Fringe reviews: Courtroom drama

A team of stand-up comics pull off a version of 12 Angry Men at the Assembly Rooms. Plus Def Poetry Jam and Jo Brand's Mental.

By Jenny Green
BBC News Online in Edinburgh

The show is an emotional and honest journey

Some might wonder what a bunch of comics are doing performing a Pulitzer Prize-winning play.

But the standing ovation at the end of the première performance of 12 Angry Men would have left sceptics laughing on the other side of their faces.

Veteran of the stand-up circuit Owen O'Neill took the role Henry Fonda played in the classic film of the same name.

Directed by the acclaimed Guy Masterson, O'Neill scarcely missed a beat as the only jury member to begin Reginald Rose's gritty drama with reasonable doubts about the guilt of a boy charged with his father's murder.

Every character was well-realised and made their own particular prejudice felt.

The dialogue was pacy and the tension palpable as the men reasoned, argued and nearly fought their ways towards a decision in the searing heat of a New York evening.

Comedy musician and Black Books' star Bill Bailey was unrecognisable as the logical lawyer and juror four, who was among the last to concede his guilty verdict.

The stark black and white 1950s set reflected the central idea of justice and white men sitting in judgement on a black boy.

Maybe the set also paid homage to the film - which all the cast claim as their favourite - and the quality of the acting was seriously good enough to do that.

O'Neill had had to reassure the Reginald Rose Estate that just because most of his troop of 12 angry men are comedians by day, they would not be playing their parts in this piece "with fart cushions and red noses".

The only red noses after this performance were among an audience who had been taken on an emotional and honest journey.

12 Angry Men is on at the Assembly Rooms until 25 August.

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Def Jam's slam
By Fiona Wickham
BBC News Online in Edinburgh

If you have not heard of a poetry slam, it is sassy, youthful poetry and story-telling, written for performance and delivered to the rhythms of urban music.

Def Poetry Jam was created for American TV by Russell Simmons, rap godfather and founder of Def Jam records.

After giant success on US TV network HBO, the act caused a shakedown when it transferred to Broadway against all traditions of the American establishment.

Def Jam has gone on to big success since its creation

There is a DJ on stage and the blasts of music are well-chosen but mostly used as snatches between poems, rather than being mixed into the performance.

You might expect a night that is so influenced by hip-hop to be presented by an all African-American team, but the line-up also featured performers with Chinese, Palestinian and Latin backgrounds.

The show gets off to an almighty start with Beyonce's Crazy in Love kicking off eight spirited performers.

Powered by the overflowing energy of the spoken word poets, the volume stayed up to the end.

Def Jam's poets are real artists of sound; singing, rapping, speaking their words and using their voices to make musical percussion, Justin Timberlake-style.

Without a single prop and only doorframes for scenery, this is a show that depends on their ferociously high energy.

Themes are limitless here - from mother's Spanish soul food cooking to how gorgeous black men are.

Cultural pride is the force of each poet's performance, and the fury of some is tingling to watch.

The last word goes to the poets, who capture the spirit of the Jam with "We're not poets 'cos we're chosen/But 'cos we chose this."

Def Poetry Jam is at the Assembly Rooms until 25 August.

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Jo branded insane
By Jenny Green
BBC News Online in Edinburgh

Jo Brand does not so much act as re-enact her past in Mental, the play she is showing at Edinburgh's Fringe.

She has even co-written the piece with a friend - Helen Griffin - with whom she trained to be a psychiatric nurse.

So at least they are well qualified to discuss mental illness.

And nobody does deadpan sarcasm better than Brand.

Her character, Jean, is really just an extension of the Jo Brand stand-up persona, here using Griffin's character Pat as her stooge.

The show made some cry with laughter

As Pat takes Jean through her full repertoire of stresses and strains - again - Jean effortlessly puts her down and plays for laughs.

"Live and let live, that's what I say," offers Pat. "Live and let die, that's what I hope," responds Jean.

Unexpected

It is all wickedly cruel stuff - with several celebrities bearing the brunt of Brand's bitching - but it leaves some of the audience crying with laughter.

The twist in the tale comes fairly quickly when it appears the banal chatter of the institutionalised pair is that of nurses rather than patients.

Pat's penchant for Valium has had her mistaken for someone in need of care and Jean's love of a good wind-up leaves her branded a "pathological liar".

To the refrain of Pat's knitting and paranoia about noises off, the two while away a night shift in the hospital staff room.

Using dark humour and their begrudgingly co-dependent relationship, Pat and Jean give a poignant insight into mental health.

Pat is nostalgic about the good old days of nursing: "When we wore uniforms people had more faith in their medication."

And Jean tells of how she reassured a violent patient concerned about his "chemical straitjacket" of drugs by telling him to think of it as a "chemical cardy".

Griffin is totally convincing as the disingenuous Pat, "purveyor of utter mind-numbing trivia", and Brand re-affirms herself as the grande dame of droll in a play that is well worth an hour of anybody's time.

Mental is at the Assembly Rooms until 25 August.