The End of Oak Street

18/08/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I know, I know, the Edinburgh Fringe is in full swing, we’ve got umpteen shows to review and cinema is supposed to be taking a back seat for a while… but…

Well, I was a big fan of director David Robert Mitchell’s 2014 horror, It Follows – and I also know that a sequel, They Follow, is currently in the works. But The End of Oak Street, a mega-budget extravaganza featuring dinosaurs, has been quietly dropped into the multiplexes with hardly any fanfare at all and I’m intrigued. Because this is the last thing I would have expected from a director who seems previously to have worked on low-budget indie films.

It’s 1982 and the Platt family are living in a suburb that looks like it’s been inspired by a Steven Spielberg dream. Dutiful Mom Denise (Anne Hathaway) works hard looking after the family and secretly harbours desires of being an author. She spends hours toiling away on her novel down in the basement. Dad Greg (Ewan McGregor) can’t seem to find regular employment and works part-time as a pizza-delivery man, mostly to fuel his drink problem. Daughter Audrey (Maisy Stella) can’t make friends at school and son Brian (Christian Convery) is developing into a bit of a tearaway.

And then, one fateful night, their neighbourhood is suddenly transported millions of years into the past and, when they wake up, the electricity and water have been turned off and the house is surrounded by dinosaurs…

Yes, I know. Stay with me.

Now, the familiar images of screen dinosaurs have been established since the earliest days of cinema – you know: reptilian, smooth-skinned. And that concept was pretty much cemented in 1993’s Jurassic Park. These dinosaurs – when we finally get to see them – are different. They are feathery, hairy and, in some cases, very poopy. Ever watched that Spielberg classic and wondered why there’s never any sign of dino-poop? Well, in Oak Street, the first intimation we have of their presence is a great big steaming pile of the stuff in the Platts’ neighbours’ back garden. And it’s a good half hour before we actually see one of the beasts properly. But I quite like the gradual way they are introduced; it somehow makes them more threatening.

However, once they are in the story, the film becomes problematic. Mitchell has opted for a kid-friendly 12A certificate, but some of the dino-kills here are pretty gnarly, meaning that the camera is obliged to cut quickly away from the chomping and chewing. The effect of this is that the carnage will probably still induce nightmares in younger kids, who have been brought along to this by their well-meaning parents, but will fail to satiate the teenage thrill-seekers who will be shouting for more bloodshed.

Hathaway really sells the premise of the film, putting everything into her role, but McGregor occasionally looks a bit dazed as though he’s wondering how his agent ever got him into this mess. However, I cannot deny that some of the chases are thrilling and one scene in particular – where a giant snake-like creature invades the family home – is a real high point. In the movie’s final third, I am genuinely shocked by one incident which appears to break that unwritten law that lead characters cannot be killed – but then the script impudently undoes the damage in a have-your-cake-and-eat-it twist. Hmm.

All-in-all, I’m glad I’ve seen The End of Oak Street (though I still think that title fails to sell the movie’s premise) but ,for a variety of reasons, it falls somewhat short of that all-important four stars. But kudos to David Robert Mitchell, who at least has the guts to give this well-trodden genre a thorough reinvention.

3. 8 stars

Philip Caveney

Playback

18/08/26

Summerhall (Former Womens Locker Room), Edinburgh

It’s 2013 and Euan Munro is taking his first steps as a filmmaker on YouTube. We watch entranced as clips of the cheeky eleven-year-old play on a large screen at the back of the room and we know instantly that they are too spot-on to have been faked. Then, suddenly, we’ve moved on a couple of years and now here’s Euan in person, still sporting that trademark red baseball cap – only now, he’s being played by his present-day self (aged twenty-four). We join this new incarnation as things are beginning to hot up on the YouTube front.

For one thing, Euan is still sparring with his friend, Cammy (Yana Harris) – also a YouTuber and sometimes Euan’s collaborator. Euan is initially jealous of his pal, who has more followers than he does, but then he gets his own good news. A popular vlogger calling himself Billosaurus wants to be Euan’s friend – and he lives in Iowa! After Billosaurus features Euan’s World as a hot tip on his account, the kid’s legend begins to grow. Soon he’s approaching the dizzy heights of 1000 followers!

