The Ceremony
Ed Fringe 24
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Ed Fringe 24 -
In the queue for The Ceremony I befriended an American theatre producer - he was nice and we chatted. This came about mostly because I was worried about not having a friend to join me for the show, my mates were all double booked and I wanted at least one friendly face that I could turn to in what I had heard to be a very interactive show. Of course, I needn’t have worried, this is the furthest thing from humiliating participation. Each audience who attends the show becomes one with each other (not a cult), in tune to the laughter of your neighbour (not a cult), willing to be involved (not a cult), happy to share some pretty personal stories (not a cult), with proceedings conducted brilliantly by our benevolent leader (again, not a cult).
Ben Volchock sits on a throne, a whimsical, electronic soundscape underscores the audience’s entrance as Volchock smiles at us, mouths welcome, nods, smiles, mouths welcome, laughs if someone laughs, nods, mouths welcome some more, mimes drinking a drink alongside someone actually drinking their drink. He does this for some time, reacting to us as long as we give him permission for (permission granted through laughs), before The Ceremony eventually begins; a hilarious presentation on the rules is clicked through, for a bit anyway, because it is soon deviated from, changed, the show subsequently moulded entirely at the whim and suggestion of who happens to be in the room on the night. The definition of a ceremony is discussed, words shouted out by the audience then written up on the screen by Volchock, the suggestion that it is a ‘coming together’ leads to a full singalong to The Beatles’ classic hit.
There’s little point in me describing to you the joy I found in singing Come Together with a room full of strangers, nor is there much value in me recounting the lovely, bonding, and frequent renditions of Happy Birthday we sung to whoever deserved it (birthday’s often not the stimulus), because these things won’t happen when you go, because when you go it will be entirely different.
It is a long, improvisational game between a masterful clown and his audience, a comedy most of the time but with moments of real humanity bubbling to the surface as we work together to understand what it means to really be together, to listen to each other, to appreciate and reflect on the things that matter most to us. It is a spectacular feat of ingenuity, a show that is created anew each night, artist and audience collaborating through a live feedback-loop of glances, laughs, suggestions, songs, dances and games; I’d encourage anyone to experience it for themselves.
The Ceremony is on at Summerhall until the 26th August (not 19th), tickets here.
FOUR STARS
