California Schemin’

06/04/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

There have been a lot of ‘based on a true story’ movies lately, but California Schemin’ is one of the most appealing I’ve seen in quite a while. Originally filmed as a documentary (2013’s The Great Hip Hop Hoax), the real-life events provide the basis for the directorial debut of actor James McAvoy. It must be said, he makes a compelling and thought-provoking transition to the other side of the camera.

It’s the early Noughties and Gavin Bain (Seamus McLean Ross) and his best friend, Billy Boyd (Samuel Bottomley), are working in a call centre in Dundee, where Billy’s flair for adopting different accents makes him the leading salesman. But the boys devote all of their spare time to creating rap songs, written by Gavin and performed as a duo, though Billy is clearly the more confident performer. Like a lot of kids, they dream of making it big in the music industry – but their approaches to record labels keep bumping up against the issue of their Scottish accents. When they travel to London to attend an open call for ‘new bands’ they are summarily dismissed as ‘the Rapping Proclaimers’ after performing just a few lines.

Then Gavin comes up with an audacious plan. Since everyone they speak to extolls the virtues of American rappers, why not become American? Fired up by the idea, the pair re-record their demos with their best attempts at US accents, even devising a backstory for themselves as Californians. Miraculously, the record labels they approach now show much more interest in ‘Silibil and Brains’ – and the next time they’re in London, the boys manage to blag their way into a rap club, where they perform an impromptu song onstage, which goes down a storm. Luckily for them, ambitious talent scout Tessa (Rebekah Murrell) happens to be in the crowd and invites them to come in to her office for ‘a chat.’

Almost before they know what’s happening, they’re signed for a hefty advance and are being lined up for some prestigious gigs, as well as a TV appearance. Billy suggests that they reveal their true identities to the world live on TV, exposing the music industry’s anti-Scottish bias, but Gavin is enjoying his newfound stardom a little too much and is not quite ready to blow the whistle…

There are strong performances from the two leads, while McAvoy provides a cameo as Anthony Reid, the no-nonsense head of Neotone Records, ironically a Scotsman himself. Lucy Halliday is appealing as Mary, Billy’s partner, who, stuck back in Dundee, can only watch in bemused wonder as the whole enterprise hurtles out of control.

As well as the sheer fun of the central premise, California Schemin’ also makes some interesting observations about prejudice, and the way so many people have preconceptions about the limitations of national identity. Why can’t somebody with a Scottish accent be a talented rapper? And why did the record company act in such a hostile way when the truth was finally uncovered? Co-written by Bain and Boyd, with Elaine Gracie and Archie Thompson, this is a whole ton of fun, best watched in amped-up Dolby stereo in the movie theatre of your choice. If you prefer streaming, you’d probably better warn the neighbours. It’s gonna get loud…

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I think I feel a song coming on…

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

The Drama

04/04/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Charlie (Robert Pattinson) and Emma (Zendaya) are a successful young couple based in Boston. The story begins with a flashback to their first meeting – an endearingly bumbling meet-cute in a coffee shop – but they have been together for two years now. They share a nice apartment, are both in secure jobs and clearly love each other deeply. So naturally they decide that it’s time to officially tie the knot. Like so many couples before them, they set all the wheels in motion: classes with a choreographer for that all-important first dance, test photographs to make sure they actually know how to smile convincingly, sample menus just to ensure that every bite on the big day will be perfect… and wine of course. Don’t forget the wine!

But things take an unexpected turn when, a few days before the wedding, they get drunk with their close friends, Mike (Mamoudou Athie), who is Charlie’s choice for Best Man, and Rachel (Alana Haim), who Emma has chosen as her Maid of Honour. Playing an impromptu game of ‘what’s the worst thing you’ve even done?’ Emma shares something that happened to her when she was just fifteen years old – something so shocking that it casts an immediate pall over the proceedings and starts Charlie wondering if he really does want to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

From this point, the whole enterprise begins to spin dangerously out of control and everything the couple does to try to limit the potential damage only makes it so much worse…

The Drama is aptly titled (how does production company A24 manage to unearth so many great projects?) because it focuses on the performative nature of the wedding experience and, no matter how many unexpected twists are thrown into the mix, this deliciously dark comedy never flags. Both Pattinson and Zendaya are great in the lead roles but the supporting cast also shine in their respective cameos, particularly Haim, who is transformed by Emma’s confession into a sneering, vengeful version of her former self. There are some truly toe-curdling moments that actually have me wincing and offering silent thanks that my own wedding had none of the hurdles depicted here. The groom’s speech actually has me wanting to hide behind my seat.

