Edinburgh Gang Show – King’s Theatre

Directed by Andy Johnston

Musical Direction by Andrew Thomson

Dance Direction by Louise Williamson

Once a year, chaos, music, dance, fabulous costumes, and those young at heart or young in years descend upon The King’s Theatre to light up the frosted evenings of the capital – and the Panto doesn’t even start until next month. No, this time we’re talking about one of Edinburgh’s illustrious performance groups which stands along with The Bohemians or Southern Light as the peak of amateur theatre – The Edinburgh Gang Show. For over sixty shows now, the gang has been an integral part of the cities theatrical heritage, with no signs of slowing in this slew of vibrant majesty. 

At first, the array of performers on stage have their difficulties working with such volume in numbers, but overcome these issues remarkably, having a reliable understanding of the stage. Andy Johnston has always had an uncanny ability to bring together a wealth of Scouts and Girl Guides, drawing together gang shows of past, present and even glimmers of the future. This 60th show contains all of the gags, nudges and football jabs you may expect, but there have to be a few surprises lurking beneath all those jazz hands and gooey gowns.

Continuing to capitalise on Louise Williamson’s choreography, the gang pay tribute to the dames and dappers of Hollywood’s past, with a spectacular movement piece to the classics of musical theatre. There isn’t exactly structure to the production, more a showcase of talent which bleeds into the next – sometimes with no explanation, other times with an acknowledging gag to the lack of coherent connection. An honest admission, it still causes a few bumps and grinds to the flow which, yes, can be overlooked, but needn’t necessarily have been issues to begin.

So what you might expect is dancing, there may even be a few songs, but variety is a core element of The Gang Show. So yes, these jokes are meant to be bad, the puns are the height of dad humour – and we adore every second of it. It must be said though, that whilst the humour takes a back seat to the other talents, especially some exceptional dance routines, we get the occasional bout of originality, and a few choice celebrity guests from William Wallace to The First Minister and a certain chart-topping Scot whose love for crisps might rival his adoration for number 1 spots. Singing Someone You Loved, Mackenzie Woolard captures the tone of the song marvellously in a number to be proud of, characterising Lewis Capaldi rather well. Nowhere though, does the seamless blending of gags and vocals merge quite so well than a trip to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s world-renowned feline musical.

Alisa Maclean’s rendition of Memory, a pinnacle of musical theatre’s illustrious history, is given a fantastically inventive twist which we daren’t spoil. Not only are the vocals rather sublime, but the goings-on, decisions and timing are exceptional. Offering a break in the tumultuous number of routines, this brief snippet showcases the vaudeville stylings of the gang marvellously, with the ‘stage-hands’ causing as much mischief as they find physically achieve. Indeed, along with the likes of Tatiana Honeywell’s subdued, spellbindingly impressive performance of I Wanna Dance with Somebody, which showcases the team’s most elegant choreography, this evening is very much in the hands of the ladies.

Shaking things up a bit from the straight routines and belting it out for the women in the audience, Kelsey Main strikes out with Speechless, meanwhile Jessica Lyall who too performs during the Medieval Mayhem segment, who has so far been dominating the stage with fluid footwork, turns towards a vocal performance as she and Main show the ‘lads’ of the round table just how it’s done. This said, the male dancers, a few of whom have been paying attention to their toe-points such as Andrew Brown, have the makings of terrific dancers, particularly for comedy routines as they treat us to a little unexpected Spamalot leading up to the show’s climax.

What a finale, a solo performance from young Matthew Knowles whose performance of I’ll Always Remember You This Way gives a brief chill of a future career in the arts. Marvellous control, which sets up the farewell to a few members who, like Brown, will be leaving the gang this year, but in their place, they leave behind a legacy of achievements, memories and hope that the future performers will match their dedication and canny. 

And as a 60th year closes for The Edinburgh Gang Show, bright prospects for Scottish theatre remain. A wealth of talent, across all moulds of the stage, there’s a rich community making a stamp on Edinburgh’s history, and evidently, it’s future. From the smallest soprano to the older twinkle-toes, mirthful in enthusiasm, this 60th show serves as it does every other year, to showcase the capital’s talent, spirit and community.

The Edinburgh Gang Show runs at The King’s Theatre until Saturday 23rd. Tickets available from: https://www.capitaltheatres.com/whats-on/gangshow

Photo Credit – Ryan Buchanan

Prism – King’s Theatre

Written & Directed by Terry Johnson

Based on the life of Jack Cardiff

Entire artistry in its own right, the conduction of light by Jack Cardiff would define a method of cinematography which pervades the artform to this day. The Red ShoesThe African Queen and The Black Rose, there is scarcely a shred of celluloid which at one point hasn’t had some kind of inspiration from this man. Terry Johnson’s Prism allows the star of stage and screen Robert Lindsay to capture a man who would dedicate his career to capturing the right angle of Hollywood’s finest, and how in his later life Alzheimer’s would cast his recollection further and further back into these sepia-tinted days of showbiz.

