Blackout is a dark and difficult play to watch, darkly funny at times, horrifying at others

Blackout by Mark Jeary, photo by Mihaela Bodlovic

A blackout, we are told at the start, is when part of the brain shuts down in order to let the organs work and what follows is the story of six alcoholics - created from interviews with recovering alcoholics.

Their journey on the path towards alcohol abuse starts with feelings such as loneliness, escapism, being shy and drink provides the seductive magic ingredient to lift them.

'It unlocked part of my soul' says one and it's similar for the others making them gregarious and confidence - you can understand the lure.

But what follows is like falling down a dark and destructive rabbit hole, the six stories told simultaneously, with similar themes but different details.

From minor accidents to 'going off like a bomb', the blackouts, the health toll; laughter about amusing drunken mishaps, like their friends and family, drift away as the devilish effects of alcoholism release demon personalities, behaviour and paranoia.

It is fast-paced, the narrative rich with detail, the characters beautifully drawn

Four brothers go fishing where they aren’t supposed to and have their lives irrevocably changed.

The Fishermen is based on the novel by Chigozie Obioma which was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2015 and adapted by Gbolahan Obisesan.

It's is an expansive story - and chunky book - populated by many characters in the lives of the brothers but here it is condensed to a 70-minute play with just two actors.

The play tells the story through the eyes of younger brothers Obembe (Valentine Olukoga) and Ben (Michael Ajao) who meet years later and look back at that fateful night which led to a series of events that tore the family apart.

It is fast-paced, the narrative rich with detail, the characters beautifully drawn in the performances of Olukoga and Ajao who play at least eight different people between them.

You'll laugh, scoff and roll your eyes at the irony of what Roger says but the final blow is a tragic irony.

Donald Sage Mackay in Angry Alan Edinburgh Fringe 2018. Photo: The Other Richard

Booked my ticket for Penelope Skinner's new play, Angry Alan, before the Fringe started and it's subsequently won a Fringe First Award which raised expectations - and it didn't disappoint.

Skinner presents the reasonable Roger (Donald Sage Mackay) who stumbles upon men's rights campaigner Angry Alan on YouTube, someone who seems to have the answers for all his ills (and he thought he had bowel cancer).

His divorce, redundancy, high alimony payments can be explained away by what Alan describes as a 'gyno-centric society' which has suppressed men's feelings and emotions and their place in society.

What Skinner and Donald Sage Mackay do so well is to present a man that isn't dangerous with his new found views but rather misguided and lost.

If there had been a call to march right then I would have gladly followed and from the rapturous response of the audience, I wasn't the only one.

I walked out of Queens of Sheba feeling a bit teary in a kind of happy/sad/exhilarated way. It's the first Fringe play I've seen that has evoked such a strong emotional response.

The reason is partly the subject matter, partly the delivery and partly the collective response of the audience.

Queens of Sheba by theatre company Nouveau Riché is an examination of the twin prejudices facing black women - racism and sexism - but also a celebration of sisterhood, determination and defiance.

Rachel Clarke, Jacoba Williams, Koko Kwaku and Veronica Beatrice Lewis burst onto the stage dancing and singing in a way that denotes total comfort and an air of freedom.

They return to their dancing in between stories of misogynoir (race and gender bias) - the white boyfriend who wants an 'exotic' girlfriend, the boss who won't attempt to pronounce a name and the sexist black boyfriend. 

Birdie, like the play, isn't the persona she presents, the wit and humour gives way to something that feels like an emotional punch in the gut.

Su Pollard in Harpy

Birdie (Su Pollard) is a hoarder and the bane of her neighbours and social services.

She likes to belt out 80s pop music - Bananarama, Eurythmics - late at night and her house is a health hazard.

Harridan and harpy to most, locals tell children that she’ll take their soul if she catches them looking in the window.

Her comments are sharp and insensitive - and often witty - and she sees the ‘mishaps’ that envelop her as not quite how they appear to everyone else.

However, for all her bluster she has a keen observation and there is an organisation to the chaos of her home, a rationale that unfolds slowly in her life story.

You feel like you are eavesdropping on a conversation at the table next to you - it is utterly compelling and its resonance lingers long after you've left the theatre.

Three women, only ever in pairs, meet in a Dublin cafe for a coffee and a catch-up - not the most magnetic sounding set up on paper but Mark O'Rowe's play, The Approach, is slowly gripping.

Cora (Cathy Belton), Anna (Aisling O’Sullivan) and her sister Denise (Derbhle Crotty) are all friends or least they were really close once.
The years pass all too quickly, things happen - life happens - and now they don’t see as much of each other.

When each pair meets their conversations start with everyday anodyne chit-chat but soon turn to more deeper personal topics such as relationships.

You have to listen carefully for clues as to how much time has passed between meetings - usually marked by relationship statuses.

A particular romantic gesture is a recurring motif and a signifier that something isn't quite straight in what the women are saying.

There is on doubting Killymuck's powerful message, it is moving and tough but there is also love and laughter along the way.

Killymuck photo by Javier Ortega Saez

Kat Woods' play Killymuck is the story of Niamh who lives on a council estate in Northern Ireland with her alcoholic father, mother and sister.

She's bright, sassy and resourceful but learns early on the disadvantages of living with little money. It's a personal story of growing up in difficult circumstances and one which aims to not only expose class stereotypes but also demonstrate how they exacerbate the problems. 

In an engaging monologue, slickly performed by Aoife Lennon, we track Niamh's life through school the narrative peppered with factual interludes, stats and research that relate to what is going on in her life.

Woods' evocative writing brings colourful and touching insight from the mind of the child and teenage Niamh, through amusing first encounters with boys and porn to the isolation of being bullied for where she lives and having hand me down clothes.

There is an ease in her storytelling and Lennon's performance that brings out fun and laughter in Niamh's life while exposing the injustice of the cards she has been dealt.

They are plays of sleight of hand, seemingly explaining how tricks are done while performing another that just bamboozles and astounds even more.

The Vanishing Man and The Extinction Event (David Aula and Simon Evans). Photo: Michael Wharley.

Simon Evans and David Aula have written and are performing in not one but two shows back to back at the Fringe. Mad? Perhaps.

Known for directing dramas such as Killer Joe and The Cement Garden, here they play magicians - are magicians - performing a series of spellbinding card, vanishing and mind-reading tricks.

But there is a narrative too, these are more than magic shows and each play has a theme and a personal story - and lots of amusing and clever audience participation (sit further back if that makes you uncomfortable).

They are plays of sleight of hand, seemingly explaining how tricks are done while performing another that just bamboozles and astounds even more.

The Vanishing Man

This play centres on a trick by Edwardian magician David Cedar in which he seemingly vanished into thin air, never to be seen again.

Described as the magic trick that got away, Evans and Aula explore the concept and theory of magic in order to work out how it was done - recreate it to explain it. Sort of.

They cleverly work the audience or rather get the audience working not just with assisting and close up observation of tricks - picking cards etc but also feeding lines of dialogue.

It is funny but not at anyone's expense and cleverly draws you close while distracting you with amusement.

Fast-paced, there is a lot that is impressive from the magic itself to the way the narratives weaves and how seemingly random threads come together.

It is frolicking, clever fun and ends with a poignant punch line.

Incognito Theatre’s style is to blend segments of more conventional dialogue with movement and it is the latter which impress

Incognito Theatre Company - Tobacco Road. Photo: Tim Hall Photography

If you’ve watched Peaky Blinders then with Incognito Theatre's Tobacco Road you’ll be on familiar territory.

The real-life, Birmingham-based gang whose world is depicted in the BBC TV series is not only name-checked but so are several other characters.

Tobacco Road is set in London between the wars and charts the rise and fall of the Tobacco Road gang from their early days involved in petty theft and organised fights to large-scale organised crime and hedonistic notoriety.

Incognito Theatre’s style is to blend segments of more conventional dialogue with movement and it is the latter which impress.

From a boxing ring sequence to bar brawls and nightclub revels, each is brought evocatively to life with skilful and imaginative choreography.

At the start is it two female gangsters that are on top, using their brains as well as a bit of brawn and running rings around the more muscle-heavy local male gang.

1. OMG, there are venues everywhere. Everywhere. And posters for shows.

2. People queueing to get into the venues are lovely and chatty; great camaraderie, sharing recommendations and tips.

3. The actors say a few words at the end of a play and often will big up each others' plays.

4. The venues can get very warm.

5. Actors walk around the streets in costume like its normal.

6. And Barry Loves me.