreciation. It’s not my favourite Fringe circus show this year, but it is one of the best – predictably, a sure-fire hit.

Featured image (top): Revel Puck Circus: Nose Dive Assembly

Flip Fabrique: Six°, Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows (The Lafayette), 14:05

Revel Puck Circus: Nose Dive Assembly, Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows (The Lafayette) | 16:10

Circa:Wolf, Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows (The Lafayette), 18:20

Copenhagen Collective: The Genesis, Assembly at the Mound, 12:30

For more information or to book tickets, see www.edfringe.com

A trio of physical theatre shows that reference or usurp variety, vaudeville and cabaret traditions, as seen by Dorothy Max Prior at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2025 

A&E Comedy have been blazing a trail these past few years, making feisty feminist physical comedy that’s not afraid to address topics that most shy away from, not least the fear of the crone, and the delights and terrors of the ageing female body, in shows such as Enter the Dragons and Witch Hunt. Their latest show, Do All the Things, presented at Assembly Checkpoint, is a slightly different beast – in some ways more mainstream and Ed Fringe friendly – although their trademark mix of caustic humour, clowning suss, ludicrous costumes, and general silliness is still upfront. 

At the start of the show we meet a pair of end-of-the-pier comedians, Cyril Suckit and Sammy See. (Collectively known as Suck it and See, see?) With their sparkly tuxedos, toupés, and protruding rubber teeth, they are a fair parody of your friendly neighbourhood avuncular entertainer of yore. They sing the show’s theme tune ‘Do All the Things’ to the tune of ‘It’s Raining Men’ and introduce the special guests and fun-for-all-the-family participatory games, the highlight of which is the special version of bingo with interactive tasks such as swearing in foreign languages, drawing portraits of your neighbour without looking at the page, and muff-spotting. As for the guests – who are (of course) all played by our trusty clowns Emma Edwards and Abigail Dooley – we meet an endocrinologist who tells terrible jokes (‘How do make a hor-mone? Refuse to pay her’), a dementedly-dancing glam rocker clad in silver foil, and a naturist who invites us to come and hug a tree, all the while confiscating all our unnecessary worldly possessions (jackets, iphones, bags), reassuring us that we’ll feel a lot lighter without all this materialist baggage. Then comes a very silly send up of the Marina Abramović  piece Rhythm 0, in which audience members are invited to take any object from the table to use in any way they like on the artist’s body. Thus, our intrepid artists find themselves wearing bunny ears, daubed in lipstick, and with custard pies splattered on their chests. Is nothing sacred? No, thank goodness.

There’s a clever device to allow for costume changes, with a film shown to us between skits purporting to be a live feed from the dressing room, the two squabbling about what sketch to do next, and deconstructing the content of the show with mock-academic seriousness. There’s also, less successfully, a series of parody TV ads that fall a little flat. 

Emma and Abigail are seasoned clowns, and the show feels well-held, with the copious quantity of audience participation moments managed with great aplomb (and hats off also to the pair’s glamorous assistants, playing trees, bears etc.) For me, a veteran appreciator of the company’s work, the core content of Do All The Things wasn’t quite as strong as their previous two creations, but this is nevertheless a very good Edinburgh Fringe show, and audiences new to their work were clearly delighted not only with what they witnessed but with what they were drawn in to so expertly. Do suck it and see!

There’s a connection to the next show, Rabbits Out of the Hat, that I didn’t know until I found myself in the queue for it at Pleasance Dome with both Abigail and Emma – it turns out that Abigail directed it. 

Norvill and Josephine are our hosts, purportedly a brother and sister variety act. He’s a Master Magician with ‘a cape, courage and cojones’. She’s his glamorous assistant, sawn in half in the Cabinet of Swords, performing the elegant dance routines created by her mother. But it’s 1905 and the Suffragettes are in town – soon the tables are turned and the rabbit is indeed pulled out of the hat…

The show is not a pastiche: it features bona fide magic tricks (levitation, escapology, transformation) from Magic Circle member Christopher * playing Norvill; and fabulous contortion and acrobatic dance from Desiree, plus vaudevillian panache, and a great rapport with the audience. The story of the siblings who realise (she first, then he) that they are not content to have their identities defined by what they have inherited from their parents progresses in a breathless, whirlwind mix of circus-and-magic rich cabaret acts and narrative that quietly and lovingly deconstructs assigned gender roles in society, proving that identity politics can be fun. An uplifting and inspiring show. Plus, we get to take home an origami rabbit!

Over at Assembly Roxy, there’s a fabulous demonstration of physical theatre and cabaret skills from Luciano Rosso, one half of the team that created the Total Theatre Award winning show Un Poyo Rojo. His solo piece, Apocalipsync, is a magnificent melée of diva dancing, contortionism, bone-cracking (with a comical twist), lip syncing.

