So first things first: Anatomy (the cabaret) is not about anatomy (the study of the human body). I cannot stress how much this disappointed your medical student reviewer. However, that was about the only thing to leave me disappointed on this night.
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In some ways Clive Anderson feels like part of the furniture in Edinburgh, having been part of Cambridge Footlight revues, solo ventures, and live versions of Whose Line Is It Anyway? amongst other things. To put it in perspective, he has been coming to the festival as a performer since before either of my parents were born.
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The Edinburgh festival is a strange place. I have seen feminist clowning shows about seducing mannequins, cabaret songs sung from the perspective of a sentient pub, dance pieces about ebola. In my five years as a performer, and four as a reviewer, I don’t think I have seen anything confuse an audience more than this show.
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Can poetry change the world? It is a question that has plagued scholars and excitable literature students for the longest time, and never has a true answer been forthcoming. However, after seeing Gray Crosbie’s show Amphibious, you feel like it certainly could be a possibility.
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It is a rare thing for a poet to achieve national treasure status in this day and age, even rarer for one from a primarily performative background. John Cooper Clarke would probably be the first to come to the minds of most, but for me Attila the Stockbroker isn’t very far behind.
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Possibly the best show I saw at last year’s festival was a clowning show performed to about five people in a coffee shop basement. It was so silly, and innovative, and the sheer physical charisma of the performer made the less-than-ideal venue fade away.
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