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A wet afternoon in the Pleasance Courtyard made for a damp and largely subdued audience; gently steaming (and not in the right way) and not laughing a great deal, which is a damn shame as what they were watching was original, intelligent and nicely pitched humour.
In 2007 Two Left Hands came away from their debut Edinburgh with a raft of star ratings that adorn this year’s poster. It’s easy to see why. Opening with a recession busting free gift for the audience, they breeze into their first sketch as enthusiastic librarians keen to make libraries cool to Year 10 students.
It’s possibly one of their weakest moments but the sketch that follows sets the bar for the rest of the show – a wonderfully absurdist skit featuring a cut flower sat in a vase on a hospital ward, told by the potted plants at the next bed that she probably only has a week left to live. A running gag of how Pauline Prescott came to win the Nobel peace prize after being coached by Cherie Blair channelling Mr T is equally and gloriously off the wall.
But it’s not all about the oddball. There’s a strong feminist (don’t panic, it’s not a dirty word) streak throughout the work. The imagined historical scenarios featuring great women in history taps into the fact that even in the 21st century a woman’s success in life is still, to a large degree, judged on her status as a wife and mother rather than any her other achievements. After all how many women are still considered odd because they choose to have no children?
So on the occasion of her wedding Charlotte Bronte’s Dad is most chuffed – and relieved - that she has finally bagged a man, and during Florence Nightingale’s funeral service the vicar considers her lasting legacy is that it was a shame she died a spinster. Elsewhere the housewives with cupcake and frilly apron fixations satirise the current trend for the fetishising of the Fifties housewife and penchant for posh stripping otherwise known as burlesque.
Literary references abound too with Macbeth’s witches fronting a Loose Women style magazine programme and Lear’s Owl and the Pussy Cat’s relationship is deconstructed as a mixed race relationship steeped in the political.
Great writing, sharp humour – a left-field hit.
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