There’s a simple set of a stage-wide plastic shower curtain – peeked through, flounced through, transformed into an odd kind of ballgown – plus, used as a screen to project onto. There’s an excellent lighting and a sound design that incorporates romantic Boleros, banging house tunes, barking dogs, fighting neighbours, clanging pots, and soundbites from world leaders (Trump, Boris Johnson, and numerous other foreign ones I don’t recognise) reminding us that we have a pandemic on our hand. ‘Stay indoors’ says Boris, inviting a titter from the audience. For yes, this is 2020 – and Apocalipsync is the show that Luciano devised whilst in solitary confinement, his lockdown nightmare morphing into a moonage daydream of disco dancing, lone karaoke, ostrich impersonations, and playing flamenco air guitar. The plastic curtain is a clever choice as once we realise the context it evokes the protection measures in hospitals, taxis and shops that become so normalised so quickly. Had I known this was a ‘lockdown’ show I might not have come, but as it is, I was very glad I did. It’s probably the only show about the lockdown that I’d want to see, though – a joyful celebration of the pleasures of a solo life. 

A&E Comedy: Do All The Things, Assembly Checkpoint, 14.45

Norvill & Josephine: Rabbits Out of the Hat, Pleasance Dome / King Dome,11.35

Luciano Rosso: Apocalipsync, Assembly Roxy, 17:25

For further information and to book tickets, see edfringe.com 

A tale of love and luck told with dolls and toy vehicles, Ulysses for children featuring pop-up books and paper cuts, and a deconstructed King Lear replete with puppets and projections. Then, there’s a beatnik poet pickled onion, a story featuring animated lesbian vampire bunnies, and a crisp-stealing flock of birds. Some of the visual theatre treats seen by Dorothy Max Prior at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2025 

Visible Fictions’ show Up – presented at Gilded Balloon, and aimed at a teen and young adult audience – is a breathless two-hander exploring luck and love, the odds of surviving a plane crash, and Heraclitus’ Union of Opposites. As the piece starts, we encounter two people who find themselves sitting next to each other on a long-haul flight. One, Jay, is the luckiest man in the world – as a baby, he was the only survivor of a plane crash that killed his parents, subsequently got supported by an anonymous benefactor, became a trader who made a million, and has now quit to tour the world. Jayme, on the other hand, is also an orphan, raised by her granny – but has encountered bad luck at every step of the way, her mournful history of trips and falls, bangs and crashes, and tragical lost loves relayed with sharp humour.

Blending new writing, physical theatre, and object manipulation, the piece is skillfully directed by Duggie Irvine, and performed with enormous precision and feeling by the two actors, Zoe Hunter and Michael Dylan, who have a fabulous on-stage complicity, fielding a dizzyingly complex choreography of tiny figures and vehicles, toy animals, dolls, suitcases, umbrellas, balloons, cakes, wine glasses, playing cards, and photographs. Phew, it is exhausting just watching them!

Some of those suitcases turn out to have tiny worlds inside – from Hawaiian volcanoes to the elusive Loch Ness Monster. Unlucky Jayme and Lucky Jay’s life stories unfold in between scenes of plane turbulence (and worse), performed with excellent physical theatre timing and panache; and tongue-in-cheek whiteboard lectures on airplane safety statistics, speculation on what is actually meant by ‘good’ and ‘bad luck, and that crucial theory of the Union of Opposites. What goes up, must come down. But what comes down must also go up…

A refreshingly ambiguous story that gives no trite answers to conundrums posed, and offers us numerous possible endings to the tale – but it is clear that whatever the outcome for our two protagonists, love trumps death.

Meanwhile, over at Pleasance Courtyard, Branar’s You’ll See offers us James Joyce’s Ulysses for children. Really? In under an hour? Yes, really! Solo performer Helen Gregg pulls it off with the help of three beautifully designed pop-up books (the story’s told in three parts, naturally) and a whole ensemble of paper-cut people, plus a lovely little mechanical diorama, which gives us the passing streets of the city as Paddy Digram’s funeral carriage passes slowly by. There’s a great soundtrack of waltzes and found-sounds of Dublin streets, bars and sea shores; and Helen Gregg delivers it all in a very deft and welcoming storytelling mode that manages to convey the essence of Leopold Bloom, Stephen Dedalus and Molly Bloom’s 24-hour odyssey without ever talking down to the young ’uns. 

As the piece proceeds, we learn that ’‘Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves’.

The pop-up books are truly a thing of beauty, giving us gorgeous representations of key sites in the book. Thus, we encounter the start of the story, the dawn of 16 June 1904, with Stephen Dedalus on Sandycove Strand, musing on the ‘snot green sea’ – one of many inclusions of tiny snippets of Joyce’s text into the piece. The children in the audience enjoy Stephen taking a wee, then picking his nose and depositing a bogy on the rocks. We move into town, passing through the National Library, the Freeman’s Journal offices and printing press, and Davy Byrne’s pub. Switching to Leopold and Molly Bloom’s stories, we enter their house on Eccles Street; the butcher’s shop where ‘Mr Leopold Bloom [who] ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls buys his breakfast pork kidney’; Sweeny’s Pharmacy, where Bloom purchases lemon soap for Molly; and the Post Office, where the content of the letters Leopold has been exchanging with a lady friend are brushed over nicely by our storyteller, who tells us that ‘we’ll have to miss some things out of the story as we haven’t time, and this is one of them’ – with an ironic nod to the adults in the audience. 

