No man is an island; Why so many one man shows in Edinburgh?

'No man is an island'; John Donne's popular phrase, written over 400 years, expresses the recently unpopular belief that human beings work better when they consider each other and work together. An idea that seems to ally closely to theatrical ideals of collaboration and the model of a theatre collective.
This phrase sprang to mind often when reflecting upon the number of one man/woman shows on at the Edinburgh Fringe this year. The economic benefits of such a choice are obvious, especially considering the bankrupting costs of bringing a show to Edinburgh. However, what are the artistic benefits and what does it say about us as a society?

A long time ago I used to train teenagers through Lamda exams, directing and analysing monologues as a methods of actor training, I always felt suspicious of their benefits. Whilst I agree that learning the skills of textual analysis is essential for actors, but the understanding that acting is reacting is central and far more beneficial. I always get a slight moment of disappointment when I sit down and realise there are no more actors entering the space. That space between actors is exciting; the sense of possibility that two beings in the flesh can create feels more representative of liveness than the tightly preconceived and skilfully executed one man/woman show. One could argue, that a relationship still exists between audience and performer and often this is used to great effect, but also more often than not, performers find themselves onerously (onanistically?) playing with themselves.

However, all of the performers that I saw holding their own on the stage this year were exceptional. The physical demands, the pressure to engage, not to mention the demands on the memory (most of the shows running at at least an hour) dictate that only a highly accomplished actor could take on a show on their own. In fact, I would also say, that some of the best shows and performances that I saw were performed by one person; Gemma Whelan in Dark Vanilla Jungle, Lucy Ellinson in Grounded and Keiran Hurley in Beats. Yet, despite this, I still find something too literary about the monologue,  dialogue remaining the true medium of the performance writer, not prose. Not just because of the unique synergy it creates on stage, but also because of the ideals it represents. 

I worked as part of the collective Dumbshow Theatre this year. A wonderfully accommodating bunch, who devise work as a collective; writing and creating together, living, cooking, tweeting and promoting together (the labours of flyering are just one of the benefits of a collective over an individual). This sense of communality is reflected in their performances on stage. As designer, I (quite uncollaboratively) created a set full of bits and pieces which they, as a group navigated so deftly, that their complicity on stage became both part of the pleasure of watching the show and somehow representative of the themes of the show. 


So even though I salute the beautiful writing and excellent performances, I hope that despite economic pressures, we continue to remember to celebrate the collectives as well as the islands.