Archive for Biographical

Room 1219: A Precise, Powerful Reclamation of Roscoe Arbuckle’s Story

August 19, 2026 at 9:06 am · Filed under Biographical, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Solo, Theatre ·Tagged , , , , , , ,

Click on imagre to buy ticket

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Room 1219 is a sharply observed and emotionally intelligent reconstruction of the scandal that destroyed Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s career. Rather than indulging in lurid retellings, the production interrogates the mechanics of reputation, hysteria, and the brutal speed with which a cultural giant can be erased. It is anchored by a performance of striking versatility from Douglas Arbuckle, and with a clarity that understands exactly why Room 1219 and the scandal around it  still matter.

At the centre of the production is Douglas Arbuckle, delivering a performance of striking versatility and clarity of purpose.

Douglas Arbuckle’s portrayal of Roscoe is grounded in range—physical, vocal, emotional. He captures the vaudeville-honed adaptability that defined Roscoe’s early career: the ability to shift from slapstick to sentiment, from broad comedy to quiet vulnerability. This versatility becomes the show’s emotional engine.
Douglas refuses to play Roscoe as a tragic figure from the outset; instead, he presents a man who has earned his success through relentless observation and craft. Poverty forced Roscoe to learn from every performer he encountered—dancers, singers, acrobats—and Douglas mirrors that hunger with precision.
One of the most affecting moments in the production is Douglas Arbuckle’s performance of By the Light of the Silvery Moon. First published in 1909, with music by Gus Edwards and lyrics by Edward Madden, the song became a staple of early American popular entertainment and was widely performed in vaudeville and later in film. Here, it is delivered with a wistful, almost fragile quality that gently humanises Roscoe. The number feels like a quiet farewell — a suggestion of something ending, a life and career on the brink of being swept away. Its inclusion is a clever choice: a familiar, sentimental tune repurposed to illuminate the emotional cost of the scandal and the man caught inside it.

The Scandal: What Happened in Room 1219

The production handles the scandal with a level of historical seriousness rarely seen in portrayals of Arbuckle. It does not sensationalise the events of Labour Day weekend, 1921, when Arbuckle checked into the St. Francis Hotel in San Francisco.
Room 1219 was the site of a party attended by several guests, including actress Virginia Rappe, who later fell ill and died of peritonitis. Arbuckle was accused of raping her, and the press—already primed for moral outrage—turned the case into the first major Hollywood scandal.
The show makes several crucial points:
• The prosecution’s case was built on speculation, not evidence.
• Medical testimony indicated no signs of sexual assault.
• Witness accounts were contradictory and often motivated by publicity or financial gain.
• Arbuckle endured three trials, the final ending in a full acquittal accompanied by a written apology from the jury.

Douglas Arbuckle as Roscoe.

Yet the acquittal did not save him. The film industry, terrified of public backlash, effectively blacklisted him. The show emphasises this with quiet, devastating clarity: Arbuckle was legally innocent but culturally condemned.

hed‑out, publication‑ready expansion of your thematic section — no markup, no references, and shaped to draw clear parallels with the world of 2026. You can paste this directly into your review.

The title Room 1219 is not merely a reference to the location of the alleged crime. It becomes a symbol of the exact moment a career collapsed, the birth of Hollywood scandal culture, and the room where truth, rumour, and hysteria fused into a narrative that could not be undone. In the production, that room becomes a kind of cultural pressure chamber — a place where a man’s life is rewritten in real time by forces far larger than himself.

The themes the show explores feel uncannily contemporary. Versatility becomes more than a performer’s skill; it mirrors the way people today must constantly adapt to shifting public expectations, online scrutiny, and the demand to present a curated version of themselves. Reputation, once shaped slowly over years, can now be destroyed in hours. Memory — what culture chooses to preserve or erase — is no longer a historical process but a daily one, driven by algorithms, trending topics, and the speed of collective judgement. Scandal, in Arbuckle’s era, was born in newspapers and gossip columns; today it erupts across social platforms, mutates instantly, and hardens into “truth” before facts have even surfaced. And performance itself has expanded beyond the stage: everyone performs now, consciously or not, in public life, online life, and the strange hybrid space between the two.

