Review: The Gemini, Fringe 2026

The Gemini is a solo show about a thirty-something identity crisis and the struggle of being pulled between two incompatible desires: craving chaos and desperately needing routine. 

The performer tells the story through spoken-word monologue, enriched with beautifully written poetry, irony and a lot of playfulness and rhythm. Songs occasionally interrupt the narrative too, with moments that almost turn into a sing-along before being swallowed back into the story. 

The whole thing has a choppy, multimedia structure, moving forward in the timeline and between different narrative levels. It feels appropriately restless for a story about someone who can’t quite decide whether stability is the thing she is searching for or the thing she needs to escape from. 

Chasing chaos 

The story begins with the end of a relationship. She dumps a boyfriend who is, by all reasonable measures, great on paper, and sets off in pursuit of novelty and excitement. Maybe if she can collect enough adventures, questionable decisions and unconventional relationships, she will eventually emerge as the sophisticated, independent and fully emancipated adult she imagines herself becoming. 

We follow her through millennial misadventures, polyamory experiments, sex parties with queues, cat fostering, and various attempts to tame the monster of loneliness without accidentally killing excitement in the process. 

None of these experiences exactly provides the satisfying answer she is looking for, but collectively they help her learn a thing or two about what she actually needs. 

Dubbing herself 

One of my favourite devices in the show was the way recorded audio was used to stage conversations. During these exchanges, the performer plays recordings of both her own lines and other people’s dialogue, then acts them out on stage almost as if she is being dubbed. This simple but ingenious device makes a solo performance suddenly feel populated. 

The recordings also allow her to play with the fourth wall. At times, the audio establishes a more objective version of what is supposedly happening in the scene, while she then turns directly to the audience and adds another layer of her internal commentary, in a Fleabag style. 

Burlesque energy

The performer herself has a dark witty charm and charismatic stage presence. There was something about her that kept reminding me of Betty Boop, in the combination of bubbly, expressive physicality and the way she bounces from one adventure to another, gets temporarily trapped inside it and then wriggles herself free again. 

There was also a strong burlesque energy to the whole thing, mixed with a slightly noir-ish darkness that made her an especially entertaining character to follow through this sequence of very neuro-spicy millennial disasters. The form feels like an extension of the character. 

A polished work in progress 

I was surprised to discover how recently the show had been created. The performer mentioned that she had written it in June, memorised it in July and started performing it in August, refining it with every show. By the time I saw it, during the final week of the run, it was so polished that I forgot it was still labelled as a work in progress. 

I found the show incredibly relatable, and the performer’s magnetic, charming presence made it my favourite show of this year’s Fringe.