The theatre piece, put together by performer-writer Ryan Stewart’s production company a ry presentation, will now continue on to be performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2026. Directed by Tiah Bullock, our review concludes “The Kinder team have created a work of art that melds together a powerful message with an engaging drag character experience and Ryan Stewart leaves onstage a pile of wigs and a pearl of wisdom, a warning and a sense of hope that the queer community will continue to make art with or without threat.”

You can catch Kinder as part of EdFringe 2026 from August 5-30th (not the 18th or 25th) at Big Belly at Underbelly, Cowgate from 14:00 (60mins). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.

Image: L-R Binge Fringe’s Raynar Rogers, Kinder‘s Ryan Stewart & Binge Fringe’s Magdaléna Škerenčák.

Image Credit: Lux Praguensis

Gabi Flares is a beast of a performer, funny, multitalented, physically impressive and beaming with expression that seems to come out of her eyes, mouth, fingertips and any part of her that is not currently covered in jam. Within Flares’ impeccable conception, Jam is a symbol of something left behind, the unusual pieces that stay. The writing is both poetic and stacked with comedic wisdom. It is the type of humour that is also meme-able, “The only way out is though” she says as she pushes herself through a ladder. Flares’ comic timing is so on point she can get away with saying “Before you, I was like yo” and never finishing the sentence. 

The show is truly whimsical.  Flares’ goal is to get to the end of the end but to get there she needs to get to the middle of the middle of the end or maybe it is just the middle of the end but through her journey, she learns that this is also a beginning. And if that’s a confusing thought it is in fact perfectly clear to all of us who walk with her on her journey that have become fluent in her communication. Amongst a jumble of words we learn key advice for getting over someone and understand not only the character’s story but the way this experience feels, vividly and through frank imagery. Story threads are built from the parts that stayed, objects and imagery of water. The way that Flares’ tears and the ex-partner’s jam mixed together to create the world of an emotional torment that seems to never end is creatively masterful. This world is painful, unpredictable, disorganised and without an end in sight. But there is a message in the madness, told to us through a piece of jam representing one centimetre of healthy ovary tissue that with time grows healthy again. We will heal.

The show plays cleverly with the audience’s expectations. It never fails to be funny, but it explores the horror of killing someone in a gruesome way and puts us through the kind of psychosis that is only reserved for people suffering through grief and loss. One of the most memorable moments of the show is when Flares describes filling the gaping holes in her house with jam. I could not help but imagine the countless occasions I too felt there was a hole that could not be filled by anything beyond that one person.

Deluge is overflowing with emotion, beautifully choreographed, incredibly well-written and executed by director Andrea Maciel. While some technical elements seem not totally necessary, the mediated effect works well. There is no irrelevant moment, no part of the work that has been overlooked. It is exciting, dynamic, endlessly creative and genuinely inspirational.

Performance of Deluge have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

I feel I must start by complimenting Hoskin himself. His elastic facial expressions and physicality is honestly mesmerising at times and fully immerses us in the absurdity of the production. Whilst I did wonder if the show was going to lean all the way into the realms of horror but was pleasantly surprised with the more light-hearted spooky approach to the performance. His use of the audience is hysterical and keeps the crowd on their toes as they wonder what on earth they’ll be asked to participate in next. He never crosses the line with this though, the biggest ask of an audience member is to make a bizarre sound effect, this strikes a good balance of engaging the crowd without it becoming annoying.

The show as a whole is a string of physical comedy sketches tied loosely together within the framing device of a haunted house. It has no story as such and certainly no definite conclusion but this matters little. It’s clear that this show is designed to be a disorientating and comedic romp, which it achieves to maximum effect. Perhaps it’s not for me personally, but I cannot fault David’s talent and dedication to this highly stylised and impressive approach to performance.

Recommended drink: Long Island Ice Tea, or anything strong that will amplify the surreal nature of the show.

Performances of David Hoskin: A Haunted House at Prague Fringe 2026 have now concluded.

