EdFringe Review: Glob

The Edinburgh Fringe is loud, fast, and constantly demanding of attention. Spend any time at the Edinburgh International Children’s Festival each spring, and you’ll see just how difficult it is to hold a young audience without sensory overload. Glob, a wordless physical comedy from French-Canadian company Les Foutoukours, addresses this problem by rowing in the opposite direction. Playing inside the vast McEwan Hall, this gentle, surprisingly humorous hour offers both exhausted parents and over-stimulated children a chance to catch their breath.

---

Rémi Jacques and Jean-Félix Bélanger step onto an abstract, wintry stage looking less like traditional mimes and more like a distinct species altogether: a pair of fluffy, thoroughly adorable snowmen pierrots complete with red noses. Dressed in massive white coats, they build a physical language out of squeaks, curious tilts of the head, and shared glances. The staging is speckled with glowing orbs scattered across the floor and suspended in mid-air. These luminous spheres quickly become central, drawing our heroes’ attention by changing colour on their own or misbehaving entirely, prompting some daring “colour correction” from the duo.

At its heart, Glob tells a simple story of two creatures with very different temperaments learning to play together while making space for each other’s idiosyncrasies. Jacques, the shorter of the two, is the exuberant livewire, prone to pushing jokes a step too far. Bélanger, the taller performer, is more sanguine and thoughtful. Their interplay is wonderfully human despite the alien staging. Each offers the other precisely what is needed—whether that is a well-timed kick up the backside to get things moving, or a gentle hand on the shoulder to say, “that’s enough.” The performance blends the driest of deadpan looks with the merriest clownish chuckles, keeping the room entirely charmed.

A Masterclass in Physical Comedy and Live Music

Restraint is key to proceedings. No single circus discipline is allowed to dominate. Whether executing acrobatic partner balances, juggling, or breaking into a sudden, surprising burst of tap dance, they deploy their technical skills with joy rather than overindulgence. The centrepiece of the set is a versatile wooden staircase structure that conceals several surprises, including hidden compartments for props and, most magically, a piano.

When unfolded, the instrument opens up – at least for me – the show’s most magical sequence. Bélanger turns out to be a pianist with a lovely, delicate touch. The power of live music and performance is rarely equalled, and so it proves here.

Despite wearing such bulky, padded costumes, the physical discipline on display is absolute. A solo sequence atop an unsecured, freestanding ladder is only one of several moments of peril in this otherwise gentle world. Yet the performers never rush their set pieces, daring to embrace stillness so every pause and discovery can land properly. They also handle the auditorium with ease; when younger audience members shout out or giggle, the clowns fold those interruptions straight into their reactions without breaking the spell.

Ending with artificial snow falling gently over the stage, Glob is a funny, engrossing, and visually impressive portrait of a very unique friendship. It is a quiet triumph that deserves to be seen.

---

---