Marjolein Robertson @ Pleasance Dome
Marjolein Robertson's third instalment of her self-titled trilogy provides more of the Shetland comic's whimsy, wonder and straight-up weirdness
Marjolein Robertson is back with the third instalment of a cleverly-titled trilogy – the first being Marj, the second being O and now this, the third – that’s right, Lein. It’s some nice, not so subtle foreshadowing that Robertson is a master storyteller, weaving folklore and improv and silliness and whimsy across a well structured repertoire that has taken years to construct. The first part dealt with matters of the heart, the second matters of the body, and now Lein is taking on the monumental task of dealing with matters of the mind. Because Robertson’s mind, it seems, works in weird and wonderful ways.
Lein employs the now recognisable throughline of Robertson’s other shows of Scottish folklore to tether her experiences, some bordering on deranged, to a somewhat universal metaphor of self-discovery and understanding. This particular fable is one of a girl, lost up the side of a mountain, and growing increasingly afraid. The arc of the show is a series of short stories on how Robertson spent the worst year of her life – in Amsterdam, alone, afraid, high and, at one point, in a nunnery – punctuated by the phantasmical retelling of the tale. Each section is underpinned by Robertson’s impish playfulness, and the laughs don’t come so much from actual gags, but rather in how Robertson – at least, the version of her who she displays onstage – and her almost child-like demeanour engages with the big, scary, adult world.
That’s what it all harks back to, in the end; how Robertson is attempting to protect her inner child, stay true to the very ambitious five-year-old she once was, without allowing self-doubt or exterior judgements (or, you know, being robbed of her worldly possessions which of course included a fiddle) to cloud her path or impinge on her self-worth. It’s a well-meaning message, and while it is the crux of the show, it rarely feels preachy. In fact, Lein is rarely anything other than an hour of mischievous (and occasionally bonkers) fun.
Marjolein Robertson: Lein, Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome), until 24 Aug, 8.20pm, £14-17