Comedy is, in my opinion, one of the more subjective art forms, stand-up comedy in particular I think is very difficult to judge. Everyone’s sense of humour is so varied it can be tough to make an objective call on whether a performance of this variety is ‘good’ or not. There are some things though that I can be sure of.

Harvey is a master storyteller: he doesn’t drag his tales out unnecessarily or linger on unimportant points; nor does he skip to the end before the audience is finished absorbing the absurd stories he tells, all whilst lightly dancing over moments where the crowd maybe doesn’t react as he expects. He reads the room with apparent ease and engages with the audience a healthy amount without leaning all the way into crowd work. He appeared to adapt his delivery to provide the audience with the best experience he could and he gained a lot of respect from me for that.

This is not a polished or one of those word-for-word scripted stand-ups I have seen in the past and overall I prefer this approach. Harvey appeared very relaxed and seemed to bask in how comfortable he was. If he wasn’t comfortable, he should be commended on his acting ability aswell as everything else.

Whilst a clearly capable performer, Matt Harvey’s comedy perhaps isn’t for me, or at least not entirely. Having said this, and to reiterate my opening point, comedy is extremely subjective and the room as a whole adored him. I struggle to fault him beyond my own personal taste in comedy.

Recommended drink: A nice cold beer (it’s bloody hot in that venue)

Performances of I Got Bit By a Monkey Once have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

Cook is enigmatic, sharp, witty and playful with the audience. He’s ten to fifty steps ahead of us at every moment. It is no small feat to make an audience this warm feel content and comfortable. Cook’s magic extends beyond his speedy hands, it is in his ability to sell us the moments from his powerful onstage presence to the dramatic tension in the show’s writing by Cook and writer director Rhys Williamson. There is magic too in the (fake?) sincerity of our moments together.

The show teaches the audience about an art forger Han Van Meegeren, a Dutch painter whose fakery was so masterful that his works hung in galleries authenticated as genuine works of Vermeer. We learn about Chung Ling Su whose death by bullet catch exposed his far duller identity. We learn about Cook’s own magic tricks, a deconstruction of his art, a truth amongst the illusion, magic that ends the moment its audience wait in wonder.

The show could not be more relevant. How art is perceived in an era when AI’s digital fingers manifest seemingly accomplished work from thin air matters greatly to the pulsing heartbeat of the show. As the world begins to accept the dying fate of the creator, the show ponders over a surprisingly hopeful world of deception and shenanigans dating back to a time when man turned water into wine. Where art and meaning are entwined, a history of fakery follows. Cook has an enigmatic story to tell, one that places in its ring the myth of honesty and the power of entertainment.

There is an art to the kind of manipulation we see in Fake. As we follow a mountainous interactive essay on the history of fakery, we go on a journey that puts the magic tricks behind the important questions. What is art? What criteria determines authenticity? Is the value of work on display based entirely on the quality of its art? As we lean further into the story, our show reaches its macro climax and the conclusion to our art history paper. We turn our attention inward to see ourselves with gaping mouths and wide eyes hooked on as fish begging to be tricked, caught on a rod that we knew was waiting for us. 

Clever, naughty and inviting, Fake is a masterclass in storytelling and an incredibly polished one man act that even Jesus the original street magician would have been proud of. 

Recommended Drink: Ask the mixologist for their own secret creation. You won’t know if it’s an original, but you’ll feel special!

Performances of Fake have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

Following a reworking of the show’s first act, Kinder written and performed by Ryan Stewart opens as a comedic and tantalising drag show with polished lip syncing performances and the art of shade, but our setting begins to dawn on us upon reveal of protestors hanging around outside the venue. The dressing room is kitted out with a mirror of memories, boxes and costumes. It is both a sanctuary for personal expression and a space for transformation; a safe place and a closet. As Goody dashes around attempting to find an act for an unexpected drag reading booking for a group of children, they are forced to confront their own distain and apprehension for the little ones. 

