Jenni Ajderian

I hate to be the party pooper at the big Sherlock Love-in, but the Great Detective isn't looking so great at the moment. Or rather, his writers aren't. The original stories are not known for their fairer treatment of the fairer sex, largely painting women as either frantic and emotional or cold and calculating, with only occasional whisps of character. It is notable, then, when Irene Adler is referred to in the books as ' the woman', since to Holmes she was the only one worth really bothering with. To Watson, Mary Morstan is surprising and attractive, “with a firm step and an outward composure of manner”, and swiftly becomes his wife. Both these characters have made their mark on the BBC’s Sherlock fans, but in ways completely different to their original counterparts. Of course, adaptations don't have to stick to the original, but this means that all Holmesian retellings I've seen have drawn up a romantic subplot between Holmes and Irene Adler, despit

(originally published by The Student )      Where the theatricality of opera and the sobriety of religion meet, we find Verdi’s  Requiem  - a huge undertaking and a powerful piece of music for the Edinburgh University Music Society to perform, and one which merits a similarly huge and impressive back-drop. With four soloists, a double choir and full orchestra, McEwan Hall is filled almost to the brim with our suited-and-booted players, and the effect is not only visually impressive but orally overwhelming. Sound billowing out into the space with which the orchestra is so clearly familiar; awesome surges of power and piercing solos made possible by an acute knowledge of their surroundings.      By turns moody and monstrous, the  Requiem  was written in memory of one of Verdi’s contemporaries, and was performed repeatedly by captives during the Second World War. With its roots in the Catholic Mass ceremony and its turns through mourning and peace towards joy and biblical wrath, it’s

Pleasance Sessions 2013 A long time ago in a Pleasance Theatre far, far away... (originally published by The Student )      Strap in, kids- we're going to the moon. Bored of the Earth's predictable rhymes and ready-made raps, Abandoman are taking their show into strange new worlds of improvised comedic genius. Moonrock Boombox packed out the purple cow during the Fringe, and now returns to Edinburgh for a single night of stratospheric comedy gold.      It's a wonder frontman Rob Broderick doesn't need an oxygen mask as he touches down onstage in the Pleasance Theatre. Immediately he climbs out into the crowd, riffing constantly off the audience's quirks, picking out choice members of the crowd to play the central roles in the narrative that unfolds. We quickly choose a King of the Moon, an evil rival set on knocking him off his interstellar throne, and a crack team of programmers, HR assistants and English Literature students to help power our spaceshi

     If the Edinburgh Festival Fringe is about letting the little guy play with the big guys, about innovation and creativity, about finding a show that at first baffles and then delights, then this is the perfect Fringe show. Based on a text-based Youtube game which swiftly went viral, John Robertson brings us his live version of an eighties' low-budget video game.      It is unlike anything else on the Fringe this year. It relies heavily on audience participation but even more so on Robertson's own wit and the strength of the prepared game screen-shots. It is wonderfully well made and self-consciously low-budget. Prizes range from ancient computer games to rubber gloves and considering the fact that every Fringe contains more Shakespearian adaptations than you can wave a ruff at, it is mind-bendingly awesome that this exists in the first place.      A few minutes' introductory stand-up sees Robertson leaping across the stage in leather trousers and black corset, e

     Just the Tonic at the Caves, 16:40, every day but the 13th       Remember the one about Odysseus? No? Well, neither do the Sleeping Trees, really. Having read the ancient classic a few years ago, this Total Theatre Award shortlisted troupe present the bits of the Odyssey that they can remember, and hope we can ignore the bits they've forgotten.       By way of breath-taking distraction, the trio chant, dance, sing, leap around and provide their own sound-effects and inner monologues without the need of such modern things as lighting or sound techies. After all, when originally performed or recited, the Homeric classic would have been accompanied by just these kinds of wild gesticulations, enthusiastic facial expressions, and sky-high suspensions of disbelief.      The show is the last of the troupe's Stories project, which has relied entirely on the performers, rather than props and scenery. This has become a common theme in low-budget shows, but in this case in part

     Of nearly 3,000 shows at this year's Edinburgh Fringe, nearly a third are comedy, and for any one publication to review them all is a pretty impossible task. This will be my fifth year at the Fringe, and my first at reviewer publication Broadway Baby, where I'll be humbly taking up the post of Comedy Editor, so it's my job to pick and choose which shows are worth sending a reviewer to. Of course this is what anyone does when they arrive at the Fringe, filtering the 3,000 shows down to probably five or six to spend an average of £8 a ticket and hoping beyond hope that it's worth the ticket price. Personally, I'll be attempting to get to all of these, regardless of price and regardless of whether or not I'm reviewing them- Reginald D Hunter: In the Midst of Crackers Starting with the big names in comedy, Reginald D Hunter is an essential for lovers of wildly intelligent satire and unstoppable wit. Hailing from Albany, Georgia, Hunter has lived in the UK f