Cartwheels[author-post-rating] (2/5 stars)

Cartwheels is a play of two halves. Not temporally, in the usual way, but quite literally: the stage is divided into two separate, equal halves. On the left is the Dining Table of Naturalism, while on the right we have the Picnic Blanket of Experimentalism; I should point out that these are not the official titles. In this magical realist play from Reverie Productions, a strong cast do their level best with a mixed bag of a script.

Amelia, Karen and Dorian are three students who share a flat, and talk a lot about how gay Dorian is or isn’t, over the course of a few disappointingly outdated “oh that is so gay” back-and-forths. So far, so standard. Then Amelia and Dorian sleep together after a night out, just because they are both drunk and present. And then Amelia’s period doesn’t come. So it turns out that not only is Dorian not gay, but he’s so not-gay that he’s going to be the father of a real human baby.

If it all sounds rather Dorian-centric so far, that’s because it is. James Hart’s script is disproportionately concerned with the one male character; how Dorian feels about having a baby, and whether he thinks it’s okay to have an abortion or not, and why doesn’t anybody understand just how hard this is for him? It’s not all that often a teenage girl would give a one-night stand any say at all in whether or not she keeps the baby, but he doesn’t seem especially grateful.

Karen, meanwhile, who is fiercely logical, reasonable and pro-choice – and also, according to several conversations, not a real girl – ends up being demonised and treated like a villain who Just Doesn’t Understand. It’s mildly disturbing stuff, as is Amy’s appalled horror at the thought of their baby being born a hermaphrodite, and Dorian’s dismissal of broken homes and single parents. These bits feel conspicuous and uncomfortable, though there are more promising bits of writing from Hart in amongst them.

The actors are likeable and do the best they can, the simple staging works well and there are a couple of nice ideas, but in spite of good performances, the characters still feel reduced to clear, swallowable pills of stereotype: the tough, unfeminine girl in Doc Martens; the sensitive hippie with flowers in her hair; the smartly dressed, middle class boy with his reservations and his indecision. Equally, the half of the play that takes place on the Picnic Blanket of Experimentalism never quite comes off: as Amy and Dorian wait for their baby to descend from space, talking of this and that, it’s hard to follow and or to understand the supporting logic. A strange and puzzling little hour.

Cartwheels can be seen at 23.00 at C Nova until 26th August. For more information and tickets, visit the Edinburgh Fringe website.