Integral

By the end of the first weekend, The Fringe is already taking shape. The concentration of dance and physical theatre around a few, select venues has the virtue of making life easier for reviewers, although it reflects a worrying trend towards a safer, less experimental programme. A gap between neo-traditional burlesque - which is under-represented within a cabaret scene that is seeking out more variety-styled acts - and the successful show-stoppers is widening.

Physical Theatre and Contemporary Dance was once the radical edge of performance - linked to Live Art antics and caricatured as obscure gestures mystifying weird ideas. The thinning section of The Fringe brochure does not necessarily mean it has disappeared. The edge has entered the mainstream.

The National Theatre of Scotland's Fringe entry, Beautiful Burnout, is a testament to the reach of Physical Theatre: a collaboration with Frantic Assembly, who were one of the originators, it tops off a traditional script with a sudden burst of boxing-match dancing. The presence of a dancer alongside the actors is telling, but Beautiful Burnout suffers from a too safe approach to structure. It has the ingredients of a Greek tragedy, and the lurches into movement are ecstatic, mirroring a cinematic montage. Yet it relies heavily on straight story-telling and only hints at the possibilities of purer dance.

Jean Abreu, meanwhile, goes heavy on the pure dance: like Russia's Co Theatre, he struggles with a vocabulary that is original and personal, taking time to introduce both the dancers and the basic structure. He is clearly in the tradition of Les Ballet C de La B: no real surprises for anyone who caught them back when Tramway seemed to be their second home, yet still a thrilling hour. Hooking up with post-rockers only emphasises the popular culture/avant-garde collaboration.

The nature of The Fringe, especially for the reviewer, often turns performance into a buffet. Works that call for a considered response are problematic. Abreu's Inside is tough to digest between a comedian and a monologue about lap-dancing: like the magnificent Wau Wau Sisters, it deserves serious discussion and not the token belch of a star rating.

Rupert Thomson of The Roxy has recently called for the Fringe to become incorporated into the International Festival. This might not work so well for the various theatre companies up for a summer jolly, but it might allow a more considered response to some of the harder work.

Outside of dance, Stripped is a monologue about Hannah Chalmer's experience as a lap-dancer. Aside from being a solo tour de force, as she jumps between characters and perspectives, it does ask serious questions about the sex industry and the morality of both lap-dancing, clubs and punters. None of these things encourage me to make a simple response, yet the Fringe demand an immediate reply. Tom Dale's Roam takes on the human instinct to travel: ideas melt and resolve through the piece, asking for contemplation. Unfortunately, I have a date with the Bongo Club to fulfil.

The integration of new techniques into the mainstream is positive - it means that radical approaches are no longer seen as exclusive or difficult, but it can hamper the debate around them. Physical Theatre isn't always to be judged on the same terms as popular theatre: its most radical attitude is the freedom to fail.

A terrible play might be the answer to a formal experiment, and have its own virtue. It's easy to be generous as a reviewer - we are not risking our cash or time - but in the instant gratification process of the Fringe the cerebral choreography is taking the same chances as the many directors of Glee Club themed soap operas.