The Black Sheep are a quick fire sketch troupe with an unsavoury preoccupation with the darker side of the human psyche. Their macabre vignettes inhabit a world that will be all too familiar too much of the festival audience: The lazy pastures of Middle Britain; of Pimms, people carriers and manicured lawns. This would be a landscape only noteworthy in its banality if it wasn’t for The Black Sheep who explore the paranoia and neurosis of these pathologically domesticated communities with a collection of wonderfully rendered caricatures, each one with their own unsettling secret.

Since Luxury Assortment is sort of a ‘best of’ collection, the darker sketches have been balanced with some of the lighter material from their Ubersausage days. While these sketches parody many of the same pop-culture figures as everyone else – Jesus, Santa, Hitler – they are done with a singular style that never fails to delight. Particularly enjoyable is Anne Frank: The Musical a scandalous yet well-observed skit that is worthy successor to Mel Brookes’ Spring Time For Hitler.

Despite their love of the macabre, there is something quiet comfortable about The Black Sheep. They belong to the same murky gene pool as The League of Gentlemen and the Pythons, though they never quite reach the excesses of the former or the absurdity of the latter. They strike their own special balance with Luxury Assortment, and only allow us the smallest glimpse of what might lie beneath – just when you think you are on the verge of witnessing the full horrors of what has been implied, The Black Sheep recoil and the peaceful idyll of Middle Britain is restored.

4/5

The most appealing element of this production is the script, although at worst the dialogue is completely risible. At times it is startlingly effective, it is terse and snappy and at its best is reminiscent of David Mamet. Although it does not quiet succeed in capturing the enigmatic, mercurial quality of Mamet’s work, it is impressive from such a young writer. The dialogue is most effective in the ëonlineí scenes where the cast stand static and deliver their lines with mechanised monotony. This technique effectively heightens the tension and enriches the intent simmering beneath the stark surface of the dialogue.

However, Malice in Wonderland has the curious effect of trying to be contemporary but ending up being dated: It questions the implications the Internet has on identity and how the anonymous nature of on-line chat rooms can be exploited for unsavoury purposes but the concept of cyber stalking seems to have already come and gone with out making any real waves and to the majority of people today the internet is a domestic appliance and is as about insidious as a sandwich toaster.

3/5

Despite his hackneyed material, his boisterous delivery is quiet infectious and you slowly forget you are watching a comedian you paid your hard earned cash for and start perceiving him more as one of your lagered up mates making at twat of himself on a Friday night. In this frame of mind he is a small joy to behold as he twirls tea bags from his nipples, serenades John Merrick (yes, the Elephant Man) and performs an amazingly resourceful amount of fart noises. Despite the enjoyment you can milk from that, just like that pissed mate of yours, I’m not sure you’ll be able to look him in the eye in the morning.

3/5

Chamber’s and Nettleton feel like the female equivalent of Bert and Ernie. It is easy to imagine them sharing the same bed at night or playing with rubber duckies in a bubbly bath together. They have a cosy familiarity that you are instantly drawn into. They’re humour is light and fluffy that warms you inside like a piping hot cuppa soup fresh from the kettle. Even when they approach the subject of sex it seems completely benign (it’s seems easier to imagine them shopping for sweeties than doing anything squelchy).

But don’t let the lightness of their comedy put you off because it is such a delight to listen to a pair of comedians who aren’t ranting futilely about politics, steamrollering over taboos or being generally foul. If there is one shocking revelation that is sure to lure you to this act it is this: there is not a single period joke in sight. Now isn’t that refreshing?

3/5

The contrasting blend of humour and tension is ambitious one but is handled deftly: the characters desperate attempts to find humour in such a dire situation only heightens the oppressive atmosphere.

Their laughs are nervous and are becoming progressively more high strung. It torments them to listen to each other talk but the silence seems more terrifying. So they talk. They talk about their lives back home, the reasons they joined the air force, their jobs before the war. Each question reveals a new division within the group, a new prejudice that would be trivial if the were not contained within the suffocating basement.

Although the performances are proficient and the script is glows with a convincing resonance of the period the production is too short to build the action up to an adequate fever pitch as just when the simmering animosity is potentially about to erupt into violence the production abruptly closes with a bewildering paranormal ending.

But all hope is not lost for this interesting piece, playwright Ciaran McConville says “There is no doubt that the play will develop organically during it’s run.” So perhaps with a little tinkering this will play will develop from something adequate to something outstanding.

3/5

David Kellar’s one man performances manage to simultaneously conjure a vivid mental and geographic landscape. Seething poetry through clenched teeth, he laments the altering countryside under siege by industrial development, the silent terror of foot and mouth and the insulting bureaucratic nature of modern farming, where a field lying in fallow can be more profitable than one sewn and harvested.

But it is Mary that troubles him most, her face is imprinted on every person he meets and warps the landscape he treks across with blistered feet that climaxes in a burning pyre of animal waste. Ultimately David Kellar’s performance poignantly crafts a forlorn ode to a lost love and a lost land.

4/5

Jerry does not merely interact with the audience but swoops down to ruthlessly assassinate: picking out the most ripe candidate with hawk-like vigilance, he then proceeds to cut them to ribbons for your entertainment. This may seem unappealing to the more timid amongst us, because everyone is a potential victim, but it is this perverse ambulance chasing feeling that makes Jerry so compelling. Simply being in the audience is an adrenaline pumping risk, the fear makes you laugh harder and louder, because you don’t know when he’s going to stop torturing that poor schmo and then turn on you. However, Jerry’s guerrilla comedy might be a little too much if it weren’t for the childish glee he exudes while administering his punishment. Just remind yourself it’s only an hour long and Jerry’s slaggings are possibly more cathartic than the most expensive therapists (we”ve all got inadequacies but at least our noses aren’t as big as Jerry’s).
So go along to Jerry Sadowitz, laugh at other peoples’ short comings and get in line for your own public execution.

5/5

Pleasingly, this adaptation has effectively condensed Pratchett’s characteristically sprawling narrative into a lithe character driven piece while, rather wisely, maintaining the wonderful and idiosyncratic mechanisations of the Discworld universe in the background.

Wyrd Sisters effectively lampoons, amongst other staples of popular culture, Macbeth but looking upon the tragedy of the murderous king from the alternative perspective of the three witches. The eclectic cast all have impeccable comic timing and have the ability to pull off anything from farcical tickles to wounding satirical stabs.

The only downside of this joyous romp is you can’t but crave to see Pratchett’s vision on a much grander scale. Even though the performances evoke the Discworld environment effectively, it would be brilliant to see this unlikely universe on a much larger canvas.

3/5

Tokyo Triangle in Tantra Vision explores the philosophy of tantric sex through a courtship between the performers and the audience. At first they flirt, then slowly become more intimate with the audience, before ecstatically climaxing in a furiously kinetic cohesion of music and motion.

The subject matter might feel esoteric to some, but the sheer vitality of the performances should wash over the reservations some might have for this accomplished piece.

4/5

In this tale, university dropout Sherlock Holmes travels to Edinburgh to pay a visit to his friend John Watson. Like all trips to the capital, it doesn’t go to plan and they get caught up in a murder that seems insidiously simple in its resolution. The chivalrous trio of Holmes, Watson , and with a permissible blurring of fact and fiction, Conan Doyle go on a guest to put the wrongs to right.

The game is, guite literally, afoot, as this is a promenading play, following the dashing trio along the Water of Leith and through the narrow twisting streets of Dean Village. Along the way we pay witness to the humble Holmes’ great mind at work and the adolescent bickering of Watson and Doyle as they attempt to solve the crime.

The conclusion is hardly important to this production. The solution seems as inevitable to the audience as it is to the calculating Holmes, but it is the casual stroll through a part of Edinburgh that festival goers rarely see that provides the greatest spectacle in the performance.

Ultimately, Murder in Edinburgh is a successful blend of exercise and entertainment that mysteriously ended in a strategic downpour – perhaps there is more mystery to be had in Edinburgh?

4/5