The full title of the show, A Young Man Dressed as a Gorilla Dressed as an Old Man Sits Rocking in a Rocking Chair for Fifty-Six Minutes and then Leaves… 7, is an entirely accurate and literal description of this performance, which was fascinating, hypnotic, and frustrating all at once. Now in its seventh year, the concept seems to have something of a cult following, attracting a highly interactive and enthusiastic audience who become the performance by providing the entertainment as the gorilla continues to rock and rock. I have to admit that I couldn’t quite stomach the experience to the end, though was lucky to escape without the jeers that many other spectators faced from an audience intent on keeping everyone in the room!

What started out for me as humorous, ridiculous and intriguing, with subtle audience comments and occasional interactions where the braver members approached the stage to try to interact with the gorilla, quickly became a platform for those who liked attention and their angry detractors, and this as much as the content made my frustration build. Some comments were highly amusing, including the man who suddenly announced twelve minutes in, ‘Ah, I get it now!’ and another dressed as a superhero who repeatedly gently straightened the gorilla’s cap, all to rapturous applause.

In terms of a being a study of crowd mentality the concept is interesting, although of course we have to take into account that this is a fringe crowd, which judging by many of the production t-shirts on display, seemed to consist of a lot of young performers, and those who seemed to know what to expect as they had bought along props and sound effects (a banana was a touch of simple genius which received a warm response!). In all, this was definitely (and literally, as it is only performed once) a one-off performance and I can very much see why its unique nature appeals, but after thirteen days at the Fringe, when I close my eyes I can still see that gorilla rocking and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing!

Commissioned by Dance City, the North East’s development agency for dance, R.I.O.T’s choreography includes highly dextrous acrobatic fight sequences between four seemingly stereotypical superheroes, led by the self-proclaimed and increasingly controlling Captain Patriot. R.I.O.T. is co-directed by Deirdre McLaughlin and Joseph Mercier, and Mercier also features in the piece alongside Sabrina Gargano, Jordan Lennie, and Tess Letham, all of whom are accomplished physical performers. The comic-book superhero genre is mined here for all it is worth, the premise being that the four performers want to take on super-hero personas on their own terms. They frequently interject with comments about their roles as the narrative progresses, to the amusement of many in the audience and to the increasing annoyance of Captain Patriot. There is plenty too in the way of intertextuality, with references to a vast array of publications, as well as to familiar plot lines and well known heroes. This serves to both contextualise the piece and to provide a structure which the performers can subsequently rail against.

Although the London riots are identified as the show’s inspiration in surrounding material, this strand didn’t come across to me, but the show’s framework does allow for plenty in the way of humorous asides, conflict in the form of inter-cast squabbling and explorations of identity, as character functions and abilities are gradually picked apart. ‘I don’t want to be stuck in a story that I didn’t choose’ states the character ‘Mind Games’ at one point, neatly summing up the themes of ownership and representation that bubble under the show’s surface. This is a clever conceit which I would have been interested to see more of and perhaps less of some of the physical sequences, which although impressive, were also sometimes rather lengthy. I do understand the reasoning behind their inclusion; for a target audience of comic book fans, the representation of fight scenes performed by real people in a way that parodies familiar sequences must hold significant appeal.

The idea of presenting a piece which uses stereotypes (the strong leader, the humorous but disposable sidekick, the sexy female villain and her beautiful shape-shifting accomplice) to present what appears to be a straightforward story about the triumph of good over evil, but ends up coming apart at the seams when critiqued, is a clever and fascinating one, and is very well delivered for the most part. There were moments when I wanted the stereotypes to be played at a more heightened level to keep me really immersed and to achieve the sense of parody which the piece seemed to be reaching for, but the narrative pace and some very funny interactions with the audience (which included a number of young children) helped to sustain my interest. The eventual pay-off is very well executed too, there is a delightful inevitability  in seeing the Captain’s world fall apart, and a nod to the genre’s classic moral code about being true to oneself that resonates well.

My interest in seeing the work of Fourth Monkey comes from their approach to training. The company run their own one or two year course with an emphasis on ensemble practice, where participants pay to train and have access to performance opportunities such as this show Hansel and Gretel, written by Toby Clarke (Sketty Theatre). The audience for this production comprised of mainly young people who seemed to engage reasonably well with what turned out to be challenging and at times complex material including themes of incest and sexual violence, all narrated by two seemingly sweet but frequently profane girls. All of this is framed by a sub-narrative which explores the life of Antonin Artaud, and the piece itself is performed in what the company consider to be an Artaudian style, incorporating  taboo subject matter,  primal sound effects and a sometimes confrontational delivery.

There was much in the re-telling of this well-known fairy tale, part of the company’s Grimm season, to hold one’s interest, including energetic and committed performances from the protagonists and slick ensemble playing that helped to enliven the piece. This is well-honed and controversial material, performed with conviction by an energetic cast of varying abilities.  Some of Artaud’s key aims for his Theatre of Cruelty were also well addressed. In presenting the tale’s characters as primal beings, devoid of language and resorting instead to animalistic noises, Fourth Monkey honed in on the release of primitive instincts integral to this style. They also made an interesting reference to the pain that Artaud experienced (suffering from a range of both mental and physical disorders) as impetus for theatrical creation, punctuating the main narrative with scenes presenting his incarceration in medical facilities.

There is always a danger with this technique of taking too literal an approach to ‘cruelty’; designed as it is to be a confrontation of the darkness in human nature rather than a forum for gratuitous violence. The production trod this balance well for the most part, invoking a palpable sense of danger and risk, and only occasionally straying over the mark.  As is to be expected with an Artaudian approach, it often made for uncomfortable viewing, particularly in light of the mature themes and the relative youth of the performers, but even this was not quite enough to alleviate a few dips in the narrative when my attention wandered. The Theatre of Cruelty demands full immersion in synaesthetic world of the production, but at times the slow pacing brought me out of this absorption, however its concept and imaginative approach makes Hansel and Gretel a memorable show, drawing a visible reaction of shock from may in the audience and confidently setting out the pedagogy of this new training ensemble.

Babolin combine a young company comprised largely of first-time (and genuinely excellent) Fringe performers, with a seasoned creative team including director Al Scott and Composer Tom Penn, whose presence ensures continuity in Babolin’s trademark style. As with their previous work, such as 2011’s To Avoid Precipice, Cling to Rock, ensemble playing, joyfully ridiculous narratives, and stylised movement are at the fore, in what turns out to be a stunningly silly monk-based plot involving plenty of chanting and a goat for a sidekick! They also return to the narrative of working with characters on a high-stakes quest, this time in the form of young apprentice monk Fish, who must return to his home village of Depravia to rid them of plague. The ways in which he does so are too numerous and complex to chart here, but the story is set up so that Fish’s fate as the saviour of the piece is never in question (particularly as he has the able assistance of his rather pompous but loyal pet). Infused with a clear folkloric flavour, Fish’s past is not what it seems, and when he learns of the true nature of his birth and parentage, he is finally able to fulfil his obscure but highly important destiny.

The residents of Depravia and the chorus of monks are all beautifully characterised by the ensemble cast, whose musical ability in choral singing is only surpassed by their ability to sustain the hilarious and bizarre accents supposedly typical of this remote land. Fish himself is played as a stereotypically naïve and innocent hero of the people to great effect, and as events progress and the tension mounts his child-like reactions and inability to really grasp events effectively builds the comedy. Director Scott shapes the piece very well, choreographing some imaginative transitions including some inventive physical and visual sequences, such as characters turned into tiny models in front of our eyes and the ‘lady of the lake’ appearing phantom-like from behind a piano, her flowing locks operated by the company.

This was the first performance of the show (which runs for a week) and my only quibble would be that towards the end it felt like it could have been a little pacier. It is particularly delightful to see a piece which is so firmly tongue-in-cheek in terms of style, and so when this ironic eyebrow-raise disappeared towards the end, the shift felt hard for us to navigate. In all though it is very engaging, with the inclusion of accomplished characterisation and particularly effective vocal work and a narrative that kept me invested in the characters throughout.