Tiptree: No One Else's Damn Secret But My Own - Headpictures

James Tiptree Jr. is quick-witted, sharp-tongued, 'ineluctably masculine' celebrated science fiction writer, and first female photo intelligence officer for the US army. His name was born from a jar of marmalade.

Headpictures gracefully tells the compelling story of the extraordinary talent of Alice Sheldon, better known as Tiptree; the American writer who redefined the science fiction genre, and the reader's concept of masculinity in literature at the same time. This one-woman show is a beautifully simple set-up; sometimes Tiptree is more Tiptree and sometimes they are more Alice - but they speak with such fluency and sophistication that they're simultaneously suave and coarse-mammered, all the more charismatic for the both.
At times Tiptree's story is comical, at times poignant, spanning Alice's days at finishing school and the turbulent first marriage in her youth, to her role in the US army as a photo intelligence officer, to her discovery of a hugely successful literary voice under Tiptree's name.

The show acts as a wonderfully engaging performative biography, and asks us where our identity lies when we change our name, our signature, our gender - what voice is it we all have in common,  and what is it that truly needs to be said?

The Bizarre Hour (Almost Live) - Spaniel in the Works Theatre Company

The Bizarre Hour - Almost Live - Spaniel In The Works Theatre Company

Ever wondered how to kill a Chinese vampire? No, I hadn't neither. That's not to say that a kid-like insistence to know exactly how didn't surface, though -  and John Bassett enlightened us all with admirable zeal.

Emanating Mad Uncle vibes, John stalks up and down the stage, gesticulating wildly between clicks on his laptop and adjustments of the sound deck. Perhaps, the audience thinks, he might have benefitted from a technician or an assistant, if only to enable his effervescent energy to exert its full impact on everyone in the room. Certainly, though, the computer stands not only as a cumbersome necessity, but as a game in itself - enter Six Degrees of Wikipedia.

An activity not traditionally synonymous with entertainment - extensive Wikipedia trawling - becomes an utter delight; we travelled all the way from Hell Hounds, through Babylonian Folklore, foraying briefly into Playboy, and then finished with a flourish (and considerable sense of achievement) at Donald Trump. Admittedly, this is something that lends itself equally to the armchair as the Subscription Rooms - but the addition of a room full of strangers waggling their arms and a continuous stream of witty patter adds a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. I'd pay for that.

For anyone who's into history, politics, engineering, philosophy, literature, theology, music, International Relations, or, well, anything really - this show is a treat. Encore!

Oh, and a hint about the vampires: it's rice.

Written by Grace Spencer

Schutte the Unromantic - Katy Schutte

Schutte the Unromantic - Katy Schutte

Right from the get-go, Katy Schutte, self-proclaimed 'catastrophist', engages and enthrals her audience. Avoiding the all-too-common comedy mishap of milking a moment for too long, this show instead offers a non-stop patter of witty remarks, peppered exhilaratingly with twists and turns. Oh, and a few tubes of Love Hearts thrown in for good measure...

The good old-fashioned mixtape, a reliably beloved but perhaps generationally exclusive prop, becomes the vehicle through which Schutte recounts her romantic history. From secondary-school boyfriend, to University antics, to messy and farcical 'adult' relationships, she has a song for it all. Some impressive rapping skills surface at several points, the lyrics of which would be better omitted here. But take my word for it, it was pretty awe-inspiring. And Schutte's talent isn't limited to rehearsed material, or even to the stage; she seemed confident in improvising, quipping at the audience's behaviour, and, much to everyone's delight, parted with her boombox at one point to waltz with an audience member. Bravo!

Her show isn't all pop songs and wisecracks, though; there are some moments of genuine feeling, conveyed with admirable vulnerability and honesty. We learn of her brother's life-changing diagnosis, for example, which, as well as providing some pretty illuminating insight and life advice, bridges the gap between audience and performer. Schutte strikes a fine balance, managing to seem both down-to-earth and entertainingly complex in a Rom-Com kind of way. I, at least, felt as though I was spending the evening catching up with a lovely, chaotic, zany, chirpy pal.

