The Burns’ Project

27/06/26

Henry Irving Room, Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

As someone who has lived in Edinburgh for more than a decade, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I know very little about Scotland’s National poet Robert Burns – or rather, I knew very little before attending this delightful piece of immersive theatre, staged in The Royal Lyceum’s Henry Irving Room. Actually, the lesson begins while I’m still waiting to go in to the event. I fall into conversation with a woman from Moscow, who tells me that Burns is huge in Russia, where people will even study Scots dialect, the better to appreciate his work. Who knew?

Feeling suitably humbled, I take my seat at a long, serpentine dining table, where various white-sprayed props are set out to accompany what amounts to a kind of potted biography of Mr B. He is played by James Clement, who originated the role for last year’s Fringe. He delivers a selection of poems, recollections and encounters from the writer’s life, while musician Lisa Rigby punctuates the proceedings with some of Burns’ songs, her ethereal voice soaring around the room, accompanied by guitar and shruti box.

I do indeed learn much about the man: his humble origins on the family farm in Alloway (which I recently visited); his schooling under the tutelage of John Murdoch; his plans to work on a sugar plantation in Jamaica; and, after the publication of his collected poems, his time spent in Edinburgh, where he quickly established a reputation as a Lothario. It’s sobering to note that Burns managed to sire a total of twelve children in his relatively short lifetime, nine of them with his wife, Jean, and the others with various lovers and servants. In 2019, it was established that he had 900 living descendants…

Clement inhabits the role of Burns with great relish, taking every opportunity for playful exchanges with members of the audience. The various props on the table are cleverly integrated, and Jenny Booth’s clever set allows for some genuinely surprising moments – especially the bit where Robbie is presented as ‘dish of the day.’ Cora Bisset’s assured direction means that this piece succeeds both as a valuable history lesson and as a smooth and entertaining piece of theatre.

I leave humming the tune to A Man’s a Man for a’ That and eager to find out even more about Robert Burns.

Job done.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

NT Live: Les Liaisons Dangereuses

25/06/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

The latest offering from NT Live has arrived in cinemas and there’s only one venue in Edinburgh swish enough to do it justice. We book a reclining sofa at The Dominion and settle down, prepared to be blown away – and we most certainly are. This stunning adaptation of Christopher Hampton’s 1985 play (based upon the 1782 novel by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos) incorporates Hampton’s wonderfully witty and unflinchingly brutal dialogue punctuated by stirring dance sequences where everyone – including the leads – hoofs up a storm. Marianne Elliott directs the huge cast with consummate skill, while choreographer Tom Jackson Greaves has the lavishly costumed performers prowling, spinning and leaping around Rosanna Vize’s extraordinary set, where scores of mirrored doorways reflect the action like a kaleidoscope of intrigue.

The Marquise de Merteuil  (Lesley Manville) and the Vicomte de Valmont (Aidan Turner) are old acquaintances. Once lovers, they are now notorious philanderers, who spend their time seducing, exploiting and humiliating virtually everyone they encounter, taking delight in the chaos they create. It’s clear that Valmont still carries a torch for Merteuil so, when she makes a wager with him, he quickly accepts the challenge. She will spend one more night with him, but only if he can manage to seduce two women: the virtuous wife, Madame de Tourval (Monica Barbaro), and Cécile de Volanges (Hannah van der Westhuysen), an innocent young girl, currently infatuated with her music tutor.

Valmont sets to work, mercilessly exploiting both women without a thought for the destruction he is wreaking – and little realising that Merteuil has elaborate plans of her own…

All the leads play their roles with absolute conviction, Turner relishing his characterisation of a brutish, swaggering hedonist without a single qualm about the cruelty he inflicts on his targets. Manville matches his arrogance with a sly, smiling assurance that tells us she has his measure and knows exactly how to handle him. (It’s fascinating to note that back in 1985, Manville played Cécile de Volanges on Broadway.)

