Fringe Theatre
Eggless flip
Gill Pyrah The term "instant theatre,” which the group "Big Lies" employs to describe their weekly revue, Here is the News (Gallery, 234 Kings Road, Chelsea; Thursday to Saturday), is an adman's term that brings4 to mind powdered milk, packet soups and "complete" meals to which one need only add an egg. Unfortunately the analogy is confirmed during the first twenty minutes or so of, this week's show: the script clearly lacked some tteatrical "egg" which might have bound the first three or four pieces into something more substantial. (It might also epitomise* why Fringe Theatre is still fighting a battle — and so far mostly losing — for
inclusion, in the 'Arts' section of this journal.) One does not wish to pour cold water over the whole of the "Big Lies" show, however; after a soggy start, the more self-conscious members of the cast took a back seat (cushion actually, but see the Arts Council about that) and did their "corpsing," less obtrusively, in the audience, leaving the profes sionals — Steve Williams, Mathew Scurfield and Michael Walker — to
pull together a neat series of sketches, most finding humour in the news but others (less successfully) taking a serious look at what we didn't read in the papers.
It wasn't the "zesty, biting, exciting, politically-biased" [surely that's 'based'?] dramatic explosion" we had been promised: more Chop Suey than Vindaloo. Perhaps it was unfair to look for the brilliant neatness of
Radio 4's experienced Weekending team from this new and rather loo
sely-connected group. But they do have the advantage over "permanent" theatre of rewriting their show each week, and who would say there aren't several West End productions limping along at present that couldn't do with a chance like that?
So, for those who would like to hear why Idi Amin thought Wilson underhand to explode his bomb underground where no one would know about it, or hear Jeremy Thorpe musing over his dilemma in Shakespearian verse; sorry, they were this week — but try next week anyway. "Big Lies" have proved they weren't fibbing, they do have some talent on their side — and.with a firmer hand than at present cutting out the sub-standard, there's a chance that in the future the News ,might all be Good.
More knocks at the media in The Man Who Knew He Was Jesus
Christ at the King's Head, Islington.
Jesus Christ Soap (the first names came from an accident at the christening — and one of the oldest jokes in Christendom) is the mixed-up Hero whom we follow from birth — pre-conception ac tually — through a public school education to a career as a failed
criminal and a radio and TV 'superstar', to an undistinguished end as a hoofing robin in a North Country pantomime. • Michael Jackson's script, beginning with the unholy wedding of
• Mary and Joseph, takes in all categories of old, new, borrowed and blue: relying .heavily on the last two. He side-kicks one-liners at most aspects of society with the zeal and aggression of a Kung Fu champ; his most sustained bouts being against the Church, public schools and the media — but he's tossed in comments on Woolworths, the Royal Family, Barclays Bank, homosexuals, Malcolm Muggeridge and all classes of society,sperhaps in case he's never asked to write a play again. Most of it's irrelevant, all of it's irreverent; also very funny. Nothing here to satisfy the Hampstead Theatre Clubbers in search of The Meaning Of It All, though one rather wishes Mr Jackson had suggested something to replace the Aunt Sallies of society he so rumbustiously knocks down.
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