Rain

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For punters and performers, complaining about Edinburgh’s inclement weather is something of a Fringe trope – and, given recent deluges, with good reason. But Rain is one show that really is only happy when it rains.

Taking place in one of this year’s more imaginative venues—a bijou spot on the outdoor terrace at C venues on Chambers Street—this charming, if rather diaphanous, little play is a magical tale of one man’s powerful obsession with precipitation (the clue’s in the title) and his daughter’s sad attempts to separate myth from reality.

There are echoes of American novelist Shane Jones’ fragmentary fairytale Light Boxes, in which downtrodden townspeople rise up against the elements. Here, the father collects rain, which he proudly shows off in jars that line the walls, with a view to reaching the moon, all the while spinning a series of intricate myths for the benefit of both his daughter and the audience.

The acting is suitably whole-hearted and, while it’s difficult to get too worked up about the tales of "misty rain" and "light drizzle" from 1975, the piece is nicely realised. The real star, however, is the venue. Murphy’s Law decreed that the performance reviewed took place on probably the wettest day of the Fringe – and of the year so far. But the series of umbrellas that act as a makeshift roof come in very handy, while the open-air setting gives the whole performance a wonderful sense of space – a fitting tribute to a much-maligned festival regular.