Shackling ourselves to a chain of memories born of anxieties, love, regret and experience, we place a tremendous deal of what defines the ‘self’ into the composite of how we evaluate our lives. What then, when the cruellest form of affliction, dementia, early on-set or age-related, loosens these tethers and slowly ebbs away our most recent memories, placing us firmly in a comforting, if distant past? This is Johnson’s intention with Prism, to offer a glimpse into the closing scenes of Cardiff’s life, just before the credits begin to roll. 

In essence, a biographical (if artistic) production places itself into the hands of its principal performer. In Robert Lindsay, there is not a qualm to locate. His charm is silky, yes, but his emotional control over the condition is as approachable as it is painful in depiction. Ironically, though the metaphor wouldn’t be lost on Cardiff – there is a spectrum of emotion, a Prism if you will allow. In his closing moments, the tiniest nuance of detail leads to a crushing realisation – something which, for Cardiff, is worse than losing his memory, and once we realise that Lindsay has been laying the groundwork for this through the second half, it’s aching to comprehend.

Unafraid of the industries nature, Terry Johnston’s writing refrains from treating Cardiff as an untouchable treasure, indeed taking liberties which would perhaps be appropriate for the role. Jokes of the infamous casting couch, while certainly a distasteful reference, would tragically be common practice. The humour, well-written, also slips in a few gags which roll eyes for their age, but again, this would be correct for Cardiff’s character. Where Johnston’s writing balances this humour, and it takes a while to do so, is in the demonstration of dementia’s influence beyond the individual sufferer. Something Johnston takes partial credit for, but Fitzgerald rightfully claims a deal more.

Nicola or Katie (Katharine Hepburn) as Cardiff fails to remember which, at first is an identifiable role, a wife standing beside her partner, who openly displays the frustrations and loneliness of dealing with a loved one suffering from the condition. The thought of being a blank face, to someone you have shared a life with, is disheartening to even imagine, yet somehow Fitzgerald communicates a tremendous deal while saying little. Taking on the role of her predecessor, the apparent love of Cardiff’s life, is a metamorphosis, capturing Hepburn’s diction, as well as her timeless class.

Echoes of the past dance in the background, references of the days Cardiff regresses towards as the condition worsens. Prism is arguably for the cinephiles more so than the theatrical crowd, and while it is indeed possible for fans of one to respect the other, there is such depth in the knowledge of filmmaking – from the jabs at aspect ratio, to references of actors inability or habits, the production has a definitive screen quality to its DNA.

In an expedition of Cardiff’s history, the location of Prism takes unique transitions to expand the horizons beyond simplistic storytelling. In the closing of act one, Tim Shortall’s design feels excessive, but for the second its purpose is evident. With cinema at its heart, Ian William Galloway’s video design is where the set excels. Six portraits of cinema’s defining performers (minus Bette Davis…) enhance the mise en scène with small quirks, movements and tricks. If possible, tear your eyes away from Lindsay’s performance, and you may spot a theatrical ‘Easter egg’ of cinematic inspiration.

While Lindsay beams out in technicolour, Victoria Blunt and Oliver Hembrough find themselves squarely in the tones of Kinemacolor, far from feeble, but without the range Lindsay and Fitzgerald offer. Principally this lies within the narrative, Johnson’s writing paints Blunts character on the edges of sitcom territory, with a shoehorning of drama in the second act for us to feel sympathy, trouble being it loses out to our emotional investment in Lindsay. Blunt’s brief spell as Monroe, while a caricature, is dripping with delivery, decadent and quite stirring in all the right ways.

Filmstrip offers a glimpse of immortality for the chosen few, though it will never stand the test of our true marker – time. Nailing a performance which one will seek to capture for an age, Lindsay pays Cardiff in kind, reminding us of his immeasurable talents, eventually succumbing to a callous condition. As these timeless classics of film fade ever more into obscurity, they are a reminder that all good things must end; paintings will tarnish, whiskey dries and the light which Cardiff so exquisitely framed fades. Prism offers a range of artistic celebration, and this is a love letter from the stage to the big screen.

Runs at The King’s Theatre until Saturday November 2nd. Tickets available from: https://www.capitaltheatres.com/whats-on/prism

Photo Credit – Manuel Harlan Video Credit – Capital Theatres