Call this officially my third attempt to write about Daniel Kitson’s show C-90, the best thing I’ve seen at the Fringe.  Of course, my deadline having passed a week ago, it’s been on my mind- but nothing I wrote seemed to quite capture my feelings about this show- the way that Daniel Kitson managed to create a universe that lived and breathed through speaking,  his own beautiful vulnerability on stage, the grandiose majesty of the set, the writing- (the writing!) that makes your heart want to explode it’s been so overwhelmed with beauty.

Of course, publicizing Kitson’s show is no pressing issue.  He’s already won a well deserved Fringe First.  But on the off chance that anyone involved with the produciton reads this- please know this- I feel changed by C-90.  My memory of this show rests in a place inside of me that few things ever get to- perfect moments, maybe, memories of lovers’ idiosyncracies, my grandmother, it’s that part of me reserved for things I cherish.  It’s a place that, unfortunately, theatre so rarely gets to.

Daniel Kitson tells the story of Harold, who sorts Mixed tapes, and Millie, who sells lollipops, through first person narration, set against the backdrop of a brilliantly designed set.  In the thrust, perfect for Kitson’s style of public speaking- turned theatre- he moves through the space, sitting at the desk, by the lamp, at the front of the room, and finally using the ladder that leads to a ten foot wall lined with thousands of mixed tapes, explaining that the character Harold is hot on the trail of something beautiful.   Kitson uses his third person narration of Harold and Millie to introduce us to a series of other characters in the show, all handled so affectionately and lovingly in the writing and performance that it’s impossible not to relate to all of them.   This show could be studied in depth years later or enjoyed on its own merits of entertainment and performance now, but it’s an experience that I will carry around with me for, I suspect, the rest of my life.

Please, do me a favour, and if you see anything over the Fringe, book a ticket for one of the last nights of Kitson’s masterpiece of a play.  You may get a blister from clapping.

Traverse Theatre, Cambridge Street (0131) 228 1404

DATES & TIMES
Wed 9 - Sun 13 Aug (10.30pm), Tue 15 - Sun 20 Aug (10.30pm), Tue 22 Aug - Sun 27 Aug (10.30pm)

TICKETS
£15 (£10/unemployed £4.50)