The Good Boy

26/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The title of Stephen Graham’s new film has caused some confusion. The Good Boy is known as in some quarters as Heel, mostly to avoid being confused with another recent release, Good Boy, which is about a haunted dog – though in both films one of the ‘lead’ characters gets to wear a collar. Confused? Don’t be. Suffice to say this is a fascinating watch, whatever it’s called, featuring one of the darkest, most twisted storylines I’ve seen in a very long time.

Tommy (Anson Boon) is a toxic nineteen-year-old, who revels in drugs, violence and rampant sex, delighting in filming his exploits and posting them up on social media, where he’s attracting quite a following. Unluckily for him, his excesses have come to the attention of Chris (Stephen Graham) and, all too soon, Tommy wakes up on a mattress in the cellar of Chris’s remote detached house, chained in position and wearing the aforementioned collar. In his new home, he is compelled to obey his master’s every command. Should he misbehave, Chris is more than ready to dole out savage punishment – and he makes it clear from the get-go that he intends to show Tommy how a good boy behaves.

So, who is going to come to Tommy’s help? Certainly not Chris’s pale and wan wife, Kathryn (Andrea Riseborough), who appears to be broken by something terrible in her recent past. And certainly not Chris’s young son, Jonathan (Kit Rakusen), who looks and talks like a kid from an Enid Blyton novel and is very careful not to misbehave. What about the house’s most recent addition, hired cleaning woman, Rina (Monika Frajczyk)? Could she become Tommy’s ally? Or is she too caught up with family problems of her own? Besides, surely somebody has reported Tommy’s disappearance… won’t the police be looking for him?

The beauty of this film, written by Bartek Bartosik and Naqqash Khalid, is that I’m never entirely sure where the storyline is headed, right up to its final scene. Every time I think I’m close to working things out, it swings in an entirely different direction, which only serves to make it all the more intriguing. The three leads all play their roles compellingly, particularly Riseborough, who is obliged to remain mute for many of her early appearances, yet skilfully contrives to exude a palpable air of utter misery. Director Jan Komasa keeps everything on such a tight leash (we’re back to dogs again!) that the film has me in suspense from start to finish.

But what’s it about, I hear you ask? Is it just an unpleasant tale of sadism? No. It’s much more than that. The Good Boy challenges our preconceptions about right and wrong. It is about the power of the family unit – the ways in which it can exert both good and bad influences on those who are held within its tenacious grip. So many people attribute importance to their respective families and are often prepared to go to extreme lengths to ensure that the dynamic continues to function. Chris has clearly taken this approach far further than anyone ever should, but is there something at the heart of his methods that might actually… work?

Whatever your thoughts on the matter, The Good Boy is a powerful and highly original slice of contemporary cinema. See it if you can and draw your own conclusions. I guarantee, you won’t be bored.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

25/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

2019’s Ready or Not was one of those plucky little films that made a big impression. It introduced Samara Weaving as Grace, a young woman who unwittingly marries a Satanist (it happens) and then spends the rest of the film playing a bizarre game of Hide and Seek with her new husband and his family, all of whom are doing their level best to murder her with an array of vintage weapons. It was a deceptively simple concept, played through with great flair and absolute precision – and it worked like a charm.

Rumours of a sequel started soon after its release and now here it finally is, bigger, louder and (inevitably) bloodier than its predecessor. It picks up right where the last film finished off with a wounded and dishevelled Grace stumbling from a blazing building and being rushed to hospital. She’s had a close call but it’s all over now. Except, of course, it isn’t (that incredibly redundant 2 in the title is the clue).

She is soon informed that, because she’s managed to despatch an entire family in the Satanist hierarchy, she must now play the same game all over again, this time pitted against the heads of several different households. Whoever manages to kill Grace will be the new Satanic leader, taking over from Chester Danforth, played by esteemed horror director David Cronenberg. He’s glimpsed only briefly before he’s erased – as the rules dictate – by his two children, Titus (Shawn Hatosy) and Ursula (Sarah Michelle Gellar). And naturally, Chester’s twin kids both feel that they should be the one to inherit the kingdom.

