Edinburgh Fringe Review: Drunken Chrous ****

This show is a double-act show, but with only one performer, trying to reconstruct or remember a past performance. As the audience enters, actor Chris Williams is finishing a monologue, and the action re-starts as the audience become seated. Two microphones are set-up, one with a chair behind it with an empty photo frame on. It is an interesting opening, which creates an intriguing atmosphere. The character recounts one of the double-acts gigs that went badly, explaining in long, dry detail, what they did to try and win over the crowd to no avail. In parts, the first half of the show can feel awkwardly sluggish, and it isn’t clear where it is going, or whether this is being done for effect, but this improves as the piece develops. There is some amazing imagery, and one particular highlight is the characters recollection of the duo’s dance, where Williams stands back and watches an empty space whilst film-noir-esque music plays, and he gently blows talcum powder to create a smoky mist centre stage, which is elegantly captured by the lighting. The acting is perfect too, capturing the agonised confusion of a man constantly reliving dying on stage, to the point where it has regressed to a confused and empty explanation. When the character is shot, it is comically underplayed, with an audience member shouting ‘bang!’, and a wound being drawn on by lipstick, and this makes the remainder of the piece stand-out in its solemn dark comedy. The death sequence is beautifully sad, with Williams’ character lying in the corner of the stage, as the lights slowly fade. It is another moving image. He describes the stage, covered in blood, as though it had been painted red, and then proceeds to spend his last words describing the practicalities of using black on stage, and instances where it is best not to wear black. It is touchingly funny, seeing these last words wasted away. After the death, he eventually stands up again, as if ready to re-start. This piece really takes form towards the end, and the repetition cements the purgatorial symbolism throughout the piece. It is best to view this as art, as well as theatre, and although the start can seem disconcertingly slow the end product is beautiful, poignant and thought provoking.

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