Rebellion in the East - unusually I'd already read the book that was being promoted at this session, Japan Story by Christopher Harding.  It's a cultural history of Japan since it opened up to the west in 1850 to the present day.  This festival session didn't try to cover the entire territory of the book but focused on what the Japanese see as the specificity of their society and the stories they like to tell about themselves, the myths of the nation as it were.  Not everyone buys into those myths and that  also formed part of this interesting presentation. 

Low Level Panic - an Arkle production of a play that deals with women's concerns over body image, relationships and pornography.  It's not a new play (first seen in 1988) but these concerns have proved to be enduring.  In the play they seem more like obsessions.  It's set in a bathroom where three flatmates alternately argue the toss, squabble and commiserate.  An effective set marred I thought by the positioning of a stand where the girls gaze into a mirror (not actually there) as they make themselves up.  Down centre it brought much of the action close to the audience but it obscured quite a lot.  The actresses did a fair job of representing their characters.  It's a sad play really, the most telling line for me being "I'd rather be with anyone than alone."

The Taming of the Shrew - In the cut down form in which Shakespeare's plays generally appear on the Fringe there is a danger of losing something.  That surely happened to this production.  The representation of Kate's shrewishness at the beginning of the play went no way to suspending my disbelief at the extremity of Petruchio's taming tactics.  For me the cross dressing and false beards typical of the comedies have outlived their hilarity and I'm afraid that overall I didn't much enjoy the production although the cast made sterling efforts to entertain me.

Red Dust Road - In her EIF programme note Tanika Gupta says that adapting Jackie Kay's moving memoir about her upbringing as a mixed race adopted child in Scotland and her search for her birth parents was no easy task.  Unfortunately it has proved too difficult and resulted in a lack lustre production enlivened only by Elaine C. Smith's splendid portrayal of her feisty warm-hearted adoptive mother and Stefan Adegbola's cameo as her bible thumping Nigerian father who dismisses her as a sin of his youth when "everyone was having a good time".

Growing Old Gracefully - something close to the hearts of most of the audience who had gathered to hear Sue Armstrong and Daniela Mari talk about their respective books Borrowed Time and Breakfast with the Centenarians. They were both reassuring about progress in research into ageing and the possibility of enjoying later life whilst admitting that so far no silver bullet has been uncovered.  Moderation in consumption, exercise, maintaining an active interest in life and avoiding loneliness are all important factors.  In answer to a question from someone worrying about forgetting words Daniela quoted a contributor to her book who said that the time to worry is not when you forget the word for keys but when you forget what keys are for.

The Djinns of Eidgah - you could hardly be more up to date than to present a play about Kashmir and this one opened promisingly as actors with very real looking machine guns barked orders at the audience as we entered while an atmospheric soundtrack rumbled on in the background and our eyes took in a stage dressed with banners of grafitti and slogans.  It was a downhill slide from there.  The student cast didn't rise to the challenge of knitting together the story of a boy footballer (played disconcertingly by a girl in a headscarf) intent on being selected to play in the world cup while demonstrations are taking place against talks with India, Indian soldiers are enforcing a curfew, the boy's sister is suffering trauma from an attack in which her father was shot, psychiatrists are squabbling about the rights and wrongs of peace talks, footballers have their feet cut off and graveyard spirits hover about.  Who can blame them.