I do enjoy Edinburgh during festival season. Perhaps that's because I don't live there anymore, but for me it has a buzz and vibrancy that's difficult not to love.
Wandering through the city, senses are bombarded with sparkly clothes, booming voices, dancing bodies, pumping music and a raging sea of flyers that parts as you approach. Everyone is vying for your attention and will do almost anything to get it.
You have to remember, however, as you move through the throngs, that it's not always those who shout loudest who have the most to say; if anything, the opposite is often the case, something that certainly applies to the wonderful Sitting (In Silence) by Kitty Falcon.
A girl sits on a forest floor covered with white leaves. Her attempts at meditation are interrupted by her father, who arrives full of energy and rebellion to disturb her self-imposed contemplation. The pair are soon sharing memories tinged with joy, tenderness, sadness, humour and pathos. As is typical of family life, the emotions here run deep, and the actors show great agility as they step from the light into the shadows and through to the darkness and back again. Along the way, a weave of cleverly drawn hints shows the direction in which we're heading, though it's not until the end that the full picture becomes clear, a mark of the high quality of writing involved.
The play is performed in the beautiful anatomy theatre of an old veterinary college in Summerhall; what better place could there be to witness the subtle dissection of complicated lives and relationships?
For me, Sitting (In Silence) is the perfect antidote to the manic torrents of the fringe. I'm reminded of the way a gentle stream has the strength to cut its way down the hillside. This play carries all the force of water and, as the story unfolds, has the power to erode even the stoniest of hearts.
Highly recommended.
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