Inspired by Munro’s own childhood experiences, this is a cleverly immersive account of the rise of a wannabe digital superstar. But he’s a naïve boy who takes everything at face value as he tries to negotiate his ascent to fame in a world where he’s perceived as easy prey. Would he maybe accept the sum of $100 dollars to show his bare feet on camera? Why not? That’s good money! Luckily, Billosaurus is on hand to advise Euan against accepting the offer, but… who exactly is Billosaurus?

And what is he expecting from this friendship?

Munro’s autobiographical play, directed by Katya Searle, is a wonderfully-affecting piece of theatre, made all the more powerful by its use of genuine found-footage. As the reality of the central character’s situation begins to dawn on him, there’s also an emotional scene between Euan and his mum (Mori Christian.) The final payoff has me welling up with tears. Though young Euan is never directly harmed by any of the people he encounters online, they are all grooming him for their own nefarious purposes – and their silent intent speaks volumes.

Chilling and compelling in equal measure, Playback is another unmissable show at Summerhall.

4. 8 stars

Philip Caveney

Jerk Off!

17/08/26

Underbelly Bristo Square (Dairy Room), Edinburgh

Don’t be misled by the title. Jerk Off! is not a bro-comedy, akin to The Hangover or The Inbetweeners. Instead, it’s a profound autobiographical play about death, abusive relationships – and hip hop.

Nadia P Manzoor is a triple threat. Not only has she penned this provocative script; not only is she a compelling actor; this woman can really dance.

Framed as a story (or perhaps a lesson) for her daughter, Rumi, the play follows Nadia in the aftermath of her mother’s death. She’s only twenty when her mother dies and she doesn’t know how to process her grief. Her British-Pakistani family want her to get married to a nice Muslim boy, but Nadia wants to spread her wings. So when her cousin Zeinab invites her to Boston, she books a ticket right away.

Boston is a revelation: an internship at Harvard (thanks, Zeinab!), a hip-hop dance class and a hot boyfriend. And if the boyfriend’s behaviour raises a few red flags, well, that’s a small price to pay for a cool new life… Until it’s not.

As well as Manzoor’s skilled performance, what makes Jerk Off! so powerful is her refusal to offer us any easy answers. There is nuance upon nuance; there are no heroes or villains here. Instead, we have a cast of flawed humans, failing and succeeding, trying their best and falling short. By the end of the play, Nadia has come to terms with the imperfect reality of who her mother was. The message to Rumi seems to be that people are tricky and love is complicated – but we can learn to make peace with that.

Engaging, informative and challenging, Jerk Off! is not to be missed.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Omar Badawy: Guided Detour

16/08/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker One), Edinburgh

Omar Badawy leads us on a Guided Detour through the life of a conflict-averse ‘Posh Arab’, who somehow keeps stumbling into situations where passivity isn’t an option. Take a grey London afternoon in September 2025, for example. Badawy is on his way to a Norwegian-themed fancy dress party. He doesn’t want to go but he’s certainly not going to risk an argument by telling his girlfriend that. So here he is, reluctantly making his way across the city, only to find himself in the midst of Tommy Robinson’s ‘Unite the Kingdom’ march, surrounded by far-right protestors.

Oops.

What’s a non-confrontational Viking to do?

Twenty-eight-year-old Badawy has an affable persona, relating his series of unfortunate events with a rueful, resigned air. The tone is light and the jokes are plentiful, but he makes some serious points. He just wants to get on with his life: he doesn’t want to be drawn into race-debates; why should he? Ever since primary school (a particularly funny anecdote, which I won’t spoil here), he’s been defined by his Egyptian lineage, expected to engage with identity politics.

