The Dublin Fringe Festival got off to a spectacular start on Saturday night with La Clique, a show that was deeply impressive for many reasons. A couple of years ago, when I was still part of the diaspora and hadn’t decided to move back to Dublin, I paid a visit to the opening night of the Fringe, also at the Spiegeltent, and was blown away by the experience. I had a sense that something in Irish theatre/entertainment had advanced to a really impressive level in the 13 years I had been away. Production values in particular were world-class – and last night it seemed the entertainment had reached similar standards.
La Clique is a wonderful modern manifestation of an ancient tradition – circus performers (and one extraordinary singer) who have spent their lives mastering a particular talent. As my friend and fellow blogger Annette says, it’s the antidote to the societal decay that reality TV represents – what we witnessed on the stage of this superb theatrical space, not one of us in the audience could do. The cult of personality-based celebrity entertainment, with Big Brother leading the way, has devalued that which is genuinely impressive – the perfection of a really difficult skill. Watching one woman come on and faultlessly persuade at least a dozen hula-hoops to gyrate around her body is but one example. A wonderfully endearing Norwegian Rubber Man, taking full advantage of his double-jointedness, passes his body through two stringless badminton rackets, in a routine that is both very funny and eye-wateringly intense. Each act is performed with panache and full engagement with the audience – the show is very well directed, with a great sense of humour. It also featured one of the most erotic acts I have ever seen – it would spoil it to reveal further details, but I was tipped off to sit near the stage at roughly 3 o’clock (the piano being 12 o’clock in the circular Spiegeltent) and I was rewarded with a wet face; you have to see the act to appreciate why that would be not only welcome, but something I would happily accept on a daily basis as long as there’s juice in my tank.
Camille O’Sullivan was the singer – and she set the tone for the show – gutsy, sexy, masterful. Her unaccompanied rendition of “Falling in Love Again”, in German, was, quite simply, stunning. At the end of the show the audience rose, in a heartbeat, in a standing ovation – deeply impressed, delighted, and thoroughly entertained.
Stop Press: Today Monday only – two tickets for the price of one. Do not miss this show!
We then were ushered out to see the Russian dance troupe Derevo work their magic in George’s Dock. They have a show Ketzel on tonight and for the next few nights at the Samuel Beckett Theatre. Described to me as monk-like in the devotion to their art, the crowds waited in hushed silence peering into the darkness at the indistinct shapes in the water. Then, to haunting music, the lights revealed the performers beginning to stir in what turned out to be beds… floating on the black water. The stuff of nightmare, the sleepers/wakers tossed in their beds until they were submerged. Drenched and shivering and achingly moving, the performers waded through the mesmeric waters – scenes of filmic beauty – until the ferryman emerges through the mist over the Styx-like basin. Unforgettable. Beckett Wet, said me friend. And she‘s right.
Update: I raved about La Clique on The Kiosk with Nadine O’Regan on Phantom FM on 15th September.