The Edinburgh Festival Fringe is the biggest arts festival in the world, with over 3,700 shows. This year, Playbill is in town for the festival and we’re taking you with us. Follow along as we cover every single aspect of the Fringe, aka our real-life Brigadoon!
As part of our Edinburgh Fringe coverage, Playbill is seeing a whole lotta shows—and we’re letting you know what we think of them. Consider these reviews a friendly, opinionated guide as you try to choose a show at the festival.
Edinburgh’s Fringe Festival can be a wild place. After a show docket full of debauchery and mayhem, you might be ready for a church visit. May we suggest House of Life, which isn’t actually a church service—it’s a revival. Hallelujah!
I don’t use that word in the Playbill sense (although this particular show is back after premiering at Fringe last year), but in the religious sense. When you arrive at the venue (Underbelly Cowgate’s Belly Dancer), the RaveRend (Ben Welch, beyond fabulous) is waiting at the door wearing sparkly church robes to welcome you in. You even get anointed with a schmear on your face, only here it’s not ash—it’s glitter. Welcome to the RaveRend’s fabulous flock.
Welch’s holy celebration isn’t about forgiveness of sins or eternal salvation. As he tells us, it’s where you go when you step out of the house and directly into dog doo. It’s a place to be happy, to celebrate, to sing and laugh and clap and scream. Not to “now more than ever,” but truly—who doesn’t need that?
Welch, joined by music looper and straitlaced (until he’s hilariously not) assistant Trev, walks, sings, and dances us through the steps we need to achieve his ultimate goal: happiness for all. We will leave the performance, we’re told, never feeling sadness again. Cue laughter.
Yet, for much of the show, it feels like that might actually be possible. Alternating between sermons, audience work, and ridiculous songs (often featuring lyrics extemporaneously derived from said audience work), House of Life is designed to be as gleefully funny as possible. I don’t want to give any of it away, but suffice it to say, my face hurt from laughing and smiling by the time it was done. Welch is not kidding about making us happy. It seems to be a real mission.
But the kicker is that the RaveRend’s methods are pretty sound. You’ll find yourself pumping up and being pumped up by strangers across the room, visualizing and singing about audience members’ life goals (at one point, the RaveRend had the entire audience shockingly jazzed about my love of quilting), feeling our bodies, purging our demons, and more.
Having been raised religious in Texas, I know a thing or two about these kinds of events, and Welch is pretty legit in how he borrows from the playbook of a good old-fashioned Southern revival. There’s a reason they’re as effective as they are, and Welch has harnessed that for the noblest of goals (and in what feels like a pretty novel way). Whether that’s subversive compared to the traditionally religious alternative, I’ll leave up to you. What I do know is that Welch has created something euphorically life-affirming, a show that made me the happiest and most joyful I’ve felt in weeks. I’m okay with anybody getting legions of people behind feeling like that.
I also feel a compunction to be clear that while House of Life is a fantastic time, it is also a sharp, expertly crafted piece of theatre. Hiding behind its silly humor is a real message about taking control of one’s life, about attacking one’s life with the energy you want to receive in return. And frankly, the way the RaveRend gets his audience to open up not only to him, but to their fellow audience members is pretty remarkable. It’s the kind of show I wish I had available to me every time I’m feeling low, equal parts theatre and therapy.
So gather ‘round and hear the good news, friends. House of Life is a hell of a good time—maybe the best time at the Fringe? And it feeds the soul, too. Amen!
House of Life is playing at Underbelly Cowgate’s Belly Dancer through August 25. Tickets are available here.