Of course, this is just a taster of Joyce’s Ulysses – but is it an enjoyable one, and does it make us want to read (or re-read) the book? Yes, yes, and yes!

Another Irish company – this time an ensemble – and a retelling of a very different sort can be found at The Traverse, where Irish playwright and filmmaker Dan Colley’s Lost Lear plays out as a deconstructed, reimagined version of Shakespeare’s King Lear – or perhaps, more precisely, the production uses Lear as a springboard for a meta-theatrical exploration of a whole host of ‘difficult subjects’ including dementia, absent parent-neglected child dynamics, honouring the needs of ‘the child within’, setting relationship boundaries…  

‘Who is it that can tell me who I am?’ We start in a rehearsal studio, where a young actress (played by Venetia Bowe) is working through her preparations for her exciting new role – she’s to play King Lear. The first big twist of the story comes early (so I feel OK about this revelation), as we discover that in fact we are inside a nursing home, and what we are witnessing is an elderly dementia patient, Joy, engaged in a Groundhog-day series of rehearsals for a production of King Lear that will never happen. Her director and co-actor Liam – who is in fact her therapist (played by Manus Halligan) – explains to Conor, her estranged son come to visit (played by Peter Daly), that this charade is vital to preserve her sense of self-worth. Imagined as a foil to the female Lear, the son has been cast as Lear’s youngest daughter Cordelia in the latest ‘rehearsal’. Conor is not convinced. As the play progresses, the difficult history of Joy and Conor’s relationship is unearthed.  

The cast are all great. I especially like Peter Daly as Conor – played with fantastic subtlety, a powerhouse of shifting emotions. That Joy is played by a young woman – and her rather over-the-top stage presence – seems odd at first, but all makes complete sense as the story unfolds. It is a visually rich show, with  puppetry, projections and live-feed video playing a vital part in the piece. The two puppeteers, Em Ormonde and Clodagh O’Farrell, do a sterling job, not just with the large-scale puppet when it eventually appears, but in ‘puppeteering’ Venetia-as-Joy, and the space itself with (for example) hand-held fans creating the ‘winds that blow’.

A thought-provoking show broaching difficult subjects – and a clever dramaturgy, with the reveals coming slowly but surely as the piece progresses, until eventually the jigsaw puzzle is completed. And what a joy to see a big, bold stage design (courtesy of Andrew Clancy and the rest of the design, film, costume, AV, sound and lighting team) and a five-strong ensemble onstage. So many of this year’s Fringe shows, even at the Traverse, seem to be one-person shows. 

But one person can populate the stage with a whole array of wonderful characters, for sure. Take Ruxy Cantir’s Pickled Republic, for example – a fabulously absurdist piece, in which we are invited into a world of vegetables sat inside a pickle jar. 

We meet a melodramatic tomato (‘Eat me! Eat me!’), a crooning potato-head burlesque queen, a Beatnik poet silverskin onion who delivers killer one-liners like ‘I have layers’ and ‘I’ll make you cry’; and a breastfed baby carrot with a melancholic penchant for sludge. Plus, best of all, a trance-dancing, strip-teasing pickled cucumber mime artist trying to get out of aforementioned glass jar.

If I have a quibble, it’s perhaps to wonder if potatoes and tomatoes do get pickled. Perhaps they do! But never mind – this is a great show. Surreal clowning, puppetry and mask – performed with panache by Ruxi Cantir; directed by Total Theatre Award winning puppeteer Shona Reppe. Totally batty, totally fabulous physical comedy. My kind of funny, for sure…

I had high hopes of Surreally Good by Scott Turnbull. We are promised ‘live lo-fi animations on an old overhead projector, catchy songs played badly on a miniature Casio Keyboard, and a series of unexpectedly tender moments’ and yes – all of this happens, but somehow the whole is less than the sum of its parts. On the ‘minus’ side, I find the framing device of an ‘edu-tainment’ lecture by the son of a famous projectionist wears thin after a while, and whilst the arts funding bodies’ obsession with ‘youth engagement’ and ‘the environment’ does deserve to be mocked, the send-ups here don’t quite hit the mark. The songs are awful – not funny awful, just plain awful. He says ‘fuck’ a lot, as if it were something naughty and alternative, rather than the bog-standard go-to of every emerging Fringe comedian – which gets tiresome. But comedy is a funny thing – one man’s meat is another woman’s poison, and I just didn’t find the show funny a lot of the time. 

But now for the plusses. I like a lot of the visual art/theatre work. I enjoy the Tony Hart-Vision On audience portrait drawing scene. The use of the OHP is great – in-character one-man-band fumbling and all. The little stories within the story, featuring some very lovely hand-drawn and live-animated illustrations, colour acetates, and shadow-puppetry silhouettes are great. I especially like the lesbian vampire bunnies story; and the drowned dog wearing glasses is great. When the ‘how my dad met my mum’ story – threatening to be told at various points in the show – finally comes, via the OHP, it is worth the wait, a wonderfully tall tale of life at sea. 