Confident, articulate and perfectly in control of his material, Badawy is a deceptively breezy comedian. I laugh throughout the show, as if I’m watching something playful and inconsequential. It’s only later, walking home, that the more profound elements begin to assert themselves.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Oops: Olivia Raine Attwood

16/08/26

Gilded Balloon, Teviot (The Billiard Room), Edinburgh

As we file into the Billiard Room, Olivia Raine Attwood is waiting there to greet us: a lean, hyperactive American in bright orange dungarees. She tells us that she’s an expert in matchmaking, a skill she acquired back in high school. Even from her earliest days, she assures us, she kept journals about her various classmates, listing their attributes and their failings. Indeed, she’s brought said journals along with her and shares pages of them via a PowerPoint display. Heartbreakingly, her teenage self also features prominently in the pages, always listed at the bottom of the league, somebody with no allure, no boobs and therefore no hope of ever attracting a partner.

There are recollections of early dates, most of them ending in disaster – and one man from the audience is enticed onto the stage to recreate a pivotal moment: her first kiss in a boy’s car. Attwood has a quirky physicality, her exaggerated gestures and gawky movements serving to amp up the humour. This is shown to its best effect in an extended sequence depicting a more recent event: she goes for a morning run after eating an Indian meal the night before – and halfway across the (very long) bridge between Brooklyn and Manhattan, suddenly realises she needs to take an urgent dump. As she frantically tries to extricate herself from the situation, her energy becomes ever more exaggerated and the laughter rises.

Okay, so she’s not exactly reinventing the wheel here but, if the object of the exercise is to make the audience laugh out loud, she succeeds in spades. Establishing a great rapport from the get-go, Attwood has us in her perfectly-manicured grip throughout her hour on stage.

Those looking to let off steam via raucous laughter will be sure to find it in Oops.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis

15/06/26

Assembly Roxy (Upstairs), Edinburgh

Who doesn’t love Bette Davis? Now Voyager, All About Eve: they’re both great pieces of cinema. 

But of course, later in her career when she was struggling to keep going outside the studio system, that was an entirely different kettle of celluloid. The once-adored superstar was aging fast and had to fight for parts in smaller films. This delightful musical focuses on the year 1975, when Bette (Annie Meek Montgomery) has secured a supporting role in a horror movie called Burnt Offerings, mostly through the persistence of her loyal assistant, Don (Coleson Berlin). 

Her co-stars are Karen Black (Laura Dillman Frank), who is pregnant and proving ‘difficult’, and Oliver Reed (Aaron Novak), already establishing quite the reputation as a hard-drinking hell-raiser. There’s also occasional  interference from Bette’s strange daughter, BD Hyman (Grace Olinsky), who seems convinced that her mom is actually using black magic on everyone who gets in her way…

If much of what occurs here induces some eyebrow-raising, a quick flick around Google will assure you that this is mostly based on fact – except, of course, for those visits from Amelia Earhart, who has an unfortunate propensity for breaking wind at inopportune moments…

The Bloody Ballad of Bette Davis by Brooklyn-based Piper Theatre Productions is a camp musical fantasia, written and directed by John P McEneny with memorable songs by Ron Parker (the title piece is a particular ear-worm. I emerge humming it maniacally).

The five-strong cast give this their all; I’m especially dazzled by Montgomery’s steely impersonation of the titular star, chain- smoking her way through the indignities piled upon her as she doggedly navigates the troublesome shoot. I love too the distinctive 70s costumes, the guest appearances from muppet-like creatures and the effective way that a few wooden rectangles are put to use for a whole series of different purposes. At one point one of them is even pressed into service as Earhart’s aeroplane. A final appearance by Betty and Don as glittering gay icons offers a delightful ending.

Fast-paced, inventive and very, very funny, TBBOBD is the perfect vehicle for a fun hour at the Fringe. If you don’t come out humming that theme song, there’s something wrong with you. Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Day of the Locust

15/06/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Attic), Edinburgh

Published in 1939 by Nathanael West and set in LA, The Day of the Locust is widely considered to be one of the great American novels – a treatise on the insatiable hunger for fame. It was also memorably turned into a feature film by John Schlesinger in 1975. Sprawling, visceral and strangely apocalyptic, it’s an ambitious subject for a monologue and I’m intrigued to see what storyteller Calum Patrick Hughes can make of it in the claustrophobic confines of the Pleasance’s Attic. 

He manages to weave a beguiling tale with just his voice (occasionally boosted by a microphone) and atmospheric layers of sound, courtesy of an electric guitar fed through various loop and drone pedals, to create haunting soundscapes. Though he’s done a moderate amount of updating to the story – there’s mention of mobile phones at one point and also a couple of scenes where security forces have morphed into ICE agents – what’s interesting is how convincingly these elements gel with what was essentially a depiction of 1930s Hollywood. The avarice and greed remains undiminished; there’s the same propensity for people to exploit each other for personal gain.

Perhaps less successfully, Hughes has also retained the brutish sexual politics of the era in which the book was written, and I find myself wondering if those aspects too could be reappraised. Just a thought.

Hughes embodies all the familiar characters convincingly, varying his voice just enough to identify each of them in turn, and his descriptions of Hawthorn’s startling images create an atmosphere of steadily-rising tension throughout, until we are slammed headlong into the novel’s infamous climax. 

All in all, this is an experiment that has yielded a powerful and thought-provoking monologue. You don’t have to be a fan of the original – or even familiar with it – to enjoy this performance.

4 stars

Philip Caveney 

Endgame

14/08/26

Pleasance at EICC (Lomond Theatre), Edinburgh

Which adjective best describes Samuel Beckett’s Endgame? Depressing? Dystopian? Dingy? Dark? Take your pick. And yet this is also a funny play, full of clowning, jokes and silly absurdities. Who better to illuminate the weirdness than the wonderful Flabbergast Theatre?

We’ve been fans of Flabbergast ever since we stumbled across Tatterdamelion at 2016’s Fringe; in the intervening years, we’ve been wowed by The Swell Mob, The Tragedy of Macbeth and Paper Swans. We’re excited to see what they do with “the play that Beckett considered bleaker than Godot“.

Henry Maynard is not only Flabbergast’s founder and the director of Endgame, he’s also Hamm, the blind and dying man at the centre of this piece. Hamm is angry with life, railing against his failing body and the terrible state of the world. The view from his window, he is told, is desolate, post-apocalyptic. Something dreadful has happened out there – and it’s not much better inside his home. Hamm is stuck in his chair, unable to move, utterly reliant on the hapless Clov (Simon Gleave), who’s been with Hamm since he was a boy. Part servant, part surrogate son, Clov is cowed by Hamm, incapable of standing up to him.

The play’s most transparent metaphor is Hamm’s parents’ accommodation. Old and useless, Nagg (Derek Ellwood) and Nell (Complicité’s Annabel Arden) have been discarded like rubbish: they live in a pair of dustbins outside their son’s house, popping up occasionally to beg for food. The price for a hard biscuit is high: they have to listen to Hamm’s endless shouting about how they neglected him when he was young. His accusations are born out by Nagg’s cruel replies but their helplessness makes us sympathise with the aged couple.

Mostly, though, our hearts go out to Clov. He’s the only one who’s able to move, albeit with difficulty, and so he’s stuck caring for these dreadful people, none of whom has a kind word for him. Gleave’s expert clowning gives the play its physical dynamism, preventing it from seeming static, despite the fixed positions of the other three characters.

Skilfully conceived, this production has a clarity that illuminates Beckett’s dream-like, complex play, making it more accessible than any other version I have seen. Just as in life, death looms large – but there are plenty of laughs along the way.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Bliss

14/08/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Grand), Edinburgh

Bliss is currently being talked about as ‘the next Six.’ It’s easy to see why. Both offer revisionist stories where young women are placed centre stage. But while Six is based on actual historical events, Bliss chooses the traditional fairy tale for a makeover. If we’re merely talking about popularity, the massive crowd at the Pleasance Grand is proof that this show is exactly what it needs to be: a big, loud, glittering musical that has everyone clapping along to its upbeat songs and swooning to its power ballads.

Four teenage princesses live in a secluded tower, locked away from the world by their widowed father, The King (Cameron Johnson), apparently for their own safety. They are Piper (Askshara Gunda), Carmella (Alexandra Emmerson-Kirby), Faye (Miriam Nyarko) and Holly (Matilda Shapland). As they spend so much time with only each other for company, they have each developed expertise in the subjects that interest them most. Piper specialises in astronomy and, when she discovers that a rare meteor is due to arrive, she longs to find a way to go outside and watch it.

