So bad they are good

From a very funny comedy of contemporary grotesques to a rock band ‘mit ze’ implausible German accents, our reviewers sample some Absolut Fringe festival fun

Die Roten Punkte ****

Bosco Tent, George’s Dock

“Danke Dublin!” yelps Otto Rot of the adorably ghoulish brother und sister rock band, mit ze implausible German ex-sents. That their knowing strut – louder than the White Stripes, more dysfunctional than Metallica and funnier than Flight of the Conchords – is more playful New York irony than Berlin punk naivety may give you some suspicions – but what’s a rock band without a dubious back story? So, fresh from big sister Astrid’s recent, deeply unsuccessful stint in rehab and Otto’s unresolved phobias of trains and lions (one of which killed his parents), the pair arrive to coax an almighty and enormously fun racket from their child-sized drums and guitars.

The show is small and three parts cute to two parts nasty. Brimming with goodwill and surprisingly good tunes – Ich Bin Nicht Ein Roboter (I Am a Lion) could be the feel-good hit of the autumn – it fizzes with audience participation, the band letting us in on the joke, leading us through every chorus. You'll be saying it for days: "Rock Bang!" Until Sat.  Peter Crawley

Journey to the End of the Night  ***

Denzil Lane Cinema

Dylan Tighe’s intellectual mediation on his 2008 journey from Beijing to Moscow examines the relationship between travel and art. Travel is like art, Tighe suggests, its function is “to reveal ourselves”. This confessional live art piece is structured by a series of visual prompts (photographs, currencies, visas). However, these personal meditations transcend self-indulgence through the piecemeal revelations of Louis-Ferdinand Céline, whose novel Journey to the End of the Night keeps Tighe company on his travels.

The philosophical posturing at times becomes academic, but there is a quiet beauty to moments where Tighe allows the desolate landscapes of his journey speak for themselves: their bleak austerity mirroring his contemplative mood of isolation and the paradox of loneliness and wilful abandonment. At least when you're travelling, Tighe concludes, you know where you are going: the existential crisis experienced upon arrival is, alas, another journey. Until Sun. Sara Keating

One Penny Operas  ***

Dancehouse

Ex-Fringe-director Wolfgang Hoffmann is back with these improvisations, created for Myriad Dance, and in his spoken introduction said: “The show is like playing. Make of it what you want”. Starting from stationary bell-ringing, furtive glances prompt the seven performers into a series of physical set-pieces that were more straight-faced than playful.

Daniel Weaver provided a live soundscore, but despite his excellent pedigree as a dance collaborator, his multi-instrumental offerings didn't add much colour to the movement. Choosing the studio's bare day-lit state didn't help in creating magic, yet the dancers did find some real moments of stillness and beauty and one frenzied sequence of physical abandonment lives on in the memory. Until Friday.  Michael Seaver

Power Point  ***

Camden Court Hotel

In the Performance Corporation’s latest production, Power Point, writer Tom Swift uses the structure of a business presentation as a means of dissecting the current cultural crisis in contemporary Ireland. Director Jo Mangan finds a wonderful rhythm in the marriage between the multimedia elements and Swift’s often beautifully written text, while Evan Flynn and Asako Mishio’s FX and graphic design transforms functional business tools into art. Alan Howley’s egomaniacal motivational mentor, Claire Barrett’s apologetic secretary and Lisa Lambe’s power-hungry dominatrix bring extra spice to the presentation.

However, the leaders' professionalism is soon abandoned as the seminar descends into a domestic drama. If the hysteria attempts to deconstruct reality TV culture – à la Jerry Springer – it only partially succeeds: the chaos is never reigned in to provide a clear sense of what the production is hoping to achieve. Entertaining? Absolutely. Lisa Lambe's hair alone is worth the ticket price. But shouldn't there be more at stake? Until Sept 19th. Sara Keating

The Blanch  ****

Filmbase

Finally – a show that takes crude comedy seriously. As the magnificently misshapen grotesques of Carpet Theatre’s dazzlingly vulgar show lurch through a roughly conjured Blanchardstown Shopping Centre, their behaviour is still less attractive: they ravenously consume deals, crunch credit cards, spit off the side of the travelator, demand Chicken Tikka from Currys electrical shop.

How can such low comedy score so highly? The answer rests with a company of such accomplished physical clowning that even their most thrown-together sequences seem archly considered – accompanied by live percussion, music and sound effects – performing at a time when splenetic satires on excessive consumption and economic collapse really hit the mark. It may be inclined to binge, bloated by one too many costume change or a flogged-to-death sequence. But in laughing hard at their disgusting behaviour you are slyly confronted with your own by clowns that have to be very, very good to be this bad. Until Sat, then Sept 16-19 Axis, Ballymun. Peter Crawley