Review: The Distance (Summerhall, Edinburgh)

Review by Seth Wilby

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Some people treat the Edinburgh Fringe like an endurance sport. And I, personally, was probably too proud of myself for achieving the twenty-minute walk to Summerhall to see The Distance in fifteen. Although when I entered the space to find actor-performer Ben Norris sprinting on a treadmill, I realised my achievements were already upstaged. And, over the course of the next sixty-five minutes, even I’d end up feeling out-of-breath from the sheer exhilaration of this theatrical masterclass.

Making its world premiere at Summerhall this fringe, The Distance tells the semi-autobiographical coming-of-age story of Norris (who detaches himself slightly from the narrative by taking on the pseudonym of ‘Chris’). When the cross-country pitch freezes over, Chris discovers a fiery passion for cross-country, and, following him through his training and years as a Team GB athlete until his future hopes are squandered by an injury that leaves him feeling like he’s lost his whole sense of self, the play explores the impact of such extreme sport on young people’s bodies and minds.

Probably the most striking aspect of this production is the elite-level direction from Julia Locascio. Self-described as part play, part extreme workout, I can’t think of a better way to explain this endurance test of a performance. The show’s set (a meticulously designed scaffolding-like cube seeming to represent Chris’ own mind, with a treadmill in the centre) instils the audience with an adrenaline-fuelled vigour, as we watch one man boldly clamber across and hang from it like a child on an unsafe climbing frame. Locascio uses the show’s theatricality and live nature to its advantage, generating a constant astonishment from the admirable audacity of the piece, all while delivering a convincing and exhilarating narrative throughout.

Much can be discussed on the extent to which it is sensible or theatrically rewarding to shape a play like an extreme challenge, yet I am glad to say that the use of the treadmill within this production is smart and considered.  What could easily be passed off as a gimmick is incorporated to great effect- Locascio does not overuse the treadmill (despite regular sprints, these are only ever when there is dramatic cause behind it) and nicely dilutes this with similarly impressive aerial feats, which find new ways to continue this ferociously energetic engagement, while also providing some legitimacy to the semi-autobiographical story. And the outcome is one of the most visually exciting solo shows I have ever watched.

Norris’ script is marvellous, and he evidently has a great grasp of it as a performer. Never preachy, the story is one of both trauma and hope, and the script neatly incorporates a message on the pursuit of dreams and recovering from obstacles, however big or small. Surprisingly poetic in much of its language (“The race is a novel. All you’ve done so far is pick it off the shelf.” makes for an early stand-out), Norris’ monologue is passionate and descriptive, with strong pacing that alternates between harshly competitive montages and calmer, more personal discussions, each line carrying suitable subtext for us to understand Chris and become totally captivated by his story.

Understanding its own clear purpose, it was refreshing to see a one-man show that didn’t fall short of some of the cliches within the genre. Beyond Chris, Norris only ever portrayed, with complete physicality, one other character in the narrative, Mr Gunter- an evident mentor who had a clear impact on Chris’ life, with this choice acting as a clear story metaphor for Mr Gunter’s own influence on Chris’ performance. There’s also the clever use of an audience member as ‘Mum’, which, beyond acting as an easy way to create recurring laughs, quickly breaks any potential tension in the room, thus ensuring the conversational monologue feels far friendlier, like a gently shared experience.

Norris’ performance feels invincible, not least because so much of the production has been crafted around stamina only a former elite athlete could possess. Drenched in sweat that drips across the stage at a confusing midpoint between the grotesque and exciting, we see that this is all very real for him, despite the dramatic façade. His performance feels deeply and authentically human, relatable and charismatic in every small step he takes or glance he makes. When we witness his injury and the aftermath, with Norris finally slowing the performance that has barely seen him breathe since the top of the show, we deeply feel every emotion, and the torment and tragedy of it all is sincerely empathised with, as helped by firmly paced direction and lighting creating moments of painfully vast intensity.

I’m not a sporty person, and didn’t expect one of my favourite shows of the Fringe to be something described as a ‘workout’. Yet, as plays such as Dear England have proven before it, The Distance shows that the intrinsic link between elite sport and the human psyche makes for excellent theatre. Paired with Ben Norris’ inherently gracious performance, his passionately symbolic script, and Julia Locascio’s incredibly exhilarating direction, it captures the adrenaline-fuelled emotion of sport in what seems to be one of the most exciting plays at this year’s Fringe. As impressive as it is engaging, and as visually appealing as it is emotionally stimulating, it is a must-see.

The Distance plays at Summerhall (Main Hall) at 18:00 until 31st August. Tickets from https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/the-distance

Photos by Mihaela Bodlovic