By tracing Arbuckle’s downfall, Room 1219 quietly asks the audience to consider how little has changed. A century later, we still watch reputations rise and fall with dizzying speed. We still confuse rumour with evidence. We still participate — willingly or not — in the creation of narratives that can define or destroy a person. The production uses Arbuckle’s story not as a relic of old Hollywood, but as a mirror held up to our own world, where the mechanisms of scandal have only grown faster, louder, and more unforgiving.

Room 1219 is a moving, resonant piece of theatre that restores Roscoe Arbuckle to the complexity he deserves. It reframes a man flattened by history and hysteria, and it does so with intelligence, compassion, and artistic precision.
Reviewed by Pat Harrington



























				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Musical Soulmates Captures the Pain and Beauty of Billie Holiday & Lester Young


	

	August 18, 2026 at 7:46 am	· Filed under Biographical, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Jazz	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , 		


	

			




Click on image to buy tickets


⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Some Fringe shows just entertain, and then there are shows that educate while they entertain, pulling you into a world you thought you already understood.  Musical Soulmates: Songs of Billie Holiday and Lester Young sits firmly in the latter category. It’s not simply a tribute to Billie Holiday and Lester Young; it’s a guided excavation of their lives, their music, and the brutal social machinery that shaped both. 


Christine Adams anchors the evening with soul‑stirring vocals—rich, grainy, emotionally alert. She wisely avoids imitation. There’s no attempt to mimic Holiday’s timbre or phrasing; instead, she leans into tonal homage, letting the ache behind the songs rise naturally. Adams understands Holiday’s sly humour, her armour of wit, her habit of letting pain sit quietly in the corner until it couldn’t be ignored. Songs like God Bless the Child aren’t just performed—they’re contextualised, illuminated, allowed to breathe.


One of the pleasures of the evening was the mix of familiar and unfamiliar material. There were plenty of songs I hadn’t heard before but liked immediately — including A Sailboat in the Moonlight, a gently romantic 1937 number Holiday made her own. It drifts along on the fantasy of two people escaping their troubles by imagining themselves gliding across moonlit water, a kind of soft-focus daydream set to music. And then there were the more familiar pieces, like These Foolish Things, which landed with a different kind of emotional weight. My mother played a lot of jazz when I was growing up, so those melodies carried me straight back to childhood — an unexpected trip down memory lane that added another layer to an already rich show.


Dick Lee’s saxophone and clarinet provide the show’s emotional counterweight. Ebullient, warm, and conversational, his playing feels like a dialogue with Adams rather than accompaniment. Holiday and Young’s musical compatibility famously verged on telepathy; Lee and Adams recreate that sense of intuitive exchange. Lee’s lines curl around Adams’ phrasing, sometimes shadowing it, sometimes nudging it forward, sometimes breaking away entirely to offer a commentary of their own. It’s a partnership built on trust, and it shows.


Phil Adams on guitar and Jerry Forde on bass complete the quartet with understated finesse. Adams’ guitar work is clean and spacious, never crowding the vocals, while Forde’s bass provides the steady heartbeat the show depends on. Together, they create arrangements that are respectful without being museum pieces—alive, responsive, and shaped by the room.


The narration threads through the performance with conversational ease. One moment, we’re hearing about Holiday and Young’s early camaraderie—his nickname  for her “Lady Day,” her “Pres” for him —and the next, we’re plunged into the silence of their three‑year estrangement. The show doesn’t sensationalise the rupture. Instead, it treats it as part of the larger tapestry of two artists navigating fame, addiction, racism, and the relentless grind of touring in segregated America.


And that’s where the Jim Crow material lands with force. The narrator doesn’t lecture; they illuminate. Jim Crow wasn’t an abstract policy—it was a daily logistical nightmare for Black musicians. Holiday and Young were barred from hotels, forced into back entrances, denied basic dignity. When Adams sings after these explanations, the songs carry a different weight. You feel the context pressing in.


The legal troubles are handled with similar nuance. Holiday’s arrests—mainly tied to drugs, always weaponised against her—are framed not as moral failings but as symptoms of trauma and exploitation. Young’s imprisonment, via military court‑martial for marijuana and alcohol possession, becomes another example of how Black artists were punished more harshly than their white counterparts. 