So, some very lovely things in here, but it feels as though the artist/performer has thrown all his eggs into one basket to make this show, and it is not quite working for me, although the Summerhall audience were laughing merrily. And we were given badges, always welcome – even if it’s not a Blue Peter badge (one of very many BBC TV and radio show references in the show!). For me, the visual theatre and animation aspects of the piece were the most interesting element. I’d happily see those lovely little illustrated stories framed in a simpler way…  there’s a great show in here trying to find its way out.

Finally, renowned Scottish family theatre company Red Bridge Arts celebrated its 10th anniversary with the UK and European premiere of Pekku at Zoo Southside, as part of the Made in Scotland Showcase. Created as a co-production with Japan’s ROHM Theatre in Kyoto and Ricca Ricca Festival, Pekku has already delighted audiences throughout Japan – the show is word-free, and a physical and visual delight, so crosses boundaries with ease. It’s devised by award-winning children’s theatre artists Andy Manley, Ian Cameron, and Shona Reppe – the award-winning team behind the Total Theatre Award winning show White. 

Pekku ‘takes a playful look at what happens when you just want to be left alone and others have a very different idea’. It is aimed at 3 to 6-year-olds, so I brought 4-year-old Juno and 6-year-old Saorsa with me… 

The solo performer is the highly talented Andy Manley – such a lovely, gentle clown presence, who the children warmed to immediately. From the start, we know we are in a safe pair of hands. The stage is set with just two ‘washing lines’ stretched across the performance space. Andy appears flapping like a giant bird in a big yellow-green garment that turns out – once he has disentangled himself from it – to be a tent. Somehow, from within the tent, or inside a small brown suitcase he is holding, the following objects materialise: a small table, a chair, a toilet roll on a dispenser, a red flag, a bat (and imaginary ball!), and a packet of crisps. Meanwhile, on the washing line, we see a little yellow bird – a peg, but we immediately believe it is a bird when it starts to chirp. There then ensues an escalating battle between man and bird – or birds, as more and more arrive – over those tasty crisps. Crisps eaten, Andy calls Deliveroo and orders more… and more… and more…

It’s a totally delightful story, told through visual imagery, physical action, and a terrific soundtrack of cheeps, squealing tyres, delivery van honks, and the loud crunching of crisps. We all have our favourite moments, but agree that the birdie disco inside the tent is truly terrific. Oh, and I said it was word free but my young companions remind me that there is one word: “shoo!”. And the girls have a theory about the character Andy is playing: he’s not a man, but a big bird, called Pekku, who disguised himself as a man! And who knows, perhaps they are right. 

Such a great show to see on my final day in Edinburgh for this year’s Fringe – ticks all the total theatre boxes brilliantly!

Featured image (top): Ruxandra Cantir: Pickled Republic

Visible Fictions: Up, Gilded Balloon at 5.40pm

Branar: You’ll See, Pleasance Courtyard at 12.00

Ruxandra Cantir: Pickled Republic, Summerhall at 1.15pm 

Dan Colley: Lost Lear, Traverse, various times

Scott Turnbull: Surreally Good, Summerhall, 11.35

Red Bridge Arts: Pekku, Zoo Southside  1–9 August 2025

For more information or to book shows, see www.edfringe.com 

Dorothy Max Prior reports on the São Paulo Showcase at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2025

Stepladders and big steel bins painted yellow and red that are converted into trolley buses, trains and planes; hats sprouting bananas and flower pots; reversible jackets, big shoes, and prosthetic noses… This is classic clowning of the sort that seems to be done so well by Brazilian companies – and The Mequetrefo (aka The Scoundrel) is a prime example. It is a four-man show presented by leading clown company Parlapatões who are based in central São Paulo and have toured extensively both in Brazil and across the world for the past 30 years. 

The Mequetrefo is billed as a show for all the family, but I would view the age guideline of 3+ as optimistic. These clowns are a little scary! Within the first five minutes of the show, at least two pre-schoolers have started sobbing and need to be escorted out from the auditorium – always a sign of a good clown show, in my experience. Meanwhile, the seven-year-olds and their parents are howling with laughter as the four clowns – all called Day –  run through their absurd daily routines. It is no coincidence that Beckett wanted Vladmir and Estragon, in Waiting For Godot, to be played by vaudevillian clowns – clowns perfectly mirror our human fears and foibles back to us – but whereas Beckett’s clowns spend all day doing nothing but waiting, this lot don’t get a moment’s rest in their busy day.

To a soundtrack of electro-swing Charlestons and Gypsy Jazz classics – fortified by the sounds of buzzers, bells and sirens – our four Days create a sometimes elegant often anarchic choreography of beatings with rubber mallets, formation dancing in and out of their jackets, taking showers with water pistols, and aping the monkeys in the zoo cage constructed with those ever-versatile stepladders. There is talking, in broken English, that works mostly – although some gags are lost in translation a little, and when the ensemble move into banter in their native Portuguese, the spoken text immediately springs to life. I think they could allow themselves more Portuguese or even Commedia dell’Arte style grammelot, in to the verbal mix. 

The visual and physical elements are top-notch. As well as all those breathless transformations of aforementioned stepladders, there’s a fabulous ‘humanette’ puppetry scene; a spooky ‘upside-down face becomes puppet’ moment; and a wonderful rocket launch using a steel can and an umbrella, to the tune of Also Sprach Zarathustra. The sound and lighting design is excellent, and despite the height restrictions of the Underbelly Fresian venue almost cramping their style, the show moves along at a great pace, these seasoned performers never missing a cue.  