Written and directed by Kristoffer Borgli, The Drama utilises a wonderfully fragmentary approach, cutting back and forth across Emma’s backstory, where she’s played by Jordyn Curet. That dark revelation has polarised audiences in the USA, where one newspaper has already awarded it a ‘no stars’ review – but to my mind, the way Emma’s childhood is revealed makes me totally understand what happened to make her act as she did. Also, I don’t believe in thought crime but I do believe in second chances.

We are also offered glimpses of Charlie’s dreams, and his dark imaginings as he contemplates what the future might hold for him. This is a smart, ingenious, low-budget film that delivers in just about every respect and, whatever else you think of it, I’m pretty sure you won’t be bored.

4. 4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Magic Faraway Tree

02/04/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

If you didn’t read The Magic Faraway Tree as a child, then you really did miss out. Mention the title to anyone who encountered it in their early years, and you’ll unleash a torrent of strange words, none of which will make much sense if you’re not au fait with the fantasy series. “Moonface!” they’ll exclaim. “Silky! The Slippery-slip! Pop-biscuits! Dame Slap!”

This adaptation (written by Simon Farnaby and directed by Ben Gregor) veers wildly from the original but still retains the heart of Enid Blyton’s beloved books. In this version, Beth, Joe and Franny (formerly Bessie, Jo and Fanny) are firmly Generation Alpha, unable to imagine a world without Wi-Fi, ear pods or mobile phones. So when their mum (Claire Foy) loses her well-paid city job and their dad (Andrew Garfield) suggests moving to the middle of nowhere to set up a pasta sauce business, they’re not exactly thrilled.

Teenager Beth (Delilah Bennett-Cardy) is especially put out. Seriously? She’s expected to live here? There’s nothing but fields and trees. What’s she supposed to do? Middle child Joe (Phoenix Laroche) agrees with her: he’s reduced to pretending a plank of wood is a games console. Meanwhile Franny (Billie Gadsdon), a thoughtful child with selective mutism – no, that’s not in the original – is slowly starting to blossom. What’s behind her newfound confidence?

The clue is in the title. Despite warnings from a neighbouring farmer (Farnaby), Franny has ventured into the Enchanted Wood, where she’s encountered the folk of the Faraway Tree. Its trunk and branches house a multitude of wonderful characters – including Moonface (Nonso Anozie), Silky (Nicola Coughlan) and the Saucepan Man (Dustin Demri-Burns). Even better, there’s a ladder at the top, which stretches up through the clouds into a host of magical lands. No wonder Franny’s motivated to speak when she’s bursting with news of elves and pixies and the Land of Goodies. And of course, eventually, her skeptical siblings join her there…

Farnaby and Gregor have captured the essence of Blyton’s stories, the whimsical appeal of fairies, wishes and aeroplanes that get sleepy – but attempting to fit in every idea from the book makes the end result feel a little over-stuffed and it doesn’t help that there are also a lot of ideas that weren’t there in the first place. A sub-plot involving Jennifer Saunders as the children’s avaricious granny (who, for no discernible reason, boasts a dodgy German accent) feels somewhat superfluous. On the other hand, not enough is made of Rebecca Ferguson’s Dame Snap (formerly Slap) and her prison-like school. Ferguson gives this her best shot, but we’re barely in her presence for ten minutes before the adventure careers onwards.

But this is nonetheless a delightful children’s film, which littl’uns are sure to enjoy for its own sake, while their elders take the opportunity to drink a cup of acornade and revel in nostalgia.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Miss Lockwood Isn’t Well

01/04/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s April Fool’s Day and the final offering in this season’s A Play A Pie and a Pint seems an apt choice for the occasion. Miss Lockwood Isn’t Well focuses on the trials and tribulations of primary school teacher Alice Lockwood (Karen Young), who has been suspended from work after experiencing a series of visions. Each encounter features a saint, who arrives in her classroom bearing helpful advice. Mind you, the insights she’s granted aren’t (at least, initially) in Joan of Arc territory.

