In a series of interviews, we'll reflect on this year's Edinburgh Fringe with artists and creatives who performed at the festival, learning how it went and hearing more about their work.
In this interview, we speak with Midge Lema about the run of Bean Vs The Robots.
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| Photo by Kit McCarthy |
Bringing a solo show to the Edinburgh Fringe is a marathon. Now that the run has wrapped, what surprised you most about the day-to-day reality of performing Bean Vs The Robots every single day?
I was surprised most by how energizing exhaustion can be when you’re surrounded by so many creative people with the same goal. I knew that performing every day for a month would have its challenges, but it was actually the challenging moments that made me feel the most grateful. And although I felt physically tired, I was amazed at how emotionally energized I was by the end, having experienced both the highs and the lows of the festival.
I was surprised most by how energizing exhaustion can be when you’re surrounded by so many creative people with the same goal. I knew that performing every day for a month would have its challenges, but it was actually the challenging moments that made me feel the most grateful. And although I felt physically tired, I was amazed at how emotionally energized I was by the end, having experienced both the highs and the lows of the festival.
Edinburgh audiences are notoriously diverse, from die-hard theater fans to accidental venue-hoppers. How did the show's dynamic shift depending on the crowd in the room each night?
The show is very dependent on the audience, who become space travellers that are trapped on Bean’s spaceship. Sometimes it would be a quiet, thoughtful audience, which in turn allowed Bean to take time with her thoughts. In other performances, it was a vocal audience, which encouraged Bean to step off the stage and engage in more conversation. Both forms of the show were so fun and always kept me alert and ready to pivot!
How did you handle reviews and word-of-mouth chatter while still having to go out and perform every night?
It’s always a bit unnerving to step into a live performance situation where you’re hearing feedback verbally and in writing every day. Sometimes you get feedback right in the middle of a show, in fact! Some of it is encouraging and some is not, but what I learned is: No matter what, all that chatter drops away the minute I step onto my spaceship and the stage.
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| Photo by Kit McCarthy |
Was there a specific moment on or off stage that defined the Edinburgh experience for you this year?
There was a moment when I was hauling my keyboard and giant bag uphill, getting absolutely tousled about by the rain and wind, trying to get to my show, and I just felt so happy. I think that’s Fringe, running uphill, getting punched in the face by the elements, and not stopping for one moment.
There was a moment when I was hauling my keyboard and giant bag uphill, getting absolutely tousled about by the rain and wind, trying to get to my show, and I just felt so happy. I think that’s Fringe, running uphill, getting punched in the face by the elements, and not stopping for one moment.
Taking a show to the Fringe often changes the show itself. How did Bean Vs The Robots evolve from Night 1 to the final bow?
The show has been rewritten at every stage since the very first reading. With the help of my director Riley Rose Critchlow, we continued to do so while in Edinburgh. There was one particular monologue in the middle of the show that we decided to reconstruct, so I improvised some options until we found the right balance. Many of the songs were cut down to allow Bean more time to interact with the audience. The show became tighter, more clear, and more fun by the end!
The premise explicitly traps the audience inside the spaceship alongside Bean. How did that intimate, claustrophobic setup land in an Edinburgh venue, and what did you learn about audience rapport when they are part of the isolation?
I felt like the premise of the show worked well in Edinburgh, because audiences are used to being packed into small spaces with strangers. I also think everyone can relate to the feeling of isolation, so it was a welcoming experience to explore that feeling as a group.
The show deals with losing a sense of time. Performing the exact same story at the exact same hour every day creates its own surreal time loop—did playing this run make you view your own relationship with time differently?
Yes, absolutely. In the show, the concept of time is woven together with the process of grief. By the end of the run, I knew that time can also bring great joy—as doing the show over and over again did for me. Even though I was facing painful memories every day, sharing it with strangers was a time warp I liked being in.
In a festival packed with high-concept comedy and drama, how did audiences respond to the blending of absurd sci-fi with deeply grounded emotional themes?
There is a moment at the top of the show, when the absurdity is at its highest, and the audience goes, “What is happening?” But later, I can see when the deeper meaning clicks in for some people, often at different times in the show. It’s really insightful to watch the audience in the same way they are watching me.
Grief is inherently heavy, yet the show uses a "funny, wistful, and weird" lens to explore it. What did the audience reactions at Fringe teach you about the role of humour in processing trauma and loss?
I think humour is essential to processing trauma and loss. I saw so many shows at Fringe this year that were hilarious yet profoundly sad, many of them dealing with grief. I think humour is a way to really take a good look at the sad stuff.
Bean is trying to remember why she—and the audience—needed to go to space in the first place. Did surviving a full Fringe run give you a clearer answer to why you needed to bring this specific story to the stage right now?
Yes! I realized by the end of this run that this is what I want to keep doing—I want to bring weird little shows set on a spaceship to audiences for as long as I can. It all feels like just a beginning for me as a performer and writer.
For other writers and performers dreaming of taking a weird, heartfelt solo show to the Edinburgh Fringe, what is the single biggest piece of advice you’d give them based on your experience?
I’d say start by writing something down and reading it in front of other people. And then keep doing that, adding new elements like collaborators, staging, set pieces, one step at a time. And do so in as many places as you can. Performance spaces don’t have to be theatres, as we know from Fringe. Even if you don’t think you’re ready or if you don’t think it’s good enough or if, or if, or if… We never know how much time we have to pursue the things we love, so go for it!
What are the future hopes for the piece?
I am going to be developing the show further by updating the script and music. I am always plotting ways to make the show better and brighter. I hope to tour the show next in the US and UK, and am making plans for that. The character of Bean will also continue in a new show to come!
Where can people follow your future work?
People can see the latest on Instagram at @thelemabean and by signing up for the Lemabean Productions newsletter (my production company) at www.michellelema.com/contact. I hope you join me on the (spaceship) ride!
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| Photo by Kit McCarthy |
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