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

The Bride!

10/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s previous film, The Lost Daughter, seemed to be loved by all and sundry – despite being, in my opinion, a bit slight. The Bride! couldn’t be any more different if it tried. This is a film so sprawling, so packed with bonkers invention, that it almost feels as if it’s about to burst off the screen and into the auditorium. It’s also one that embodies the term ‘divisive.’ It’s had some critics clutching their pearls and reaching for two (and even one) star reviews, while many viewers have denounced it in no uncertain terms. How dare Ms Gyllenhaal defile the genius of Mary Shelley in such a way? Doesn’t she understand that Frankenstein is a great work of art that needs to be treated with respect? 

We open with Mary Shelley herself (Jessie Buckley) in close-up monochrome, berating the fact that she didn’t live long enough to continue her famous story, and proclaiming that she will create a sequel by hook or by crook. Somehow, she manages to home in on Ida (Buckley again), a woman misbehaving in a Chicago bar in 1936. A quick case of possession occurs, which has Ida acting lewdly and shouting abuse (in a variety of voices) at Lupino (Zlatko Buric), the gangster who runs the city. For this misdemeanour, Ida is promptly pushed down a flight of stairs to her death. Bye bye, Ida… or is it?

Shortly thereafter, ‘Frank’ (Christian Bale) arrives in the city in search of Dr Cornelia Euphronious (Annette Bening), a scientist famed for her experiments with reanimation. Frank has been around since the 1800s and is starting to feel a crippling sense of loneliness. Would Dr Euphronious be prepared to animate a female corpse for him, so he can finally enjoy a meaningful relationship? The good doctor understandably has some doubts, but luckily she acquiesces (otherwise this would be a very short movie) and Ida’s freshly-buried body and Shelley’s spirit are zapped into something larger than life. 

‘Penny’ – as Ida/Mary is now known – and Frank start to get to know each other and they go out nightclubbing in a sleazy part of the city. After Frank kills a couple of guys who attempt to rape Ida, the couple are forced to go on the run…

And yes, on paper, it does sound ridiculous – but then, so does Mary Shelley’s original story to be fair – and what my words can’t adequately convey is the sheer exuberance with which this is all done, a degree of WTF invention that leaps out of every frame. The Bride! is quite literally a fearless monster mash-up of epic proportions, with knowing nods to Bonnie and Clyde, Mel Brooks and the Hollywood musicals of the 1930s. Frank, it turns out, is a major fan of song-and-dance man, Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal), and never misses the opportunity to catch one of his films at the cinema. In doing so, he unwittingly leaves a trail for detectives Jake Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and his much cleverer partner, Myrna Malloy (Penélope Cruz).  

I’ll be the first to admit that not everything Gyllenhaal attempts here quite comes off – she wrote the screenplay, as well as directing – and there are rough edges to some of the scenes of mayhem and bloodshed. Furthermore, if you’re one of those people who hates coincidences, be warned – there are a lot of them here. But overall, The Bride! offers such a wild, unpredictable thrill-ride that I quickly throw aside my qualms and  have a great time with it. Buckley is every bit as mesmerising as she is in Hamnet, while Bale’s interpretation of the Monster as a hesitant, apologetic creature, worn down by decades of travails, makes him strangely endearing. Lawrence Sher’s cinematography is stunning and there’s an intriguing score by Hildur Guõnodóttir. The whole enterprise is underpinned by a powerful feminist subtext, which reflects the era in which it’s set.

So, my advice would be to disregard the bad word-of-mouth and watch The Bride! with an open mind. The film’s opening weekend suggests that it’s going to lay a great big egg at the box office, but those who admire audacious creativity will find much to admire here.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Bacchae

09/03/26

The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

“Bloody Greek tragedies are like bloody buses,
You wait for several years,
And as soon as one approaches your local theatre,
Another one appears.”
(With apologies to Wendy Cope)

Hot on the heels of Medea at the Traverse comes The Bacchae at the Festival Theatre’s Studio, a striking solo version of Euripides’ compelling – and many-peopled – play. Written and performed by Company of Wolves’ artistic director Ewan Downie, this has been intelligently condensed from the sprawling original.

Downie is Dionysus, the god of change – a conceit that lends itself well to the multi-rolling necessary here. The son of Zeus and a mortal woman, Semele, Dionysus both narrates his own story and transforms into a raft of other characters, all perfectly distinct thanks to Downie’s precise physicalisation.