The arc of the show is set up a little like a villain origin story turned transformation to hero narrative. The characterisation of Goody is thought through as an artist with sharp edges, cackles and resentment. Horror elements from flashing lights on face paint to laughter lit with a torch and the sense that Prostate is impulsive enough to do anything gives us uneasy laughter and rippling excitement. Through gripped teeth, Proctor tells stories of their own childhood. The comedy of the piece sits well as a masking tool that becomes even more interesting as the tone shifts throughout the second act. 

Stewart has written a nuanced piece of work that creates parallels between their German roots and modern day fascism. While I don’t always love work that preaches its message, the teachings weaved within feel a lot like an aggrieved story time, fitting to its core narrative. Stewart has found a way to unravel for us the rules of society, the lies we tell ourselves and others without creating a one-sided essay. The writing is self-aware and witty, carefully structured around historical and current frameworks without feeling shoe-horned in. 

While Goody Prostate grapples with their own upbringing and their difficulty being a child, we begin to know them in a greater capacity. We understand the grievances they have developed with children before Prostate spells it out for us, though their statements hits equally, “You can be good without God”. For many of us watching this performance, we would be lucky in this era not to harbour at least some fear of the systems that prioritise wealth and power over the well-being of ordinary people. Proctor exemplifies the complexity of these fears, the result of pitting vulnerable groups against each other. 

In the show’s conclusion, Goody teaches us new words, one in particular is memorable. KIN; a family. The title takes on a few possible meanings. Kin and gender combined, the German Kinder meaning children and the English kinder meaning let’s all be a bit fucking nicer to each other. The important take away of this teaching is unity. Make believe stories and systems that corrupt minds and dictate expression have no place in interrupting the growing process of a child in development “They need a proverbial village. They need kin”. 

While many would say that there is a debate over children interacting with queer people and spaces, I feel that this play suggests otherwise. This is a play about the guise of protection, the convenient sculpting of a debate and the painful experience of being. Goody Prostate could never be a villain. Proctor is just a person that was once a child hurt by the same systems that made them the enemy. 

Kinder is gripping, quick, intensely visual and substantial. Its rhythmic poetic pace and sharp staging is beautifully executed by director Tiah Bullock. The Kinder team have created a work of art that melds together a powerful message with an engaging drag character experience and Ryan Stewart leaves onstage a pile of wigs and a pearl of wisdom, a warning and a sense of hope that the queer community will continue to make art with or without threat. 

Recommended Drink: An Aperol Spritz- low sugar, high visibility and they are not going to stain the dance floor.

Performances of Kinder have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

Vinegar spends the first act of the piece rooting through the audience for objects to play with, and makes full use of the audience’s sensibilities here to deliver some hysterical moments. It’s not entirely clear in the opening of this piece whether this will be the entire concept or not, and the main denouement is soon unpacked when Arthur hands one member of the audience two paddles that allow the audience to dictate whether he is behaving like a ‘good boy’ or a ‘bad boy’. There’s a thinly veiled attempt to explore masculinity in this concept, but the main through-line of the piece is frolic and frivolity, and that works more than fine.

Our clown is at his best when he’s tinkering with the audience and the space around him, much of the show entirely improvised and seeing Arthur tampering with his surroundings, and interacting with aforementioned carrots. Much like a court jester of auld, he seeks to rile up the court, fascinate and beguile them, using his carrot-based inventions to do so. Where the carrot ‘bit’ comes from? Not explained. Does it matter? Absolutely not – this is a piece which invites you to disregard logic and engage with the further extremities of the theatre of the absurd.

It isn’t long before our clown brings out his most treasured companion – a mimed cow called Daisy – leading us down a spiral of absolute frenzy that sees one particular audience member left with a hefty moral conundrum. The audience interaction is baked so deeply into this piece that leads me to warn you that you should expect your evening with this good boy to be anything but a quiet one. Arthur works the room with such ebullience and joy that, if you’re inclined, you’ll end up like many in my audience who became completely wrapped up in the bizarre alternate universe of quandaries and calamities that Vinegar invents for us.

