EdFringe Review: Jitters

It’s quite common to walk into a new piece of theatre which doesn’t meet the lofty ambitions of its blurb; it’s far rarer, as is the case with Charly Clive and Ellen Robertson’s Jitters (directed by Emily Burns at Summerhall’s Old Lab), for it to surpass them utterly. Daring, that’s how I’d describe it.

Written by Robertson, this pivot from the duo’s sketch comedy roots as Britney into full-length theatre is daring for making a modern case for old ideas; daring for suggesting an obvious truth: that self-serving puritanism and hypocrisy are not exclusive to those with small-c conservative ideas. How delicious to set this philosophical enquiry on the morning of a wedding, in a church vestry occupied by two parties: the heteronormative bride-to-be, Charlotte (Clive), and her queer-presenting soon-to-be step-kid, El (Robertson).

It’s their first meeting, and it’s safe to say El doesn’t want Charlotte to marry her dad. He’s 60, she’s 32; he’s a notorious aesthete, she’s a bit of a bon vivant; he’s a titan of the financial industry, she’s working to live. To El—still raw with grief for their late mother—there’s only one reason that a beautiful young woman of similar age to themselves would want such a match, and it’s not love.

Oxbridge-educated and wearing the armour of righteous progressive thought, El thinks they have come to shame this pretty intruder out of their and their dad’s life, weaponising moral high ground while completely blind to their own unacknowledged class privilege. To borrow from The Untouchables, they have definitely brought a knife to a gunfight. Over the hour, Charlotte will frustrate, negate, and ultimately dismantle El’s objections, with far more compassion than they probably deserve.

Both performer/creators are superb. There’s more than a little of Dawn French to Clive’s superlatively charming delivery, gently lethal timing, and knack for the hilarious look. It would be easy for Robertson to vanish in the face of such a tour de force; instead, they manifest a progressively more dislikable, but very human scold whose abrasive exterior barely conceals the ache of maternal bereavement. Yet, this isn’t a play without heart; indeed, human hearts are central to the story. It has faith in the power of communication to open minds and to usher in a more nuanced, mutually compassionate future. So whilst El makes an odious ass of themselves for quite some time, their intelligence and better angels ultimately promise—progress.

High-Stakes Comedy and Sharp Performance

It’s precisely what should happen if these characters are who they say they are. Clive & Robertson don’t force anyone into plot-convenient stupidity or improbable enlightenments; they just let the two argue it out, and — though this might be wishful thinking — let the party with the stronger case carry the day.

“Both performer/creators are superb. There’s more than a little of Dawn French to Clive’s superlatively charming delivery, gently lethal timing, and knack for the hilarious look.“

Yet if that sounds like an hour of Platonic argument, rest assured this is a superbly funny play, however rich in ideas, or however subtly complex the text. El makes a formidable straight person to Charlotte’s natural comedian, embodying just the mix of sullen self-assuredness that makes Bert a natural foil to Ernie, or Morecambe to Wise. Whether recounting a morning with a glam squad complete with a ‘fag-handed’ make-up artist, making a case for The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives, or when picking apart El’s privilege with a lipstick-tipped scalpel, she’s a hoot. Robertson gets laughs too, through a mix of well-timed incredulity and oblivious confessions. Fringe audiences knew the pair could make a room cackle before coming in, but now they know they can fold it into a compelling piece of dialogue-driven drama.

Like all good plays, there will be a crisis, and the comedy will be put to one side whilst both make decisions. Far from a cursory tick on the drama box, there’s real jeopardy that must be negotiated, but who’s most at risk is impossible to say. From an audience’s point of view, the risk is that the play, having been so erudite and insightful to this point, will fumble the ending. It does not.

This is a brilliantly written and performed piece of new writing, and one that dares to separate itself from the herd. Brave!