Directed by Florence Carr Jones

Review by Marina Funcasta

Edinburgh Festival Fringe Tickets

Walking into White Space, it was impossible not to notice the sea of heads surrounding ‘It’s A Sheet Play’s’ only set piece – a blow-up mattress. For a play which concerns itself with individual conceptions of intimacy and closeness, it’s safe to say that these themes well superseded the boundaries of theatrical space; unsheltered by the darkness that usually shrouds the stalls, there was a painful sense of self-awareness among the audience. Prime breeding ground, as I was to find out, for the revealing hour which was to follow.

Following an episodic structure, the play oscillates between scenes building up to and emerging from our protagonists’ fateful confrontations. Having been sleeping with each other for six months, it is clear to ‘Him 1’ that they’re in love, a fact he nevertheless fails to translate to anyone bar himself. Played with earnest delusion by Leonard Shaw, his character seems comfortable sharing his thoughts, memories, and even the more eccentric elements of his personality, all while in bed with ‘Her 1’. Weaponising reticence, Greta Abbey’s cagey demeanour balances Shaw’s overt eagerness. Abbey is strong in her demure characterisation – it is entirely unsurprising that she is the type to use pages from her edition of the Bible as cigarette papers. It is in these idiosyncrasies that the script showcases its brilliant diligence and is its most convincing. That is, excluding the unclear backstory behind how our protagonists are implied to have met.

The more playful scenes in particular stand out. In a game of yes/no, the potential for intimacy is clear. Shaw and Abbey’s chemistry captivates, darting their lines at such a pace that it almost feels magnetic. It is a shame that it takes some time for this dynamic to offset; some beats are missed in the first few scenes, as Abbey’s deliberately distant air comes across as perhaps too evasive, seeming disinterested in Shaw’s frivolous digressions.

This disinterest, however, makes sense as we notice her characters’ issues with intimacy. During a conversational breakdown, the pair begin repeating empty phrases in a cyclical, non-naturalistic manner. Carr Jones’ vision is particularly evident here, as we notice the emotional distance and loneliness of forced, or indeed false, intimacy. This is where the real tragedy lies, as we come to learn during the confrontation: incapable of seeing past his personal conception of their relationship, Shaw desperately expresses his plans to ‘save’ Her 1, who he feels is ’broken’. Mishearing her response, there is a hapless moment of comedy when he confuses being called ‘fickle’ for ‘pickle.’ Inciting a soft hiccup of laughter, it is in tender and relatable moments like these where we root for their relationship most.

The introduction of ‘her 2’ and ‘him 2’ recalibrates the play’s comedy. Edifying its structure, we are kept on our toes as Abbey and Shaw take on new characters. Although the transitions between these scenes could be swifter, the comic opportunities brought by these side characters are multiple. This is where Shaw excels, deftly navigating transitions between ‘her 2’ and ‘him 1’ with an alchemical ease.

Overall, Fools and Thieves have created for themselves a fascinating and timely story encompassing themes which permeate most modern relationships in a very witty way.

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