 Over at the beautiful Bijou Spiegeltent, sited outside the Assembly Rooms, Brazilian actor and one-time restaurant owner Eduardo Estrela of Cia La Troupe leads an immersive storytelling show, What’s In The Kitchen, which celebrates the range and regional diversity of Brazilian cuisine. As we are welcomed in to the space, given a ginger-flavoured shot of cachaça and a lunch bag of numbered goodies that we are asked not to open until told, the space fills with the sound of classic Samba and Bossa Nova – ‘Girl from Ipanema’, ‘Mais Que Nada’ and more…

Eduardo is a relaxed and convivial host, drawing parallels between the life of an actor and the life of a restaurant owner: both work when other people have time off; and in both cases, the show must go on, regardless.We learn that the enormous diversity of cuisines in Brazil is down to the influx of migrants – whether that’s the forced migration of the slave trade, bringing African influences to the North East region of Bahia; the enormous São Paulo Japanese community, which is the biggest outside of Japan; or the spread of Italian families throughout the south and south-east of Brazil.

Throughout the piece, Edaurdo alternates between narrator/storyteller mode and character actor. Behind him is an old-fashioned wooden coat rack, and the different characters are brought to life by the donning of a few simple articles of clothing, the transformations taking place quickly and simply, in front of the audience. Thus, we meet TV cook Ricki (silver lurex jacket and extravagant gestures); working-class Bahian chef Genésio (white chef’s jacket and black headcovering, serious demeanour with dedication to the job at hand); and the wonderful Teresa, matriarch of a large Italian-Brazilian family (simple red apron, a heart full of love and lively stories). Each character takes up the baton of an ongoing cooking project: first, a bowl of dough – which prompts Eduardo to marvel at the magical transformation that is undergone when flour is mixed with water and salt. A miracle, no less! TV cook Ricki introduces a couple of famous chefs (little mannequins) who share their experiences and bon mots. Then, the dough is rolled out on to the table and Genésio gives us his life story, from impoverished and hungry orphan, to cooking for a rich family, astonished by how much food they have in their larder; and eventually running a restaurant kitchen. Finally, the dough is cut into tagliatelle ribbons and hung to dry, as Teresa tells us of her joy in cooking for the whole family every Sunday. Meanwhile, each time we return to storyteller Eduardo, a bell is rung (Pavlov’s dogs respond!) and we are allowed to open up another small package of food – for example, item 2 is a little marshmallow and a home-baked savoury cracker, demonstrating the balance between the tastes of sweet and umami.   

What’s in the Kitchen joins a noble tradition of Edinburgh Fringe shows based around cooking and eating – see, for example, the 2024 Total Theatre article Soul Food. Eduardo Estrela’s take on it all is a very welcome addition – an interesting speculation on Brazil’s history and culture, as determined by its cuisine; an adventure for the senses provoking much food for thought.

Meanwhile, over at Dance Base, the São José dos Campos Dance Company and internationally renowned choreographer Lili de Grammont present a dance-theatre double bill, Voyeur / Samba and Love. The first piece, as the title might imply, is about ‘the gaze’. As we enter the space, we see five chairs placed in a diagonal line across the black vinyl dancefloor. Each chair is occupied, and as we walk past and take our seats, we feel the eyes watching us. The house lights dim, and two more figures enter the space. There follows a clever play on watching and being watched; performing and witnessing. At times, it all seems benign – rather like a session of Authentic Movement, in which movers are witnessed supportively by non-movers. At other times, it feels more ominous – for example, as the chairs are moved into a circle, and a couple enact a physically strenuous power struggle that (to my mind, anyway, knowing that they are from São Paulo) seems to have echoes of the Baile Funk dancing that sees girls subjected to some pretty aggressive moves. The choreography of the chairs is really lovely – at one point, a chair sits alone centre-stage, illuminated by a single violet light. The piece mixes duets and ensemble work. There’s a great scene set in traverse, with some of the company shining hand-held spotlights onto two dancing couples, creating a four-way medley of beams that the dancers move in and out of, shadows cast on the walls, whilst the sound of a projector ticks over.

Talking of sound: the second piece, Samba & Love, is inspired by Brazilian musical giant, Chico Buarque. The brilliant soundtrack, by film composer Antônio Pinto, best known for his collaborations with British filmmaker Asif Kapadia (on films such as Amy and Diego Maradona) deconstructs Chico Buarque’s samba and bossa nova classics – slowing down, adding in, and mulching with found sounds; here, a bird song, there a cuica or cowbell. The ensemble form a samba roda or circle, with different pairs – male and female, or all-male or all-female – moving in to the centre, capoeira style, to battle out their moves; or in a humorous scene set on an inflatable sofa, they play out a therapy session to a background of the collaged city sounds of horns, sirens and revved motorbikes. Then, there’s a really excellent scene as a couple fight, a table and two chairs their battlefield, the rest of the ensemble ‘puppeteering’ the scene by moving furniture and bodies around the space, a batucada beat building…

Two very different dance-theatre pieces, both excellent – cleverly choreographed and performed with great gusto and enormous skill. A great addition to the São Paulo Showcase programme.