Barbaro, meanwhile, is utterly compelling as a God-fearing woman, struggling to resist her inner demons and utterly destroyed when they finally overcome her. Van der Westhuysen also excels as an ingénue, blissfully unaware that she is destined to inherit all the guiles of those who have used her so cruelly.

But the ensemble are much more than bit-players: every performer on the stage gives the show their all. If the first half is sensational, the second – as all the carefully-layered plot threads come hurtling to their inescapable conclusion – is utterly thrilling.

A seat for this show in London’s West End, would cost you hundreds of pounds, but here’s your opportunity to make your own dangerous liaison closer to home at a more affordable price.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Virginia Woolf’s Night & Day

22/06/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Despite the prominence of the famous name in the title, Justine Waddell’s movie adaptation of Night & Day bears only a passing resemblance to Virginia Woolf’s 1919 novel, stripping away a lot of the author’s thorny political nuance in favour of a lighter, more straightforward feminism.

Kit Hilbery (Haley Bennett) rails against the confines of her class and gender. Her parents (Jennifer Saunders and Timothy Spall) want her to marry her childhood friend, the affable William Rodney (Jack Whitehall), but Kit – an aspiring astronomer – has other plans. She wants to go to Cambridge. Okay, so women aren’t actually allowed to study at the men’s college she’s applied to, nor permitted to join the Royal Astronomical Society, but Kit’s nothing if not determined. Someone has to be the first, right?

Kit isn’t alone in her fight against the old order. Her gay cousin, Cy (Misia Butler), has his own battles to face, and her new pal, Mary Datchet (Lily Allen), is an active member of the Suffragette Society, working full-time to change the world.

And, of course, there’s always a bit of romance to complicate things. Kit doesn’t fancy her fiancé, William, but there’s more than a spark between her and Ralph Denham (Elyas M’Barek), the lower-class radical hired to edit her mother’s sprawling book. But why shouldn’t Kit strive for emotional fulfilment as well as intellectual? After all, she’s used to reaching for the stars…

Directed by Tina Ghavari, the setting is vividly realised, and Bennett gives a spirited performance in the central role, imbuing Kit with an earnest vulnerability that ensures we’re on her side. Whitehall also acquits himself well (I guess ‘congenial toff’ isn’t much of a stretch for him), but it’s Butler’s brittle façade that gives the film its emotional depth.

I’m less keen on the (presumably deliberate) anachronism in Datchet’s presentation: Allen’s costume and hair are in line with current fashion, in contrast to the Edwardian garb worn by the other characters. What’s more, we never get to know anything about her or her politics, beyond the fact that she thinks women should have the vote and prints pamphlets saying so. Still, Datchet is positively well-developed compared to Kit’s Aunt Celia (Elizabeth Edmonds) and Cousin Joan (Sally Phillips), two fine actors whose talent is entirely wasted in these pointless roles.

Despite it’s style and elegance, Night & Day is something of a mixed bag: not funny enough for a comedy, not political enough for a polemic and not romantic enough for a love story. It’s an entertaining watch that doesn’t quite cohere.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Effi o Blaenau

21/06/26

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

Back in April 2020, we saw a production on Digital Theatre, a monologue written by Gary Owen and starring Sophie Melville. The piece rejoiced under the unusual title Iphigenia in Splott, and was loosely based around the Greek myth of Iphigenia, the daughter of Agamemnon, sacrificed to ensure the success of the men who governed her. Set in Splott in South Wales, it was a unflinching reinterpretation of the original tale and one that we both enjoyed.

So when the release of Effi o Blenau is announced, we quickly make the connection. Owen has teamed up with Branwen Kennard to adapt the piece for the big screen and the setting has shifted North to Blaenau Ffestiniog. The central role of Effi is played by Leisa Gwenllian and, while it still follows the same central premise, the story (now in Welsh language) has been opened up to include other characters, some of whom were mentioned in the original piece.

