Counting Sheep

In Counting Sheep, audiences have two options: observe a revolution, or take part in it. The latter is a recognisable convention at the Fringe, where a show’s success hinges on our participation. Assumptions are literally danced away, however, during this emphatic, crimson synthesis of guerilla protest and peacemaking.

The Toronto-based Lemon Bucket Orkestra recreate the Ukrainian revolution of 2014, which pre-empted the ousting of the nation’s president, Viktor Yanukovych. King’s Hall is transformed from banquet hall into a war zone. We are handed real pilgrim food, encouraged to sing, waltz, raze the stage and rebuild it into a barricade with chairs, tables and shields all piled sky high. We skirmish with police and witness the death of young protestors.

Indeed, this experience produces a tremendous rush: getting swept up in the riot, lobbing bricks, forging alliances. As such, there are moments of utter triumph and sheer exhilaration. The band’s Balkan harmonies are note-perfect; the camaraderie is natural and believable; the energy is electric; its theatricality is exceptional. One particular moment of gazing up as Kiev burns, set to the sound of a stunning Ukrainian ode, is overwhelming.

So why is this not flawless? Even though the company make clear that this is “their” story, an even wider dialogue about the events that surrounded and ultimately bled into the protest could tip this toward greatness. Yes, this is a living snapshot of a struggle, but the margins of that snapshot could be sharper still.