Still Cooking: Shows Still in Development
Photo by Elena Koycheva on Unsplash
One of the things about the Edinburgh Festival Fringe is that shows at any stage of development can go up. That might mean a well-oiled machine that’s been touring for years, or someone stepping onstage with no real idea what they’re about to do (and it’s not even billed as improv!).
A “work in progress,” or WIP, refers to a show still in development, a glimpse into the creative process before the final product is ready. Some would argue that every show is a WIP, since each performance offers a chance to refine and evolve. Fair enough. But most shows are at least 95% done.
In contrast, I saw a couple of shows this year that felt maybe halfway complete. The ideas were compelling but not fully explored. They had hour-long slots but came in well under time. I wanted something to hold onto, but the pieces weren’t quite connected yet.
Afterward, I spoke to the creators and confirmed: these were WIPs. They just weren’t labeled that way.
What follows are two reviews of work-in-progress shows, offered with that context in mind, and with generosity for where they are in the arc of becoming.
Thanks for reading.
(Note: These reviews were originally published as part of my 2025 Edinburgh Fringe coverage for FringeReview. I’m archiving them here for readers who don’t follow that site.)
The Lost Priest
TL;DR
In this minimalist one-man show, a young American Jewish artist reflects on faith, family, and belonging through a stream-of-consciousness performance that is still evolving. The sparse staging and unpolished structure leave room for discovery, inviting audiences into the performer’s process as he wrestles with the complexities of Jewish identity in a non-Jewish world. It’s a promising work that resonates both within and beyond the Jewish community.
Review
The Lost Priest is a one-man show performed by a young American Jewish artist, exploring the complexity of Jewish identity through an intimate, introspective lens. While not billed as a work-in-progress, it is very much in that stage, with the performer and his director actively refining it each day.
The black box staging is minimalist: a table, a stool, two books, a candle, and a few slips of paper. The performer enters from behind a curtain, lights the candle, and begins with a Hebrew blessing before launching into a stream-of-consciousness reflection on home, faith, and belonging. On the day I saw it, the piece ran under 40 minutes, leaving vivid impressions alongside clear opportunities for development.
Where the piece shines is in illuminating the lived experience of a young Jewish person negotiating tradition, personal belief, and the outside world. His reflections capture the tension between growing up steeped in Jewish culture and navigating non-Jewish spaces that can misunderstand or erase those experiences. One of its quiet strengths is how it invites Jewish audience members to feel seen in their own conflicts and confusions, while also giving non-Jewish viewers a deeper understanding of the nuance in navigating Jewishness within a wider, often indifferent, sometimes hostile, context.
In its current form, there’s a suspended quality to the piece. Its loose structure leaves questions- where exactly are we, who is the audience to the performer, and which moments in his story might warrant deeper unpacking? Certain pivotal points, like his decision not to have a bar mitzvah, could be explored further to deepen the emotional and cultural resonance. More definition to time, place, and relationship would ground the audience while still allowing the ambiguity to remain a deliberate artistic choice.
It’s raw, searching, and unapologetically incomplete. And that is its daring. At a time when cultural identities are often oversimplified or weaponised, The Lost Priest risks sharing its contradictions on a world stage, trusting the audience to sit in the complexity rather than rush to resolution. With more shape and specificity, it has the potential to evolve into a deeply affecting piece that bridges personal story with universal resonance.
Henry Churniavsky… Life Lessons from a Jewish Grandfather (Zaida)
TL;DR
In Life Lessons from a Jewish Grandfather (Zaida), Henry Churniavsky brings the audience into his world with charm, persistence, and sharp wordplay. His riffs on language, aging, and family life create moments of laughter, delivered in the unmistakable rhythm of a Jewish grandfather who refuses to let go of a good bit.
Review
Henry Churniavsky is no stranger to the Fringe- he’s performed here many times over the years- but this is my first encounter with his comedy. The premise, Life Lessons from a Jewish Grandfather (Zaida), suggests a show rooted in generational wisdom, parenting foibles, and the joys and irritations of growing older. Churniavsky only had a few dates in town, and due to scheduling I attended on opening night. What unfolded was loose and wide-ranging, best thought of as a work in progress: full of ideas, some very funny, still finding the structure to hold it together in a tight, consistent hour.
Churniavsky begins by describing himself: a Scouser, Jewish, married for 38 years, and now a Zaida, Yiddish for grandfather. From there, he launches into stories and observations that zigzag between family anecdotes, medical misadventures, Jewish cultural references, and playful linguistic riffs. The material, at times, was loosely connected to the advertised theme, but the persona he inhabits- warm, stubborn, teasing, and insistent- keeps the audience engaged.
When the character work is sharp, the results are delightful. A highlight came when he asked audience members, one by one, “Have you dealt with the menopause?”- directed indiscriminately to all genders. The sheer persistence of the bit, delivered with a classically Jewish rhythm of not letting go, had me cracking up even after the show was over. Later, he echoed this technique with another medical issue, circling back to the same comic device in a way that felt smart and earned. These are the moments when his persona feels fully alive.
Other sections show lots of promise and will pay off when the persona stays consistent and the through-line is clearer. These include bits about generational differences in parenting, riffs on Jewish traditions, and poking fun at all the ways the human body is weird. Currently they sparkle in flashes; there is opportunity to build them into a larger narrative.
One of Churniavsky’s strengths is his love of language. He cleverly redefines common acronyms like DIY and LOL that fit perfectly into the Zaida character of his show. It’s sharp and reveals his unique generational lens. These linguistic turns are where his voice shines and could easily be expanded. On the night I saw the show, they were mostly contained in one section, but sprinkled throughout, they could help provide rhythm and give the piece a stronger spine.
The most compelling material comes when he leans into self-deprecating honesty about aging. “You don’t get a chance to practice getting old,” he says, noting how suddenly things like breathing or bladder control become problems. The details he shares land because they’re rooted in real vulnerability and specificity. These are the kernels of truth that deepen the show when woven tightly with the Zaida theme.
For an opening night, the show already had the bones of a Very Good Show. The gems are undeniable: in a few moments, I laughed harder than I have at any show this Fringe. With more tightening and focus, this will grow into a sharp, satisfying, and warmly idiosyncratic hour.
