With so much international theatre flying round the Fringe, it’s good to also see some homegrown, rootsy performance, and Creative Electric‘s Fragility in an industrial backyard “found” theatre space off Leith Walk is exactly that.
Fragility shows the different faces of modern masculinity as represented by seven young men, aged 17-22. They’re all dressed the same, in monochrome tracksuits, but as an opening catwalk sequence, set to the Dandy Warhols’ Bohemian Like You, reveals, they’re anything but a homogenous group. Straight or gay, cis-gendered or gender-queer, white or mixed-race, they announce their names and the labels they use to define themselves.
It may be wet and cold in this open air venue, but it doesn’t dampen the cast’s spirits. They march around the courtyard and via a repeated mantra – “I am male. I am masculine. I am independent. I am non emotional….” – we learn of the expectations put on males. It overstays its welcome a little, but the point is clear. Then, via a sequence of pieces to the audience explaining their grooming routines ahead of a night out, we learn of the pep talks they give themselves and confidence boosting tricks they have.
There’s a nice reprise of the catwalk sequence when they introduce their drinks of choice. “Innis and Gunn. Edinburgh craft lager for an Edinburgh boy,” says Mark Hannah. James Miller has rosé. “A bottle or two… or three”. Alistair Maxwell has a particularly funny explanation for his choice of Smirnoff Ice: it makes you feel you’re knocking them back like Richard Burton but it doesn’t get you wrecked. He had a bad experience of that when he was on the cider.
A nightclub scene starts off amusingly with some shape-throwing to Beyoncé, members of the audience even get dragged up to join in. Mark Hannah and Lewie Watson, seemingly the alpha males of the group, go at it particularly enthusiastically, Watson even breakdancing in the puddles. The cracks are beginning to appear though. Some of the lads begin to confess to being less cool with the rough and tumble of a big night out than they appear. The vulgarity of some of the language contrasts with their vulnerability.
At this point, we don’t hear as much from all the boys as we’d like to. Ryan Lithgow and Gregor Campbell in particular feel sidelined. The nightclub segment is one occasion when the piece loses focus in the exuberance of the performance.
The show finishes on a moving note, though. Lewie, who has played it cocky and arrogant throughout, reveals he’s nothing of the sort, and gives a very affecting account of the non-consensual way he lost his virginity and how very un-OK he is. In a show of solidarity all the other lads join him, and now, speaking freely in their own voices we get a counterpoint to the very regimented way in which the show opened. Conor McDonald, who has identified as gender queer, has changed from tracksuit to dress and make-up to lead this section. It is very effective.
Forgiven a little raggedness in the middle, and the difficulties of this particular space (it is freezing, and some of the dialogue is lost in traffic noise), this is a passionate presentation of important issues surrounding modern masculinity, put together with a lot of heart and humour by director Heather Marshall and cast. It also raises money for Rape Crisis Scotland, whose support has helped a member of the team.