To further complicate matters, Grace is now accompanied by her estranged younger sister, Faith (Kathyryn Newton), who has turned up at the hospital because she’s still listed as Grace’s next of kin. Now the two of them, handcuffed together, must take on seemingly insurmountable odds…

The old rule of sequels is as reductive as ever. Directors Guy Busick and R Christopher Murphy give it their best shot, working from a screenplay by Radio Silence (Marc Bettenelli-Olpin and Tyler Gilett), but they’re in a game of diminishing returns, no matter how much gusto they employ. Most of the running time features that kind of Sam Raimi-esque slapstick horror, where the impulse is to laugh out loud as people quite literally explode. The problem with that is that the reasons for Satanists exploding are quite convoluted and I’m still unclear about a couple of examples – but maybe that’s just me.

Both Weaving and Newton are strong in their roles and their habitual bickering as they flail from one disaster to the next is often more entertaining than the carnage. Elijah Wood gives the film one of its strongest cards as ‘The Lawyer,’ managing to stay straight-faced and erudite as the bodies pile up around him. The film itself runs out of steam long before its ridiculously protracted conclusion and the old adage about ‘less is more’ has rarely felt more apt.

This isn’t terrible, but neither is it a patch on it’s leaner, meaner progenitor. There’s already talk about a third instalment, but I sincerely hope that everyone has the good sense to leave it here. There are only so many exploding Satanists a fellow can take.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

One-Man Poe: The Black Cat & The Raven

22/03/26

The Swallow Theatre, Ravenstone

We’re enjoying a short campervan trip to Dumfries and Galloway. Tomorrow, a 10k hike is planned on the Isle of Whithorn where we’ll explore the setting of the final scenes of the iconic 1973 film, The Wicker Man. But how should we pass a quiet Sunday evening? Well, obviously we’re not going to a theatre show, that really would be a busman’s holiday… but then a friend tells us about The Swallow Theatre, which proudly proclaims itself to be ‘the smallest theatre in Scotland.’ Originally set up by Jill and David Sumner in 1990, it now has new owners, and is currently celebrating its 30th year!

And what’s more, tonight’s show looks very interesting…

Almost before we know what’s happening, our seats are booked and we’re dodging pot holes as we drive along a remote country road, until we see welcoming lights ahead of us. Someone is waiting by the parking area to guide cars into their spaces and, once inside, we take seats in the convivial bar, where drinks and snacks are being dispensed. The new owners have been running the theatre since 2016 and seem to be able to turn their hands to just about everything. As curtain up draws near, we’re led out to the converted cow byre behind the cottage, where performer Stephen Smith is already seated at a desk, awaiting our arrival. Blankets are dispensed (it’s Scotland; it’s cold!), the lights dim and One-Man Poe begins.

In the opening monologue, Smith relates the author’s classic short story, The Black Cat, the tale of a disturbed man who cannot stop himself from indulging in random acts of cruelty, most of them directed at his titular pet. Smith is a confident and assured performer and he embodies the narrator with great skill, seizing upon the man’s every gesture, every sidelong glance: the way he suddenly pauses to stare intently at a member of the audience. There are nicely-judged moments of dread, subtly accentuated by sound and lighting effects.

If the first half is impressive, the second is even more so as, in full view of the audience, Smith transforms himself into an entirely different character, the old man who relates Poe’s best-known poem, The Raven. This is stage craft of the highest order. We’ve seen Smith changing his clothes and applying his makeup, so why should we believe that he’s an elderly man approaching the end of his life? And yet, we absolutely do. It’s a mesmerising performance, during which the audience watches in spellbound silence as the familiar lines unfold.

Already a regular performer at the Edinburgh Fringe, Smith announces afterwards that he’s planning to return this August with two new pieces by Edgar Allen Poe. Something to check out at a later date, I think, but for now we return to our van, marvelling at what we’ve just watched and trying not to be aware of the countless pairs of glinting eyes watching us from the hedgerow…

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Saint Joan

21/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Stewart Laing’s stripped-back adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan is based not on the 1923 original, but on a screenplay Shaw wrote later (presumably with an eye on Hollywood), a script which eventually made it into print in the1960s but never transitioned to the big screen. It’s a shorter, tauter version of the story, which focuses on Joan’s origins – and on her subsequent trial.

The piece is initially narrated by Chorus (Martin O Connor) as a series of action lines, inviting the audience to picture the scenes as they unfold. Joan (Mandipa Kabanda, in her theatrical debut), a sixteen-year-old peasant girl, turns up unexpectedly at the farm of Robert de Baudricourt (Thierry Mabonga), insisting that she be given a horse and a suit of armour. (Well we’ve all been there!) Voices in her head have told her that she must ride to the rescue of the city of Orléans, which is currently under siege by the English army. Those same voices assure Joan that not only can she save the city but, furthermore, she’s destined to be the one to crown the Dauphin in Rheims Cathedral.

Against all the odds, Robert is convinced by Joan’s visions and grants her request. The ensuing carnage in Orléans does appear to have a seemingly miraculous outcome with the French defeating the English, providing a turning point in the 100 years war. But of course, as we all know, history doesn’t have a happy ending planned for Joan – and all too soon, she finds herself on trial for witchcraft, judged and assessed by a bunch of toxic males, who feel threatened by her seemingly supernatural abilities. Only Ladvenu (Lewis MacDougall) finds some sympathy for her plight, but he is shouted down in the general chorus of ‘burn the witch!’

As I said earlier, it’s stripped-back and spare, but the harsh declamatory style of the dialogue sometimes makes it hard to follow proceedings – and it seems ironic that a huge blank screen standing onstage throughout is barely utilised as anything more than a handy barrier to conceal costume changes. There’s one brief sequence with a few static images and music by Charli XCX – and a longer filmed epilogue, created by Adura Onashile, which features a tarred-and-feathered Joan speaking directly to camera, evoking comparisons between her mission and the work of protestors against the current conflict in Palestine. Are social media activists channelling Joan as a prototype? This seems to suggest that they are – but, the inevitable effect is to make those earlier scenes seem even starker by comparison – and wouldn’t Joan’s immolation benefit from some suitably fiery visuals? I can’t help feeling this is a missed opportunity.

Still, this is a serious, thought-provoking performance piece with the six-strong cast moving from character to character with total commitment. MacDougall is particularly compelling as Ladvenu and Ross Mann manages to imbue elements of humour into the bullish, vengeful Chaplain. A four-way production between Raw Material, Perth Theatre, Aberdeen Performing Arts and Citizens Theatre, Saint Joan in at the Traverse until the 21st of March.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Swansong

18/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Based on a 2008 radio play by David Greig, this lunchtime musical by Eve Nicol and Finn Anderson tells the tale of a suicidal young woman saved by a talking swan. And yes, it’s as quirky as it sounds.

Lydia (Julia Murray) can’t see a way forward. After “a shit day, a shit week, a shit life,” she’s had enough. Armed with a bottle of gin and a headful of suicidal thoughts, she walks to her local duckpond, intent on drowning herself in its muddy shallows. But when she stumbles into Swan (Paul McArthur)’s nest, he offers her a deal: if she’ll come with him for one last party, he’ll make it so she can die instantly and painlessly just by clicking her fingers, any time she wants. Curious, Lydia agrees.

And so follows a wild night out, as the unlikely duo fly across the Edinburgh skies before drinking their way from bar to sex club to London sleeper train. As the hours pass, Lydia becomes less intent on ending her life. It’s not that Swan does or says anything especially profound, it’s just that he’s there, listening without judging, giving her the space and time to reconsider.

With an onstage band comprising musical director Dale Parker (piano) and Rachel Dunns (sax and flute), the music is seamlessly integrated into this latest piece for A Play, A Pie and A Pint, as Swan encourages Lydia to take to the pub stages and sing her self-penned songs. Both Murray and McArthur have soulful, expressive voices, ensuring we make a real emotional connection with their characters.

However, although the performances are faultless and the direction cohesive, I can’t help feeling that this play adds up to less than the sum of its parts. There’s clearly an allusion to Leda and the Swan, but the storylines are very different and I don’t know what I’m supposed to infer. Is it simply the collision of the human and the divine? If so, to what end? I’m also unconvinced by the Swan’s proposal: if Lydia really wants to die, she already knows how to make that happen. Surely he needs to offer something more than a slightly quicker way out?