Structurally, the production moves with confident rhythm. Short stretches of storytelling give way to bursts of song. A quiet anecdote is followed by a musical punch. Paragraphs of history dissolve into a single held note. 


By the end, what stays with you  isn’t just the music, or the biography, or the historical detail. It’s the sense of two artists—Holiday and Young—trying to carve out space for themselves in a world determined to shrink them. The show honours that struggle without romanticising it.  It’s a reminder that the past isn’t past. It’s still singing.


Musical Soulmates is a production that deserves to be seen—not because it’s nostalgic, but because it’s honest. It celebrates two friends whose musical and spiritual compatibility bordered on the miraculous, and it does so with intelligence, warmth, and emotional clarity. Adams, Lee, Adams, and Forde deliver a show that feels both intimate and expansive, rooted in history yet alive in the present.


Reviewed by Pat Harrington


Click here to buy tickets





				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Solo Show Illuminates the Defiant Life of Princess Cecilia Vasa


	

	August 17, 2026 at 5:53 pm	· Filed under Biographical, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, History, Solo, Theatre	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , 		


	

			




Click on image to buy tickets












⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Daughter of Sweden is a confident, well‑researched and quietly powerful one‑woman show, carried by Cecilia Säverman’s command of the stage and a script that brings Princess Cecilia Vasa’s turbulent life into sharp, human focus.












Säverman handles the inherent exposure of a solo show with real assurance. A one‑person piece leaves nowhere to hide: pacing, tone, audience connection, emotional shifts — all of it rests on a single performer. She keeps the room engaged throughout, maintaining momentum without rushing, and giving the historical material space to hit home. Her delivery has clarity and warmth, and she knows exactly when to lean into humour, indignation or quiet sadness.




The script does an excellent job of making Princess Cecilia Vasa accessible to a modern audience. Born in 1540 and living until 1627, Cecilia’s life is unusually long for her era — and unusually dramatic. The show foregrounds the moment that defined her public reputation: in 1559, at just nineteen, she was discovered with a lover, triggering a scandal that followed her for decades. Säverman presents this not as a footnote but as the hinge on which Cecilia’s life turned — a moment where personal desire collided with dynastic expectation.




The production also touches on Cecilia’s later reputation for dabbling in privateering. A privateer was essentially a state‑licensed pirate: someone authorised by a crown to raid enemy ships. The show uses this to underline Cecilia’s refusal to fit the mould of a compliant royal woman. She was not content to sit quietly in the background; she wanted agency, leverage, and independence — even if it meant stepping into morally grey waters.




The strongest thread running through the piece is the tension between what society demanded of women and what Cecilia actually was. Säverman plays her as capable, intelligent, stubborn and unwilling to be shaped into something smaller. The show doesn’t shy away from the sadness in her story either:




• Most of her children died before she did.


• One survived her only by a few months.


• Others were taken from her by in‑laws, including a daughter she was prevented from seeing for years.




These details give the piece emotional depth. Cecilia’s resilience becomes more than a historical footnote — it becomes the emotional spine of the show.




The writing is informative without ever feeling like a lecture. It’s educational in the best Fringe sense: you leave knowing more than you arrived with, but you never feel you’ve been talked at. The blend of biography, political context, and personal tragedy is well judged.




Daughter of Sweden is a thoughtful, engaging and well‑performed historical monologue. Säverman carries the responsibility of a solo show with confidence, and the script offers a compelling portrait of a woman who refused to be defined by scandal or by the narrow expectations of her time. It’s a rewarding hour — both enlightening and quietly moving.




