Pete's Pad: August

Edinburgh in August is the best and the worst.

Getting anywhere in town takes at least twice as long as it should and it’s hard to find space to eat or drink, but if you’re not in a rush or particularly worried about your bank balance, it’s the best month of the year. The city is full-to-busting with energy, there’s so much to laugh at, gasp at, shout at, stare in awe at. By this point I always wish I’d seen and done more, upon hearing rave reviews from friends and family, but I’m still happy with the two main things I did get to see.

Getting a first week two-for-one deal, I honoured a tradition of taking my father to something funny; this time it was Connor Burns. For whatever reason the instalgorithm started feeding me his stuff in the last year or so, and I liked the cut of his jib. As is the way, it’s only usually crowd interaction clips that he posts, but as a judge of his patter it seemed like the full show might have potential. He’s a local lad, and rather than complicate things with sketches or songs like so many other comedians performing at the Fringe, it’s pretty straightforward storytelling stuff - much of it fairly low-hanging fruit, from Trump-bashing to the way Scots swear - but all delivered with the polish of someone who’s done a fair bit of touring recently. He sold out his whole Edinburgh run before it started, so a decent amount of people seem to agree with me - I’d say four chortles out of five.  

Then later that same week I took my brother in law out to see the big show on the Edinburgh International Festival proper; Make It Happen. Apart from the fact it was about Fred - the shred - Goodwin and had Brian Cox in it, I knew very little about the production, so was somewhat surprised when the cast started singing after an early scene. I needn’t have worried though, as these little musical interludes (generally choruses of relevant period pop songs) and the minimal, but effective, stage setup were matched by a cleverly-written drama from James Graham (he of things like Sherwood and Dear England). The plot followed pretty accurately the rise and fall of Fred’s time at the Royal Bank of Scotland, with Sandy Grierson doing a fine job of playing the villain of the piece, drawing boos from the audience during some of the moments that are clearly still a bit sore for account holders. As a journalist who covered the fallout of that financial crisis, it was interesting to remember just how close to the sun that bank got before it all came crashing down. The sheer hubris required to go from a mid-tier British bank to the biggest in the world within seven years would be impressive if the consequences weren’t so serious. In this retelling, Cox plays the ghost of Adam Smith - someone who apparently powered Fred’s free market ambition and ridiculous acquisition spree - but in his Christmas Carol-like hauntings reveals how much the moral philosophising has been misconstrued. I was wondering whether we were going to get a sweary Succession-style Cox, but he seemed to be enjoying hamming it up and not having to play the baddy boss. I’ve no idea whether or not that was a festival one-off, but if you do get the chance, it comes highly recommended.

I don’t think I’ve done any restaurant reviews on here yet, but despite the aforementioned strife in getting a table during August in Edinburgh, I did get out to a couple of nice meals in the last few weeks.

In place of a cancelled show, a few of us escaped the children on a Saturday night and had a late dinner at Skua a tiny wee place on St Stephen Street at the town end of Stockbridge. It was quality over quantity, at least in terms of menu length, so we basically ended up getting one of everything, plus a few delicious cocktails. The prices were pretty steep, the lighting was extremely minimal, but the service was friendly and I enjoyed their selection of mostly good house music; albeit a couple of notches too loud (does this mean I’m middle aged?). I honestly can’t remember the details of what we ate, suffice to say it seemed to be seasonal produce, prepared inventively with a focus on flavour. We then decamped down the road to St Bernard’s Bar - the cramped and camp speakeasy - for a nice nightcap, only taking our leave once the Oasis fans started shuffling in from Murrayfield.

Later in the month I accepted a bribery lunch at Montrose, the Radfords’ latest venture (they of Timberyard fame), ahead of me chatting to them next week for an article. I had assumed it would be with the PR person who was setting things up, but I realised too late that she was in London, so with the wife at work, I ended up taking the old man along. We sat in the downstairs bar area of this old public house in Abbeyhill and were treated very well, opting for the three-course set menu. The food was delicious, if not quite as spectacular as the price point might suggest, although from what I’ve seen and read the dinner upstairs does look that bit more special. The wine list was also pretty interesting and we ended up trying our first ever vino-tinnies:

Back to more mundane matters, and I thought I’d give the King of the Hill reboot a look. Back after 15 years away, it shows how much I watched the original run that I can’t really remember how it finished, but this 14th season sees Hank and Peggy Hill returning from a stint selling propane in Saudi Arabia, to a Texas they barely recognise. It’s gently amusing in the way I quite fondly remember, with plenty of subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) references to modern America, judging the critical line quite well between the ‘woke left’ and right-wing republicanism pretty shrewdly.

Talking of Mike Judge’s old shows, I finally got round to watching the new-ish Beavis and Butthead movie. Nothing to write home about really, in that it was much like the last one, except even more daft. It did, however, give me an itch that could only be scratched by watching the newer series’ of the show though. The feature-length japes and scrapes they get into are all well and good, but nothing beats the two of them just taking the piss out of MTV music videos.

Staying with adult cartoons I’d pretty much forgotten about, I had to see what all the fuss was about with the Trump-baiting return of South Park. The season 27 (!) opener sees the president depicted in much the same way as Sadam and Kim Jong before him - photo-faced, Canadian-mouthed and shacking up with the devil. And while the plot is entertaining enough, I do think Trey and Matt should perhaps turn their hands to other things; especially given how great the Book of Mormon and Team America were.

One more animation while we’re on the subject: Long Story Short is the new show by BoJack Horseman creator Raphael Bob-Waksburg. It’s very Jewish, pretty funny and distinctly stressful. The visuals are enjoyably basic in comparison to BoJack, but the dialogue is still razor sharp and it comes at you thick and fast. Thing is, I struggle to cope with chaotic family dramas, so I’m not sure I’m going to make it much further than the first few episodes. Having said that, I made similar noises throughout the many seasons of BoJack and its charming sweetness always managed to win out over the sassy unpleasantness.

Switching to films, I’m slightly embarrased to say I sat through the Happy Gilmore sequel, mostly because I remember enjoying the original in my youth. This has none of that charm and very few of the laughs. It’s such a shame 90% of Adam Sandler’s work is phoned-in crap like this, because every now and then he shows us just how decent an actor he can be.

We got rid of the AppleTV subscription again, and really struggled to find a final film to watch on our last night with the service. We ended up settling on Finch, a post-apocalyptic Tom Hanks vehicle, which was perfectly passable, if slightly forgettable. It’s just him, his dog and a robot he’s made to care for said canine once he succumbs to radiation poisoning. They go on the investable wasteland roadtrip, but breaking with other things in this ouvre, there’s very little contact with other humans. It’s more about the relationship between man, machine and pooch. There’s some sweetness and some sadness and it’s all fairly predictable in the end, but I’d still say worth a watch if you like end-of-the-world fare as much as I. 

Over on Disney+ last week they premiered Thunderbolts, the last-but-one Marvel movie that’s been released. We seem to be in a weird space for the MCU, in-between the Avengers phase and the forthcoming blockbusters of the multiverse saga, where things like this can exist. It’s essentially a fairly throwaway film, answering the question ‘what became of Black Widow’s sister and father’, plus Bucky Barnes and a few others, who end up forming the title troupe. Because it doesn’t seem to matter that much in the grand scheme of things, they seem to be having fun with it, and aside from the anti-hero’s mental health struggle storyline there’s plenty of snappy dialogue, particularly between by Florence Pugh’s character and the police chief from Stranger Things. I liked it, but at the same time, I clearly didn’t bother to see it in the cinema, so perhaps that tells you all you need to know.

Talking of franchise filler, every time a new Alien thing pops up I tell myself ‘this is unnecessary, I’m not going to bother with it’ and the days later find myself immersed in the world of Weyland-Yutani and Xenomorphs. Alien:Earth is Noah Hawley’s attempt at doing for the franchise what he did for Fargo - namely turning a much loved movie into a compelling TV series. It’s surprising this hasn’t been done before, but the angle - evident in the title - is that a specimen-loaded research vessel has crashed back into earth, with search and rescue teams being picked off as they investigate. That side of it is pretty derivative if you’ve watched any of the previous chapters in the saga, what’s interesting is the story of dying children being mind-transferred across to super synthetic adult bodies and thrown in the mix. I’m not sure about the jarring rock music at the end of the episodes, but I do like the white-haired Timothy Olyphant giving off Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner/Sting in Dune vibes.

Onto the documentaries, and I gradually made my way through Human, some solid factual fare tracing the evolution of our species, as we started using tools, socialising, moving out of Africa, etc. While it’s mostly stuff you’re already vaguely aware of, it’s such a fundamental story, that I reckon it bears repeating with a bit more detail. It has the feel of one of Brian Cox’s space shows: all soaring orchestral music and expensive-looking locations. The host, Ella Al-Shamahi, also has his knack for standing on windswept hills and headlands looking wistful and dreamy, making impassioned, sweeping statements about The Science Bit.

Also on the Beeb was Live Aid at 40, which everyone seemed to be banging on about one weekend, so I felt compelled to also watch. It’s a generally well-made look back at Bob’s evolving charity drive, from a Christmas single for the Ethiopian famine, to the expanded goals of the mega-concert and eventually Live8. There are occasional criticisms of the white saviour-ness of it all, as well as the lack of Black artists in the British line-ups, but there’s been a whole other show on how badly the money was used in Africa, so I can just about accept the generally good-natured deeds and the unquestionable amount of lives saved over the years. Plus some of the music was pretty good too.

Continuing that theme, Becoming Led Zeppelin turned out to be quite a traditional doc in look and feel, but in some ways I quite liked that, as those involved are given time to speak and the live performances are actually given time to breathe. As the film explains, when those four finally got in a room together, something very special began to happen. Good on Jimmy Page for using his Yardbirds leverage to record the first album themselves, using that to then cut a good record deal with minimal label interference, thereby eschewing at least one band film trope. But we don’t get to indulge in any of Zeppelin’s other notorious rock’n’roll cliches, as things stop abruptly after the first album and tour. I suppose the clue’s in the title, but it’s a shame we don’t get any personal insight into the later years. The band member’s interview responses also feel tightly controlled and rather sanitised, but fair play to them I suppose for trying to protect their legacy and not spoil things by reforming - as much as I’d love to see it happen.

And finally, to send you off on a high note, a few nights ago I sat through all three episodes of The Piper Alpha Story. Now I don’t watch things like aeroplane crash programmes because I know they’ll fuel irrational thoughts on long flights, but I’m pretty certain I’m never going on an oil and gas platform, so figured this was a safe space. But then how anyone went to work on one in the aftermath of this is beyond me. Only 61 of a crew of 226 survived and frankly it’s amazing that many people got off alive, when you see and hear what they went through. This is a rightfully-rigorous bit of telly and I’m glad that the Cullen report into the tragedy didn’t pull its punches, as it’s at least heartening to know that nothing near a similar scale has happened in the North Sea since. But still, absolutely shame on Occidental and the industry for putting profit and production before people and their safety.