Genre-busting jesting that takes you down the rabbit hole and all the way back up again. A swift, wild, nonsensical, belly-laugh inducing hour of clowning joy.

Recommended Drink: Prepare to milk Daisy for your refreshment, if you dare.

Performances of Arthur Vinegar: Good Boy have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

Moliere: The Last Laugh is a well-worked piece of theatre carried by a brilliant performance. Gordon Duffy-McGhie acts in a style that hearks back to an old school of acting where the voice and rhythm is all. It makes him engrossing, utterly engrossing. He takes us through the twists and turns of Moliere’s life as a sort of lived biography. Critics have personas (snooty and emasculate, naturally) actors demanding pay have personas, Moliere exhaling through a feather becomes a beautifully crafted love scene. Indeed white feathers and black feathers become a recurring symbol, as do papers, for good and evil, for life, death and taxes. As far as the stagecraft of the work goes, it is a beautifully worked performance. 

The register chosen for this adaptation however, never finds the form of the radicalism it documents. Two masks onstage aren’t worn by Duffy-McGhie himself when Moliere’s theatre used masks near constantly. The performance namedrops, but only significant texts. If we’re only going to focus on Tartuffe, Don Juan and the crucial to the plot Imaginary Invalid in detail it makes the play feel like too neat a summary, sometimes teetering too close to a pedagogical experience and not a theatrical one. 

Indeed, what you have in Moliere’s theatre is intrinsically theatrical, it is a theatre, as Duffy-McGhie tells us himself, that was born through memories of Commedia as ‘Gods’ and formed not in the Parisian playhouses, but in alternative spaces, on the street. It is perhaps not the best artistic legacy to examine through the form of text-first Fringe one person show. 

In this style too, the adaptation is too willing to place Moliere as the unexamined hero. The fact he married a teenager is brushed over and instead the focal point is critics tarnishing his legacy. It might be that these the conclusions drawn here are the conclusions the audience will reach – but this adaptation would be better showing us its research methods, sources and counter-sources. More nuanced portrayals of these ‘great men’ will get us closer to the complexities around them, and allow us to make up our own minds. 

This is a finely acted piece of theatre. It has a high degree of stagecraft that is compelling and watchable, and although the adaptation falters slightly, it is a good performance worth seeing at the Prague Fringe for anyone interested in wanting to find out a little more about France’s most famous playwright.

Recommended Drink: Any kind of nice French red I think.

You can catch Moliere: The Last Laugh at the Prague Fringe on 30 May from 17:15. Tickets are available through the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.

The absence of other visual inputs outside of the glowing red eyes of the Mothman immediately creates intrigue and it is very easy to spot the expert-level proficiency in object manipulation of the performer Richie Schiraldi. Out of two red circles and a ringing voice in the darkness, a full character is born – both hilariously ominous and lovingly obnoxious at the same time. His likability is akin to everyone’s favourite No Face character from Spirited Away, he makes us feel a whole range of emotions and it’s stunning to watch how easily he moulds his audience. The darkness helps this process, it brings freedom, not embarrassment. It allows us to fully, loudly, wholeheartedly participate in this experience. The show borders on an immersive role-play game or a ritual where time disappears and we catch ourselves wishing it would never end.

Shows that rely heavily on audience participation can often be a fail or a success each night depending on what the audience brings. This show doesn’t carry that risk as Schiraldi is a brilliant and skilful improviser, never letting us feel any cringe or awkward silence if the scene is not going as he expected. We can sense he adores and honestly enjoys being on stage and it’s contagious. It’s a simple equation – we enjoy the show, because he enjoys every second of it too. The audience interaction varies greatly in intensity and length of each scene, which adds to the playful nature and rhythm of the show. The Mothman is also a walking jukebox of the greatest sing along hits including Bohemian Rhapsody, Pink Pony Club and other absolute bangers. It remains a mystery to me how it happened, but suddenly I realised everyone in the audience is singing loudly and perfectly out of tune together with the Mothman. This further proves the level of emotional safety of the interactions created by the combination of the physical darkness and Schiraldi’s mastery of handling the audience.