The girls use their combined knowledge to escape but, once outside, they encounter something much more interesting – young Prince Devin (Jordan Calloway), who looks like he’s on day-release from a boy band, but who has a way of knocking out a song that has Piper’s heart fluttering. It turns out he’s soon to be hosting a party where he’ll choose a bride. How can Piper wangle an invite?

Right on cue, along comes Fairy Godfather, Glimmermore (Tom Bennett, appropriately decked out in pink robes). He assures Piper that she has a perfectly good chance of securing an invitation, and he can see to it that she gets her deepest wish…

Happily, the writers have the good sense to point out that being chosen as a bride isn’t necessarily a good thing, since Glimmermore’s posse of eligible females all have something of the Stepford Wives about them – and maybe it’s not the best outcome a young woman can hope for…

Sheryl Kaller directs with aplomb and, with book, music and lyrics by Emma Lively and Tyler Beatty, and well-drilled choreography by Josh Prince, Bliss packs plenty of energetic singing and hoofing into its 90 minute running time.

If there’s an issue for me, it’s the lack of jeopardy in the story. Glimmermore is the closest this show has to an actual villain, but there’s never any intimation that he has any real power over those he inducts into his cult-like following – and, as it turns out, his attempts to threaten anyone are instantly dispelled by a fatal flaw he gives away early in the proceedings.

Still, there’s no ignoring the enthusiasm of that standing ovation, which threatens to lift the roof off the venue. Could Bliss become the next Six?

Maybe if the creators wish hard enough, their dreams will come true…

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Nesting

13/08/26

Summerhall (Old Lab), Edinburgh

Nesting is a difficult play – complex, ambitious and emotionally devastating. But that’s the beauty of art, right? It comes in so many guises. Sometimes it’s good to be challenged.

This one’s very close to home: it’s about a man dying of MND, the neurological condition that killed my lovely dad four years ago. Billy Mack’s embodiment of the disease is horribly accurate and I find myself crying. A lot.

Mack plays Francis, a widower who lives with his pregnant daughter, Emma (Francesca Hess). The two enjoy a close relationship, teasing and joking and looking out for each other. Emma’s an overworked teacher, and – although he’s retired – Francis is very busy too. He’s making a crib for his new grandchild, lovingly cutting and sanding the wood he’s chosen so carefully.

But there’s something wrong with his right hand…

The diagnosis of motor neurone disease, delivered by Dr Bell (Peter McCormick, who also wrote the play), is devastating.

So far, so sadly ordinary. But then we meet Gull (Michael Guest), a seagull with a mission. If Francis agrees, Gull will kill him and take over his body, stalling the disease at its current level. It’s a no-brainer, he squawks. Not only will Emma be spared the burden of caring for her dad, she won’t even know he’s gone. Francis is very tempted. He just needs some time to think.

Under Ben Standish’s assured direction, Nesting is an arresting, deliberately stagy piece. As befits the Fringe, with its quick turnaround, the set is simple yet extraordinarily effective. A wooden frame with a curtain serves as hospital ward, bedroom window, room divider, etc. Meanwhile, Guest’s performance is a masterclass in physical theatre, committed, unnerving and utterly convincing. If the metaphor is a little opaque, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We find ourselves discussing possible interpretations long into the evening.

McCormick’s script addresses the strain placed on carers too. Hess perfectly conveys the toll her dad’s illness takes on Emma, as she struggles to look after him as well as keeping up with her job and coping with her pregnancy. The impassioned speech she gives is perhaps the most memorable moment of the play. She pleads with Dr Bell to help her, explaining that the care homes she’s approached have rejected her dad because MND is too complex for them! If that’s the case, how is she supposed to cope? How can two hours of daily home help be enough?

Dark, funny, absurd, salient: Nesting is not an easy play to pin down. But it is an intensely thought-provoking drama, one that will stay with you for a long time.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield