Edinburgh Fringe 2026
Low Down
Magician and storyteller Chris Cook weaves a true tale of deception, where lives across centuries are bound together by illusion. Through magic, comedy and storytelling, he shares the story of a faker so skilled that he had to forge his way to freedom, an artist so talented he may himself be a fraud, a magician whose promise conceals a lie, and a mysterious figure who may not exist at all.
Review
Retirement has allowed me to indulge in my fascination with illusion and fraud, perhaps an odd admission for an erstwhile accountant. But there’s something quite magical in the way that Ponzi schemes, wire frauds, crypto creeps, snake oil salesmen and good old fashioned conmen weave a tale that convinces you to part with money for a mirage. Or just part with money. And don’t get me started on that epicentre of financial chicanery, the City, where most of the world’s ill-gotten gains are laundered with the skill of a magician fleecing punters in the classic cup and ball trick.
So, I was drawn like the proverbial moth to the flame of Fake, devised by Edinburgh based Chris Cook and his partner in deception, Rhys Williamson, playing to sell-outs in Gilded Balloon’s perfectly sized Den venue. It’s the perfect name for a space in which to examine the story of one of the world’s greatest fakers (so skilled that he had to forge his way to freedom), an artist so talented he may himself be a fraud, a magician whose promise conceals a lie, and a mysterious figure who may not exist at all.
Maybe it’s because it’s a Sunday, but we’ve a crowd in who really know their art, correctly identifying a series of paintings that Cook displays at the start of his very, very, impressive hour exposing how fakery can appear so real it makes fools of experts, never mind us mere mortals. But there’s no fooling this audience as, to conclude the art quiz, we all immediately recognise the large framed painting on stage – it’s clearly a copy of Vermeer’s iconic Girl With A Pearl Earring, painted circa 1665, possibly one of his greatest works and officially valued as “priceless”.
But where does van Meergeren fit into this? Well, he was a complete failure as a painter of originals but soon discovered he was a genius when it came to reproducing the style of others, particularly a certain Johannes Vermeer. This persuaded him to work hard to become a really good faker, which sounds odd but, as the eloquent Cook reminds us, that’s what every magician has to do in order to deliver their own brand of fakery. Just to prove his point, he then performs and deconstructs a brace of well known, simple tricks, deftly exposing the deception required. Or did he?
That’s the basic construct of this riveting hour of storytelling, comedy and some bewitching magic (or should that be fakery), covering the van Meergeren tale in some depth whilst the self-deprecating, distracting comedic side is deployed to execute a series of tricks that I’m still trying to get my head around.
Cook also takes an interesting deep dive into what constitutes a fake. For example, is an original painting by an artist in the style of a known artist, one that acknowledged art experts then attribute to that known artist, actually a fake? And what about that iconic Vermeer displayed for us all to admire during the show? Is The Girl With A Pearl Earring really what it seems? How did Vermeer create such a photographic feel to his paintings, centuries before the film camera was invented?
The late David Hockey (and others) think Vermeer had a bit of help, probably through the use of a darkened room and a camera obscura which allowed him to work directly with optically projected light rather than just painting what he thought his eyes were seeing. So, was Vermeer deceiving the buyers of his art? Does that make van Meergeren a forger of a forger? Not surprisingly, the art world is divided in its opinion.
Van Meergeren got rich quickly through his deception but, like most conmen, his greed led to his ultimate demise. As the Dutch authorities went about recovering lost works of art after the collapse of Nazi Germany, they found the forger’s (metaphorical) fingerprints all over Christ and the Adulteress, leading them to charge van Meergeren with treason for which there is only one penalty. The only way of avoiding his untimely death was for van Meergeren to paint his way out of trouble, proving that it was he who forged the recovered artwork. Which he did, under constant guard.
Cook is a superb storyteller, precise in his language and meticulous in his delivery, weaving the detailed, educational biography of the artful forger whilst creating his own trail of deception, leading the audience gently by the hand early on by deconstructing the deceit, only to leave them collectively open mouthed with a quite stunning series of tricks as the show concludes.
By the time he’s explaining the spin off from his visit to Amsterdam to research the van Meergeren story, no-one is quite sure whether they’re hearing the truth or a web of intrigue spun by his furtive mind. It’s all very slick, polished, urbane, believable and amusing.
And the takeaways from this? Never, never, buy a used car from Chris Cook. Or take him on at card games. But maybe check out that Vermeer on the way out and see if there’s something familiar about it.
Magic, storytelling and history in a compelling hour of entertainment – a genuine “must see show”.
