Day 4: A Dash of History, and Making of (Dare I Hope?) History
What happens when what started on the “fringe” takes centrestage?
It becomes a global celebration of everything art. For 78 years, the cobblestones of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe have witnessed the move of the margin to the mainstream. …And this year, it will also give volume to the 50 curated climate narratives that refuse to stay silent.
Storyteller and Arts Enthusiast Himali Kothari reports from Edinburgh.
Day 3: Mondays are days off for Venue 13 and the CCTA program, so it’s a good opportunity to tick off some of the other things on my To-Do list. My last trip to Edinburgh was twenty-five years ago, but it’s likely safe to assume that not much has changed in the centuries-old city treasures like the Castle, Scott’s Monument, etc., and thus they can be ignored. Also, the source of the to-do list is my Instagram reel, which has been spewing ‘don’t leave Edinburgh without…’ suggestions ever since my phone eavesdropped on the trip planning.
One of them is the refurbished National Museum of Scotland. Formed by combining the 19th-century Royal Museum building and the Museum of Scotland built just before the turn of the 21st century, the museum houses collections covering natural history, world culture and religion, science, and technology. But the reel had focused not on the collection so much as the view from its roof terrace. Unfortunately, the gusty 25 mph wind has forced the terrace shut to visitors, and thus the view has to be bookmarked for another day. Back on the streets, I realise they take the wind pretty seriously here.
“Underwear must be worn with kilts when wind speeds exceed 25 mph,” a sign proclaims. It is not a government decree, though—just some well-meaning citizen. For a city to earn the badge for hosting the best global performance festival, it has to commit to the cause. Quirky hats on sculptures, inviting café pop-ups, signages, street art, and more… the last few days of wandering the streets have made it clear that Edinburgh is up to the task.
A (Super-duper) Hit, and a Miss!
I have some recommendations from friends and review lists to go by, but following the gut seems like a more appropriate option for a stage-for-all kind of festival. And that’s pretty much what brings me to my first show of the day—Jane Eyre Wasn’t A Whore. I am intrigued. What could have occurred for this artist to have to defend a beloved Brontë heroine against this accusation? The show’s venue is a loft in a bar in a back alley, away from the beaten paths of the Fringe-goers. Big mistake. It needs to be up, front, and centre.
For the hour-long solo act, actor Carly Polistina essays the role of Anne Brauer, an actor trying to make it in the New York theatre scene. She meets her Mr. Rochester and is caught up in an Eyre-style relationship—or perhaps situationship might be the more era-appropriate term. Conversations with herself, her BFF, and her suitor steer the audience through Anne’s tumultuous quest for love, all while she goes through auditions to play inane modern versions of legendary literary heroines (including an ultra-sultry Jane Eyre!). Should she have to give up on old-fashioned romance and toe the modern-love-stories line? I can collectively feel the echo of the unspoken ‘No’ in the almost all-women audience.
Polistina is fantastic, transitioning from one conversation to another with sublime ease and infectious energy. She evokes laughter with as much ease as she does several ‘aw’s. She brings tears to the eye but stops them with a self-deprecating punchline. There is no doubting her ability to deliver, but it is Polistina the writer that captivates me. It is clever, clever, clever—and tighter than the tightest corset the Brontë sisters would have put on. As I walk out into the sunlit evening, I wonder if I have witnessed a star of the future in the making.
“Quit while you are ahead,” they say. “Leave on a high note, cash in your chips,” they also say. And they are not wrong. But I choose not to heed and head off for one more show. Wait, What is This is a comedy sketch by the Rhyming Rogues. The rhyming is fun for the most part, but the performance barely goes beyond meh. What amazes me, though, is the actors’ commitment to their act. Only four seats are occupied in the audience, but that does not abate their gusto at any point.
It is difficult business to be an artist. You can be good—great even—but that does not guarantee that you will be noticed. You can have more empty chairs than filled ones, but you’ve got to get on stage and act like you don’t care. And for the most part, it is not for fame or fortune, but quite simply, art for art’s sake.
