If you want to see a show that showcases the best of Fringe, book your tickets now for Above the Mealy Mouthed Sea. If it wouldn’t deprive others of the experience, I would see it twice more.
We were held captive by a punch line, and Jemima Foxtrot’s revolutionary storytelling methods. She hums low and provides her own musical accompaniment on repeat as she spins tales for her small audience in the dark of The Blue Room Theatre.
Alternating between song and poem and the dialogue she relays is innovative and a coup not endeavoured nor witnessed by many. Her one-woman show expands further than just her own story and yet, for her to share this stage, or any other, would be unimaginable.
Foxtrot employs humour, swift and steady. Almost as a way of steering us clear of her palpable internal battles, with audience members leaning in closer in an attempt to catch more of her whenever she abruptly stops.
Her range is enviable, both vocally and physically. We watch on, forcibly sidelined, as her eyes go glassy and she pulls her bundle of limbs in tighter, only to race to the microphone and impress us once more with a catchy beat she uses to somehow tie together what we just witnessed.
This show will leave you stunned, much like the recurring fish Foxtrot’s character can’t seem to leave in the past, instead dragging it around with her, a memento for us to marvel at until we find out its true meaning. We are left with a dignified end as we share a final breath with our performer.
Jemima Foxtrot describes someone else’s dream as “richly textured” however it becomes her own manifestation much more adequately. I implore you to keep an eye on this powerful storyteller.