Pleasance Dome
Marjolein Robertson is a storyteller. Yes, a comedian and a fantastic one at that, but one who weaves intricate threads of comedy, folklore and story together into something far greater, for the stories she tells either about her own life or from folklore are no mere anecdotes. They speak to a deeper feeling of truth and heart that surpasses that term. And Robertson really illustrates her gift for story in Lein.
Throughout this hour, Robertson threads through a folktale from the Isle of Skye about the Dream Makers, telling it with such reverence and interspersing it with some light one-liners that serve to diffuse any lingering tension, that often becomes so potent that we’re scared to breathe lest we disturb it. Her voice echoes, cutting through the room and encompassing silence as she demands to be heard with her words and performance. Robertson has a voice and an eye for story, that is a fact that is persistently demonstrated over the course of this hour, as she seamlessly moulds a folk tale with her own experiences in Shetland, Amsterdam and Edinburgh, drawing out the lessons that she has learned from all these different sources to unveil onstage. It’s a story of growth, healing and peace, and over the course of Lein, Robertson channels an emotional intensity in her comedy, mimicking an ebb and flow that makes the story alive unto itself simply through her voice and narration.
Although Lein is a follow-on from Robertson’s previous shows, Marj and O, it is easily followed by those of us who haven’t had the chance to see what came before. Although Robertson discusses her previous shows, she does summarise and reference back to them in a way that keys us into what they may have been about and the main ideas explored without spoiling them for anyone still wanting to watch them. Not a lot of understanding or appreciation is lost from not having seen either Marj or O, but Lein certainly hooks us onto Robertson’s comedic style enough for us to become curious about its predecessors.
“Robertson has a voice and an eye for story”
Robertson works something deeper, more profound than stand-up comedy within Lein, mostly as any comedic elements serve an almost a secondary purpose to the rest of the show rather than a tangible fraction of it. She makes us laugh, but our main focus is on the story at Lein’s heart. As grounded as her comedy and narrative storytelling styles are, Robertson feeds through some silliness in her material. She gives a full-body performance – improv included – and despite of how well the pieces of her show fit together, it’s hard to tell initially what is the main throughline and what is there as a distraction, as a silly diffusal to take the edge of from the intensity of the rest of her performance. It’s a truly seamless hour as Robertson moves between all of these technical disparate parts of the show, with little to no interlude or segue beyond a change in lighting state or a quick shift in her narrative style or demeanour, and with it the atmosphere changes in a flash. And the changing of the atmosphere from one to the other truly makes it seem, not necessarily like two different shows, but these two parts certainly have some contrast that feed in from one to the other. Robertson’s demeanour completely shifts when flipping the switch to focus on her personal stories and stand-up, adding an element of hyperactivity and almost desperate energy and movement to her delivery, whilst when she’s telling us the story of the Dream Makers, her voice takes on an almost more otherworldly and ancient, binding us and our attention in an almost hypnotic trance.
Lein is haunting, Robertson is a haunting narrator. A cathartic exorcism takes place over the course of this show as Robertson pours an endless amount of heart into it, showing us that she is a storyteller first and foremost. It would be hard to just passively listen to the threads of story within Lein, Robertson’s stories and comedy demand to be felt. Her stories and comedy echo, vibrating beyond the stage because as much as she tells her own story, Robertson invokes a larger spirituality and peace that settles in us as well.
By Katerina Partolina Schwartz
Photo credit: Trudy Stade
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