Nonetheless, there’s no denying that, despite its dark themes, this is an engaging piece of musical theatre, and a more than worthwhile way to spend your lunch hour.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

One Day: The Musical

17/03/26

The Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh

The genius of David Nicholls’ 2009 novel lies in its central conceit, with July 15th assuming a profound significance. According to folklore, St Swithin’s Day’s weather is prophetic: whatever we wake up to that morning, come rain or shine, we’re in for another forty days of it. For Edinburgh students Dexter and Emma, it’s the date of their graduation party – and it signifies the start of something destined to last a lot longer than six weeks. Their 1988 brief encounter on their final night in the city is the start of a lifelong friendship. We catch up with them every year on this symbolic day for a snapshot of what they’re up to, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Though occasionally wobbly, the relationship survives their divergent paths as they navigate their respective ways through the minefields of adult life: careers and families, dreams and disappointments. The structure allows for an expansive narrative while still focusing on the minutiae. No wonder screenwriters couldn’t wait to get their mitts on it, as evidenced by the speedy release of Lone Scherfig’s 2011 film, and – more recently – the 2024 Netflix miniseries.

And now, perhaps inevitably, there’s this musical – a co-production by the Lyceum and Melting Pot, adapted by David Greig and directed by Max Webster. With music by Abner and Amanda Ramirez, One Day is both exuberant and memorable, a fitting celebration for the Lyceum’s 60th anniversary.

From the moment we enter the auditorium, there’s no mistaking the extravagance and ambition of Rae Smith’s design; the venue has been reconfigured beyond recognition, creating an in-the-round performance space from this 19th-century end-on theatre. We’re in tiered seating on what is usually the stage; the lower stalls are covered with a revolving wooden floor; the proscenium arch is lined with bulbs like a Hollywood mirror, reflecting the other half of the audience back at us. There are cabaret-style seats as well, making this an altogether different experience from the more traditional one we’re used to here. It’s exciting and audacious, priming us for what’s to come.

Dexter (Jamie Muscato) and Emma (Sharon Rose) make an appealing pair. They’re stock characters in a way – his posh-boy entitlement contrasting with her scrappy working-class determination – but they’re fleshed out enough for us to see beyond these stereotypes. If first-class honours student Emma is infuriating at times – settling for too little, with her job in a crappy restaurant and a boyfriend (Dan Buckley) she doesn’t love – then Dexter is immeasurably more so, squandering his unearned privilege and refusing to grow up. But we care about them too: they’re sweet and funny and vulnerable in their own ways, and we want them to succeed, both individually and together. The two leads are perfectly cast, imbuing the protagonists with warmth and humanity – and their vocals are impressive too.

The ensemble provide outstanding support in a variety of guises, from key characters such as Dexter’s parents (Josefina Gabrielle and David Birrell) and Em’s best friend, Tilly (the wonderfully-named Miracle Chance), to a crowd of 90s ravers and a whispering maze. Webster’s direction is overtly theatrical, playing with dramatic techniques to excellent effect. I especially like the physical manifestation of Dexter’s breakdown, as the actors cling to a literal lifeline, encircling him in his despair.

Carrie-Ann Ingrouille’s choreography complements and enhances the sprightly tone of the production, the 14-strong cast often seeming more numerous. Musical director Nigel Lilley leads his band with a matching ebullience, so that – despite the poignancy of the ending – the over-arching mood is one of verve and vivacity. It’s a clever balance.

Of course, I can’t leave this review without mentioning Imogen Brown, one of three young actors playing Dexter’s daughter, Jasmine. We’ve chosen tonight’s showing specifically because Imogen is performing: I know her from a drama class I teach. She’s every bit as professional and engaging as I would expect her to be, the role adding depth to Dexter’s character, as well as hope for his future.

A fabulous production all round, One Day: The Musical well deserves the success it has already achieved in its Edinburgh debut, and is sure to consolidate this when it transfers to the West End.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Project Hail Mary

15/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Science fiction movies come in all shapes and forms. They can be epic widescreen showcases. They can be intriguing ‘what if’ commentaries on uncertain futures. They can be wildly funny, gently heartwarming. They can be tales of triumph over adversity. They can be suspenseful, ironic, prophetic and surprising. Project Hail Mary somehow manages to be all of these things in the space of a couple of hours and, trust me, that’s not intended as a criticism.

