All the Single Ladies

Eleanor Roosevelt once said that “A woman is like a tea bag — you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.” These three entertaining new plays at this year’s Fringe depict the very different ways complex, interesting women can exhibit their strength, all while delivering quotable lines of their own. (And for the record, historians think that Eleanor preferred Irish Breakfast Tea.)

Eat the Rich (but maybe not me mates x)

Quotable Line: “What in the Hugh Grant was that?”

Early buzz around Edinburgh surrounded Eat the Rich (but maybe not me mates x) and its charismatic writer-performer, Jade Franks, with whispers that her show is, indeed, this Fringe’s Fleabag. Hard as it is to live up to such heightened expectations, Franks delivers and then some. Eat the Rich is an unqualified delight, a sharp, dynamic solo show that traces Franks’ journey from a call centre in Liverpool to the hallowed halls of Cambridge University.

Beautifully directed by Tatenda Shamiso, Franks observes in vivid detail the differences between her and virtually everyone else she meets on campus, narrating her journey with great wit and verve, yet never an ounce of self-pity. Keep an eye on Franks; she’s a star in the making.

Flick

Quotable Line: “Where there’s a will, there’s a relative.”

Flick is a palliative care nurse in an Australian hospital who loves her job, finding deep satisfaction in giving care and comfort to her patients. She also has an appropriately morbid sense of humor to get her through tough days. “The good patients, they apologise for being sick,” she says with a sweet grin.

Everything changes when Mark arrives. A dashingly handsome PhD candidate with a terminal illness, Mark has a favor to ask: Can Flick retrieve a book from his apartment? Too attracted to him to say no, Flick agrees, then continues to slide down a slippery slope of questionable decisions as her infatuation grows.

Flick contains a healthy number of wonderful, surprising reveals, all sharply directed by Emily O’Brien-Brown. The result is a deeply empathetic and engaging work that elicits huge laughs while exploring grief and the limits of our mortalities. Writer-performer Madelaine Nunn is a marvel; she spins her body and the narrative to great effect. By the play’s end, you’ll likely want to give care to her all-too-human caregiver.

An Ode to the Casting Director

Quotable Line: “Yes, I can sing. Sort of. What do you mean: sing?”

An Ode to the Casting Director is a gripping, hilarious behind-the-scenes look at the life of a jobbing actor. Sophie Fisher, like many a thespian before her, became an actor despite her parents’ wishes. As a result, they’re hardly fonts of sympathy when things don’t go her way.

Nor, for that matter, is her self-centered boyfriend Jack; he’s more interested in her as a late- night taxi service for him and his drinking mates. So she carries on alone, relying on reserves of resolve and humor to get through disappointing auditions, bad audition partners, and officious agents. You can’t help but root for her.

With only a minimal, neutral-toned set and a videographer capturing close-ups of her facial expressions during auditions, Fisher draws the audience into her world. She does whatever it takes to book the next gig — whether stripping down to a bikini on a moment’s notice or stuffing her mouth with crisps — turning each challenge into both impeccably timed comedy and vulnerable insight into the needed resilience of the working actor. It’s clear Fisher has the goods; now she just needs the opportunity.