Gothenburg Fringe 2025 in review – Clare O’Brien’s impressions from a series of impactful performances at this year’s festival
Hanging upside down, limbs heavy, loose, and swaying as the trapeze slowly swings. A muscular figure. A mass of hair. An eternity of time in which to figure the nature of this body, which shifts
with sudden certainties in the safety of its own precarious position, high above the darkened ground. She drops, explores this new environment. A giant horned skull appears above her, putting it on, she becomes another. ‘Dreams of the Small Gods’ by Zinnia Oberski creates its own time, at its own pace, allowing the audience to immerse themselves in the creation of another world and witness the birth of a deity.
Deities are depicted during ‘Trace of Belief’ by sextet Chun Dance, utilising light and shadow. They shift in unison, casting one shape to another mass. Feathered fans, symbolic of a connection to the spirit world, are incorporated, showing spirit animals, against a background of wind brushing through trees and the chimes of cymbals calling for prayers.
These themes are echoed in ‘Enactor’. In Ben Green’s “Offering”, dance artist Becca Hoback bears a water-filled urn. The water is tasted within cupped hands and then greedily taken. Unable to resist, she thrusts her whole head into the pot. There is horror when she can’t remove herself. When finally released, her long wet hair creates a showering arc which splatters across the stage. She steps into the urn, where she stands Goddess-like. A body encased in water. A statue stuck in stillness.
‘Buckets Of Blood – Fairy Tales Not For Kids’ tells some of the gruesome truths hidden within the Brothers Grimm collected stories. Demonstrating how we have altered stories to suit our own sensibilities. Grandma couldn’t possibly be eaten by the wolf, instead, she is hidden in the wardrobe. Eden Ballantyne revels in revealing the truest versions of these tales, faces these gruesome truths, and keeps the real story alive.
Gods and fairy tales aside, we were called to bear witness. Einat Weizman’s ‘The Emmigrants from Gaza’ showed us the reality that the world would have hidden in the wardrobe. Not for protection, but so as not to see. On a screen, we see two actors. They are performing the last play to be performed in Gaza. We see actors today recreate this performance and recall the horror of the war as it unfolded around the on-screen actors, as recorded in a diary kept by one of them. The flight from home, the scramble to take belongings, only to leave more behind to rescue their neighbours.
This is a human story. A horror story. A true story. This is the power of performance. We must remember our origins, be able to practice our religions, and keep our culture. We must be able to tell our truths and keep our stories alive. We must not alter the story for our own sensibilities. This is not a fairy tale. This is happening in real time, in real life.
“If I must die, you must live to tell my story.” – The late Gazan poet Refaat Alareer.
Photos © 2025 Uros Hocevar / kolektiff
