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★★★★★ There is something quietly arresting about walking into a Fringe venue first thing in the morning and finding a single storyteller ready to guide you through one of the most scrutinised moments in modern history. Martin Fitzgerald stands alone onstage, but the world he unfolds is crowded with faces, fragments, and fleeting moments that have shaped how we remember the assassination of John F. Kennedy.
Rather than beginning with the spectacle of Main Street — the crowds, the noise, the pageantry — Fitzgerald leads us instead to the quieter corner of Dealey Plaza. It is here, among a small cluster of bystanders, that the stories he tells take root. His interest is not in the grand narrative of the assassination, but in the ordinary people who found themselves caught in its periphery and spent the rest of their lives unable to step out of its shadow.
He introduces us to the man with the umbrella, the woman with the Polaroid camera, the dressmaker who filmed the motorcade despite battling vertigo. Each figure is presented not as a puzzle to solve, but as a human being whose presence at that moment became part of the cultural imagination. Fitzgerald’s storytelling is brisk, clear, and deeply humane. He moves from one character to the next with a lightness that keeps the audience engaged while never trivialising the weight of the event.
There is humour woven throughout — gentle, observational, and perfectly timed. Fitzgerald understands that conspiracy theories can be both absurd and revealing, and he allows the audience to enjoy the strangeness without ever losing sight of the people at the centre of these myths. His tone is warm and restrained, inviting curiosity rather than feeding speculation.
What makes the production compelling is the balance he strikes between true‑crime intrigue and emotional insight. He explores how these bystanders shaped public understanding of the assassination, but also how the moment shaped them. Some became symbols, others vanished into anonymity, and all were changed by the brief seconds in which history swept past them.
The staging is simple, allowing the storytelling to take precedence. Visuals punctuate the narrative, offering glimpses of the individuals whose lives intersected with the event. Fitzgerald’s delivery is calm and assured, drawing the audience into the quiet corners of Dealey Plaza and the lives that unfolded there.
This adaptation of his recent book carries the same clarity and depth that critics have praised. It is smart, thoughtful, and unexpectedly moving — a reminder that history is often shaped not by those at the centre of the frame, but by those standing just outside it. Fitzgerald’s ability to illuminate the humanity behind the mythology makes this a standout piece of spoken‑word theatre at this year’s Fringe.
A quietly powerful, beautifully crafted production that lingers long after the final image fades.
Reviewed by Jacqueline Sharp