Among songs and laughter and suggestive humour however, there are moments of stillness and reflection. This is a perfect example of a show piercing straight to the soul of the audience and resonating there long after it’s over. It doesn’t stay on the surface of its form and doesn’t force a story onto us, it actively recruits us to feel, it metaphorically (and literally) steps off the stage to guide us through our anger, fear and loneliness and creates a rare form of intimacy between strangers. It goes all the way back to the very roots of theatre – the shared experience between human beings. The darkness allows us to be vulnerable, open and true to ourselves to the core. The pretence falls when we’re allowed to hide our fear and shame in the dark and to be illuminated by nothing but the Mothman’s omniscient eyes.

His darkness is sometimes soft, inviting and introspective, other times hysterical, loud and hilarious – nothing to be afraid of. Be the flame in the darkness, go befriend the Mothman. He’s an absolute joy to be around. One Mothman to every family!

RECOMMENDED DRINK: Frozen Mezcal Bloody Mary ice lolly – it’ll match his eyes and his vibe. It’ll be equally strange and delightful, also you won’t risk to spill it in the complete darkness.

The narrative is well thought through, a relatable coming of age story that takes us back to Lu’s teenage years. We relive with him the agony of desperately wanting to be skilled at something and the slightly less relatable trials and tribulations of being able to recite pi but being unable to master math. Reciting pi and tracing specific number combinations chosen by the audience is an impressive moment that offers us a glimpse of the diversity in his skillset. Within the story careful moments of sentimentality and humour are weaved in alongside clever tricks to highlight the story. It is a lovely touch to make a baseball appear during an emotional segment on baseball, and a delightful dash of sweetness to use Taylor Swift’s Love Story to walk us through imagery of a high school singing contest. 

The tricks are thrilling and performed with a nod and a wink. The audience is engaged and willing to get involved, but the audience interaction is limited to a few short moments that feel less fluent than the rest of the show. There are lovely moments of storytelling that tell of a complicated relationship with his father and the dynamic of Lin’s comparison to his sisters.

While the performance works well and Lu is a very comfortable performer to spend an hour with, the performance can go further. In particular it is missing a stronger breadth of topical commentary that would serve the story beyond focusing on Lin’s journey and allow audiences to build understanding through concept to deepen a relationship between the work and the audience. There is room to explore the theme of loneliness outside of the more obvious sense of the word, outside of wanting a girlfriend or not finding a suitable passion in life. Lu has the perfect charisma and bag of tricks to pull off a far more accomplished and nuanced script. 

The show is simple, entertaining and engaging. Lu is a standout performer with a lot of great ideas. I’d love to see these ideas developed into a greater contextual experience. This show could be a knock out!

Recommended Drink: Something smoky and rich like an Old Fashioned. Be careful not to let it disappear in an instant!

You can catch Dazed and Confused one final time today Saturday 30th May from 19:00 at Divadlo Inspirace. Tickets are available through the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.

Bouffon, a key point of the late Phillipe Gaulier’s pedagogy, has been described by the master as ‘a crippled outcast […] chased into the swamps and ghettos by the children of God’. Necessarily blasphemous, the Bouffon begins from deformities and then distils them into a sometimes free–moving character, and one that is at the limits of our societal tolerances. To watch a Bouffon is not to sympathise as one might with a clown. When we laugh, it is out of sheer amazement at its excess. Froufe employs other forms and plays other games throughout her show, but it is the Bouffon she keeps coming back to, and it is a brilliant one. Helga is a cruel, sympathetic, painful, illuminating creation. She ogles the crowd with naïve hope; she desperately wants us to be saved. And she is relentlessly corrupted, dirtied, drags herself down to the depths of earth.  