These were the shows that I managed to catch in the first week of the Edinburgh Fringe. There were others that I would have liked to have seen, but couldn’t fit in to the schedule – a full list follows, for anybody interested.

There seemed to be a rich and varied selection of work presented, although I would have liked to see some circus and some experimental live art/performance in the mix – next time, hopefully! And some big São Paulo theatre names were surprisingly missing, most obviously São Paulo-Campinas based legends Lume Teatro, who make work of many types and scales; and it would have been good to see the long-established ParaladosanjoS, whose work spans circus, physical theatre and site-responsive genres, in the programme. But perhaps they’ll come another time – it would be great if this showcase could become a regular fixture at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. As it is, this year’s programme is a great start to what hopefully will be an ongoing collaboration.

São Paulo Showcase at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2025 – full programme

Another Sight by Blind Theater (Teatro Cego) and C3 Cultural Projects 1 – 24 August @ Zoo Playground, 20.45

Cheese and Guava or Romeo and Juliet by Cênica 31 July – 25 August @ Summerhall, 10.35 

Honest Fraud by Fundo Falso 30 July – 25 August @ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 16.40

The Mequetrefo by Parlapatões 30 July – 10 August @ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 11.20

Double Bill: Voyeur / Samba and Love by São José dos Campos Dance Company and Lili de Grammont 31 July – 24 August @ Assembly, Dance Base, 13.00

What’s In The Kitchen by Cia La Troupe 31 July – 23 August @ Assembly Rooms, Bijou, 14.10

Supported by São Paulo State Secretariat of Culture, Economy and Creative Industries, in association with InvestSP and Consulado-Geral do Brasil em Edimburgo, and produced by Associação Paulista dos Amigos da Arte. 

As Kamchàtka’s Fugit comes to IF: Milton Keynes International Festival 2025, Dorothy Max Prior speaks to founder member and co-director Gary Shochat about the company’s extraordinary body of site-specific and outdoor theatre work, and the creation of this and other shows

I’m on a beach in Great Yarmouth, on the first day of Out There Festival, awaiting the start of Kamchàtka. There’s a murmur moving through the crowd, and heads turn towards the sea. We see a horizontal line of people, dressed in drab clothes of an indeterminate time or fashion, each clutching a small suitcase. A hush falls. It is hard not to immediately think of the very many heartbreaking stories of people arriving on beaches, seeking asylum. Especially here, in a town that has recently voted in a Reform MP vowing to ‘stop the boats’.

The group of eight – six men and two women – move slowly and silently towards us, communicating just with glances and small gestures. A rope is pulled across the sand, and we are ushered wordlessly across or under the rope, away from the promenade. The eight-strong ensemble are insistent and determined – although never a word is spoken. They seem to communicate with each other by telepathy! People trying to sit out on a bench are offered a hand up and escorted across the ‘border’. There are stand-offs with groups of teenagers, some of whom eventually succumb; some of whom run away. Two company members lift a pram (with a baby still in it) over the rope, the parents trusting all will be OK. And it is – the utmost care is taken.  Eventually, absolutely everybody in sight has crossed the rope border.

The action then moves to the street. Suitcases are piled up on the pavement; audience members have their bags taken and added to the pile, before being invited in to join the action, climbing on street furniture or lying on the ground. 

Bags returned to their owners, the group of eight move on to the road, stepping in front of cars to try to stop them, climbing onto a bus, and when the Dotto tourist train approaches, trying to hitch a lift. Cars and buses hoot, drivers shout out. The Dotto train driver joins in the joke at first, then tires of the game and tries to move on, but the company aren’t having it, sitting on the front, and clambering on the roof, joining passengers in the open carriage. It’s an amusing moment, but I’m also thinking of the terrible tales of Central American migrants who risk life and limb (literally, many lose lives and many lose limbs) riding the notorious La Bestia train through Mexico in the hope of reaching the USA.

Kamchàtka, made by the Catalan company of the same name,is an extraordinary piece of work which I’ve seen three times in three different locations – and each time it is completely different, but always sparking an uneasy mix of laughter-inducing tableau and poignant commentary on our attitudes to the eternal and ongoing story of human migration.

Speaking to company member Gary Shochat – first in person at the Circostrada FRESH Streets conference in Great Yarmouth, and later via email – I learn how the Kamchàtka collective came into being, and what has led to them staying together for two decades, creating such an extraordinary and exciting body of site-specific and street theatre work, with an appearance coming up soon at IF: Milton Keynes International Festival (July 2025) for the UK premiere of Fugit. 

Most of the members of the company met for the first time in Barcelona in 2006, at a street theatre workshop led by Adrian Schvarzstein. The workshop ended with a final improvisation session on the street, wearing suits and carrying suitcases. Following this experience, some of the people who had participated in the workshop started meeting on a weekly basis to train and to continue improvising in public space together. (And we can note that nowadays the company run their own Migrar street theatre workshops.)