Reviewed by Pat Harrington




Read our interview here




Click here to buy tickets





				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Madonna’s Many Layers Shine in a Layered, High‑Energy Fringe Triumph


	

	August 17, 2026 at 6:05 am	· Filed under Biographical, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Music, Night Owl	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , 		


	

			












Click on image to buy tickets


★★★★★ A decade on from their first Fringe triumph, Night Owl Shows unveil Material Girl: Madonna The Icon — a world‑premiere production tracing Madonna’s evolution from breakout star to boundary‑pushing legend, led by “Voice of the Fringe 2025” winner Maia Elsey and the award‑winning Night Owl band.

















































The show opens with a burst of high‑energy dance music — the Madonna most people think of first — but it quickly becomes clear that the creative team are interested in more than sequins and nostalgia. One of the most striking moments comes early on, when a quote appears on the screen behind the performers: Madonna rejecting the idea that she “reinvents” herself, insisting instead that she simply reveals different layers of who she already is. It’s a line that lands harder than you expect. It reframes not only her career, but the whole idea of artistic evolution. We often say Bowie reinvented himself, but perhaps he too was peeling back layers rather than constructing personas. That thought stayed with me throughout the show.






A performance rooted in interpretation, not imitation.


What impressed me most was the attention given to Madonna’s early life — her childhood, her dance training, the discipline that shaped her long before the fame arrived. I knew some of it, but not all, and the show makes a point of grounding her later flamboyance in those formative years. It’s a smart choice: it gives the spectacle a spine.






The musical selections are mostly the high‑octane numbers you’d expect, delivered with real verve by Maia Elsey — a strong singer, a confident dancer, and an all‑rounder who knows how to work a room. But the show’s emotional peaks come from the quieter moments. Frozen from the Ray of Light album is handled with care, and the shift in tone is welcome. And then there’s Don’t Cry for Me Argentina. As someone who’s long been fascinated by Evita — both the musical and the political history behind Eva Perón — I found this section genuinely affecting. I remember wondering, back when the film came out, whether Madonna could carry the role. She did, and the show acknowledges that turning point with the weight it deserves.






One omission surprised me: Desperately Seeking Susan (1985). For many people, myself included, that film was the moment Madonna first registered as a cultural force outside of music. Desperately Seeking Susan wasn’t just a quirky mid‑80s caper; it was the moment Madonna’s off‑stage persona crystallised into something mythic. The film caught her at the exact point where fashion, attitude, and pop culture collided, and leaving it out slightly blunts the story of how she became a generational touchstone. That absence aside, the production’s musical backbone deserves its own moment in the spotlight.The musicians deserve their own praise. One of the guitarists delivers variations on Madonna themes that are genuinely inventive — miniature interpretations in their own right. The audience responded to him with the same enthusiasm they gave the main performer, Maia Elsey, which tells you everything.








Elsey drives the show with crisp energy and control.


And speaking of the audience: this was one of those Fringe shows where people don’t wait for permission. They were up dancing, clapping, singing along. The atmosphere was warm, communal, and frankly joyous. It’s a feel‑good show in the best sense — not shallow, not saccharine, but celebratory.






Material Girl – The Madonna Story succeeds because it recognises that Madonna’s career isn’t just a string of hits; it’s a story of layers. The show captures those layers — the dancer, the provocateur, the actress, the spiritual seeker, the pop architect — and does so with energy, affection, and a surprising amount of insight for a one‑hour production.




A vibrant, generous interpretation of Madonna’s life and music. And a reminder of just how many lives Madonna has lived without ever ceasing to be herself.




Reviewed by Pat Harrington











Advert























				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Carnegie: A Powerful, Human Portrait of Scotland’s Most Famous Philanthropist


	

	August 15, 2026 at 7:52 am	· Filed under Biographical, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, History, Theatre	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , 		


	

			










Click on image to buy tickets


⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Carnegie is a two‑hour production (with a twenty‑minute break in the middle), and it uses that time to walk us through the extraordinary life of Andrew Carnegie, the Dunfermline boy who rose from a one‑room weaver’s cottage to become one of the richest men in America, and ultimately one of its greatest philanthropists.








We begin in Dunfermline, where Carnegie’s father worked the looms and the family scraped by as best they could. When hard times hit, they left Scotland behind and sailed for Pennsylvania. Carnegie was only twelve. You feel the weight of that decision — the upheaval, the hope, the fear — and the production lets that moment breathe.