Froufe gives the impression she could carry this performance no matter what conditions she was given. Her work with the public is smart and imaginative, and her mastery of the game between public and performer means she can make us do outrageous things. Each element that occurs is unexpected… one audience member constructs the Shroud of Turin, another is asked to help a bouffon of the Virgin Mary give birth. It ends in a climax that I think is so audacious you just have to see it for yourself. This is the work of someone who has spent a lifetime forming in these arts, and to watch Froufe is a genuine pleasure, a great hour of your time. 

Even in this early version, the material that Froufe has created here has a subversive brilliance to it. The show mimics a mass, making us stand up and sit down gratuitously, close our eyes and pray, observe Jesus at Mount Sinai, and give offerings. This would be clever if it was left at this – Froufe satirising the motions of Catholic mass, but it goes further than that. Not only does she begin with this lampooning but she makes key theological decisions that are prescient and make her commentary more biting. Her interpretation of Christ is too obsessed with his own image, but he values family, and he instructs us to tell each other ‘I love you’, ‘peace be with you’. Helga herself is corrupted by the American dollar, which she finds in the offering bag, and then the show turns into an outrageous striptease, an indulgence of earthly sin taken to a grotesque end. This is, then, theologically bold work that uses the mechanisms of theatre to confront us with the hypocrisy or excess of our religion or non-religion, thus reconsidering our relationship to the divine and the profane in our lives.

The show ends on such climax at the moment. There is more to explore. Froufe has crafted a character that needs further life, further development. Such a character won’t always add material to her show, indeed, fringe shows are often worth cutting. But what we have here is the formation of a bouffon that consists clearly of much work. It is an excellent hour with an excellent performer, recommended to any Prague Fringe goer itching for the bonkers and the sacrilegious. 

Recommended Drink: (W)holy Coca Cola in a glass for the communion wine.

You can catch (W)holy Helga at Prague Fringe one last time this Saturday 30th May from 20:15 at Café Club Míšenská. Tickets are available through the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.

Utton is well known to Prague Fringe goers as the one-man show powerhouse behind last year’s King Lear and 2024’s At Home with Will Shakespeare, among many others. These powerful origin stories of well loved (or well hated – we’re looking at you King Lear) historical or fictional characters always succeed at showing us the flipped side of these men. Utton is a brilliant storyteller, his narrative structure is captivating and his performance is magnetic. No matter who he transforms into, we cannot look away.

The design elements of the show are simple – there is practically no sound or light design. The show relies on the performance and the script to carry it and while it is successful, the immersion and the emotional impact would be greater if there were technical elements to aid the building of the atmosphere. The stripped back setting of the show offers some room for improvement, though this is a minor detail in comparison to the incredible feat that Utton achieves.

Quasimodo is an emotional narrator, at times eloquent, other times childlike and playful, funny even. There is a sense of bidding his own life goodbye in the narrative structure of the piece. We’re not watching the events unfold in real time, we’re hearing the reconstruction of the memories of the events of the original 1831 novel. Quasimodo is telling us exactly what brought him here, to this moment, very shortly before his own death.

Utton holds the audience at the edge of their seats invested in the story from the very beginning all the way to the end – even though we all know how it ends – after all, the corpse of Esmeralda is the first thing we see, there’s not much left to be done before it’s all over for Quasimodo as well. There’s still enough time however to contemplate the existence of God, his relationship with Him, the Father who brought him up, as well as the more philosophical parts of the narrative – including the nature of beauty or vivid descriptions of corporal punishments. Particularly strong is the love letter to Paris that allows us to almost see the city through the eye(s) of the character and the loving description of the cathedral bells.