‘We were people with quite different backgrounds,’ says Gary. ‘Some of us were immigrants who had recently arrived in Barcelona; some of us had day jobs; some had considerable experience as performers, story-tellers, clowns or puppeteers. But what made us stick together and continue meeting regularly was our common interest in performing in public space, our need to delve into the subject of immigration and its significance on a personal and social level and, most importantly, a sense that we were discovering a new form of collaborative theatrical work where the power of the piece and the fluidity of improvisation really depended on teamwork and generosity, without the use of words.’

Through these training and improvisation sessions, they started developing a unique theatrical language which was inherently collaborative and which ‘depended not only on our curiosity but also on our ability to be generous, ego-less, and patient when faced with real-life situations’. Less a specific theatrical technique than a process of developing the awareness, discipline and trust required to improvise as a group. As some of the members of the training group were already seasoned performers, friends and colleagues often came to see them as they improvised on the streets of Barcelona and unexpectedly they were invited by an acquaintance to perform in a festival he was organising in a village not too far from Barcelona.

‘Suddenly, we had to create a show,’ says Gary. ‘We had to decide on a name, the length of the show, how many people would perform each time. We were over 15 people in the group at the time so deciding that the show included only 8 performers was not an easy task.’

Nearly 20 years have gone by since they met and started working together, but the group still functions as a collective and their shows are led by the same principles which had fascinated them and brought them together all these years ago.

That first Kamchàtka show continues to be booked by Outdoor Arts festivals worldwide. It remains, as Gary puts it ‘highly relevant in terms of its subject matter: examining our collective ways of seeing and reacting to the other is always relevant and fascinating, but furthermore, the decisive importance human migration has had in forging our culture has become more and more evident in this media-frenzied world so a lot of people can still easily identify with our timeless and generic immigrant image. 

‘The fact that we do not speak also helps underline a message which I think is deeper and more universal as years go by and keeps fascinating the public. Most importantly, I think the main reason for the long life of the show is due to its improvisational essence which requires us to be very alert and reactive even after all these years: even after being performed more the 650 times the show maintains a sense of freshness which is hard to find in other shows which have such a long trajectory.’

The sense of risk taken as they hit the street, without really knowing what will happen next, is what gives Kamchàtka such an edge: ‘We make a point not to discuss the space we are performing in pre-show and usually don’t even see the space in advance so we really have to react to real stimulation and situations in real time, and put all the weight of our presence on the here and now. Unlike many other improv forms, we are not improvising just in order to entertain our audience, but rather in order to make sense of the world (a sense which is at times endearing and at times absurd), and in order to act and react to the real world which surrounds both us and the audience. This makes every show different and timely.’

At a panel discussion in Great Yarmouth Gary talked about creating work in a site-responsive way, encountering the ‘past, present and future’ of a place. In our email exchange afterwards, I ask him to elaborate. 

‘This sense of placemaking comes first and foremost by the nature of how we use public and private spaces in our different shows: we truly observe the space we are in and adapt to it according to its nature, regardless of whether the show is an improvised show, where we have to observe the space, or a site-specific show, which has set scenes which we customise to the different spaces we are offered or find when location scouting. We always consider the space, observe it, explore it, react to its nature and interact with what is happening in it in real time.’

Gary speaks of creating ‘visual and emotional souvenirs’ which are shared with the public they are with – whether they be ticket holders or passers-by – and which later affect the way these spaces are viewed and experienced once the show is over.

As an example, ‘If while performing in a place which is usually loud, indifferent and neglected, we are able to create a moving and silent scene, or a movement which explores a place in a surprising way, we are injecting new meaning to this space and creating a place which is more open to the inherent surprises and contradictions public space holds and to the acceptance of the other as part of this shared space’.

This sense of placemaking is even further heightened when the company are able to explore local history and heritage either through prior research (in site-specific shows and special projects) or ‘by coincidence’ when stumbling upon local traditions, shared memories and emblematic places.

Kamchàtka have a strong ongoing relationship with IF: Milton Keynes International Festival, and are back again this July. At the last edition, in 2023, they presented Alter, a night-time show set in the woods. The show was named as one of The Observer’s top ten theatre events of the year. I ask Gary to tell those of us who didn’t witness this a little more about the piece.

‘Alter is a journey into the memories, existence and gaze of the other, of our fellow men and women. The show started off as an idea of exploring the past of these timeless travellers, before they joined as a group, and triggered by our need to express our individual character within this group which is very homogenic and always united in our other shows.

‘We knew we wanted to work in a different space and different context, hence the decision to create a show performed in the dark and in a rural area, outside of the streets we were accustomed to work in.’

The show also provided the opportunity to introduce video and live music, elements that Gary says ‘we were very hesitant to work with at first’.

Regardless of all these novelties, the key to the show’s emotion remains, Gary says, ‘in the same tools which have led our work ever since the company started performing, and those are: eye contact, collaboration, the sense of belonging to a group, and joy’.

Fugit, the show that Kamchàtka is presenting at Milton Keynes for the 2025 edition, is described as ‘an homage to all those with the courage to abandon their home and strive for a better world’. At the FRESH conference, Gary Shochat and fellow company member Luis Petit tell us that the Fugit creation process involved ‘intense work in many neighbourhoods with different communities’. They spoke of the value of ‘creating shared memories’, noting that ‘people are not ‘objects to use in your show’ and speaking of ‘leaving a trace’ in the community after the work has finished.