Employing Ancient Greek specialist, Dr Michael Carroll, as a creative consultant is a masterstroke, lending this radical interpretation a sense of authenticity. The narrative is typically convoluted. When the pregnant Semele dies at the sight of her lover, Zeus, in his divine form, the god seizes the embryonic Dionysus and gestates him in his thigh. Raising a baby isn’t on Zeus’s agenda though, so he tasks Semele’s sister, Agave, with parenting the boy. She obliges, but her own son, Pentheus, is understandably jealous of his half-god cousin. This resentment follows the men into adulthood, leading Pentheus, now King of Thebes, to forbid his people from worshipping the increasingly popular Dionysus, who preaches liberation from social restraints, encouraging his followers to indulge in frenzied, wine-fuelled rituals. Where else can their enmity lead but to murder?

This is as much a piece of performance art as it is theatre: a visual spectacle set to poetry and song. Downie’s commitment is absolute, and it’s his sincerity and conviction that holds our attention. The contemporary set design (by Alisa Kalyanova) clashes with the millennia-old narrative, but I like this discordancy: it reflects the dissolution of boundaries highlighted by the queer subtext. The only off-note for me is the use of a plastic bottle of water. I’m sure there’s some reason behind the decision, but it looks pragmatic rather than intentional, unlike anything else on the stage.

Originally directed by the late Ian Spink and with Heather Knudsten now holding the reins, CoW’s The Bacchae is a fascinating, labyrinthine drama, anchored by an extraordinary central performance.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Medea

06/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

“I am not a part of the story you tried to write
I am the story
And it ends when I say so”

Filicide – the murder of one’s children – is mercifully rare but, in the context of parental separation, it’s predominantly fathers who perpetrate it as revenge. Euripides’ 2500-year-old story of Medea stands out because she is a woman, and there’s nothing we perceive as more monstrous than a non-maternal mom.

Bard in the Botanics’ contemporary retelling, written by Kathy McKean and directed by Gordon Barr, is essentially an exploration of Medea (Nicole Cooper)’s motives, helping us to understand what leads her to this dreadful act. Although her children are never seen, their centrality is immediately established, as the play opens with their Nurse (Isabelle Joss) and their Tutor (Alan Steele) discussing Medea’s emotional reaction to her husband’s abandonment. We can infer the boys’ youth and innocence from the clothes the Nurse hangs on the washing line – a small dinosaur hoody, some bright blue shorts – and the toys that lie where they’ve landed, under the table or by the wall.

McKean’s Jason (Johnny Panchaud) is a swaggering cad, still revelling in the glory of his golden fleece adventure. Over the years, he’s managed to erase Medea’s contribution from his story, claiming all the credit for himself. Their love – for which she sacrificed everything she’d ever known or cared about – is no longer enough for him; he thinks he’s worthy of more. Why shouldn’t he pursue Glauce, an actual princess? After all, it’s not as if he and Medea were ever actually wed, is it? Besides, Medea’s being pretty selfish denying him this new relationship, because he’s only really marrying Glauce to ennoble their sons, and does she really want to deny them the chance to better themselves?

It’s no surprise that Medea grows to hate him, and Cooper’s depiction of her furious heartbreak is utterly compelling. We see her simultaneously as a broken woman, hurt beyond reason, and a towering force, refusing to give in. Cooper is magnetic in the role, desperately pleading with individual members of the audience to help her (we’re stand-ins for the chorus), and convincing us that Medea’s vengeance is justified. In all honesty, we’re kind of on board with the murders of Glauce and King Creon (Steele), so it comes as a shock when she finally performs the act she’s most famous for, and it’s every bit as nightmarish as it should be. Under Barr’s direction, the filicide itself is quiet, symbolised by Medea’s intertwining of two small sweaters on the floor, as she lays her children down for their final sleep, the silence eventually shattered by Jason’s loud, appalled reaction.

Medea’s is a difficult tale, and McKean’s writing never shies away from the complexity of her character. Instead, we are shown the personal and societal forces that foster her dark urges, allowed to understand – but not excuse – her horrible revenge.

Little wonder this story has endured, with its irresistible mix of mayhem and melodrama, its excavation of human depravity and the lengths we’ll go to when we’re hurt. Although there’s only one more night at the Traverse here in Edinburgh, the tour of Scotland continues until 11th April, so there are plenty of opportunities to catch it if you can.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

The Secret Agent

06/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

If this film’s title suggests that we might be about to watch a run of the mill spy movie, don’t be misled. Kiba Mendonça Filho’s historical drama is many things, but straightforward it certainly isn’t. Shown here in a season of 2026’s Oscar-nominated films, it’s a complex, multi-faceted work that pulls in elements from many different genres with absolute authority.

The story opens in 1977 in Recife, Brazil, a country suffering under the curse of a brutal military dictatorship. ‘Marcelo’ (Wagner Moura) pulls in at a remote petrol station looking to fill his empty tank. He’s taken aback when he sees a dead body lying in the dirt under a flimsy covering of cardboard boxes. The attendant casually tells him that the man has been lying there for several days while everyone waits patiently for the cops to come and investigate. When two policeman do drive up, they’re much more interested in trying to extort money from Marcelo (real name Armando), who is returning to his old stamping ground three years after the mysterious death of his wife, Fatima.

Armando is also here to reconnect with his young son, Fernando, who lives with Fatima’s parents in Recife. Fernando is currently obsessed with the film Jaws, which he is desperate to see. When a shark is caught in local waters and a man’s leg is found in the creature’s stomach, the resulting news headlines kick off a whole series of wild rumours and myths. Meanwhile, Armando manages to secure a place in a refuge, run by former anarcho-communist, Dona Sebastiano (Tanya Maria), and there he meets others who have various reasons for wanting to stay under the radar. He finds work at the local identity card office, which gives him an opportunity to search for information about Fatima.

But it transpires that two hit men, Bobbi (Gabriel Leone) and Augusto (Roney Vilella), have been despatched by the man responsible for Fatima’s death, their sole mission to murder Armando…

The strength of this film is that it takes in so many different beats that it constantly challenges my expectations. The seventies setting is brilliantly evoked and there’s a vibrant, Latin American score by Mateus Alves and Tomaz Alves Souza. Maura is utterly compelling in the central role, but he’s only one of a host of fascinating characters that parade exuberantly across the screen in smaller parts. Watch out for the final performance of veteran actor Udo Keir as Hans, a German-Jewish holocaust survivor.

There’s also a engaging subplot set in the present day, where young research student, Flavia (Laura Lufési), attempts to piece together the puzzle to discover what eventually happened to Armando.

With a formidable running time of two hours and forty-five minutes, The Secret Agent is inevitably going to prove divisive, but that Oscar nomination for best international picture is there for good reason and I won’t be at all surprised if it ends up walking away with the trophy.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Someone’s Knockin’ on the Door

04/03/36

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Jack (Jonathan Watson) and Kathy (Maureen Carr) are recording an online chat with their granddaughter, Molly, providing her with some recollections she might be able to use in a school project that’s looking for ‘untold Scottish stories.’ Their separate reminiscences take them both back to the long hot summer of 1976, when they set off on their first ever holiday – two years after a rushed marriage, when Kathy fell unexpectedly pregnant.

In the van that Jack borrows from work, they drive to Campbeltown near the Mull of Kintyre. Jack has a hidden agenda. He’s been a rabid Beatles fan ever since he first heard the strains of Love Me Do, and now he’s nurturing a powerful compulsion to visit the secluded cottage where he knows his hero, Paul McCartney, has been spending much of his time since the world’s most famous band went their separate ways…

This first production in the new season of A Play, A Pie and a Pint, written by Milly Sweeney, is apparently based on a true story. It’s a lighthearted, whimsical piece, deriving much of its humour from the ways in which the memories of the two contributors differ in so many important aspects. The constant cross-cutting between them is the basis of the drama but the couple’s banter is not always as precise as it be and I’m left with the feeling that this piece could have benefitted from a little more rehearsal time.

There’s an attempt to draw comparisons between the break up of the Fab Four and the disintegration of Jack and Kathy’s relationship, a central premise that occasionally feels a little too forced for comfort – but I do like the fact that the play readily accepts that not every marriage is destined to last forever, a touch of realism so often lacking in drama.

Both Watson and Carr are familiar performers at PPP and both are appealing in their respective roles. Sally Reid directs the piece with a light touch and Heather Grace Currie’s simple set design successfully evokes the era. The image of a postcard – which is an important element in this supposedly true recollection – is occasionally illuminated in the background.

Someone’s Knockin’ on the Door provides a charming, if innocuous, opening to the new season – I do however occasionally find myself wishing for a little more grit in the telling.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Testament of Ann Lee

03/03/26

Filmhouse, Edinburgh

Watching The Testament of Ann Lee I find myself, once again, in the uncanny valley of the true story that seems so mind-bogglingly unlikely, I start to ask myself if the ‘facts’ might have been tampered with for entertainment value. But no, it only takes a swift Google after the viewing to establish that Ann Lee really did do all the things that are depicted here. She was the founder of The Shakers – and, if your knowledge of this mysterious religion extends only to the rather fancy furnishings they left in their wake, join the club.

