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Although there are around sixty shows at the Edinburgh Fringe with the label of ‘puppetry’ or ‘puppets’, the marionette and the glove puppet do turn up at surprising times. In Enter the Citrus Man, a puppet grandmother appears to give cheeky advice to the protagonist and The Anniversary has a sweet little cat who, despite making only brief appearances, manages to steal the show. Alongside Attachment, which mentions puppetry in its pitch and features a sardonic Gandhi ghost, these shows only introduce the puppet within a wider dramaturgy, although it is noticeable that all three shows are comic, and the sudden appearance of the inanimate is neither jarring nor uncomfortable.

Perhaps there is a particular tradition in Anglophone theatre that allows the puppet to arrive within a comedy: the importance of Basil Brush, Sooty and Mr Punch has associated the puppet with fun and laughter and The Anniversary’s cat is a cute presence. The grandmother in Enter the Citrus Man is lusty, but offers good advice, simultaneously evoking the puppet as a spiritual other, a message from the dead, and the puppet as a comedian.

Attachment follows the same pair of tropes. Gandhi is probably one of the most recognised spiritual leaders of the twentieth century, so it makes sense that he might guide the love-lost protagonist. But this Gandhi isn’t content to be a bland holy man, and adds in his own banter. The puppet is certainly spiritual (and, in the best tradition of ancient puppetry, a dead object given life), but also has that irresponsibility that can only come from an entity that, ultimately, does not have consciousness. His appearance then, intrudes into the metadrama of Attachment and provides a perspective on the hero’s romanticism that is caustic and witty.

Attachment is a play from a young company that articulates an impressive innocence: part meta-play that involves the audience in the company’s stratagem to impress a critic (a blood-sucking leech, of course). The caricatured personalities, both in their roles as actors and the play’s characters, are the perfect comic foils to each other and the puppet: the fast-paced action, the youthful charm and the willingness to satirise genres and the theatre industry makes this a winning production that augurs well for the future of the company.

Another young company, this time from Korea, has puppets in Princess Pyunggang. Essentially a musical theatre telling of a traditional Korean myth (which has a grounding in history). Both the Princess and her future husband are represented by rod puppets as children, another familiar puppetry trope. Although they are replaced by humans as they mature, the puppets are predictably charming and engaging. As with the other shows mentioned, the puppetry is not the central focus of the dramaturgy, but they demonstrate both how useful puppets can be to add an additional dimension to the dramaturgy and how they are often underused: the skill of the puppeteers and their impact on the audience suggests that they could expand this aspect of the show. However, the Bibimbab Theatre showcases their very talented singers, and so the displacement of the inanimate by the human follows their purpose. 

What all of these shows share, however, is a willingness to use the puppet, and a reminder of the puppet’s marginalised status on the stage. It is good enough for a routine or a momentary effect, but the more complex manipulation of the puppet is ignored, and their potential is underused. None of these shows insult the puppet by their use, but there is a lack of ambition in the limited use. Of course, a puppetry platform is more interested in the dramaturgy of the puppet than most other critical outlets but there is an argument that theatres are missing a trick by sidelining this popular and familiar medium.

By Gareth K Vile