Riches plays Fred Beckwith, a swimming coach who trains the young Webb for his tilt at greatness. The show takes the form of a lecture-cum-eulogy to the “half man, half fish” Webb, whose body lies under a shroud on a table in the apt surroundings of Summerhall’s Anatomy theatre. A comedian by trade, Riches offers up a version of the true story here that’s as funny as his comedy elsewhere on the fringe, The Critic’s Way.
The gentle sendup of Victorian values is droll. The swimming workshops and cheerleading of Webb’s channel crossing, to which the audience is co-opted with gusto (this is an Adam Riches show, after all), are stirring good fun. And there’s a real relish for the story’s bizarre details – such as Beckwith’s “mystical fifth swimming technique”, the sidestroke.
Or the American rival to Webb who completes the crossing before him, albeit in a rubber suit that strongly resembles a boat. You could argue that that comic instinct undermines the seriousness of Riches’ exploration of what drives some people to strive for the impossible – and what mark they leave on the rest of us. Riches can seldom resist a joke, and even at his most earnest – as Beckwith hymns the manly strength and firmness of his hero’s endeavours – you sense the next gag pregnant on his lips.
But the sincerity of his interest shines through. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a man whose whole oeuvre has explored extreme masculinity, and whose every Edinburgh fringe (two shows this year, three next) is itself a heroic feat of stamina, Riches considers Webb’s grasp-exceeding reach, and the role glory plays in a life well lived, with real depth of feeling. Why swim 21 miles when you can swim 39?
It might as well be Riches’ motto, and he makes an engaging case for it in this tribute to Victorian pluck and watery derring-do.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