From there, the pace shifts. Carnegie grows into a young man with a sharp mind and a talent for organisation. By twenty‑three he’s managing the Western Division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, learning how to cut costs, how to lead, how to spot an opportunity. His investments in railroads and oil pay off handsomely; the Columbia Oil Company alone earns him a million dollars in cash dividends. It’s dizzying to hear it laid out so plainly — the speed of his rise, the sheer scale of his ambition.


The script by Ian Hammond Brown is impressively clear, weaving together the industrial story with the personal one. We see Carnegie establish the Edgar Thomson Steel Works in 1872, then expand with partners Henry Clay Frick, George Lauder and Henry Phipps Jr. The Homestead Steel Works is bought, the empire grows, and then comes the part of the story that still stings: the Homestead Strike of 1892. Eight hundred men walking out over wages. One hundred and forty‑three days of conflict. Injuries, deaths, reputations shattered. The production doesn’t shy away from any of it. It shows how the strike tarnished Carnegie’s standing among the workers he expected respect from, and how he blamed Frick for mismanaging the crisis.


And then, beyond the struggle, life moved on. In 1901 Carnegie sells his company to J.P. Morgan for a staggering sum — roughly $492 million, the equivalent of $19 billion today. Carnegie’s personal share was $226 million. It’s almost unimaginable. But what matters, and what the production emphasises, is what he chose to do next: give it away.


This is where the show becomes quietly moving. Carnegie returns to Dunfermline with his mother, now seventy, and she lays the foundation stone for the library he funded. He builds swimming baths. He funds education, science, music, world peace. At the time of his death in 1919, he had pledged nearly $350 million to causes he believed in — the equivalent of $6.9 billion today. More than 2,500 libraries across the USA, New Zealand and Canada owe their existence to him. Even after his death, money continued to flow to charities, pensioners and foundations. His legacy is still felt in Scotland through the Carnegie Trust for the Universities of Scotland and the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust.


All of this is held together by a performance that is, frankly, remarkable. Luis Garrow, playing Carnegie, is impressive. His stage presence is commanding without ever tipping into grandiosity. He sings beautifully, acts with precision and warmth, and carries the weight of Carnegie’s contradictions — ambition, generosity, pride, regret — with a maturity well beyond his years. He is, without question, destined for a very successful career.


This is a production not to be missed. It’s thoughtful, expansive, and deeply human — a standout at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe.


Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp


Buy tickets here


 





				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Stevie Nicks — The Gypsy That I Was: An Intimate Interpretation at Fringe 2026


	

	August 13, 2026 at 11:30 am	· Filed under Biographical, Cabaret, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Music	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , 		


	

			








Click on image to buy ticket


★★★★★ There’s a particular hush that falls over a room when someone steps into a role and refuses to let it be a costume. Stevie Nicks – The Gypsy That I Was does that. Maddi Fraser — the solo performer who carries the hour — doesn’t mimic Stevie Nicks so much as she invites Stevie’s spirit to sit beside her It’s intimate, it’s affectionate, and it’s quietly theatrical.










Maddi performs in role for the whole show. No band to hide behind, no chorus to share the road. Just voice, presence, and a handful of well‑chosen songs that trace the arc of a life lived on stages and in the press. That decision gives the evening a stripped‑back honesty. When she sings, you’re listening to someone who has chosen to live inside a character rather than impersonate a star.


The humour was a highlight. Jokes about exes land with a knowing smile — not vicious, not salacious, just human. They break the glamour in the best way, remind you that the woman behind the myth had messy, funny, ordinary moments. Maddi plays those lines like a friend telling you a story over wine; the audience laughs, relaxes, and leans in.


Vocally, she finds the right balance. There are smoky, breathy moments that nod to Stevie’s trademark tone, and brighter, clearer phrases that let the songs breathe. It’s not a note‑for‑note recreation, and that’s a strength. The performance honours the songs without turning them into museum pieces. They live again, in a smaller room, with a different kind of urgency.


The show’s pacing is gentle. It’s not a greatest‑hits sprint; it’s a series of vignettes stitched together with anecdotes and mood. That suits the material. Stevie’s catalogue is as much about atmosphere as it is about melody, and Maddi leans into that. The result is a relaxed, late‑night vibe — the sort of set you’d hear in a tucked‑away club rather than an arena.