Later, I ask Gary to tell me more about the IF iteration of Fugit, and his role in the process.

I learn that Fugit was actually created before Alter. It premiered in 2014, and, like other works by Kamchàtka, is a collective creation, with all company members as co-creators.

‘It is a site-specific show,’ says Gary, ‘and every time we put on the show different members of the company assume the role of artistic coordination and direct the show locally; their tasks range from technical coordination, to location scouting, working with local volunteers and organisations, adapting the show’s skeleton to the territory and managing the team. I am lucky to be coordinating the show in at IF Milton Keynes together with Andrea Lorenzetti. 

‘The show originated from our need to explore the emotion and physicality of fleeing (fugit in Latin): the moment in which one is forced to flee from a place, and what the ensuing journey might provoke in them and in society. The creation process took three long years of trial and error: exercises, games, experiments, a lot of group discussions and collective decision-making.’ 

Gary goes on to explain that through this process they ‘explored spaces we have never worked in before, and discovered new theatrical tools and group dynamics’.

Nonetheless, he believes that both for the company and for the public, especially for the people who have previously witnessed other Kamchàtka shows, Fugit’s core features ‘ the same things which run through all our work and which bring emotion and depth to all our other shows. In that sense it has a lot in common with Alter, only in a completely different context, setting and scale of emotion’.

Fugit has been described as ‘horribly apposite at the moment’. How does Gary feel about Kamchàtka’s work on migrancy still being so relevant to the world in 2025? 

Kamchàtka’s conviction of the importance of exploring these themes hasn’t faded; only nowadays it is mixed with what Gary describes as the rage and fear over the rise in popularity of fascist and populist politics and xenophobia. 

‘Unfortunately we have been surprised time and time again by just how relevant and timely our shows, especially Fugit, have become over the years in face of the different wars and humanitarian crises the world has witnessed in the past two decades, and the waves of human displacement it has created worldwide. Fugit was conceived before the civil war in Syria or the war in Ukraine had started, so in that sense I can say, quite sadly, that in a way our work has become even more relevant by the escalation of tragic events and catastrophes around the world.’

But regardless, Kamchàtka remain determined to continue to present their message that migration is essentially a positive, not negative, occurrence for humankind. 

‘Part of what kept us going and energised the group from the very first stages of working together till now was our belief that the story we tell is a universal and timeless story’, he says. ‘Human migration is a phenomenon which is central to the human experience and is recurring and cyclical throughout human history.’

Featured image (top): Kamchàtka: Fugit. Photo Julie Melando

Dorothy Max Prior interviewed Gary Shochat in person at FRESH Streets conference in Great Yarmouth, May 2025, presented by Circostrada in collaboration with Out There Arts,; and later via email. www.circostrada.org

Kamchàtka: Fugit runs from Thursday 24 July to Saturday 26 July at 1pm and 7.30pm, as part of IF: Milton Keynes International Festival. 

Starting point: Wolverton, Milton Keynes (exact location sent to bookers in advance). Tickets £15, under-16s £10. Booking: https://ifmiltonkeynes.org/

Concept, joint creation and performers:  Cristina Aguirre, Maïka Eggericx, Sergi Estebanell, Claudio Levati, Andrea Lorenzetti, Judit Ortiz, Lluís Petit, Josep Roca, Edu Rodilla, Santi Rovira, Gary Shochat, Prisca Villa.

Additional performers: Amaya Mínguez, Jordi SoléArtistic direction: Kamchàtka / Adrian Schvarzstein

For more on Kamchàtka, see https://kamchatka.cat/   

Kamchàtka’s Fugit is part of IF: Milton Keynes International Festival which runs from Friday 18 July to Sunday 27 July 2025.

Other highlights of this year’s IF:

Four years in the making, Transe Express’ DNA, Vertical Odyssey is a show in the sky which began as an engineering project. The action – a vertical choreography of climbing, aerial dance, circus, precision drumming and the singing and playing of an original score – takes place on a 40-metre-high sculpture under a 200-ton crane. (France – UK Premiere): Friday 25 July & Saturday 26 July, 9.45pm

Mark Anderson’s four-hour durational Warning Notes in Fred Roche Gardens is a captivating sound and light installation-cum-performance. Striking instruments give voice to the social and ecological alarm rippling across our planet. Anderson was one of the artists who took part in For the Birds seen at the 2018 IF Festival. (UK)
Thursday 24 July to Saturday 26 July, 6pm – 10pm

Tania El Khoury is a US-based British artist and academic of Lebanese origin. Her interactive sound installation, Memory of Birds, was created in collaboration with a trauma therapist. Lying in a scented pod hidden in the trees of Campbell Park, audiences will hear a soundscape featuring migrating birds, exploring political violence and the impact of war on contested land, the environment and wildlife. (UK / Lebanon)
Friday 25 and Saturday 26 July: on the hour between 11am and 6pm
Sunday 27 July: on the hour between 11am and 4pm

For further information on all shows and to book tickets, see https://ifmiltonkeynes.org/