Effi is a young woman living a debauched existence in a town stricken by unemployment. She regularly seeks solace at the bottom of a vodka bottle, partying with her best friend, Gemma (Nel Rhys Lewis), and with her ‘sort-of’ boyfriend, Kev (Owen Alun), who can always be relied upon to get his mitts on some drugs. But on a night out in Llandudno, Effi encounters Lee (Tom Rhys Harries), an ex-soldier and she falls in love at first sight. She accompanies him back to his friend’s flat, where she discovers that Lee has lost a limb on active service. A night of passion ensues and she tells herself that this is the real thing.

She settles down to wait for him to get in touch with her…

This is a perfect example of how a simple theatrical piece can be turned into a winning slice of cinema. Though it’s a bleak and hard-hitting story, an excoriating condemnation of contemporary politics, this is thrilling stuff. Gwenllian’s performance in the lead role is fabulous, as her character begins the long and punishing slide into desperation. I also love Alun’s depiction of Kev, a man constantly trying to do the right thing by the woman he loves, even though she simply doesn’t love him back. The drab, run down locations are evocatively captured by cinematographer Eira Wyn Jones, and there’s a long, harrowing sequence in an ambulance hurtling through a snow storm in the dead of night that really cranks up the suspense. There’s also a touch of redemption, when Effi is given support by a very forgiving neighbour.

Clearly, a Welsh language polemic isn’t going to compete with the likes of Toy Story 5 or The World Cup for the public’s attention, but for those who like gritty, hard-hitting drama, this is well worth consideration.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Heron

20/06/26

Henderson Street, Leith

Regular readers of B&B will know that it has, for some years now, been our regular custom to celebrate Susan’s birthday with a trip to a high-end restaurant. This practice has recently become more complicated after she was diagnosed with a gluten intolerance. We were surprised to discover that some of the venues we approached this year were adamant that they could not – would not – make any alterations to their hallowed menus.

Happily, Heron assured us that they could easily accommodate such a dietary requirement: they only use limited amounts of gluten anyway, and can always substitute a tasty alternative in those recipes that do feature it. So on a beautiful summer’s evening we make the trip out to Leith Shore to the relaxed, convivial venue that is already one of our favourite places to eat.

We start off with a selection of amuse bouches – complex little creations that virtually explode with a variety of intense flavours. For me, there’s an Isle of White tomato burrata, sea trout with rhubarb, chilli and beetroot and lobster with gooseberry and dill. Instead of burrata, Susan has something made of chickpeas, which is far more elaborate than it sounds. All of the flavour combinations are vibrant and exciting and get our taste buds ready for the dishes to come. 

Bread is not usually something to shout about, but Heron’s seeded loaf served with salted butter and house charcuterie is one of their celebrated standards – and they’ve even made a gluten-free version so Susan doesn’t have to miss out. The trick here is not to devour the whole thing in one go but to eke it out through the following courses so you have something on hand to mop up the variety of sauces that ensue.

Next up there’s a hand-dived Orkney scallop, served with chive, hazelnut and oscietra caviar, salty and crunchy and every bit as tasty as you would expect – and this is followed by what might be the high point of the meal, North Sea squid served with asparagus spears, blackcurrant leaf and walnuts. It’s not just that the mingling flavours in the dish are truly out of this world, there’s also the ingenious way the squid has somehow been made to impersonate tagliatelle. And lest you think that’s it for the fish courses, how about a tender hunk of crisp-skinned sea bream, wallowing in a broth of mussel, whey, lovage, pea and spruce tip? Here it is – and it’s spectacular!

On to the meat courses, starting with a veal sweetbread on a bed of corn, girolle and black truffle. Some diners are put off by the thought of what a sweetbread actually is but set that thought aside and this is very good indeed. Even better is the tender slice of Harthstane’s sika deer, liberally ladled with a sauce comprising beetroot, rose harissa and dukkah (a traditional Egyptian condiment made from toasted nuts, seeds and spices).

