Author Archives: Edward Wren

About Edward Wren

Edward Wren is a theatre maker, performer, musician and puppeteer. Founded in 2007, his company The River People won a Total Theatre Award in 2009 and has since toured nationally and internationally.

Mamoru Iriguchi: Projector/Conjector

Projector/Conjector states in the programme that it is a dance piece as well as a piece of theatre. This production pushes the definition of both those terms. The two performers, Mamoru Iriguchi and Selina Papoutseli move slowly about the small stage; Iriguchi has a TV screen on his head, Papoutseli has a projector on hers. They then present very clever sequences as these two multimedia characters meet and interact.

How you experience this piece will depend largely on your taste for the experimental. There are some quite remarkable moments as the two play with the bulky machines they have strapped to their heads, some lovely moments of surprise, and some superbly executed moments of comedy. The whole thing has an air of the ridiculous, aided by the white onesies they are wearing which have male and female genitals drawn on them. The audience roared with laughter throughout the show, the deadpan nature of the delivery chiming with the overall absurdity of the piece.

The story begins simply and quickly nosedives into the surreal as Conjector becomes obsessed with executing a pirouette, and it becomes apparent that the two are exploring a theatrical explosion of Swan Lake.

Theatregoers who have little patience for experimental work may find it testing. The piece would perhaps struggle with a more mainstream audience, and arguably is preaching to the converted nestled as it is within the culturally ‘well-versed’ crowd of Summerhall. But it is impossible to deny its originality and the skill with which it is executed.

Iriguchi is exploring questions of how we define dance and theatre and is doing it in an entertaining and remarkably sophisticated way, despite the ludicrous nature of the piece. But its humour is also its strongest argument: it is poking fun at the prestigious form of dance theatre. The experiment is certainly interesting, even though I came away slightly unsure of the results. My predominant reaction was one of bemused amusement, but it is quite unlike anything I’ve seen before.

Jen McArthur and Kallo Collective: Echolalia

Jen McArthur uses physical gesture and dance in her one-woman show Echolalia, which explores the subject of Asperger’s syndrome and social etiquette. Echo is a character trapped inside her home and inside her own head; we see her go about her daily routine, obsessively counting her steps and repeating her routines. She is preparing for a job interview, but struggles to break free of her situation.

McArthur is a joy to watch; her movements flit between grace and awkwardness, her presence on stage is compelling. But the piece itself is slightly hazy in its approach to such a broad subject. We certainly understand her daily struggle, and we empathise with her, but the presentation is somewhat superficial. It makes no move to delve deep into the subject, to explore its cause or effect, or to engage us on any meaningful emotional level. The scenes are also often lacking in drama or a sense of the theatrical, and rely only on the force of McArthur’s presence to carry them.

McArthur’s awkward interaction with the audience certainly highlights the theme of social etiquette, but my overall feeling was one of cringing embarrassment, and I took away no understanding of what exactly she was trying to say. I wanted to know more about the character’s past, more about her life and the external pressures she was under. I needed more context to place the piece in, to broaden my understanding of the wider subject. What I ended up with is a glance at the tip of the iceberg.

With such a strong performer at its centre, it’s a shame that Echolalia doesn’t hit harder of delve any deeper. But it was nonetheless an entertaining hour, and when Echo takes some small steps to confronting her condition at the end of the piece, I still found that I cared for her. I just wanted to understand her better.

HookHitch Theatre: This was the World and I was King

An upper class English family deal with the personal impact of their father leaving to fight in the First World War in this accomplished production by emerging company HookHitch Theatre. The piece focuses on the family’s children and the magical worlds they conjure in order to cope with the separation. The brooding divisions between the adults simmer over their heads as the childish realm of imagination collides with the harsh reality of the adult world.

The company perform their roles with utter conviction, the staging is accomplished, and the musical accompaniment between scenes sets the atmosphere very well, sparkling in places through the use of soaring harmony and emotive lyrics. The puppetry comes as something of a surprise; it is beautifully done, in particular the character from the children’s games of a bear who comes to life as a boy. The skills of the puppeteers shine incredibly briefly, and I found myself wanting far more – for it was in these brief moments where the magic of the children’s imagination came into bloom and elevated the piece considerably.

At moments the acting is perhaps a little heavy handed, and the portrayal of early twentieth century Englishness lacks a sense of realism in places. When this combines with an overly emotive song the piece can wander dangerously near humour.

But the same conviction that sometimes leads it astray is also what makes the production shine. By the end I found myself surprised at the amount I had invested in the characters; they move between funny and endearing, charming and heartbreaking. The ending comes as something of a surprise and perhaps could do with a little more clarification in the text. But as the music of the final song swelled and the central character revealed her long hidden grief, I found the atmosphere quite overwhelming, and tingles of electricity ran through me.

The impact of this production sneaks up on you: by the end the audience were enraptured, and this was down to the commendable skills of the ensemble. HookHitch Theatre are most certainly a company to watch in the future.

Vision Mechanics: Dark Matter

As I settled into a comfy camping chair in a pleasant suburban garden in Leith I was filled with excitement at the experience about to unfold. I had been given a dark poncho and a set of headphones to wear, and I took in the scene, an idyllic garden, lit beautifully beneath a starry sky. An ambient soundscape drifted into my ears and I awaited the start eagerly, nestled in the warm summer night.

Such promise blossoms at the start of Dark Matter, Vision Mechanics’ latest site-specific performance, presented at this year’s Fringe as part of the British Council’s Edinburgh Showcase. And as Emma Anderson appears through the trees, whispering softly into our ears, the excitement does not abate. What unfolds is a remarkably committed performance. The script, by Chris Lee, resembles poetry or spoken word; exploring issues of love, loss, fear, self-loathing, it is a melee of deep introspection that delves into the darker fathoms of the human heart.

The piece is accompanied by a live soundscape, by Tam Treanor, a frankly superb addition that adds a scintillating quality to Anderson’s performance as her words are looped and distorted. A drone plays through the whole piece, giving an eerie atmosphere to the idyllic setting. The lighting too, by Charles Macintyre, supports the performance very well, adding an otherworldly haze to the garden.

But soon the tone that is established at the start, a sort of melancholy moan in Anderson’s delivery, becomes a little grating as it refuses to change or fluctuate. Before long the high pitch of drama that she uses when speaking the weighty text fails to connect, and I found myself distanced from her journey.

The performance keeps at this pitch throughout as Anderson screams and moans through the script. Starting at such a high level of drama the piece has nowhere to go, and soon I suffer from a sort of dramatic saturation and find myself lost and distanced. The piece would benefit from having some space in the text, more subtlety in the delivery, and a chance to understand the central character as a real person, not a bubbling volcano of emotion seemingly working only to serve the poetry of the script.

But Anderson must be commended for her conviction: she gives everything to the role. The whole piece is a unique experience; I was quite seduced by the drama of the set-up, but the content, far too forceful, lacking subtlety, left me unaffected.

Le Patin Libre: The Rule of 3

Any theatre company brave enough to wade into the unknown and take theatre into new and unusual places deserves plenty of credit. French-Canadian collective Le Patin Libre have done just that with The Rule of 3, a visual theatre / dance / ice skating performance that takes place in ice rinks. The company are determined to break away from the traditional sequinned conformity of figure skating and to bring elements of theatre and narrative onto the ice.

The show follows the efforts of three ice skaters to do just that. Through humorously staged self-help groups and individual set pieces, they tell the story of their passion for ice skating and their frustration with the creative restrictions that come with the form.

The skill of the performers on the ice is quite breathtaking, and they shine when they are gliding gracefully across its surface or performing the set pieces that provide some of the stunning visuals that appear in the piece. Most memorably this included a moment when two skaters are attached to each other by a rope, one trying frantically to escape his partner as he begins swinging in a wide arc around a fixed point.

Frustratingly the moments when the piece loses its way are the moments dedicated to a more traditional theatre form. When some chairs and a table skid into place and a scene is played out, the use of such a standard theatrical convention feels sluggish in a piece that cries out for innovation. There is so much more that could be done in such a unique setting, and the moments that stood out best where when they allowed themselves to play with the space.

The piece also went on a little too long. There was an excellent moment that felt like the end which saw the three skaters dancing in their pants to ‘Time to Say Goodbye’ – a glorious and triumphant moment that they struggled to top in the 20 or so minutes that followed, and after an hour and a half of sitting still beside the ice the cold soon became very uncomfortable.

But the company deserves much applause for its innovation, for an excellent evening out, and for a performance that delivers some truly stunning moments. I do hope they continue their theatrical pursuit; it’s a form that is under-explored and which holds so much potential. And theatre must be innovative if it is to survive and to prosper.