You’ve called me ugly so often that even my soul believes it.“

There’s simple innocence in the way Utton performs vulnerable yet strong hunchback character. The prosthetic eyepatch and the hunch help him with his physicality and don’t distract from his acting. He invites the audience to feel deep sense of empathy for the troubled character and reaches right into the souls of those who are watching for introspection. This makes the story still relevant even today – it reveals how love is born out of small acts of kindness while also holding powerless audience accountable for being onlookers in crisis, instead of acting on our moral impulses to help the ones in need. Utton’s adaptation is yet another proof that The Hunchback of Notre Dame is a timeless story of love, madness and passion and we cannot wait to see what other eternally relevant piece he’s going to bless us with at next year’s Prague Fringe!

Recommended Drink: A glass of crisp ice cold water brought to you by your crush

Performances of Pip Utton: Hunchback of Notre Dames have now concluded at Prague Fringe 2026.

So begins Ruxy Cantir’s Pickled Republic, a self-proclaimed quasi-Ionescean cabaret of pickled vegetables. These include the aforementioned tomato, a burlesque potato, a baby carrot and perhaps most memorably a gherkin-headed being in a suit that dances around the stage like a raver in a Wolfgang Tillman photograph. The visual design by Fergus Dunnet is the standout of this show, it’s probably the highest production value this Prague Fringe, a textured, layered design full of detail. Lighting design by Alberto Santos Bellido helps the visual image, it is evocative and brilliantly concieved. 

The other real standout is Ruxy Cantir’s performance. She is remarkable in this, and carries the show the entire time. The entire performance is conceptualised to flow beautifully, and she is compelling, athletic, and genuinely funny. She’s set up the company Decoy Leg now, and I would love to see it do more work in Scotland – the whole team have skill, experience and talent a-plenty and this is an exciting venture.

The cabaret of vegetables is each unique in their own right, but only one or two of them seem to become deeply existentially probing as Picked Republic promises. A lot of it would be great fun as a standalone piece in a different cabaret, but themes planted aren’t quite developing through the hour. They come on one by one and rarely change in the short glimpse we have of their melancholic lives. When they do go on a journey is when the piece is strongest, but generally the snapshots are too brief to offer the real tragedy of lives not lived.

The last fifteen minutes of the show are the most promising, and it is specifically because Cantir lets the image do the talking. The aforementioned gherkin is like a raver after language, something straight out of Mark Fisher’s Ghosts of my Life, as is the recalled Potato who sings a song that could easily be in a The Caretaker album. These two figures, dying after the end of (their) history in the brine jar function precisely because they are utterly specific images that are general enough to let an audience dream with them. By contrast, the onion slam poet or the baby carrot are too prescriptive in their existentialism, and whilst it might move the audience in the moment our vegetable characters are too quickly drawn to realise their potential. 

The strongest part of the piece by far is a bit where Cantir has two tomatoes race each other, continuously squashing the right one to death as the left tomato goes into the throes of an existential crisis. The whole thing is a ‘catch-up’ ‘ketch-up’ prank repeated indefinitely. This simple image is increasingly funny in different ways, and a full forty five minutes to an hour of this could turn into a brilliant response to Gaulier’s Les Assiettes, where him and his partner broke 200 plates every night. Cantir’s audience is intelligent and up for a challenge, and she can afford to offer them a simpler, distilled version of the work where the themes come through in microcosm. When this is the case, when she expresses everything in a single image — the image is remarkable. Cantir has toured Picked Republic a-plenty, and it won’t be this show that goes down this route, but I would love to see her take any of the ideas planted here to their logical extremes.

At the moment, Pickled Republic‘s themes don’t quite come through for me with the gut-punch they could. But Cantir’s show is an entertaining hour nonetheless, and received warmly by many. And there are some wacky, inventive ideas, some good laughs, and her sold out audiences always reply noisily and warmly to this curious cabaret of pickled vegetables, brilliantly performed and designed. 

Recommended Drink: It’s got to be a pickleback. Have a few shots of them after a beer or two, and then take a water bottle into A. Studio Rubin — it’s hot. 

Catch Pickled Republic on May 29th at A Studio Rubín from 16:00 (50mins). Tickets are available through the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.

