Redacted: The Cover-Up of a Cover-Up of a Cover-Up

20/08/26

Pleasance Dome (King Dome), Edinburgh

A wet Thursday at the Fringe seems like the perfect time to review Redacted – The Cover-Up of a Cover-Up of a Cover-Up. It’s one of those frenetic, utterly silly slices of physical theatre that are a mainstay of Edinburgh’s three-week extravaganza. Sure, it’s not going to stick in your mind for very long, but it’s great fun while it’s happening.

It begins with Roswell. Doesn’t everything begin with Roswell when we’re talking conspiracies? 

This is the story of Marnie Makowski, who arrives in that fabled New Mexico outpost in 1973, looking for her missing sister. She soon discovers that the disappearance is somehow mixed up with the mysterious 1947 sighting of an alien spacecraft – or is it something else – something even more extraordinary – that nobody seems able to mention without their words being covered by an eerie wailing sound?

Marnie sets off on a convoluted journey to try to uncover the truth, pursued by a couple of relentless detectives and a mysterious guy with an eye-patch and a knife. Meanwhile, the solution she’s looking for is a complex riddle, written in invisible ink and wrapped up in a great big enigma.

Voloz Collective’s turbo-charged adventure features actors Olivia Zerphy, Paul Lofferon, Emily Wheatman and Sam Rayner, who throw themselves maniacally around the performance space, while musician and foley artist Jonny Venvell provides accompaniment on drums, guitar and melodica.

As the story unfolds, there are ski chases, helicopter chases, foot chases, underwater chases and… well, you get the general idea. This doesn’t slow down for more than a few seconds at a time and, even then, it’s only to throw in another conspiracy or three. Princess Diana? Elvis? How do they fit into this?

Using only a modicum of props and their own agile bodies, the young ensemble conjure the necessary landscapes, buildings and methods of transport – while Marnie occasionally pauses to remember precious moments shared with her sister.

When we finally reach a conclusion I feel almost as breathless as the cast, but the enthusiastic applause from the packed crowd at King Dome suggests that a good time has been had by all.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Long Way Home

20/08/26

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Snug), Chambers Street, Edinburgh

Layla Warren’s earliest memories are of war-torn Tehran, where she is sheltering in her grandparents’ basement from Iraqi bombs. Four decades and three continents later, here she is at the Edinburgh Fringe, recounting her almost incredible tale.

Warren is an engaging speaker. She knows how to turn those enormous eyes on her audience, demanding our attention. The problem is, there’s so much extraordinary information packed into the hour that it’s impossible to take it all in. It’s like listening to a podcast on triple speed. There’s five shows’ worth of material crammed into one, so that – inevitably – we find ourselves skating over the surface.

Directed by Sepy Baghaei, the best moments are those when things slow down; when we’re shown instead of told. A scene where Warren dons traditional Iranian dress and dances at her leaving party stands out, as does her blind grandmother memorising Layla’s face through touch.

There are so many incidents I want to see in more detail, to understand them better and marvel at teenage Layla’s blagging skills. A fifteen-year-old bluffing her way onto an international flight? Landing a job at a top London club? Deciding she wants a TV career so just heading to LA and finding one (the evidence is on YouTube; she was known as Layla Kayleigh then)? It’s all fascinating, but we’re only allowed a tantalising glimpse before we gallop on to the next event.

Sometimes, the breakneck speed works to Warren’s advantage, illuminating the astonishing nature of her life. More often, it undermines the importance of traumatic experiences, such as sexual assault or family breakdown. As an audience, we need longer to process these incidents.

There’s so much potential in this autobiographical show – but its depth is obscured by its overwhelming breadth.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Amnesia

19/08/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker Two), Edinburgh

What comes to mind when you think of Rhyl? If it’s “Blackpool after a neutron bomb” or “Satan’s armpit” then you’re not alone.

For me, it conjures up fond memories. I grew up in a village a few miles inland and Rhyl was the nearest town. The Little Theatre, where I spent my teenage Saturdays. The White Rose Centre, for shops and summer jobs. Nightclubs (I was a Bistro girl). And all the fun of the fair.

For Kelly (Kimberley Hart-Simpson), it’s home. She lives on West Parade with her bestie, Amrit, in a flat above Les Harker’s arcade with a glorious sea view. Everywhere they need to go is only a short walk away: the Bryn Môr nursing home, where they both work; the Cob and Pen, where they socialise (and where Kelly’s mum performs weekly Tom Jones tribute gigs). Kelly’s happy with her life – but Amrit, it transpires, is not.

And Kelly isn’t good with change…

Hart-Simpson paints a convincing portrait of life in a forgotten town – the sort of place that politicians love to talk about but where nothing ever seems to improve. Outsiders mock Rhyl: it’s “the Costa del Dole” – somewhere to escape from. But Kelly mounts a spirited defence. She’s proud of her home, the tourist spot that spawned not only Carol Vorderman and Mike Peters, but also Lisa Scott-Lee and, well, Kimberley Hart-Simpson. No one should need to feel ashamed of where they’re from (especially when it’s as beautiful as the North Wales coast).

