Pilates is the complete co-ordination of body, mind and spirit… plus it gives you a bum like a Victoria’s Secret model. Two women meet at a reformer Pilates class, but can female friendship withstand the battleground of the studio, where everyone wants to be the best (read: hottest) in the room? Sophie and Lottie tackle trending beauty standards, conspiracies and femininity – all whilst doing sit-ups and trying not to queef.
As I walked into the theatre space, I was immediately greeted by the sight of two reformer Pilates machines sitting on the stage.
My first thought was: how on earth did they manage to lug those to the Edinburgh Fringe?
My second was slightly more concerning: I really hope this isn’t an actual exercise class, particularly for anyone sitting in the front row.
Thankfully, I could remain comfortably seated.
We initially meet Lottie, exercising on the equipment while introducing herself and giving us an insight into her character and her world. Later we are introduced to Sophie, who appears far less confident on the reformer.
This immediately establishes the dynamic between the two women. Lottie assumes the role of the experienced gym user, while Sophie is the newcomer trying to find her feet – quite literally at times.
But the relationship gradually changes.
The hackles slowly begin to rise as we discover that both women have reasons for disliking, envying and judging each other. What initially appears to be a relatively straightforward meeting at a Pilates class develops into something much more interesting as their insecurities and assumptions begin to surface.
The production explores female friendship, competition, beauty standards and the pressures women can place both upon themselves and each other. Importantly, though, it doesn’t forget that it is a comedy.
Both performers work extremely well together. There’s a natural chemistry between them, and they complement one another rather than simply waiting for their turn to deliver the next line. Their reactions, physicality and interactions help make the relationship believable.
The script is well written, but it is the performances which really breathe life into it.
At certain points, I genuinely felt as though I had accidentally wandered into a Pilates studio and was watching a particularly overbearing instructor at work. That’s a compliment. When theatre makes you temporarily forget that you’re sitting in a Fringe venue watching a performance, something is working.
The staging itself is simple. Apart from the two reformer machines, there isn’t much scenery to speak of, while the lighting is similarly uncomplicated. It doesn’t need anything more. The Pilates equipment establishes the setting immediately and gives the actors plenty to physically work with throughout the production.
The pacing is also well judged. The dialogue keeps moving, the humour lands without being forced, and I never found myself becoming bored or waiting for the next development.
There are also no glaring flaws within either the script or performances. It feels like a strong production from a company that knows what it wants the piece to be, while still leaving room for the show to develop further beyond the Fringe.
And despite the subject matter, this isn’t exclusively a production for women.
As I was entering I overheard a female audience member telling her husband, who appeared to be walking away, “It’s a show, not just for women.”
She’s absolutely right.
You don’t need to be female, know your reformer from your resistance bands, or have the slightest desire to enter a Pilates studio to understand the characters, comedy and insecurities being explored here.
Reformer is a funny, engaging and well-performed production which takes the competitive world of exercise and beauty and uses it to explore something much more universal: the way we judge ourselves, judge others and sometimes discover that the person we thought we disliked isn’t quite who we imagined them to be.
A strong production with plenty of potential for life after the Fringe.
★★★★ A flexible comedy with a strong core and perfect form.