In this one-man epic, Nigel Miles-Thomas thrills us as Holmes; frightens us as Moriarty; amuses us as Inspector Lestrade and has us fully doubled over as Mrs Hudson as well as inhabiting Arthur Conan Doyle himself. Whilst luring the audience into expecting a retelling of a classic Holmes and Watson adventure, this narrative is more than meets the eye, for the real villain is the author himself.

Arthur Conan Doyle, sick of being known as ‘the Sherlock Holmes man’, seeks to slay his own masterpiece in devising the death of Sherlock Holmes. A final addition of the ongoing anthology series in the Strand Magazine must be written to achieve this end and so Doyle enlists the assistance of his new fictional creation Professor James Moriarty to provide the final ‘push’.

But Moriarty, being the cunning and morally depraved individual that he is, has plans of his own and thus we the audience witness a epic web of deception and mutual betrayal between creator and creation.

The version of Holmes we meet is unbearably smug as Holmes often is. However, he is also more paranoid, bolder and more comical than I am used to. It is a refreshing change even against the already novel framing device of the show itself and provides a lovely contrast to the other characters that Miles-Thomas plays, each with their own unique cadence, posture and intonation. It really is an acting masterclass and a stellar example of how to keep the audience hanging on to your every word.

The show isn’t perfect though, I do believe the show suffers slightly from not knowing when to call it quits. There were several moments in the latter ten to fifteen minutes that I thought would make a perfect and poignant ending only to move on to another scene, and then another. Perhaps that was the point though? Just like Holmes, do we as the audience really want the story to end?

For a Holmes fan, this show is an absolute winner and a marvellous story exploring when a creation outlives the creator, becoming in many ways immortal far beyond it’s original intention, and providing adventurous escapism in the process.

Recommended drink: Whiskey and soda, we might as well method act this right?

Catch Sherlock Holmes The Death and Life at Café Club Míšenská until 30th May 2026. Tickets are available via the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.

Loud darkness, soft dim light of a lantern, thoughtful music and later on highly inventive costume design – all these elements are often omitted in Fringe shows that come from theatre traditions that rely almost entirely on spoken word, rather than creating atmosphere. Schiaffino is tying all these elements neatly together to create a believable and immersive experience for the audience. Everything about this show smells of continental Europe theatre tradition, which is very refreshing in a festival with such heavy representation of UK shows.

In the dim light of the lantern, we immediately fall in love with Schiaffino. She’s a charismatic performer, powerful in her delivery and believable in heightened emotional states – however, the rhythm of the piece that might work well in Italian lacks nuance in English and the first half of the piece feels flat. What helps us to get back on track with the tension of the piece is the continuous revealing of the multi-layered stunning costume that aids us to understand the character is literally becoming Johanna in front of our eyes. This is also a clever and very interesting structural and dramaturgical device – simple, yet effective – perfect for the Fringe circuit.

The narrative of the piece is chronological, straight forward and mostly in storytelling mode. While there are some historical parallels being drawn about the position of women in society in the 9th century and now, particularly at the beginning of the show, it ends up feeling more like a biographical piece about a real historical figure – the only female pope in Catholic history – than an appeal to feminism and call for equality in our day and age. The show’s structure carries potential to open themes of being a heroine versus being a mother and deepen the commentary of gender roles.

This show is a must-see for anyone who is looking for neat design, powerful story and performance that stays with you for a long time. Schiaffino aspires to be an award winning Fringe performer with this performance, giving voice to a character that has been long forgotten by history, only to be remembered as one of the Tarot cards. Passionate, loud and dramatic in the best ways.
All hail the high priestess!

Recommended Drink: A full-bodied Barolo served in a goblet.

You can catch The High Priestess – Johanna on May 29th & 30th at Museum of Alchemists – Divadlo Apropo from 17:00 & 20:30 (50mins). Tickets are available through the Prague Fringe Online Box Office.