Based on the novel by Andy Weir and adapted by Drew Goddard, the story begins aboard the titular space probe with Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling) waking up from a very, VERY long sleep. He’s long-haired, bearded and extremely confused. What’s he doing on a freaking space ship? He’s a junior high school teacher for Christ’s sake! And why are the only other people aboard the probe both dead?

Memories from thirteen years ago gradually start to come back to him. He remembers being approached by Eva Stratt (Sandra Hüller), an administrator for the European Space Agency. She’s looking for a molecular biologist, something that Ryland worked at before he became a teacher. Eva delivers some bad news: the sun is dying, its power being gradually consumed by single-celled organisms called ‘Astrophage.’ If nothing is done about the situation, it will mean that humanity is going to face ‘total extinction’ within just a few short years. Will Ryland help her to find a solution for the problem?

He agrees to join her huge team of scientists, but makes it very clear from the outset that he’s really not interested in going into outer space himself. He’s a homebody, not a hero. On no account will he ever don a spacesuit and venture out of Earth’s gravity. Eva tells him it’s not a problem. So… how did he get here? And now he is here, what’s he supposed to do?

I love the way this complex tale is told, the background to the story gradually released via out-of-sequence recollections. Directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller seem to relish multi-faceted storylines (see Into the Spider-Verse if you want further proof) and while PHM takes its own sweet time laying out all the pertinent details, it never loses momentum. Around the halfway mark, Ryland has a chance encounter with an alien starship and subsequently meets up with its only surviving crew member. He’s an Eridian, a strange many-limbed creature that appears to be made from lumps of stone and who Ryland immediately dubs ‘Rocky.’ Once they have devised a way to communicate, Ryland discovers that Rocky is on a similar mission to him – trying to find a way to save his own planet, Erid, which is also being ravaged by those pesky astrophages.

The two of them resolve to work together, though that isn’t a straightforward process…

The relationship between the two mismatched travellers is at the heart of this goofy and unapologetically sentimental tale. Rocky is a deceptively simple creation, devised using old-school puppetry rather than digital effects – and Gosling has rarely been more engaging than he is here, as a kind of super-nerd discovering that he’s capable of more than he ever imagined.

Best watched on an IMAX screen – some of the special effects sequences are eye-popping – this is an enchanting and thought-provoking tale that keeps me hooked throughout and delivers an intricate storyline with extraordinary skill.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Crime 101

14/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

There’s something delightfully old-fashioned about Crime 101, a sense of quality that harks back to the classic cop thrillers of the 70s and 80s. Directed and written by Bart Layton and based on a novella by Don Winslow, the film moves smoothly through its initial set-up to a pulse-pounding conclusion, prowling confidently along like the proverbial tiger on vaseline. Pretty much all of its characters are beautifully drawn and have very good reasons to be where they are.

A highly-disciplined jewel thief has arrived in LA. All of the million-dollar hits to date have occurred at some point along Route101, a fact that has not escaped the attention of LAPD detective Lou Lubesnick (Mark Ruffalo). But his attempts to get this across to his fellow cops seems destined to get him nowhere. They are much more interested in ticking boxes and ensuring they’re left looking good, even if that means bending the rules.

We know from the get-go who Lou is looking for. It’s Mike Davis (Chris Hemsworth), a highly-principled villain, who leaves nothing to chance. So, when he doesn’t like the set up for his next job in Santa Barbara, he tells his fence, Money (Nick Nolte), that he’s going to give this one a swerve. Money, more interested in making big bucks, hires motorbiking thug Ormon (Barry Keoghan) to handle the heist instead. Orman is an undisciplined agent of chaos and his messy attack on a jewellery store threatens to completely derail everything.

Meanwhile, insurance broker Sharon (Halle Berry) is getting sick and tired of her bosses passing her over for a long-promised partnership. She is beginning to realise that something is going to have to change. And then Mike is quite literally run into by a stranger called Maya (Monica Barbaro) and he too begins to ask himself if it might be time to get out of the risky career he’s currently embroiled in…

If the story sounds complicated on paper, have no fears on that score. The narrative is beautifully handled and I’m never in any doubt about the many twists and turns the story takes. There’s much to admire along the way, not least Erik Wilson’s stunning cinematography, which depicts LA in all of its neon-drenched glory. Hemsworth, too often fobbed off with roles that don’t actually require him to do much more than stand around and look handsome, actually gets to flex his acting skills here. There are some beautifully-handled car chase sequences (when Lou asks Mike which is his favourite Steve McQueen movie, it’s no surprise that he chooses Bullitt) and I love the scene where Sharon tells her boss exactly what she thinks of him.

On the nitpick side, Nolte’s dialogue is hard to follow, Jennifer Jason Leigh is wasted in a tiny cameo role – and quite why Keoghan keeps playing characters that would be better suited to a teenage actor is quite beyond me.

But these are minor niggles. I am swept up in the story until we get to a slickly-orchestrated final heist where the suspense builds to a thrilling climax. In a story this earthy, it’s rare to find a redemptive conclusion, but somehow Crime 101 manages to achieve one. I am late getting to this, but I’m really glad I’ve managed to catch it on the big screen before it moves to streaming.

4. 8 stars

Philip Caveney

A Grain of Sand

12/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

A Grain of Sand is a moving narrative, drawn from the observations of children caught up in the conflict in Gaza. Commissioned by the London Palestine Film Festival, the piece is based around A Million Kites, a collection of poems and testimonies, complied by Leila Boukarim and Asaf Luzon. Adapted and directed by Elias Matar, the monologue is performed by actor Sarah Agha.

Agha is Maryam, playing in a circle of sand, an 11-year-old girl living happy and oblivious with her family on the Gaza Strip, until her home is suddenly torn apart by bombing. Maryam has always dreamed of being a storyteller and now, separated from those she loves, she finds herself wandering alone through the devastation, sharing her observations. Other children’s real-life testimonies are interwoven with Maryam’s memories of her life at home and the stories told to her by her beloved grandmother. This approach allows occasional moments of humour to illuminate a grim, distressing narrative.

Agha is a compelling performer and Natalie Pryce’s stark set design offers disturbing glimpses of the turmoil, projected onto a crumpled fabric backdrop. Nick Powell’s soundscapes intensify the terror of the situation. It’s sometimes hard to comprehend the scale of what’s happening in Gaza, but a final image puts everything into shocking perspective – the ranks of children’s names, together with their respective ages, spreading across the backdrop, illuminating the magnitude of the war.

It makes for uncomfortable viewing but I cannot look away.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Legend of Davie McKenzie

11/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Another lunchtime spent at the Traverse Theatre in the splendid company of A Play, A Pie and A Pint. The Legend of Davie McKenzie is terrific, a reminder of just how rewarding it can be to lose yourself for an hour or so in an affecting piece of drama. Written by Stephen Christopher and Graeme Smith (who last season gave us Dancing Shoes) it’s the story of two hapless youths, stuck on a scheme somewhere in Scotland. They meet as kids in the 1980s and instantly bond – not over football or rugby, but their shared love of iconic action movies. But, even though they dream big, they’ve been born into the wrong lives. They’re destined to fail.

The story is narrated by Sean (Afton Moran), the less confident member of the duo. When we first meet him, he’s in a prison cell, serving out his time for drug offences. Davie (Sean Connor) has been released earlier than his pal and, returning to an empty flat and a cache of hidden drugs, has taken a one-way trip to tragedy. His death doesn’t stop him from returning to the prison, as confident and motor-mouthed as ever, ready to direct Sean through a movie he’s envisaged that will serve as Davie’s memorial. All he needs Sean to do is to find a way to get out of prison fast…

Both leads are superb and they are brilliantly backed by Ruaraidh Murray as an affable prison guard, a terrifying Cockney Geezer and a sympathetic funeral director, flitting between the roles with great skill – at one point he’s even called upon to play a helicopter! Gillian Argos’s set design is a perfect example of simple scenery that can be moved, swapped and manipulated to suggest a whole series of different locations. Director Jake Sleet keeps the momentum at full throttle as the canny script gleefully unleashes a barrage of witty exchanges and legendary film references. Can you spot them all? I think I got most of them…

Which all serves to further highlight the poignancy of the play’s final act, when Sean talks about the cost of losing Davie – what it means when your closest friend in the world steps out of the spotlight and into the darkness.

A word of warning. You may want to have a pack of tissues to hand when Sean raises a fist into the air and Simple Minds strike up a very familiar song…

5 stars

Philip Caveney