Edith Alibec is a Romanian clown and a deeply talented one. With long, flapping, purple arms and a void at her heart she is aching to fill, her Edinburgh show is a true collaboration with her audience, with them invited up to share their thoughts and secrets. While no two shows are the same, this recording offers a definite glimpse into Alibec’s style, confidence, and rapport with those she brings to the stage.
As all clowns do, Alibec revels in the unusual and the bizarre, even grotesque, while achieving an unusual level of poignancy, even when simulating the noises of making love in the dark with a stranger she has only just met. She is also capable of an understated, childlike joy in the world around her, particularly noticeable towards the end of the show, when, lit only by lanterns, she goes into a personal meditation on what would fill her emotional void.
Alibec is enthusiastic, calculated, energetic, and as lonely as a Pierrot. She brings the apparatus of the traditional clown to the contemporary comedy scene and succeeds in developing a unique experience for each member of her audience. She certainly looks odd, and her snatches of words and song in the early moments suggest a somewhat embryonic character, but she is also more than capable of tackling difficult concepts and ideas in a fun way.
The Void has memorable and pointed observations to make about mental health. It invites the audience to reflect on what they really value in life and what makes them tick and defines them as alive. It’s a heartwarming piece of work that never forces anyone to participate; Alibec instinctively knows if a person will work well with her.
Alibec works extensively on stage and screen, her experience allowing her to offer a measured madness within the chaos of the Edinburgh Fringe. She’s fairly new to clowning, moving into this space with workshops last year. In The Void, she relinquishes control of her show while still closely holding the strings.
4 stars.
The Void was part of the PBH’s Free Fringe at the year’s Edinburgh Fringe.
I reviewed from a recording provided by Edith’s PR.