Directed by Mona Fastvold and co-written with Brady Corbet (director of The Brutalist), TTOAL is a great big sprawling narrative about the titular Ann (Amanda Seyfried), narrated by her sister, Mary (Thomasin McKenzie). It follows Ann from her humble childhood in Manchester, through her ill-fated marriage to Abraham (Christopher Abbott), and on to her ambitious pilgrimage to America where, accompanied by her tireless brother, William (Lewis Pullman), she establishes a religion on the premise that she is the reincarnation of God in female form. As you do.

It’s clear, when viewed through a modern lens, that Ann’s beliefs are founded upon a mixture of depression after losing four children in their infancy and her subsequent conviction that sex is inherently evil, something only to be indulged in with the express aim of creating babies. Blaming herself for their premature deaths, she stopped eating and subsequently suffered from visions and began exhibiting the strange, twitchy movements that ultimately gave her religion its name. (For a while there it was going to be the Shaker-Quakers, but they settled for something snappier.)

Oh, and did I mention that this is also a musical? Composer Daniel Blumberg has created a whole series of songs based around original Shaker hymns, to which Seyfried and the rest of the cast dance and leap like demented trancers at an all-night rave. It shouldn’t work and yet it does, big time. TTOAL is an ambitious and exhilarating epic that provides the ever-watchable Seyfried with what just might be the role of her career. She even manages a pretty convincing Mancunian accent, though she does very occasionally lapse into Liverpudlian. It’s important to add that this is not just a star vehicle for Seyfried, but the very embodiment of an ensemble piece, with every member of the cast working hard to make this incredible story credible.

There’s no denying this is the kind of film that’s destined to divide audiences (aside from anything else, I suspect the many song and dance numbers will alienate a lot of people) but, to my mind it’s an ambitious enterprise that achieves all its goals. Brought in on the same kind of ‘modest’ budget that gave us The Brutalist, this screening in 70mm employs old-fashioned matte painting techniques to achieve its stunning vistas and it looks absolutely ravishing. However manic it gets, it manages to keep me hooked throughout its two hours and seventeen minutes run time.

Do I come to understand the rabid sensibilities that fuelled the Shaker movement?

Not for a moment, but I have a wild ride trying to get to grips with it.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You

02/03/26

The Cameo, Edinburgh

Her child is sick and Linda (Rose Byrne) can’t cope. Caring for her daughter (Delaney Quinn) is a full-time job – and she has an actual full-time job as well. Throw in an absent husband (Christian Slater), a judgemental doctor (writer/director Mary Bronstein) and a gaping hole in her bedroom ceiling, and it’s no surprise that Linda is tired, snappy and a little too reliant on wine and weed.

The child has an unspecified eating disorder and has been fitted with a feeding tube. (In an audacious directorial decision we never get a proper look at the girl, but it really works – this isn’t her story.) Linda’s paediatrician insists that she should attend parents’ meetings, where a group of mothers (no fathers in sight) are exhorted not to blame themselves for their children’s conditions. With no sense of irony, Dr Spring follows the meeting by telling Linda that her child is “failing,” that Linda doesn’t have the right attitude and, essentially, it’ll be her fault if the treatment doesn’t work.

Meanwhile, Linda’s husband, Charles, can’t help because he’s working away, but that doesn’t stop him from phoning to hector her. She should make the most of staying in a hotel, he says, implying it’s a holiday, but why hasn’t she chased up the contractor who’s supposed to be fixing the apartment? Why isn’t the child gaining weight? Why has Linda left the child alone to go shopping? Why hasn’t Linda answered his texts? Why, Linda? Why?

Her therapist (Conan O’Brien) isn’t much use either. Linda’s a therapist too, with an office down the hall from his, and his impassive responses rile her. She knows the tricks of the trade and is frustrated that he won’t transgress, won’t relieve her of responsibility by simply telling her what to do. When one of Linda’s own patients, a young mother with post-partum depression (Danielle MacDonald), abandons her baby in Linda’s office, it’s the final straw. Linda has reached her limit.

Almost a companion piece to Lynne Ramsey’s Die My Love, Bronstein’s movie is a searing indictment of a system that sets mothers up to fail, that overloads them with responsibility but provides no safety nets. Byrne’s portrayal of Linda’s mental decline is devastating: she loses all confidence in every area of her life, no longer capable of functioning as mother, therapist, wife or friend. Even her putative relationship with her hotel neighbour, James (A$AP Rocky), proves shallow and unreliable, prompting her to turn even further in on herself. The world is hostile and everyone is an enemy. In the end, there’s only one way out…

Linda’s disintegration is magnified by cinematographer Christopher Messina’s use of light: the gold flashes that dance in her periphery; the dreamscapes that veer between illusion and reality. The hole in the ceiling looms ever larger over Linda’s head, a great big gaping metaphor for a woman on the edge.

Byrne’s towering, nuanced performance makes her a worthy Oscar contender (although I’m still backing Jessie Buckley for the win). Meanwhile, this intense, emotional movie certainly seals Bronstein’s reputation as one to watch.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Bombay Bistro

01/03/26

Bruntsfield Place, Edinburgh

We’re meeting up with a couple of pals for lunch and we’ve been hearing good things about Bombay Bistro in Bruntsfield, just a short walk from where we live. Located in the premises that previously housed Tom Kitchin’s much-missed Southside Scran – and, more recently, the same chef’s Kora – the BB’s Mandeep Saini (formally of Gleneagles Hotel), has been based here for several months now, and he promises ‘a fresh take on traditional Indian cuisine.’

As soon as we’re inside, we can see that the interior decor hasn’t changed much. It’s very quiet this Sunday afternoon, which is a shame, since the Prawn Biryani I plump for is deliciously spiced and mouth-wateringly aromatic. It needs to be sampled by more hungry diners. For my money, it’s up there with the best that Dishoom has to offer. Across the table, one of our friends is enjoying the chicken version of the same dish, and we’ve both chosen a peshwari nan to accompany our main course, which is light, sweet and crispy, exactly as it should be.

Our other friend has ordered Rava Fry Haddock with Masala Chips, two enormous fish fillets shallow-fried in spiced semolina and served with tadka mushy peas and the aforementioned fries, which have just a hint of spice about them. She deems the meal ‘delicious’ but can’t manage to finish it all. Susan, meanwhile, has opted for the Masala Broccoli and Pumpkin Superfood Salad, which features spinach, kale, avocado, coconut flakes and dried cranberries. She adds some Salmon Tikka and the combination proves to be a hit.

All in all, the main courses have wowed us, particularly in view of the prices, which offer good value for money. The two puddings we sample are also pretty good, even if they don’t quite attain the heights of their magnificent predecessors. There’s a mango and coconut kheer, that can be served warm or cold; and there’s a perfectly decent sticky toffee pudding, served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. However, neither dessert is hot enough: the rice pudding is only lukewarm and the sticky toffee is served cold, making it a little too dry. But these are minor quibbles and pretty much the only criticisms I have.

Those looking for excellent Indian cuisine that won’t make too big a dent on the finances should head up to Bruntsfield at their earliest opportunity and sample Mandeep’s creations for themselves.

4 stars

Phillip Caveney

Fairytales ’26

28/02/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

This evening’s scratch night features three works-in-progress, co-written and directed by Jordan S Daniel and Tash McPhillips. If the title makes you think of happy-ever-afters, you’ll need to manage your expectations. There are no wicked step-families either, no magic beans, no once-upon-a-times.

Instead, we are introduced to Cleo (Samuela Noumtchuet), Mark (Kieran Lee-Hamilton) and Jaye (Amandine Jalon), each with an individual tale to tell. Cleo is an AI sex-bot, who wants to become a real woman. Think Pinocchio, but grown up. Next is Mark, a modern version of the big bad wolf: an incel, huffing and puffing at women for not desiring him, certain it’s because they’re shallow and nothing to do with him being creepy AF. And finally, there’s Jaye, as innocent and hopeful as Hans Christian Andersen’s little mermaid, escaping the confines of their provincial life to seek forbidden love in London. But their excitement at living openly as a lesbian soon sours, when they learn that their new girlfriend is transphobic, and the brave new city they’ve embraced is not as accepting as it first seems.

The actors all perform with gusto. Noumtchuet in particular plays up the comedic elements of her role, much to the delight of tonight’s supportive audience, who respond with gales of laughter. Lee-Hamilton successfully conveys the loathsome Mark’s sense of peevish entitlement, while Jalon engages our sympathy for Jaye, as their dreams of a happy life begin to crumble around them.

The three monologues deal with some of the most thought-provoking, urgent issues of our times, and for this I commend them. However, the polemic is sometimes overwhelming, making me feel as if I am listening to a lecture. As these works-in-progress are developed into longer pieces, I’m sure there will be more space for nuance, allowing the themes to be illuminated rather than stated – shown, not told.

There’s no denying the importance of the topics raised by Daniel and McPhillips, and I’m glad to see that Scottish theatre is doing the right thing and giving a platform to queer voices.

Susan Singfield