There are moments of real tenderness. When the storytelling softens and the voice follows, you feel the weight of the life being sung about — the loves, the losses, the small triumphs. Those are the parts that linger. They’re the reason tribute shows matter when they’re done well: they remind you why the songs mattered in the first place.


The vibe in the room is the show’s secret weapon. People came in ready to be entertained and left feeling they’d been confided in. That’s rarer than you’d think at the Fringe, where spectacle often drowns intimacy. Here, intimacy wins.


Reviewed by Pat Harrington


Click here to buy tickets



				


	

	
	Comments (2)	





		
			



	
From Child Star to Cleopatra: Elizabeth Taylor’s Story Begins at the Fringe


	

	August 11, 2026 at 5:22 am	· Filed under Biographical, Drama, Theatre	 ·Tagged , , , , , , 		


	

			
Click on image to buy tickets


★★★★★ Elizabeth Taylor remains one of Hollywood’s most enduring figures — a star whose life was as dramatic as the films she made. Call Me Elizabeth: From Lassie to Cleopatra leans into that legacy from the first moment, offering an intimate portrait rather thanth a glossy biographical sweep. This production is Part One of the Call Me Elizabeth series, tracing Taylor’s journey from her early screen roles through to Cleopatra. The story continues separately in Part Two — Call Me Elizabeth: From Burton to Humanitarian — which follows her later life, her relationship with Richard Burton, and her evolution into a global humanitarian figure.


Presented by Guy Masterson, an Olivier Award winner and long‑time Fringe presence, and directed by Michael Weber, the production brings Taylor’s private world into sharp, confessional focus.


Masterson’s involvement adds a particular charge: as the nephew of Richard Burton, he carries a direct connection to one of the most famous romances in film history. The show acknowledges Burton’s stature early on, grounding the narrative in the emotional and artistic gravity he brought to Taylor’s life. It’s a subtle but effective framing choice.


At the centre of the production is Kayla Boyce, delivering a solo performance that moves fluidly between glamour, vulnerability and exhaustion. Boyce guides the audience through Taylor’s relationships, marriages and the relentless scrutiny that came with fame. She captures the emotional weight of living under constant public attention — the failed marriages, the pressure to accept roles out of obligation, and the creeping desire to step away from the spotlight entirely.


What makes Boyce’s performance compelling is the specificity: a shift in tone when discussing Burton, a brittle laugh when recalling studio demands, a quiet pause when admitting she longed for a life that wasn’t defined by cameras and contracts. These moments give the show its emotional spine.


Weber’s direction keeps the staging close and uncluttered, creating a living‑room intimacy that suits the material. It feels as though Taylor has invited the audience into her private space — not for spectacle, but for honesty. The script is tight and purposeful, allowing Boyce to inhabit Taylor without slipping into impersonation or caricature. The pacing is measured, giving the emotional beats room to breathe.


This is a thoughtful, engaging portrait of a woman who lived her life in the brightest of spotlights and paid the price for it. Boyce is convincing throughout, and the production’s intimacy is its greatest strength.


A standout of this year’s programme.


Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp


Click here to buy tickets

				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Call Me Elizabeth: A Fierce, Intimate Portrait of Taylor’s Turbulence and Activism


	

	August 10, 2026 at 9:07 am	· Filed under Biographical, Drama, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Edinburgh International Festival	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , 		


	

			
Click on image to buy tickets


★★★★★ Following on from Call Me Elizabeth: From Lassie to Cleopatra, this second instalment —  Call Me Elizabeth: from Burton to Humanitarian — explores Elizabeth Taylor’s later life, her turbulent relationship with Richard Burton, and her emergence as a committed humanitarian and AIDS activist.


Guy Masterson — an Olivier Award winner and one of the Fringe’s most enduring creative forces — presents this intimate solo production, directed by Michael Weber. His involvement adds a particular charge: Masterson is Richard Burton’s nephew, and the show quietly acknowledges Burton not just as a tabloid titan but as one of the great actors of his generation. That lineage gives the production an extra layer of authenticity before the performance even begins.


