Fringe 2025 – A Paper Orchestra ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Edinburgh Reporter

3 hours ago

A Paper Orchestra is a show about parents and children; it's about growing up, moving on and letting go. It's about the stories we tell ourselves and others, and above all it's about navigating our way through the small things of everyday life, and sometimes having to face the bigger things too.
Michael Jamin is an Emmy-nominated television writer and producer whose credits include King of the Hill, Beavis and Butt-Head and Rules of Engagement. In 2022 work was getting him down; fed up with producing what other people wanted – 'it felt like a job' – (spoiler: it was), he had 'a terrible idea' – he'd write a collection of personal essays. Seventeen stories later he had a collection. A Paper Orchestra, his solo show, is the result, and today it's having its international premiere at C Venues Aquila.
The first of the two stories Michael tells us is about his own childhood. He's a happy, gentle boy, if a bit of a drama queen; when not tending to the twig house he makes for small creatures, he's laying down the law about his bedtime routine. The small details Michael includes in his narrative really bring his tales alive; he imagines he's a pharaoh taking his stuffed toys into the Underworld, he checks the twig house roof for leaks.
Little Michael's none too pleased, though, when his Dad decides he needs to join a martial arts class. His graphic description of the judo competition he's forced to enter is both hilarious and terrifying, and as a child who loathed all forms of contact sports myself, I could totally identify with his attempts to disappear into the wall to avoid his turn. No one lets him off the hook,
Adults were supposed to give voice when children could not find the words. No-one did.
But it's Michael's relationship with his Vietnam veteran father that moves us most; a man who hated every minute of his own Basic Training, but feels he must toughen his son up to face the hostile world outside. He tells Michael 'funny, cheering' bedtime stories about his combat days, tells him to 'be aggressive' when facing his opponent – but then, when the judo competition ends disastrously, reacts in a way that tells us so much about a man who has suffered, but is man enough not to pass that suffering on to his much loved son.
In the second story we move on to Michael as an adult and a father himself. Living in a 'Norman Rockwellesque' suburb, he begins by telling us about his wacky neighbour Sally, who never knew any of his children's names. It's a very funny cameo, especially when Michael, in true comedy writer style, re-uses Sally's misnomers to wind his children up ad nauseum. He admits, though, that he's a little cross that Sally never bothered to get things right; they lived next to her for over 20 years!
Then he encounters Undead Fred.
Fred is the neighbour who doesn't fit in to this American Dream scene. He's weird, he makes Michael feel uncomfortable – but he's never really done anything bad, he's just not like everyone else. Michael makes jokes about him, 'but only behind his back.' He makes excuses for what he clearly knows was mild cruelty – he didn't mean to hurt Fred, so if Fred was hurt he was just being paranoid.
I didn't want to be judgemental but I was so good at it.
Once again, a serious story is sprinkled with great jokes; we laugh then wonder if we should be laughing – could there be another narrative here? When Fred dies, things take on a darker tone, as we find out what was going on behind those shuttered windows with their flaking frames.
Michael's description of his neighbour pointlessly raking his dried up front yard paints a vivid picture; we think first of horror movies, only to have that idea, like Michael's own overblown fantasies about Fred, punctured by the far more prosaic – and tragic – facts.
But it doesn't end there, for just as Michael's judo episode shines a light into his Dad's soul, so the tale of Undead Fred leads us towards Michael's own relationship with his daughter Roxy. Again the story is brought to life by the detail; a magic trick invented by father and daughter to astound her friends,
We were magic together.
Like every parent, Michael's now having to face up to the heartbreaking fact that his child's becoming an adult; parts of her life are private, he will never know everything about her again. Overcome with guilt (probably unfounded Michael, we've all had those same rows with our teenagers…) he feels as lonely as the neighbour he secretly mocked, standing alone in his front yard.
A Paper Orchestra moves seamlessly from happy to sad and back again. Michael is a highly skilled performer who draws the audience into his story; I was sitting right at the back of the room and I still felt as though he was speaking directly to me. His narrative never misses a beat; we are carried along by the bubbling stream of his memoir and the warmth and vulnerability of his storytelling. Michael has been likened to David Sedaris, but he reminded me far more of the late Canadian writer and broadcaster Stuart McLean (Tales from the Vinyl Café); both tell stories of everyday life with sharp dramatic timing, humour and most importantly, kindness.
A Paper Orchestra, written by Michael Jamin and directed and produced by Cynthia Jamin, is at C Aquila, Roman Eagle Lodge, Johnston Terrace (Venue 21) at 1.35pm every day until 24 August. Monday's show was sold out, so book early!
Tickets here.
Michael's essay collection A Paper Orchestra is published by 3 Girls Jumping.
https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/a-paper-orchestra
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