Press for BOUFFON SCRATCHINGS - June 2016, Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh
Review from Edinburgh Guide - http://www.edinburghguide.com/reviews/theatre/bouffonscratchingsassemblyroxyreview-16921
✮✮✮✮ - 4 Stars
Charmingly grotesque and excitingly strange, Bouffon Scratchingsis an evening like no other.
Sitting in the dim light of the atmospheric Assembly Roxy, the first hint that this evening will be unusual is the appearance of three creeping Bouffons. Weaving in and out of the candle-lit circular tables, they get right in the face – and on the laps – of audience members, who smilingly accept the invasion of these comically-distorted, other-worldly creatures.
For those who haven’t come across the like before, a ‘Bouffon’ originally referred to something like a jester. Re-coined by Lecoq in the 60’s, their main focus is the art of mockery, satire, parody. Never, it seems, have we been more in need of this wicked weapon of laughter. And watching it wielded, without prejudice, against the blissful ignorance, shameless hypocrisy and absurd ambitions of our ‘great and good’ society, it has never felt so good just to laugh out loud.
The three non-verbal Bouffons, face-to-toe in monochrome and with enough padding down the back of their trousers to make Kardashian’s bum look cutesy, provide entertaining intermissions and occasional enhancements to some ferocious vignettes. Each looks anew at the nothing-new and throws an odd angle over all of us and all of it.
There’s one that makes a clever connection between tax-avoidance and games of hide and seek; another shows two artists emoting over the sorry condition of a homeless person, whom they transform into a work of art while epically failing to engage with their humanity. Finally, we hear the viewpoint of the roots of all evil in the parable of the money tree, shaken poor thing to within an inch of its life. In and around such thoughtful visions there’s a general sending up of all that is banal and mediocre and an ironic celebration of sentimentality and kitsch.
This uncompromising production is a collaboration between Plutôt La Vie, CloWnStePPinG and Fringe-First winner Melanie Jordan. And this magnificent mother-ship has unleashed these Bouffon, alien invaders of your comfort zone to provide theatre that is entertaining and disconcerting in equal measure. More please.
Justine Blundell
✮✮✮✮ - 4 Stars
Charmingly grotesque and excitingly strange, Bouffon Scratchingsis an evening like no other.
Sitting in the dim light of the atmospheric Assembly Roxy, the first hint that this evening will be unusual is the appearance of three creeping Bouffons. Weaving in and out of the candle-lit circular tables, they get right in the face – and on the laps – of audience members, who smilingly accept the invasion of these comically-distorted, other-worldly creatures.
For those who haven’t come across the like before, a ‘Bouffon’ originally referred to something like a jester. Re-coined by Lecoq in the 60’s, their main focus is the art of mockery, satire, parody. Never, it seems, have we been more in need of this wicked weapon of laughter. And watching it wielded, without prejudice, against the blissful ignorance, shameless hypocrisy and absurd ambitions of our ‘great and good’ society, it has never felt so good just to laugh out loud.
The three non-verbal Bouffons, face-to-toe in monochrome and with enough padding down the back of their trousers to make Kardashian’s bum look cutesy, provide entertaining intermissions and occasional enhancements to some ferocious vignettes. Each looks anew at the nothing-new and throws an odd angle over all of us and all of it.
There’s one that makes a clever connection between tax-avoidance and games of hide and seek; another shows two artists emoting over the sorry condition of a homeless person, whom they transform into a work of art while epically failing to engage with their humanity. Finally, we hear the viewpoint of the roots of all evil in the parable of the money tree, shaken poor thing to within an inch of its life. In and around such thoughtful visions there’s a general sending up of all that is banal and mediocre and an ironic celebration of sentimentality and kitsch.
This uncompromising production is a collaboration between Plutôt La Vie, CloWnStePPinG and Fringe-First winner Melanie Jordan. And this magnificent mother-ship has unleashed these Bouffon, alien invaders of your comfort zone to provide theatre that is entertaining and disconcerting in equal measure. More please.