At the centre of the piece is Kayla Boye, stepping into the role of Elizabeth Taylor with a blend of glamour, vulnerability and sharp emotional intelligence. Boye doesn’t rely on impersonation; instead, she channels Taylor’s inner life, offering the audience a sense of being spoken to directly rather than watching a distant icon reconstructed. The result is a portrayal that feels lived‑in rather than imitated.


The production moves through the turbulence and tenderness of Taylor’s relationship with Burton — the passion, the volatility, the public scrutiny that both bound them together and pulled them apart. Boye touches on Taylor’s well‑known appetite for romance, her succession of marriages, her fascination with leading men, and her legendary collection of jewels. These elements are familiar, but the script treats them with a light hand, allowing the audience to see the person behind the myth.


Where the show finds its deepest emotional footing is in Taylor’s humanitarian legacy. Boye reminds us that Taylor was not only a Hollywood icon but a pioneering force in HIV/AIDS activism at a time when few public figures dared to speak. She helped raise more than $100 million for AIDS research, co‑founding amfAR in 1985 and later establishing the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation in 1991. The production handles this aspect with sincerity rather than sentimentality, grounding Taylor’s activism in personal conviction rather than celebrity obligation.


The atmosphere of the show is one of intimate proximity — a “living room experience”. The script has bite, Boye’s performance has conviction, and the direction keeps everything close enough to touch. It’s polished without being distant, affectionate without being soft.


Call Me Elizabeth is a production worth seeking out. It’s personal, revealing, and anchored by a performer who understands both the scale of Elizabeth Taylor’s legend and the humanity beneath it. Boye is convincing, the storytelling is tight, and the hour leaves a lasting impression.


Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp


Click here to buy tickets


 

				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Stella Kulagowski Brings La Goulue Back to Life in a Vivid Fringe Portrait


	

	August 9, 2026 at 12:49 pm	· Filed under Biographical, Dance, Drama, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, LGBT+interest	 ·Tagged , , , , , , , , 		


	

			
Click on image to buy tickets


⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐


Stella Kulagowski’s performance allows the extraordinary life of La Goulue to emerge from behind the familiar images of fin-de-siècle Paris. We all think we know the Moulin Rouge: the skirts, the high kicks, the posters, the absinthe-soaked mythology of Montmartre. Stella goes looking for the woman inside that mythology.


La Goulue was actually Louise Weber, born in 1866 and destined to become perhaps the most famous cancan dancer of her age. Her nickname — roughly, “The Glutton” — apparently came from her habit of finishing off customers’ drinks as she moved around the cabarets. By the early 1890s she was one of the great attractions of the Moulin Rouge, dancing with Valentin le Désossé and developing a reputation not merely for physical exuberance but for a wonderfully irreverent attitude towards respectability.


Stella makes good use of the art of the period to draw us into that world. Most important is Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, for whom La Goulue became an unforgettable subject. His great 1891 poster Moulin Rouge: La Goulue, with Valentin looming in the foreground and La Goulue caught in movement behind him, did more than advertise a nightclub act. It helped make Lautrec famous while turning La Goulue herself into an image recognised across Paris.


That relationship between performer and artist gives the show another dimension. We are watching Stella perform a woman who was herself performing for an audience, while at the same time seeing how artists turned that woman into an image, even a commodity. Celebrity culture is hardly a modern invention. La Goulue understood publicity, provocation and the value of being talked about long before Instagram arrived.


Then there are the stories surrounding the famous men who entered her orbit. One of the best concerns the Prince of Wales, later Edward VII. According to Moulin Rouge legend, La Goulue spotted him in the audience while performing and, rather than showing the deference normally expected towards royalty, called out to him to buy the champagne. Whether every detail has survived the retelling intact almost ceases to matter: the story has endured because it fits the personality so perfectly.


Her connections went further. Accounts of her life link her romantically with the future Edward VII, the Egyptian prince Chérif Amourad Yazi and the Russian Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich. La Goulue moved through a peculiar world in which aristocrats, artists, dancers, bohemians and wealthy pleasure-seekers could all find themselves under the same roof.


