Witching Hour @ The Underbelly

Witching Hour returns to the Underbelly for its third year at the Fringe. The premise remains the same as in previous years, with a compère introducing two performers – a different pair each night - each of whom tells the audience a ghost story.

On the night I went the storytellers were two actors instantly recognisable from what we are, I believe, now obliged to call 'classic Who', Louise Jameson (Tom Baker’s assistant Leela) and Colin Baker (the sixth Doctor). The compère set the scene nicely, with a deliciously over-the-top, scenery-chewing performance, and then introduced us to our first storyteller. Louise Jameson took her place at the front of the stage in an overly-large armchair – no clichés here! - and then treated us to an excellent reading of W.W. Jacobs’ classic, 'The Monkey’s Paw'. If you don’t know the tale already, it’s the one with a monkey’s paw which grants three wishes, though you have to be careful what you wish for as you just might get it…

Next we had Colin Baker with a little tale entitled 'Without Due Care', which involved a car thief who becomes too greedy for his own good. Both stories were chilling, and the readings were an excellent way to round off a late evening. Curiously, the Fringe website lists the show as a comedy!

Zombie Prom - The Musical American High School Theatre Festival Group @ Church Hill Theatre

A quick plot summary: boy from wrong side of tracks meets girl he is forbidden to see; boy commits suicide and, courtesy of nuclear waste, comes back as a zombie so he can take his beloved to the Prom.

Based on a short film, this was a show typical of those put on by American high school groups over the years. It was good, generally well performed and well sung, but somehow just didn’t quite hang together. I enjoyed the show - and not even a visit from the fire department mid-show, prompted by the over-exuberant use of a smoke machine, could ruin it - but it was pedestrian. A shame.

Missing Link - The Lost Valley of the Troglodytes Yorick and Co @ Theatre Workshop

To judge from the brochure listing, this show should have been anything but pedestrian:

“In a dramatic accident, an unknown Bavarian valley inhabited by a tribe of troglodytes is discovered. The modern world tries to exploit its treasures but with refreshing brutality the troglodytes fight back.”

Well, I think they need to have a look through a dictionary – the accident (a plane crash) was not dramatic, although it was imaginatively realised, with the entire cast representing the plane (although this did have a down side, in that we saw the troglodytes in costume before we met them). A troglodyte is a cave-dweller, and I saw no evidence of caves, nor did I even hear anyone on stage discussing them, but this is a minor quibble: the production has far more serious flaws. Few of the actors were good enough to merit appearing before a paying audience. The story made no sense and any attempt at a believable narrative was thrown out of the window by shoddy plotting – the crashed plane is repaired by the tribe's witch doctor, who produces on demand some uranium to power it! A leap of logic on the part of our heroes meant they worked out that they must have travelled back in time, and I only wish I too could time travel, as then I could warn myself to take the afternoon off and skip this assault on the senses.

The Book Festival

A quick diversion to one of the other Festivals happening in Edinburgh at this time of year, the Book Festival, and the launch of the Chambers Dictionary of the Unexplained. In all fairness, I think I should mention that I was one of the contributors to this book, along with people such as Bob Rickard, Peter Lamont and Karl Shuker. The event was to take the form of a quiz, chaired by Mark Billingham, with a number of celebrities on the panel including Val McDermid, Jon Ronson and Muriel Gray. Essentially a Call My Bluff-type event, the panellists were not familiar with the topics at hand and, having been given no advance warning of the questions, had to think on their feet to come up with witty replies. It was, overall, both interesting and amusing, but having been to a similar event a couple of years ago with science fiction authors, I felt the format worked so much better with panellists who were knowledgable on the topics they were asked about. Still, as long as it generates sales for Chambers and the well-produced and excellent-looking Dictionary of the Unexplained, it can’t be all bad.

The following day there was an event linked to Jon Ronson’s new book, Out of the Ordinary: True Tales of Everyday Craziness. I expected much from the man who brought us Them and The Men Who Stare at Goats, and was not disappointed: Ronson is a witty writer and able to paint evocative pictures with but a few words. One area of slight Fortean disappointment was that most of his talk centred on his weekly column for the Guardian. However, he still managed to include mention of being pursued by the Bilderberger group, and a rather bizarre tale of a Scottish woman who married an American man and thought he was having an affair until he explained that he was a deep cover CIA operative. And then it transpired that amongst other things he was a serial bigamist. A real-life Walter Mitty case or something a lot nastier? It’s difficult to say, but it made for an incredible story.

Burry Man

Another non-Fringe event, the procession of the Burry Man is a local custom at South Queensferry, some 15 minutes away by train. The origins of the Burry Man are lost in time: some say he is a representation of the Green Man, others feel his job is to promote good fishing, and for others he is a scapegoat – a character to be driven from the village when the fishing or harvest fails. Whatever he is, he is a colourful character – dressed in a costume made entirely of burrs he parades through South Queensferry from pub to pub. By the end of the day the poor fellow must be in a terrible state! Several other Scottish towns used to have similar customs, and recently Buckie has revived its Burry Man, although he is an altogether different character. The Burry Man must have been grateful for this year’s cool weather, and it didn’t seem to dampen the spirits of the folk of South Queensferry.