Justine Blundell
Review from The Tempo House - https://thetempohouse.wordpress.com/2016/06/28/itching-at-some-bouffon-scratchings/
Oh, you naughty little bouffons, bringing a collective nervous chuckle to a gorgeous cabaret setting in Edinburgh. Eyes flashing, they display hilarity, ritual humiliation, shame and anxiety. Like a distorted freak show mirror, they reflect back our shadow selves.Gluttons for punishment, the audience devour it like oysters.
These lascivious and impish bouffon waitresses (Beth Frieden, Jemma Blythe and Charlotte Hastings) have got back- giggling, preening and poking at a prone body on the ground, their remit is to be as socially unfiltered as children, even when the glittering hostess Lucy Amsden sashays on to talk hors d’oeuvres and oozing truffles. It all explodes, naturally enough, with custard… “CUSTARD!CUSTARD!”Nigella would blush.
Andrew Simpson’s a fish out of water, eschewing the hook for- what? Something more tangible, as he shimmies off to an uncertain future. Ronan McMahon is twinklingly self-assured: a louche, Anti-Geldof, he knows where his compadres in corporate banking have hidden the money- and he’s not telling; much less sharing.
Ruxy Cantir and Sita Pieraccini’s grotesque clowns move crab-like as one scabrous unit, the very epitome of entitlement. “#- too soon?” they cackle, referencing the post-Brexit fallout.Homeless people are just so disgusting, no? They prod at this with Prada blinkers on, a deathless duo of snobbery and lunacy, crooning Shine On Homeless Moon .
Shaking The Money Tree isn’t always advisable- you may find it has feelings too. Calum MacAskill’s tree gives birth to a symbol of hope- until (spoiler alert!!!) it gets yoinked away by the hook.
We are all responsible, this dysfunctional bunch say, as they croon a hellish chorus of I Dreamed A Dream, which is enough to erase Su Bo forever. And the theme has never been more pertinent, the stuff of modern nightmare and self-fulfilling prophecy. Financial instability and an uncertain future- well, it couldn’t happen here. Not while we’re singing. Just keep singing.
Lorna Irvine
Oh, you naughty little bouffons, bringing a collective nervous chuckle to a gorgeous cabaret setting in Edinburgh. Eyes flashing, they display hilarity, ritual humiliation, shame and anxiety. Like a distorted freak show mirror, they reflect back our shadow selves.Gluttons for punishment, the audience devour it like oysters.
These lascivious and impish bouffon waitresses (Beth Frieden, Jemma Blythe and Charlotte Hastings) have got back- giggling, preening and poking at a prone body on the ground, their remit is to be as socially unfiltered as children, even when the glittering hostess Lucy Amsden sashays on to talk hors d’oeuvres and oozing truffles. It all explodes, naturally enough, with custard… “CUSTARD!CUSTARD!”Nigella would blush.
Andrew Simpson’s a fish out of water, eschewing the hook for- what? Something more tangible, as he shimmies off to an uncertain future. Ronan McMahon is twinklingly self-assured: a louche, Anti-Geldof, he knows where his compadres in corporate banking have hidden the money- and he’s not telling; much less sharing.
Ruxy Cantir and Sita Pieraccini’s grotesque clowns move crab-like as one scabrous unit, the very epitome of entitlement. “#- too soon?” they cackle, referencing the post-Brexit fallout.Homeless people are just so disgusting, no? They prod at this with Prada blinkers on, a deathless duo of snobbery and lunacy, crooning Shine On Homeless Moon .
Shaking The Money Tree isn’t always advisable- you may find it has feelings too. Calum MacAskill’s tree gives birth to a symbol of hope- until (spoiler alert!!!) it gets yoinked away by the hook.
We are all responsible, this dysfunctional bunch say, as they croon a hellish chorus of I Dreamed A Dream, which is enough to erase Su Bo forever. And the theme has never been more pertinent, the stuff of modern nightmare and self-fulfilling prophecy. Financial instability and an uncertain future- well, it couldn’t happen here. Not while we’re singing. Just keep singing.
Lorna Irvine