La Goulue’s romantic life was far broader than the legends about princes and grand dukes suggest. Away from the cabaret spotlight, she also formed relationships with women — connections that offered her a degree of emotional stability and companionship often missing from the chaotic world of Montmartre. These relationships underline an important truth about Louise Weber: she lived on her own terms, choosing affection and loyalty wherever she found them, long before such choices were socially acceptable. In a life defined by performance, provocation and reinvention, her relationships with women reveal a quieter, more intimate side of a woman determined to claim her freedom in every part of her life.


Stella brings these strands together rather than simply giving us a succession of anecdotes. The projected or reproduced artworks are particularly effective because they remind us that La Goulue survives in two forms: as a real woman with an extraordinary life and as the stylised creature handed down to us by the artists of Montmartre.


That distinction matters. It would have been very easy to turn the whole thing into an exercise in Belle Époque nostalgia — all feathers, stockings and naughty Parisian fun. Instead, there is something more interesting going on. Behind Toulouse-Lautrec’s instantly recognisable figure was a working performer who made herself famous in a world in which women had relatively few routes to independence and notoriety on their own terms.


Stella clearly relishes the theatricality of the material, but she also has an eye for its history. Art, biography and performance overlap until we begin to understand why La Goulue became such a compelling figure. She wasn’t simply someone who happened to dance at the Moulin Rouge. For a time she was the Moulin Rouge: provocative, exuberant, outrageous and impossible to ignore.


The result is a colourful trip into Montmartre, certainly, but also something more substantial — an attempt to reclaim the living, difficult and gloriously unruly woman from the famous pictures that eventually threatened to overshadow her.


Reviewed by Pat Harrington


Click here to buy tickets


Read an interview with Stella here


Advert



				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
			



	
Edinburgh Fringe 2026: The BBC’s First Homosexual


	

	August 9, 2026 at 11:22 am	· Filed under BBC, Biographical, Drama, Edinburgh Fringe 2026, LGBT+interest, Theatre	 ·Tagged , , , , 		


	

			
Click here to buy tickets


⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Set around the time of the arrest of the actor John Gielgud in a public lavatory in London, when he pleaded guilty to a charge of ‘persistently importuning male persons for immoral purposes,’ this play is set around the BBC’s first documentary on what was then seen as the ‘problem’ of homosexuality. At the time, homosexuality was seen as a major social problem, and at best was regarded as an individual’s illness that needed to be cured.


This amusing play juxtaposes the internal politicking to record and broadcast the documentary inside the BBC radio department with the struggle of Tom – a young working-class shop assistant who works at a branch of Burton’s tailors in Manchester.


Tom is only 19 when we first meet him. He’s shocked, angered and frightened by the summary sacking of a good-looking colleague convicted of ‘importuning for immoral purposes.’ He struggles with his well-meaning mum’s attempts to pair him off with a suitable young lady. Fortunately, Cynthia is a good church-going girl who doesn’t believe in sex before marriage. Phew! He managed to disentangle himself from that by professing atheism.


As the internal debate, horse-trading and politicking continues in the BBC over the scope of the documentary and how the producers should frame it, Tom is drawn to Roy, which almost leads to disaster, when Tom’s hand lingers too long while measuring Roy’s inside leg.


In his journey through public toilets, and seedy back bars in Soho, Tom struggles with his fear of being found out, potential blackmailers and finds love for a short period with his ‘darling Jack.’ Eventually he hears the broadcast on the radio and discovers that he is a victim of ‘arrested development.’


This play captures the mood of the times, the outdated attitudes, the so-called experts like Mary Whitehouse who promoted worthless theories


about mothers and sons, press hysteria over gay men and the underground culture of ‘pansies’ and ‘Nancy boys.’


The acting is superb. Jolyon Benson’s understated portrayal of Tom connects well with the audience. Max Logan and Andrew Pollard show amazing versatility in a variety of roles, from stuffy BBC executives to Tom’s girlfriends, using wigs and coats as simple props.


Anyone attending this production will be invited to complete a questionnaire on how much they knew or learned about the issues raised in the play. Your reviewer learned something new. You may learn something too.


Reviewed by David Kerr


Click here to buy tickets

				


	

	
	Leave a Comment	





		
		

			« Newer Posts · Older Posts »