To be blunt, Crocodile Fever is a smack in the face in all of the best ways possible. Dark, hilarious, violent, gruesome, wholesome and a clusterfuck of religious iconography and blasphemy – and you have to get behind every second. It’s a story of sisterhood; a portrayal of a timeless bond that has stood tremendously difficult trials. It has themes of female and Irish oppression and also addresses sexual abuse.
Sisters Fianna and Alannah (Lisa Dwyer Hogg and Lucianne McEvoy) are entirely relatable. Rebellious Fianna returns home after hearing of her father’s passing; meanwhile Alannah, a mousey cleanliness freak, is tending to the house. The paralyzing anxiety McEvoy conveys, contrasting Dwyer Hogg’s fiery outbursts, is exquisite.
Tyler wanted to write something that would excite 17-year olds. Well – she has (as assuredly as a man in his twenties can say). They’ll also find it touching, disturbing, and hopefully, beyond the laughs, they see a well-crafted narrative of sisterhood, patriarchy and the ill effects of giving up on someone ‘troubled’.
Rife with imagery, Grace Smart’s set design and Rachael Canning’s puppet creation are exceptional. They perfectly capture the slow, reptilian weight of archaic patriarchy from simple physical movements to the show’s finale.
Holding no punches, Crocodile Fever takes every left-turn imaginable. It doesn’t so much throw you down the rabbit hole as toss you into the gaping maw of a hungry beast. Crocodile Fever will put people off, and it bloody well should. If it didn’t have that streak of rebellious, finger-flipping attitude, it wouldn’t work nearly as well as it does.
Presented by The Edinburgh University Theatre Company
Written & Directed by Sally MacAlister
Runs at Bedlam Theatre until August 25th
Fostering recent accomplishments with female writers, as part of the Edinburgh University Theatre Company, writer Sally MacAlister’s term-time hit She Can’t Half Talk makes a Fringe debut. A series of six femme-lead monologues which focus on unusual or untold perspectives. Stitching together tales of gender and sexuality pervading all aspects of life, She Can’t Half Talk is a delightful collection of stories drawing comfort in their neighbours. Humorous, honest, raw and at times difficult to stomach, this is a superb production with a touching manner.
Trimming for a Fringe run-time, the six monologues are set on rotation, and after witnessing half of the show – you’ll likely crave the rest. Never has such a tantalising opener delivered like this, with six individuals, each with a staggering, relatable story to share. So, stop me if you’ve heard this one – A Cougar, A Foetus, A Camgirl, A Drag Queen, An Actor and A Victim walk onto a stage…
This evening we were in for a treat, an odd term to use with the powerful subject matter, but with largely diverse performances, it’s a delight to watch them and be moved all the same. First, The Actor – Michael Zwiauer, a young gentleman whose Hamlet is up there with the greats, the only issue? He wants to try something new; he wants to be known as someone different. He doesn’t want to be the camp, effeminate Hamlet. An advance in coverage, it helps bring She Can’t Half Talk into the realm of sexuality and gender roles. A voice not many will hear, whipping the rug from beneath us in a powerful performance from Zwiauer.
Here we notice the only drawback to a smaller scale production; transitions can be messy – drawn out with the minimal stagehand. They do a valiant job, a single-member re-arranging props and blocks, but it slows momentum.
Moving from here, we have easily the most effective performance from Áine Higgins, a young Irish woman who refuses to be seen as the victim, even when she has been suffering horrendous abuse. It’s schizophrenic how wildly we swing from an independent, stoic woman and yet, a young girl who refuses to be seen as anything but capable. Higgins delivers such presence in the tougher moments, that even when disgusted by what you hear, she tells the story in such a visceral way, you feel the crunches, the pops and the slaps. It’s a testament to EUTC’s high standards of talent.
And while Higgins may claim the more intense piece, it is Hannah Churchill’s Cougar who receives the juiciest role for laughs, insight and memorable moments. Speaking with her therapist, Zwiauer in a marvellous ‘silent protagonist’ role, this Cougar worries about being forgotten. It’s a comedic piece with wonderful witty writing, concealing a distressing examination of double standards women face as they grow older. Churchill not only balances these laughs with poignancy, but her presence is remarkable.
With only a taster of some of the tales, The Edinburgh University Theatre Company and Sally MacAlister’s writing pushes open the door for femme-lead stories. Saucy, intense and on occasion insightful, this is a production with clout, with gravity and an obvious future in theatre.
Information relating to the Edinburgh Rape Crisis Charity can be found at their website: https://www.ercc.scot
Say it with me everyone: “Vagina”. Say it even louder for the men in the back. The Vagina Monologues, for all its criticism, may be one of the most influential theatrical texts ever put into production. There’s a reason why two decades later it is still built upon. July 7th saw a reading of Eve Ensler’s episodic play which looks into female body image, sexual experiences (consensual and non), sex work and a variety of other topics. Monologues from the play focus on sexual assault, comfort women and body image are given a platform in aid of Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre, with 100% of all profits benefiting the charity.
Despite a mere two weeks rehearsal time, the five performers
onstage channel a staggering level of commitment, professionalism and heart.
Their performances are nothing short of heart-wrenching. Not only because of
their embedded talents, but a tremendous amount lies in the fact that these
women aren’t acting, despite the accents, the laughs and the characters. The
stories they are telling, the cause they are hosting this evening for – is
In aid of Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre, the reading is compressed into appropriate material to remain on subject. There’s a clever balance of topic foundation, easing those unfamiliar before communicating the facts, hatreds and degeneracy of reality. For over forty years, ERCC continues to provide emotional, mental and practical support for women, non-binary, young people and the trans community. As if this service wasn’t enough, they engage with a plethora of preventative discussion, information and much-sought advocacy for those who have experienced sexual violence at any time in their life.
Every year, a new ‘chapter’ is added into The Vagina Monologues following the inspiration day known as V-Day. In 2006, a segment on Comfort Women was added, this is what closes out our performance – tightening the link between the chosen text and tonight’s charity. Last year TIME magazine tore open a subject many prefer to forget, the ‘punishment’ many women faced following the Second World War. The sequence is nothing short of a mountainous emotional smack of truth. All of the frustrations and agony women suffer placed on the floor in-front of us with the utterance “now what”. Anyone who has given their time for the evening has done something noteworthy, from the performers to the lighting operators and of course, the front of the house.
A heap of gratitude is to be given to Capital Theatres and
Linda from customer service who listened to one women’s cry of: “I’m angry, and
I need to do something about this”. Help is precisely what we in a creative
community can strive to do. We have a position of accessibility, a presence to
mobilise and a space to offer those who not only have a production to stage,
but a message to encourage and even better a charity to empower.
Productions like these make you want to write. They make you
want to type furiously for days and days and weeks and years until something,
anything is done. There’s only so far outrage can extend before action is the
response. Because here’s the secret. People are tired. They’re tired of rape
culture, rape jokes and judicial decisions on what constitutes rape. We’re
tired of putting our keys between our knuckles on a late walk home. Tired of
seeing wealthy, ‘good family’ men walk free, and we’re beyond exhausted of the
shaming, punishment and hushed words around women who courageously come
I use the term ‘we’ rather than women because it is we. It’s you, me and everyone you know. This evening isn’t only about performance. It’s a rallying call that after all this time, we still need to have charity evenings like this. One day, The Vagina Monologues will (hopefully) stage its performances for history, rather than to protect the future. It will be staged as a way to remind ourselves what we fought for, instead of what we are still fighting for.
Until then, dig deep. Donate your time, your money and offer your support to the likes of Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre. Sometimes it isn’t all about the money. You can help challenge abusive behaviour, encourage and support others to speak out – but most importantly to believe those who come to you disclosing sexual violence. This evening isn’t solely about the harrows of life, but the joys in coming together to establish a conversation. From a women’s first period, to the thrill in discovering her body – and the insecurities around this. You’ll be left curious, angry, empowered, enraged and have had a few chuckles too.
And if, like these five young women you are able – perform. Write, sing, shriek, holler, dance – do whatever we can to keep these stories alive and in the faces of those who would rather they faded into obscurity. That’s precisely what an archaic system would like – silence. So, let’s say it one last time: “Vagina”, because nothing upsets the Patriarchy quite like a pussy which roars.