That earring she lost? It’s under the fridge. Apparently.

Dr Freer (Jane McQuarry) has been given the tricky task of determining whether or not Alice is fit to return to work. For the assessment, Alice has requested that her parish priest, Father Mackin (Mark Cox), should also be in attendance, presumably to offer some moral support – though his snarky, mocking attitude probably isn’t what she was hoping for. Dr Freer asks Alice to explain, in her own words, the bizarre encounters that have brought her to her current situation and her ensuing account makes up the substance of James Reilly’s acerbic and occasionally hilarious play.

Young manages to keep her character grounded throughout, wide-eyed with dismay that anybody would think her a potential danger, but occasionally slipping into a kind of altered state – whereupon some of her revelations really do seem to verge on the miraculous. It’s an intriguing twist. Cox is given the lion’s share of the one-liners, which he handles with perfect timing, coaxing big laughs from the audience – and McQuarry makes an excellent job of the play’s trickiest role, refereeing the constant sparring of her two companions, yet still managing to create a convincing and utterly professional character.

This is an undeniably intriguing piece. The revelation that there are actually thousands of patron saints recognised by the Catholic church – and that many of them have pretty inane responsibilities – adds to the general air of amusement. Did you know, for instance, that there’s actually a patron saint of dysentery? St Polycarp. Thanks for asking.

Catriona McLeod handles the direction with her usual skill and Heather Grace Currie’s neon-splashed set revels in the innate tackiness of Catholicism (sorry, lapsed Catholic speaking). If the play’s conclusion doesn’t quite smack home with a killer punch, this is a thoroughly entertaining way to spend a Wednesday lunchtime.

Come to think of it, there’s probably a patron saint for those too. Saint Pie-us? I’ll get my coat.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Light House

28/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Alys Williams’ one-woman show raises some important issues about caring for someone who is struggling with their mental health. The play opens with a boat on a stormy sea – and the terrifying realisation that someone has fallen in. “Man overboard!” yells Williams. “Man overboard!” echo the audience members she has previously primed. “Call the bridge!” Williams says. “Blow the whistle! Throw the lifebuoy! Point!”

The final instruction is the hardest to follow, because she has to keep pointing without looking away until someone else comes to take over.

No matter how long that takes.

The metaphor soon becomes clear. The protagonist’s boyfriend experiences suicidal ideation. When he’s found on a Dublin bridge, contemplating throwing himself into the Liffey, she tries her best to rise to the occasion. She sounds the alarm: “Man overboard!” She doesn’t let him out of her sight. But no one comes to her assistance, and her own wellness begins to suffer.

It’s interesting to see this story from the caregiver’s point of view. However, although this is very much Alys’s tale, I think the piece would benefit from a deeper exploration of Nathan’s experience, offering us more insight into his illness than the superficial assertion that he’s ‘depressed’. Without this, it’s hard to appreciate the extent to which Alys’s care is needed.

From a dramatic point of view, there’s not a lot of jeopardy. Williams assures us at the beginning that everything turns out okay, and it does – with nary a bump on the road. Aside from the initial incident – where Nathan thinks about killing himself and then decides not to – everything progresses relatively smoothly. Sure, there are the long waiting lists for psychiatric care, his parents’ worries about their medical insurance and Alys’s spiralling anxiety. But none of these potentially serious complications ever amounts to anything, which makes the play feel strangely anticlimactic.

Nonetheless, Williams is a very engaging performer. Directed by Andrea Heaton, her gentle, inclusive demeanour makes the audience participation work well. I also like her use of puppetry and clowning; in fact, I think Williams could make more of these to amplify the emotional impact. The set (by Emma Williams) is effective, conjuring both boat and bedsit, its many ladders and hiding places allowing for dynamic movement.

A nicely-told drama about a vital subject, The Light House is on tour until the 24th May.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Good Boy

26/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Ready or Not 2: Here I Come

25/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 stars

Philip Caveney

One-Man Poe: The Black Cat & The Raven

22/03/26

The Swallow Theatre, Ravenstone

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

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

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

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

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

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

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Saint Joan

21/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Swansong

18/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 stars

Susan Singfield