If this all sounds a little po-faced, don’t be fooled. Directed by Kate Wasserberg in association with Theatr Clwyd, Amnesia is a wild ride, with as many highs and lows as Ocean Beach’s infamous Runaway Train. Kelly is always in motion – even when she’s still  – and Hart-Simpson effortlessly draws our attention to her pent-up energy and frustration, fizzing fit to burst. From Ibiza nightclubs to old ladies’ bed baths, we’re under the spell of a talented actor, who knows exactly how to engage her audience. 

Although Kelly is thirty-seven, this is essentially a coming-of-age story, as she learns to accept two crucial truths: things don’t always stay the same, and her own idea of happiness is perfectly valid.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Don’t You Forget About Me

19/06/26

Assembly Roxy (Downstairs), Edinburgh

Don’t You Forget About Me is described as ‘a monologue about nostalgia’ – and anyone who recognises that title from a popular Simple Minds song will know exactly which John Hughes film provides the inspiration. 

In David Shopland’s script, he imagines himself as the forgotten sixth member of The Breakfast Club. Some 32 years later, he’s eagerly waiting for the others to arrive at his flat, where he’s hosting a bit of a reunion. He refers to them as the archetypes named in the film – The Athlete, The Brain, The Basket-Case, The Princess and The Criminal – each represented by a different coloured stool.

He predicts how they’ll behave when they arrive and then goes on to describe what happened to them in the past. In doing so, he is essentially recounting the plot of The Breakfast Club. Okay, he does it with confidence and some theatrical flair, but his character is barely present… I’m expecting a fresh perspective on the infamous Saturday detention but none is forthcoming.

Like a lot of other people, I saw the original film at the cinema on its 1985 UK release, and I rewatched it in 2017 as part of a John Hughes season. In my opinion, it stands the test of time very well.

So as somebody who’s familiar with the film, of course, I already know what happens, and I also recognise the references to other celebrated movies of the 1980s – Back To the Future, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, the awful Sixteen Candles – but this simple retelling doesn’t add anything new to the mix. Then I find myself wondering what people in the audience who aren’t familiar with the movie are going to get from this and decide that doesn’t really compute. If they don’t know who the characters are and where they come from, what does that leave them with? A summary of a film they haven’t seen?

There is a coda to the play: a meditation on nostalgia and why the cultural landmarks of our teens remain so important throughout our lives. But it feels like too little, too late.

Don’t You Forget About Me is a new piece of work from production company Fake Escape – and Shopland tells us at the end that they are working it up here in Edinburgh. This makes sense: it feels like a WIP, even though it isn’t billed as such. I can’t help feeling this one has some way to go before it’s ready.

2.5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Trials of Magnus Coffinkey

19/08/26

Summerhall (Red Lecture Theatre), Edinburgh

On a stage littered with autumn leaves, the Storyteller (Rebecca Camilleri) begins a whimsical, rhyming fairytale about a doomed bell hanger called Magnus Coffinkey (Jospeh Zammit). In the middle of the night, high up in a belfry, Coffinkey is spooked, first by a malevolent gargoyle and then by a cauldron of bats. As he falls, he grabs the bell – which proves a near-fatal error. He and it tumble together, the silver bell entombing him in the graveyard.

When Magnus wakes up, it’s to find a sweet, guileless creature stealing his heart. From her, he learns that he is in The Gloom, a space somewhere between life and death. If he wants to return to the world he knows, he’ll need Harmony’s help to mend his broken ticker…

So far, so twee – but there is more to this dark fable than meets the eye. Zammit imbues Magnus with real sorrow, while Camilleri perfectly inhabits a whole host of roles, most heartbreakingly that of Harmony. The piece is, in fact, an ode to grief, Magnus’s story serving as catharsis for Lara (Camilleri), a writer trying to cope with immense loss. Cleverly, despite the allegorical structure, there are no glib answers offered here. In fact, when Lara’s husband, Jeremy (Zammit), attempts to provide the ending Lara’s struggling with she dismisses his maxims as useless platitudes.

Something deeper is required…

Co-written by husband and wife team, Malcolm and Angele Galea of Malta’s Give or Take Productions, this play is at once profound and beautiful, precise and dynamic; the script perfectly complemented by Philip Leone-Ganado’s sure-footed direction. Sam Edmunds’ imaginative use of simple lighting – a bell gobo; a couple of coloured bars; a few overhead lamps – provides the finishing touches, establishing whether we’re in Magnus’s story or Lara’s reality.

Only the most stone-hearted person could fail to cry at this play – but only the most cynical could fail to smile.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

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