At this point, we are offered the possibility of a cheese course, but we’re flagging a bit and want to ensure that we have room for the pudding, so we politely decline and move straight on to ‘buttermilk’ – a description that hardly does justice to a beautifully crafted palate cleanser, comprising lemon, bay and macadamias. It is utterly delicious and, just as I’m thinking that they’ll never top that, ‘strawberry’ arrives: another understated title that cannot begin to describe an exquisite concoction of – well, guess what? – on a bed of pistachio and black cardamom, served with a scoop of sorbet.

We ask for the bill and this arrives in a little wooden box accompanied by three handmade petit fours nestled on a bed of coffee beans, each mouthful more delicious than the last. A sweet, sugary jelly flavoured with sea buckthorn is perhaps the most memorable, but they are all wonderful examples of the confectioner’s art.

Heron is a unique dining establishment that produces some of the finest cuisine I’ve ever tasted. Those who don’t want to go the full tasting menu route, can opt for a simpler three-course affair (let’s face it, no one could eat like this every day) but, for a special occasion, the team here can provide a dining experience that will linger in memory long after the last mouthful has been swallowed. And for those who can no longer enjoy gluten, this is the place to come.

5 stars

Philip Caveney 

The Hen Night

18/06/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

The fourth and final offering in Assembly Roxy’s season of A Play, A Pie and A Pint is based around an event that any Edinburgh resident will be familiar with. The Scottish capital is a regular venue for parties of the Stag and Hen persuasion – and it’s not unusual to see many such celebrations playing out simultaneously on any given weekend.

Coral has proudly announced that she is going to marry her boyfriend, Scott and her three best friends – Jade (Dani Heron), Lilac (Laura Lovemore) and Amber (Anna Russell-Martin) – have decided to give her the best hen night in recorded history. Jade will do most of the planning; she has a spreadsheet and everything. The escapade (in Edinburgh, naturally) will involve dancing and boozing and er… kayaking and… flower arranging…

So what if none of the girls are exactly over the moon about Coral’s choice of Scott, who is, to put it mildly, a bit toxic? No, they are going to make this an event to remember. And when Coral’s mysterious Irish cousin, Luna, unexpectedly turns up at the nightclub where the girls are getting utterly smashed, it’s clear from the way that all the men are fainting at the very sight of her that there’s something special about the new arrival. Something other-worldly…

The Hen Night, written by Debbie Hannan and directed by Laila Noble, is a bright and breezy production, that nevertheless has plenty of serious things say about female friendship and why women shouldn’t settle for less than they desire. The three players embody their respective roles with pizzazz and also occupy other characters, with both Russell-Martin and Lovemore portraying Coral at various points, while Russell-Martin also gives us the mysterious Luna and a surly, smirking Scott. The brilliantly simple device of a character switching around her hen night sash alerts the audience to who’s being who at any given moment.

Fuelled by the momentum of its own internal logic, The Hen Night powers along, powered by a steady diet of laugh-out-loud quips and astute observations, yet still has the skill to slam home those aforementioned serious points with utter conviction. I must confess that I had some reservations about the play based on its title, but I’m even happier to admit that my assumptions were soon dashed. This makes a satisfying final flourish to what has been an outstanding first season of PPP at Assembly Roxy.

More please!

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Malory Towers

13/06/26

Home, Manchester

Emma Rice Company’s Malory Towers is billed as a “UK” tour. As a Welsh woman living in Scotland, I feel the need to point out that this is actually an “England” tour. Luckily, Phil’s daughter lives in Manchester and, although she and her husband are too young to be Blyton aficionados, they’re always up for a bit of theatre. Which means we get the bonus of spending quality time with them – as well as having somewhere to stay. 

It’s more than a decade since Phil and I have been to Home, but the venue is as vibrant as ever. The audience for this particular show is an odd mix, comprising mainly kids (some of them dressed up in Malory Towers school uniforms) and middle-aged women like me. It makes sense, I guess. For the latter group, it’s nostalgia for the books of our youth. For the former, it’s the more immediate joy of a children’s adventure story, presumably re-popularised by the recent (excellent) CBBC series. 