Katy Schutte is brilliant. Catch her if you can!

Out of The Loop - Three Tier Theatre

It's achingly familiar; 'the dreaded commute', as Out of The Loop's synopsis summarises, can give rise to many an interesting story, but none quite like this. Two strangers wait on a train platform bench for the 08:30 to London Paddington, but as delay after delay ensues, they find that they have a much larger, albeit still temporal, problem on their hands. As the drama unfolds, their story becomes ever more entangled by hints of their interconnected lives beyond the station, the duo cast members' sheer excellence for comic timing making each twist and turn ever more hilarious.

It must be said that the production's execution is limited by its being held in such a small area, since the stage space is simply not enough for this show, but ultimately that's all technicalities. The simplicity of the whiteboard and pen used to capture the commuters' progressively frustrated inner monologue and add a sense of timing to the escapade, is hugely effective in increasing the absurdity of the piece whilst simultaneously adding to its off-the-wall humour.

Written by Rowena Price.

The Mediators - Drop of A Hat Theatre

Rule number one of mediation - always be prepared! Or was that rule number two...

There's no other way to put it, The Mediators is simply a good old wholesome laugh. This two-man production is gloriously farcical clowning at its best; a physical, good-natured distraction from the mundane. Armed with boundless energy, the power of a reconciling handshake and the mysteriously silent yet buoyant pillow-case man 'Mr X', The Mediators will undoubtedly leave you feeling as 'cleansed, like a young sapling' as you'd ever wish for, with definitely no meditation involved...

Written by Rowena Price.

The Bear - The Small Spaces Theatre

The Bear - The Small Spaces Theatre Company

Walking into what was only the second Chekhov play that I'd ever seen, I was a little apprehensive. Would all the names get muddled in my head? What if I didn't 'get it'? Would I fall asleep?!

I didn't have to worry, though; this show is a gem. Wry satire and feminist undertones abound, culminating in a feel-good and thoroughly entertaining celebration of love, no matter the circumstance. Chekhov has never felt so relevant.

Three brilliant actors, a dodgy table, and a bottle of Smirnoff come together to lend the riskily simple story infinitely more dimensions; despite its farcical, one-act nature, it leaves an audience satisfied and chuckling. We tut at Elena's melodrama, delight in Grigory's blatantly insecurity-driven condemnation of women, and cheer at the inevitably romantic denouement. An introduction on Chekhov's life and works is useful, if a little school-esque, but this is quickly forgiven as the action gets going. The lengthy monologues avoid dragging, and there's a healthy dose of slapstick - always a good antidote to discourse on the Russian patriarchy.

The costumes are impressively luxurious, too -  I was particularly taken by a specific black velvet skirt, the swish-ability of which was demonstrated with great vigour. Other than skirts, special mention has to go to Lucy Wordsworth, in the role of the long-suffering maid, Luka. Wobbling hands, a brilliant accent, and a formidable stage presence transform a young actress into the epitome of an aged-housekeeper stereotype, and the audience loves it.

Basically, bravo!!

Written by Grace Spencer

                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Test Transmission from The Edge of The World - Jonny Fluffypunk

I love Jonny's storytelling - it's hard not to. Ukelele in hand, his bobble-hatted head wobbling along with the wonky lampshade next to him, he perches on top of a metal barstool at centre stage, yanks out a pile of papers from under one of the many clunky analogue radios on the table next to him, and launches into the charismatic and beautifully British storytelling satire at which he excells.
I won't spoil too much - it's too funny not to see for yourself - but the story outlines the coming-of-age of the extraordinary Radio Boy; a young man growing up in dead-end Essex in 1980-something, whose life and, crucially, voice, are irrevocably and beautifully changed by his love affair with good old fashioned radio.
Test Transmission from The Edge of The World is rife with Fluffypunk's classic humour; there's quite a few gags that elude me - I couldn't have told you that Jenni Murray presents woman's hour and I don't know what Money Box Live is - I am a clueless teenager, you guessed it (!) But the pure soul, warmth and poignancy that Jonny pours into his stories don't need translation - his voice echoes across the generation gap, transmitted and received, with unparalled clarity.

See Test Transmission from The Edge of The World on Sunday 16th September, 2:30pm at The Museum in the Park, or the Old Library, Lansdown, at 5:30pm.

Written by Rowena Price.

Let's Summon Demons - Katy Schutte, Edmund Fargher and Jonathan Monkhouse

Witchcraft or the feminist agenda - why not both? We are asked to 'write down a message to a man who wronged you', place it at the centre of the circle of which we are the walls, and watch as the occult unfolds.
Let's Summon Demons follows the story of high witch Rowan, whose supernatural philosophy is interweaved with a scathing feminist polemic, as she welcomes her female friends - the audience - into her new home in rural Wales, at the B&B once belonging to her grandmother. She recalls the ghostly experiences of her youth, invites us to 'open the circle' to the supernatural and, hilariously, divines an audience member's future using biscuits, but the monologue is increasingly coloured by her oncoming hysteria. It's hard to say exactly where Rowan's downfall occurs, because Schutte handles the spiral into delusion with such grace and subtlety that I had a hard time remembering where the laughter stopped. The immersive nature of this show, particularly with the use of soundscapes, means that the audience are continually reminded, and increasingly aware, of their adding to the oppressive environment in which the dialogue takes place.

Let's Summon Demons asks us where we draw the line between morality and justice; the innocence of a male traveller, who inadvertently wanders into the ritual looking for a place to stay the night, is induced by his being outnumbered and silenced by an ideology that does not match his own, and becomes a terrifyingly real parallel to the high witch Rowan's visceral account of domestic abuse at the hands of her late husband. Here, abuse of power breeds itself voraciously; when we ultimately come to hurt each other for the sake of tipping this control dynamic in our favour - are we simply reduced to the very same demons that used to overpower us?

If you fancy a dip into the supernatural, and perhaps your future read in custard creams, then this will be your cup of tea - or should I say witch's brew?

Written by Rowena Price

Welcome To The Future - Fire Donkey Productions

Welcome To The Future - Fire Donkey Productions

We wake up from being cryogenically frozen, having joined “the right cult”. Mr Butter-Cow
offers us an unlimited supply of milk if we help him to topple the sentient carrot king. We torture
the carrot prince and follow a map to the last known bee to uncover the secret of power
in the year 2058. This sassy bee teaches us to dance, and then we behead
the carrot army with a flourish.

All quite a lot to take in, to be honest. With ‘Welcome To The Future’, Fire Donkey
Productions have created an intergalactic, interactive show which may or may not be your bag,
but is guaranteed to leave you thoroughly bamboozled. From the costumes, (highlights include
a milkable cow hoodie), to the projections (a webcam video of said cow) the production value
is delightfully lofi. The performance, however, is brilliantly polished and high-energy, and
although the whole affair seems like a 6-year-old’s fever dream, the actors seem to have a
gift whereby every single member of the audience has a great time.

Despite turning up to a kids’/ family show on my own, at 3.30pm on a Saturday, I found that I
couldn’t stop smiling. Whether that was the sprays of water, the Welsh voiceovers, the beard
fondling, or the carrot-brandishing, it’s impossible to say - but I had a blast.  There are moments,
even, of unprecedented horror; witnessing the torture of a carrot with peelers of
various dimensions felt positively barbaric. I’m not sure I was fully prepared to question my
vegetarianism, but there we go. It’s safe to say that at times, the piece feels slightly
primary school play-esque, but it’s all part of the package. If you can get past questioning why this
show ever came into being, it’ll be fine.

This is a laugh. Take your kids - or take yourself.

See the show Sunday 16th Sept, 5.30pm, Old Town Hall

Written by Grace Spencer

The Disappearing Act - Persephone Theatre

Illusion, confusion, dissilusion indeed! I have to admit that I didn't at all know what to expect from The Disappearing Act (formerly titled Illusion and Reality, as you'll see in the festival programme) and yet somehow still managed to be surprised. What I'd assumed to be simply a quick introduction of the production from its one and only performer emerged, in fact, to be the performance itself, a genuinely insightful if but haphazardly structured monologue centring on man's incapacity to reconcile ancient ideals of hope, love, and identity with the emotionally divisive nature of the modern world. Such a world, this show recalls, that threw us reeling into despondency at the horror of the World Trade Centre tragedy, mere months after the dawn of a new millenium.

Truth be told, this production lends itself to more of a psychologically exploratory group therapy session than a conventional play as such, but its defining characteristic, vitally, was its being suffused with such sincerity and heart. Sure, I was more than slightly bewildered by the actor's emulation of a robed Native American deity addressing the whole of makind from a plush chair, but sharing my thoughts with the rest of the audience at the end of the show, I was overwhelmingly struck by there having been a shift of atmosphere somewhere along the line; in some small but irreversible way, I think we all felt a little more alive.

You can catch the show at the Imperial Hotel at 4:00pm, Sunday 16th September - and make sure to bring an open mind.

Written by Rowena Price.

Losing my Mindfulness - Katie McLeod

Losing my Mindfulness - Katie McLeod

I wasn’t expecting to have raisins thrown at me when I walked into The Subscription Rooms.
But then again, Katie McLeod, in character as a struggling and hysterical HR manager named Serena,
isn’t your average performer.

This was my second mindfulness-themed show of the day (thanks, Stroud), and I expected a cliched,
overdone, yoga-teacher-berating piece. McLeod’s show was none of those. Through the medium
of a corporate workshop, she navigates the topics of emotional abuse, toxic masculinity,
and financial issues with maturity and humour, all while interacting with the audience
genuinely and responsively. The whole show is high-energy and fast-paced, producing an
actual, genuine stress-induced adrenaline rush. It’s all quite invigorating.

On occasion, it is unclear whether it is Katie or Serena talking, which leads to some fairly
unsettling moments of not knowing whether to follow instructions, laugh, or shut up. This constant
questioning of whether what’s happening is stand-up or a sketch, though, makes for an audience
which is even more engaged.

All the way from the chewing-gum-centred starting sequence to the melodramatic end,
this show offers advice, instruction, and, most of all, a chance to recognise elements of yourself in
the trainwreck of a situation which unfolds.

See it if you get the chance - you won’t walk out mindful, but you won’t regret it either.

See the show on Saturday 15th Sept, 5.00pm, or Sunday 16th Sept, 7.00pm, The George Room

Written by Grace Spencer

Douglas - Cheese and Pickle Productions

Douglas - Cheese and Pickle Productions

‘Douglas’ is, put simply, completely brilliant. Detailing the journey of a Leicester cheese-loving,
Guardian-reading cat, and Simon, a boiler-suited man who is “not lonely, just desperate for a friend”,
this one-man show is a philosophical, comical, and downright barmy masterpiece.

Steven Tarr flits from demure foot-licking to camp sashaying throughout, demonstrating an impressive
command of the stage and the audience alike. The process of seeing an actor switch from cat to
human and back again is enjoyable enough, without the comedic gems thrown in there. (Particular
favourites include, “I’m a big fan of yoghurt”, and “Joanna Lumley is a fox”. Funnier in context, promise.)
Tarr’s (human) character Simon, lovably tragic and an outspoken Beyonce fan, is the best friend
that we all want, and his selective fourth-wall-breaking audience glaring makes for some irresistibly
funny moments.

It’s not all giggles though; there’s a harrowing reflection on bullying and emotional trauma at one
point, which somehow manages to be emotional and impactful without melodrama. Tarr
has a brilliant sense of pace and atmosphere, too - just as a surprisingly grisly murder scene
gets a little too intense, an interjection of ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ ensures everyone that
he isn’t taking himself too seriously.

This show is one of those hard-to-come-by creations which, whilst appearing whimsical,
creeps up on an unsuspecting audience. As it progresses from Joanna Lumley and Big
Brother, it begins to offer genuine, hard-hitting truths, about life, guilt, and mental health. As for
what, where, and how these appear… you’ll have to visit Douglas and see.

One night only (Friday 14th Sept, 8.00pm)

Written by Grace Spencer

And Breathe... - Blue Frog Theatre

And Breathe… - Blue Frog Theatre

Tai Chi leads to all kinds of epiphanies, but in Blue Frog Theatre’s latest show, they’re not what
the audience expects. In a cosy back room of The Imperial, a group of women stand silently, palms
turned outwards, ready to share their wisdom - or lack thereof.

Simply structured but brilliantly acted, ‘And Breathe…’ consists of a series of back-to-back
monologues, each delving into the psyche of a troubled villager. These are, for the most part,
entertaining - the audience delights in the trials and tribulations of one woman as she tries to
seduce the class instructor, nudge each other at the exclamations of the village’s resident gossip,
and relate painfully to the frankness and naivety of a young woman, unlucky in love and determined
to become a lesbian. One storyline in particular, the heart-wrenching blindness of a woman to her
husband's infidelity, seemed much more developed and sincere than the rest, and would have
held its own in a solo show. Not all of the storylines, however, are so engaging - the testimony of
a stressed-out school teacher, although catering well to a Stroud audience, feels one-dimensional,
and a mother struggling to keep up with her children's snide remarks, crop tops, and Whatsapp
addiction seems straight out of a satirical cartoon. Admittedly, though, that might just be me
speaking as a snarky teenager...

But that’s not to say that even these sections didn’t hold some appeal. Punctuating the
monologues with a few potentially questionable but benign jokes about complicated sexual
orientations ensured that the audience was fully engaged - if only to try to figure out whether,
politically, they should be laughing. All in all, ‘And Breathe…’ offers the audience a good,
old-fashioned chuckle - so head down to the local Tai Chi class and get cracking.

See the show on Saturday 15th Sept, 3.30pm, at The Imperial Hotel

Written by Grace Spencer

Tangletree - JDJB and TLBB Productions

Tangletree- JDJB Productions and TLBB Productions

“Am I dead?” is a fitting first line for a show that can only be described as intensely introspective.
In their painfully real reflection on brain injury, JDJB and TLBB Productions artfully bring together
toy monkeys, knitted shawls, and mimed record players to educate as well as to move.

This performance, overall, is an experience. The audience is informed, humbled, and made
intensely grateful, through genuine connection to what’s going on onstage. Perhaps this is
thanks to the obvious research that’s gone on behind the scenes - the blurb attests to “wide
research involving health professionals and people living with the outcomes of brain injury”. It
certainly pays off; expressions seem genuine and natural, and nuanced interactions evoke a sense
of real-life unreliability and idiosyncrasy.

Dramatic monologues, although wonderfully sincere and effective in moving the piece along,
follow a uniform back-and-forth and become repetitive. A slightly cliché soliloquy from the angsting
mother of a head-strong teen rears its head at one point, but due to the sheer magnitude of the
matter at hand, the audience is able to forgive her furtive knitting. Light relief from the rigours of
hospital-rooms and hysterics are provided by surreal sections, a particularly invigorating and
personal favourite of which featured a hot-pink hatted, slightly menacing carnival stall owner.

The acting is brilliant, with the central character held constantly and unwaveringly,
whilst a second actress switches from mother, to nurse, to lecturer, and back to mother with
impressive agility. The lighting and sound design are impeccable, too; a switch-operated lighting
rig onstage creates a poignant rift between the actors at several points, and the larger stage
lighting is always perfectly timed. A rousing rendition of Massive Attack’s Karmacoma seems
slightly at odds to the overall vibe of the piece, but again, the rough is dished up with a generous
helping of the smooth.

See the show on Saturday 15th Sept, 8.00pm, or Sunday 16th Sept, 5.30pm, at The British School.

Written by Grace Spencer