But, look. I was never going to miss this musical. I’d have travelled much further afield if I’d had to. The combination of Blyton and Rice was always going to be too potent for me to resist. Blyton’s boarding school stories have a special place in my heart, and Rice is my favourite theatre maker, so yeah. This is a must-see. 

Somehow, with just eight performers – the actors also provide the music – Rice manages to evoke the atmosphere of a busy, bustling school. Of course, some characters have been amalgamated, others missed out altogether. But the main players are present and correct.

Step forward, Darrell Rivers (Robyn Sinclair), as flawed and fabulous as ever, determined to be the kind of girl to make her school proud, but hamstrung by a feisty temper that gets her into all sorts of scrapes. Gwendoline Lacey (Rebecca Collingwood) is played less as a preening princess and more as an out-and-out psychopath, complete with murderous intentions. It’s not true to the original, but it does make for some great drama! Alicia (Molly Cheesley) – notorious trickster – is merged with Connie, who can’t keep up with her lessons, and is frustrated by falling behind. The combination works. MD Stephanie Hockley plays, appropriately, musical prodigy Irene, who – for some reason – is given the French teacher’s surname and nationality. Meanwhile, Sensible Sally is played by Bethany Wooding, and horse-loving Bill by Zoë West. But it’s Eden Barrie’s Mary-Lou who’s the standout, her loveably gawky character the centre point, as she learns to overcome her timidity and stand proud of who she is. 

Rice’s direction is as quirky as ever, and her inventive set-pieces are what really make this production. Miss Grayling is a silhouette projection, voiced by Sheila Hancock, a conceit that cleverly distances the head teacher from the girls’ everyday lives, while reminding the audience that they are being looked after. The swimming scene is a particular highlight, with puppets jumping from cartoon cliffs before the actors emerge from the ‘sea’, shivering and spitting water. Best of all is the opening to the second act, the inevitable clifftop rescue. I won’t reveal here how it’s done; suffice to say the entire audience is in paroxysms of laughter. 

Is it all a little too spoofy? It is, for my taste at least. I understand why Rice has taken this route. Blyton’s characters are easy to mock: they’re painted with broad strokes, each with her own standout trait; their concerns and adventures so trivial and trite. But – and I know it’s a different beast entirely – I think the CBBC series manages this better, treating the girls’ adolescent struggles with respect and empathy rather than as a joke. In contrast, this production has a very adult perspective, and almost everything is played for laughs. The one exception is the scene where Gwendoline receives bad news. The poignancy of the moment is beautiful – and intensely emotional. 

I like the overt reminders about the second world war. Blyton never mentions it but, as Rice reminds us here, the series was published between 1946 and 1951. The girls have lived through the war; their fathers, uncles, brothers will have fought in it. No wonder the pupils are so excited about midnight feasts: they’re used to rationing and shortages. This backdrop adds another dimension to the story, which works really well.

Overall, this Malory Towers musical is something of a mixed bag. But am I glad I’ve seen it? Rather!

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Disclosure Day

12/06/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

In 1974, I went to the cinema to watch Sugarland Express, the debut movie from new kid on the block, Steven Spielberg. In the review I subsequently wrote, I probably said something to the effect that here was a young man with a bright future ahead of him. I could have had no inkling back then that, in just one year’s time, a film called Jaws would be a complete game-changer and that it would herald the arrival of a cinematic behemoth. Spielberg is now in his eightieth year and, over the decades, has accrued one of the most impressive backlists of all time. Okay, there are a few duds in there (The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I’m looking at you) but, happily, the misfires have been few and far between. Having said that, I am quite unprepared for just how good Disclosure Day is.

First things first. It’s pointless to give too much information about the actual plot because, on paper, it does sound faintly preposterous. But part of the film’s strength is the way it flings viewers headlong into what seems like an unfathomable mystery and keeps us guessing as to where the story is headed, a position it maintains until the final furlong. And then, in that last stretch, it somehow manages to create a sense of pure wonder, recalling earlier hits like Close Encounters and ET.

The story begins in 2026, and the world stands poised on the brink of what looks suspiciously like World War 3. (Too close to home?) We are in the audience at a wrestling match, where we witness Dr Daniel Kellner (Josh O’ Connor) being arrested for theft – though at this stage, we have no idea what he’s supposed to have stolen. He is confronted by Noah Scanlon (Colin Firth), the head of a powerful and secretive government organisation called Wardex, and we learn that Scanlon is Daniel’s former employer. Daniel manages to escape and goes on the run with his girlfriend, Jane (Eve Hewson), but even she doesn’t know what he’s accused of.

The action cuts to Kansas, where TV weather girl Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt) unexpectedly starts speaking in tongues on live TV – and shortly thereafter, discovers that she has inherited incredible skills. It’s clear that she and Daniel are linked somehow – but it’s quite some time before I begin to suspect that the two of them will be the ones to make the titular disclosure that will resolve decades of lies and subterfuge…

Disclosure Day is a powerful and compelling drama that has about it something of those paranoid 70s Cold War thrillers, where two opposing forces struggle for supremacy. Leading the fight for disclosure is Hugo Wakefield (Colman Domingo), another former Wardex employee, who seems prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to ensure that the truth is handed to the public. Scanlon and his team are the ones who want to keep everybody in the dark, convinced that ordinary people will be unable to accept the truth without losing their collective minds. While all the actors here do exemplary work, Blunt is required to handle most of the heavy lifting, going through a whole range of personas as the various twists and turns of David Keopp’s script – co-written with Spielberg – demands ever more of her. I’ve long been convinced she’s a terrific actor and here she finally gets the chance to really prove it.

And it’s not all talk: there are hair-raising action set pieces (a car/train interface is a particular high point); a scary sequence from Margaret’s childhood that has an eerie prescience; and recreations of key events in UFO folklore (and yes, I’m aware the American government prefers the term UAP – Unidentified Anomalous Phenomenon). Janusz Kaminski’s cinematography looks absolutely exquisite and veteran composer John Williams actually came out of retirement to provide another of his stirring scores. What’s not to like?

Whether this will bring in the punters is yet to be determined. I hope so. It’s proper grown-up filmmaking of the kind we don’t often see these days but it doesn’t help that it arrives in UK cinemas just as World Cup fever erupts. But those who have given up on Spielberg after recent more modest efforts are sure to find much to enjoy here.

And as ever, this is a big concept that deserves to be seen on the biggest screen available.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney

The Corinthian

11/06/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

The third play of Assembly Roxy’s inaugural A Play, A Pie and a Pint season is The Corinthian, a compelling monologue about real-life footballer, Andrew Watson, who experienced extremes of both prejudice and privilege throughout his lifetime. If the name is unfamiliar, here are a few key facts: Watson was the first Black international football player; the first Black man to captain a national team, as well as winning the Scottish cup three times in 1881, 1882 and 1886. Oh, and he was also distantly related to William Gladstone. And yet, the chances are you’ve never heard of him.

Born in 1856 in Demerara, British Guiana (now Guyana), he was the son of wealthy plantation-owner Peter Watson and local woman Hannah Rose. He had a fairly idyllic childhood but that all changed when the family relocated back to Peter’s native Scotland. It was here that young Andrew experienced the aforementioned prejudice – from his neighbours, his fellow pupils and even from his father’s servants. He was also suddenly impacted by the tragic suicide of his mother.

Joe McCann’s monologue, evocatively performed by Dayton Mungal, conveys Watson’s determination to succeed at all costs and to overcome the various hurdles flung in his path as he makes the long climb to the top of his game. Mungal handles the role with aplomb, occasionally talking directly to the audience and also slipping in and out of various supporting characters. 

Because the play is mostly interested in the time he spent as a football player, it consequently skips over a lot of the intervening years – his schooling in Halifax, his college tuition in Wimbledon and the year he spent at the University of Glasgow studying natural philosophy. I do find myself wondering if this piece would benefit from a longer running time, where Watson’s life could be examined in more detail, offering more nuance to the story. 

For The Corinthian though, the story really kicks off when he is signed to play for local team Parkgrove, where he soon learns that some of the toughest discrimination he will need to overcome emanates directly from his teammates…

Director Martin McCormick throws in some impressive imaginative flourishes, while keeping everything well-paced as Mungal runs, skips and leaps energetically around Heather Grace Currie’s simple set. In quieter, more reflective moments, the actor manages to tug at the audience’s collective heartstrings as he recalls what his mother taught him about perseverance.

The applause at the play’s conclusion is enthusiastic. Though I’m left with the conviction that there’s probably more to say about Watson than there is space for here, The Corinthian nonetheless manages to put the ball convincingly into the back of the net.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Savage House

06/06/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

It’s 1817 and England is beset by both a Jacobite uprising and a massive pox outbreak – and the Savages are in dire straits. Oh sure, they live in a great big mansion, replete with massive oil paintings and fancy gardens, but Sir Chauncy Savage (Richard E Grant) is an utter rake and has somehow managed to gamble away all of the land that surrounds the house. Now his creditors are closing in on him. 

All that’s left of real value are Lady Savage (Claire Foy)’s family jewels. Luckily, despite the couple’s differences – and the fact that they choose to seek sexual gratification with their servants, Dorothy (Bel Powley) and Reginald (Jack Farthing) – the Savages clearly love each other. Meanwhile, their daughter, Fanny (Kila Lord Cassiday), concentrates on tending to the family of mice living in her doll’s house and preparing for an upcoming total eclipse of the sun, which many believe will signal unprecedented changes.

Sir Chauncy, we are told by The Narrator (Robert Bathurst), is something of an imposter, the son of a humble swineherd, while Lady S is from proper aristocracy. (The idea that working-class people aren’t allowed to aspire to nice things is an unpleasant subtext that writer/director Peter Glanz seems to ram home at every opportunity, mostly via the image of a huge pig wandering around the rooms of the Savage’s house.)

Things are beginning to look desperate. Then out of the blue, word arrives that the celebrated Duke and Duchess of Devonshire have requested permission to dine and sleep at Savage House in ten days time. Chauncy spots an all-important opportunity to improve his social standing and persuades his wife that they must not miss out. The aforementioned jewels are sold and Dorothy and Reginald are put to work sprucing the place up – though we soon discover that they have devious plans of their own…

Savage House is something of a mixed bag. Both Grant and Foy are wonderful in their roles, with Grant in particular revelling in the unhinged nature of Chauncy, who invites disaster at every turn. A scene where he performs a drunken dance despite suffering agonising gout is a high point – as is a duelling sequence where Adriano Goldman’s cinematography briefly evokes the grandeur of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon. There’s also a wonderful orchestral score of classical compositions, though this too reminds me of an earlier (and better) film – Peter Greenaway’s The Draughtsman’s Contract. 

The film also seems obsessed with focusing on the most unpleasant aspects of life in the 1800s. It never misses the opportunity to focus on piles of steaming excrement, streams of rancid pus, wriggling leeches and acts of lewd sex. A scene where a gangrenous limb is sawn off is shown in such unflinching detail that I almost feel the need to cover my eyes. Those who are squeamish about vermin may find themselves in similar straits at regular intervals. (Susan, I’m looking at you!)

As one disaster after another assails Chauncy’s boundless ambitions, and his unfettered hubris leads him inexorably to a tragic conclusion, I find myself hoping for a single ray of sunshine to pierce the unremitting gloom. But sadly, that isn’t allowed to happen – and the bleak ending feels disappointingly flat as a consequence. 

We leave the cinema discussing potential ways that such illumination might have been achieved, but the film is already in the cinemas where it is sure to divide audiences. Though it occasionally hits the heights, one thing’s for certain. Savage House isn’t short of ambition.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney