“Wuthering Heights”

15/02/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I’ll be the first to admit: I’m not the biggest fan of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. I love its complexity, its uncompromising depiction of broken people and the wildness at its heart, but it just doesn’t speak to me as clearly as, say, Jane Eyre, Villette or The Tenant of Wildefell Hall. I’m not denying the author’s genius, but – for me – there are too many narrative layers between the reader and the central story; I don’t want the Lockwood and Nelly Dean filters. And, let’s be honest, it’s all a bit histrionic, isn’t it?

Emerald Fennell certainly leans into the melodrama in this sumptuous adaptation, and she’s sensibly expunged Lockwood (whatever purpose he serves on the page, it doesn’t translate well to film). However, some of the other changes are genuinely baffling. It’s like she’s made an adaptation of an earlier movie rather than the novel. It’s also like – dare I say it? – she doesn’t really get the book.

Let’s start with the most glaring problem: Heathcliff. He’s played by two perfectly competent actors: first Owen Cooper and then, in a sudden age-defying leap, Jacob Elordi. There’s no problem with their performances but, let’s face it, neither is right for the part – and not just because Elordi is a decade too old.

They’re white; Heathcliff isn’t.

While I’m not someone who expects screen adaptations to be exact replicas of their source material, I do think that something as fundamental to the character as Heathcliff’s race can’t simply be erased. His outsider status stems from the fact that he is visibly different from those around him; he is deemed an unsuitable match for Cathy because of his unknown ethnicity. Racism is the reason he’s rejected. It matters that he’s found at the Liverpool docks and not just the village pub. He’s persona non grata from the start. It also seems an odd decision to cast British Pakistani, Shazad Latif, as Edgar Linton. Why not swap the two leads?

What’s more, Fennell bottles out when it comes to Heathcliff’s monstrosity. She depicts him as a romantic hero, but that’s the antithesis of what Brontë wrote. The novel’s Heathcliff is a nuanced character, at once sexy, pitiful, admirable and monstrous. Like Frankenstein’s creature (a better casting for Elordi), we are shown the trauma that destroys him, but we also see the nasty brute that he becomes. Fennell’s iteration lets him off the hook: he’s not cruel or abusive, just too deeply in love. Making Isabella (Alison Oliver)’s degradation consensual is horribly tin-eared, especially the moment Heathcliff demonstrates that she could easily get away if she wanted to. I don’t think you need to be particularly socially aware to know that “Why doesn’t she just leave?” is a harmful, victim-blaming trope when it comes to domestic violence.

Leaving aside the obvious issue with Fennell deciding to omit the second half of the story, there are two further choices I need to question. First, why has Hindley been deleted from the tale? His role is shared between Mr Earnshaw (Martin Clunes) and Nelly Dean (Hong Chau): the former physically abuses Heathcliff, while the latter is jealous after being displaced in Cathy’s affections, and neither response rings true. And second, why doesn’t Cathy’s baby live? One of Wuthering Heights‘ main themes is emotional inheritance – but there’s nobody here to represent the next generation. It seems a glaring loss.

Novel aside, there are also some problems with the film itself. Everything is so over-the-top that it’s hard to take seriously. From Isabella’s “ribbon room” to Mr Earnshaw’s ridiculous alcohol-bottle mountains (never mind that he’s famously broke, glass was expensive back then and he’d have been more likely to get his booze in a refillable ceramic jug), there’s no subtlety here at all.

Is there anything to like? Yes. Charlotte Mellington and Margot Robbie both play Cathy well, although – like Elordi – Robbie is way too old for the role (Cathy is only supposed to be 18 when she dies, and Robbie is almost double that). The intensity of Cathy and Heathcliff’s relationship is convincingly drawn, and I love the black, red and white colour palette. The moors are perfectly windswept and gloomy, and the portrayal of an impoverished gentry clinging to its name is clear-eyed and unsentimental. I also quite like the music, with a score by Anthony Willis and an album’s worth of original songs by Charli XCX.

But, in the end, that’s not enough. This feels like a wasted opportunity from a young director whose blind spots have thwarted her passion project.

2.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Nouvelle Vague

15/02/26

Filmhouse, Edinburgh

I’m a longtime fan of American director, Richard Linklater, and I suspect that what I like most about him is his eclecticism: I never know what kind of thing he’s going to come up with next. Despite this, the advance word about Nouvelle Vague comes as a genuine surprise. It’s about the filming of Breathless (A Bout de Souffle), shot on location in Paris and featuring a cast of (mostly) French actors speaking their own language. There are so many elements here that could have gone spectacularly wrong – and, of course, there were plenty of nay-sayers concerned about cultural appropriation. But no worries, this film is in an unqualified delight from start to finish.

It’s 1959 and the various members of the influential group of film critics known as Cahiers du Cinéma are starting to make their respective marks on the industry. François Truffaut (Adrien Rouyard) is about to wow the audience at Cannes with his debut feature, The 400 Blows, and Claude Chabrol (Antoine Besson) has also made an impact with a self-financed film, Le Beau Serge. But the group’s leading light, Jean-Luc Godard (Guillame Marbec), has yet to dip his toes into directorial waters.

At Cannes, he manages to persuade veteran film producer George de Beauregard (Bruno Dreyfűrst) to finance his debut, which will be loosely based around a script conceived by Truffaut, itself inspired by the misadventures of real-life car thief, Michel Portail. Luc Godard has already signed affable young actor Jean Paul Belmondo (Aubry Dullin) for the lead role, but when the director bumps into American star, Jean Seberg (Zooey Deutch), fresh from her role in Bonjour Tristesse, he becomes convinced that she is the only woman who can play the second lead in his movie and sets about doing everything he can to persuade her to come on board.

But, back in Paris, budget in place and cast duly assembled, it soon becomes clear that Luc Godard has his own ideas about how a film should be directed – and they’re not like anything that’s gone before…

Marbec is brilliant as the chain-smoking, brooding Luc Godard, totally convinced of his own genius and, frankly, a bit of a knob, disregarding every bit of advice he’s given by more experienced friends. His casual approach causes Beauregard enough stress to drive him to the edge of a nervous breakdown. The novice director pretty much always uses the first take (though he rarely bothers to watch it back) and has a habit of calling a halt to the day’s shoot after a couple of hours’ work, simply because he’s ‘feeling peckish.’ Both Deutch and Dullin are eerie lookalikes for their real life counterparts, and the film effortlessly captures the frantic day-to-day shooting process that against all the odds, would result in one of the most groundbreaking films in movie history.

But lest I’ve made this sound like a worthy slog aimed at cinephiles, don’t be misled. Nouvelle Vague is an absolute breeze, fast, funny and utterly charming. Just like the film it’s homaging, it was shot on location in Paris with a tiny budget and no special effects, yet it somehow manages to capture the look and feel of a lost era with absolute conviction.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Flames

14/02/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The Flames is a Tricky Hat Theatre Company for over 50s – and it’s a glorious example of the merits of community theatre. Here, twenty-two amateur performers gather to share their stories, which are then shaped into a cohesive series of vignettes by professional directors, Fiona Miller and Scott Johnston. As an audience member, I find it powerful and life-affirming. For the participants, I’m sure it’s potently therapeutic.

Thanks to choreographer Laura Bradshaw, the piece eddies and flows in a way that feels almost elemental. Set to Malcolm Ross’s gentle score, performed live on an electric guitar, the movement is precise and careful. It’s also wild at times, as varied as the tide. I especially like the super-slow-mo section – where one actor is speaking centre-stage and the others are placing their chairs and sitting on them so gradually that the motion is barely discernible – followed immediately by a change of pace, as the actors rush to surround the speaker.

The stories are short, focusing on those small moments that make a life. Love, loss, outrage, joy – they’re all here. One woman remembers a hat that saves her from falling cicadas, another a psychopath who declared his love. A widow asks if we believe in love at first sight, and recalls the day she met her husband. A shell-shocked man tells us about his wife’s cancer diagnosis. We hear about sibling rivalry, domestic violence, fun days out and so much more. Even within this not-very-diverse looking ensemble, there are myriad experiences.

The production levels are high – this is a polished and impressive piece of theatre – thanks in no small part to Kim Beveridge’s digital design. Projected onto the backdrop is monochrome video footage of the performers: sometimes in extreme close-up, highlighting their emotions; sometimes mid-shots, focusing on the bonds that have formed between them.

This is am-dram with a difference, deeply personal and beautifully crafted.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Kiss Me Kate

14/02/26

Church Hill Theatre, Edinburgh

Seemingly tailor-made for Valentine’s Day consumption, Kiss Me Kate is an ambitious undertaking for any company, but Edinburgh University Footlights handle it with their customary skill. From the first strains of Another Ope’nin, Another Show, the twenty-two strong cast unleash an absolute barn stormer of a production, backed by a 15-strong band.

Theatre impresario Fred Graham (Ewan Rotherston) is putting on his production of The Taming of the Shrew and has also taken on the lead role of Petruchio. He has somehow persuaded his former wife, Lilli Vanessi (Nina Birbeck), to return to the stage after a long absence as the titular Katherine. It soon becomes apparent that the two of them still have unfinished business. Arguments inevitably ensue and further complications arise thanks to lead dancer, Bill Calhoun (Dan Bryant). He’s currently playing Lucentio whilst romancing the show’s flighty Bianca, Lois Lane (Elham Khosravipour) – a woman who seems to have had relationships with just about every man in the vicinity.

When Bill gets involved in a shady poker game and loses a large amount of money, it emerges that he’s cheekily ‘borrowed’ Fred’s identity. Suddenly, the production finds itself with two new additions to the cast: a couple of gangsters (Bella Cripwell and Christiana Doe), who are determined to ensure that the show is successful enough to pay off Bill’s massive debt…

With music and lyrics by the legendary Cole Porter, Kiss Me Kate offers a clever ‘show within a show’ framework, and it’s liberally peppered with memorable songs and frenetic dance routines. Both Rotherston and Birbeck have incredible vocal ranges (Birbeck’s unfettered performance of I Hate Men is a particular standout), while Bryant dances up a storm throughout and Khosravipour embodies the mischievous Lois with relish. Her rendition of every Tom, Dick or Harry is a hoot.

But of course in productions like this, the ensemble work is essential and choreographers Lysa Britton and Caitlin Visser have drilled the cast to perfection. The rendition of Too Darn Hot which opens the second half, led by an athletic Paul (Aaron Ventnor), threatens to blow the roof off the theatre.

And naturally, those two unnamed gangsters are an integral part of the show as they increasingly muscle their way into proceedings until they are performers in their own right. Hilariously personified by Cripwell and Doe, they add the final flourish to a dazzling production. If you don’t come out of this singing Brush Up Your Shakespeare, there’s clearly no hope for you.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

[Un]lovable: a Work-in-Progress Performance

13/02/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Not So Nice Theatre Company presents a Valentine’s scratch-night with an acerbic edge, showing excerpts from five works-in-progress, all inspired by the prompt, ‘Unlovable’. In the run up to February 14th, the world is awash with heart-shaped tat and exhortations to be romantic. But sometimes life just doesn’t pan out that way…

First up is Clown Divorce, written by Russ Russell and directed by Sarah Docherty. We first meet Clown (Chris Veteri) as he struggles to push a suitcase across the stage. The visual gag is funny precisely because of its predictability: as the drawn out routine builds to its inevitable conclusion, the laughs it receives are very well-earned. Along the way, we begin to notice small details. Clown isn’t wearing any shoes, his socks have blood on them – and where is his red nose? The clue is in the title. Clown has recently divorced, and has lost half of his identity in the process…

Next, we have Wish Me Luck by Melissa Ainsworth. Cassie (Hannah-Mae Engstorm) has just been dumped and is contemplating jumping in front of a bus. Not that she wants to kill herself, mind. She just wants to grab her ex’s attention. But passer-byJamie (Jamie Cowan) isn’t about to stand by and watch it happen. Not after everything he’s been through… Directed by Adele Tunnicliff, WML has an intriguing premise, but needs more time to do justice to the complex issues it raises.

The final piece of the first act is Ryan Lithgow’s three-hander Tit for Tat, starring Veteri (again) as Nathan, Stan Ross as Darcey and Samuela Noumtchuet as Ellie. Under Cormac Myles’ direction, this is a tense dissection of a relationship, the two men veering from hurt and hostility to an uneasy admission that their anger stems from a place of love. However, Noumtchuet is under-used as Ellie: the character’s sudden, unexpected appearance ought to herald a change in pace or tone, but the men’s dialogue continues in much the same vein as before, as they rehash their past.

The standout piece comes after the interval: Emma McCaffrey’s funny and heartbreaking monologue, La Solitude, directed by Becca Donley. We’re well aware of McCaffrey’s prowess as a performer (we have seen them in Lung Ha’s Castle Lennox and Stella Quines’ Disciples) but this is our first experience of them as a playwright and I suspect it won’t be the last. The piece is beautifully written with just the right amount of levity to carry its serious points. At once laugh-out-loud funny, poignant and provocative, this is an intensely thought-provoking play. McCaffrey is Lee, a lively, engaging young woman, who – like McCaffrey – has autism and learning difficulties. We first meet her as a child, eight years old, receiving a diagnosis she doesn’t understand and which nobody explains to her. All she knows is that it makes her parents cry. As a teenager, she is isolated at school, infantilised by teachers and support workers, unable to make friends. And things don’t improve when she reaches adulthood: Lee can’t live independently, but that doesn’t mean she’s a child; it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a job, a social life, or – heaven forfend – a love life. Why shouldn’t she?

Last up, we have Defective, written and directed by Not So Nice’s own AD, Grace Ava Baker. We’re in the near future and Abigail (Indigo Buchanan) has just given birth. The Assessor (Eleanor Tate) has some bad news… With a premise akin to Minority Report, Defective explores the idea of original sin from a mother’s perspective. Is nature really so much more important than nurture? What price are we prepared to pay for a safer society? And whose word should we accept about our children’s destiny? Although the ending is a little muddled – without giving too much away, I don’t understand what Abigail does with that syringe – this is a compelling piece, raising some important questions about autonomy.

All in all, this is an thoroughly entertaining evening, a welcome antidote to all the red roses and slushy poetry.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Romeo and Juliet

12/02/26

Pleasance Theatre, Edinburgh

EUSC’s Romeo and Juliet sets out to perform the ‘world’s greatest love story’ without resorting to any of the tricks and gimmicks we’ve lately come to expect from such productions. You know the kind of thing. R&J, only it’s set in 1960’s Bradford – or R&J, as envisioned by Sergio Leone – on a trampoline. No, here it’s played completely straight and what’s more, we get the full text, which clocks in at over three hours in duration. There are twenty performers all giving it their best and there’s no faulting the lofty ambition that powers this production.

Of course, there’s also no disguising the fact that of the immortal bard’s many works, this one features one of his battiest ever plots. Welcome to Verona, where two rival families, the Montagues and the Capulets are gleefully slicing chunks off each other at every opportunity. Romeo (Sam Gearing), the son of Montague (Hal Hobson), wanders moodily through the carnage, observing the action but doing very little to help. He’s currently madly in love with Rosaline (Connie Bailie) who – rather awkwardly – is a Capulet, and therefore out of bounds. But after briefly bumping into Juliet (Anya McChristie) at a masked ball, he’s doesn’t hesitate to switch his affections to her instead… but naturally, she’s a Capulet too. Doh!

But why am I telling you all this? Everybody knows the story of the star-crossed lovers and most of us are familiar with the major players in the story. Director Salvador Kent handles all the characters with aplomb, but sometimes Ella Catherall’s sound design swamps important lines of dialogue – and while Jack Read’s lighting is often striking and atmospheric, too often the faces of actors are lost in the gloom as they recite their soliloquies..

I like the fact that the simple but striking set centres on that all-important balcony and I enjoy McChristie’s effusive and optimistic Juliet, who strides fearlessly into each successive plot twist. Rufus Goodman’s Benvolio meets every complication with a weary shrug and Noah Sarvesaran’s super-charged Mercutio is a particular delight, as he leaps and whirls around the stage as though defying gravity itself. (His death at the beginning of the second act makes me wish he could have hung on a bit longer). Hunter King has the necessary gravitas as Friar Laurence to deliver one of history’s most unbelievable plot devices with absolute authority. ‘Just drink this serum that will make you appear to be dead for two and forty hours and all will be well.’ What could possibly go wrong?

The swordplay scenes are a step up from the usual student productions thanks to the fight direction of Rebecca Mahar and Cooper Mortlock – but I’m rather less convinced by a decision to dress both Montague (Hal Hobson) and Capulet (Tai Remus-Elliot) in the same Chaplinesque costumes, their faces smeared with makeup. Is this to suggest that their characters are essentially interchangeable? I’m not entirely sure.

But overall, this is an admirable production that has much to commend it and the story (silly plot twists notwithstanding) is delivered in epic style.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Lord of the Flies

09/02/26

BBC iPlayer

We rarely review TV shows, but Marc Munden’s four-part series (adapted by Jack Thorne from William Golding’s 1954 novel) is undoubtedly cinematic in scope and, since we binge-watch the entire thing in one day, it seems like a no-brainer to register our reaction. The fact that I’ve been obsessed with the story since childhood is another powerful contributor to the ”yes, we should’ imperative.

I read the source novel in the early sixties when I was sequestered in a boarding school in Peterborough, a setting that felt to me every bit as savage as the one I was reading about. Add to the equation that twice a year I was being flown out to visit my parents in Malaysia (my Dad was in the RAF), and it’s hardly surprising that the idea of a passenger plane crashing and leaving me stranded on a remote island seemed entirely within the realms of possibility.

Of course, Lord of the Flies has been previously adapted, most notably by Peter Brooks in 1963, a stripped-back monochrome version of the story that blew me away on first viewing, and which still remains (in my humble opinion) one of the finest literary adaptations in cinema history. I must also grudgingly mention Harry Hook’s lamentable attempt to update the premise in 1990, which got pretty much everything wrong – and featured a Piggy so obnoxious that I felt compelled to cheer when his skull was crushed by that great big rock. (Surely not the effect that Mr Hook was going for…)

But surely no piece of fiction is so sacred that a newcomer can’t be allowed to have a shot at an adaptation. A recent comment I saw online complaining that remakes are ‘never the same’ struck me as particularly odd. Isn’t that the point? If a director hasn’t got something different to say, then why bother?

Having said that, this new version does retain a lot from the novel. It’s set in the same era and uses plenty of lines of original dialogue. The episodes are each seen from the perspective of one of the key characters. Piggy (David McKenna) sports a Northern Irish accent and has a predilection for quoting Groucho Marx, which instantly endears him to me (another obsession I developed at boarding school was a love of The Marx Brothers). McKenna emphasises Piggy’s vulnerability and his desperation to avoid being bullied, as well as his evident intelligence. Ralph (Winston Sawyers) is instantly likeable and some nicely-integrated flashbacks in his episode reveal aspects of his earlier life that go some way to explain why he is so nurturing to others.

Simon (Ike Talbut), always the most elusive character in the novel, displays elements that help to explain his troubled relationship with Jack (Lox Pratt). And Jack’s innate fear of failure, his rampant desire to be the winner at any cost, is cleverly conveyed. In the story’s latter stages, his ruthless decisions appear to echo the kinds of tyranny we’ve recently seen deployed on the streets of Minneapolis. And Sam ‘n’ Eric (Noah and Cassius Flemyng) surely typify the self-preservationists, who reluctantly go along with heinous events in order to save their own skins.

But the element that really shines in this version of the tale are the depictions of its jungle settings (filmed principally in Malaysia), particularly the night scenes where the surrounding ferns and trees are rendered blood red and occasionally seem to verge on the psychedelic. Likewise, Jack’s ‘hunters’ sport ever more bizarre costumes and adornments, until they begin to resemble creatures from some kind of obscure mythology, looking as if they’ve escaped from the underworld.

Okay, so perhaps this isn’t the perfect adaptation that Brooks delivered all those years ago, but it nevertheless makes for compelling and rewarding viewing. It’s proof, if ever it were needed, that a great piece of literature can always be successfully reinterpreted for a new age.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Don Quixote is a Very Big book

08/02/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Don Quixote is a Very Big Book is not just a title – it’s also a fact, as anybody who has ever attempted to read their way through its 1000+ pages will surely attest. Dik Downey, the man behind Opposable Thumb Theatre, has read every single one of them. But, as he happily admits, the main reason he set out to dramatise what’s often hailed as ‘the world’s first novel’ is the fact that he purchased a really great suit of armour (unused!) from some guy on eBay and figured this would be the best use of it.

So here he is, on stage at The Traverse as part of the Manipulate Festival, gamely buckling on said armour (which looks like it weighs a ton) and proudly explaining how he will single-handedly perform the entire book, complete with a horse, a donkey, a faithful squire and a climactic battle with a great big flipping windmill. 

Downey is an affable narrator with a penchant for making quirky puppets, which he utilises to help tell his stories. He openly admits to us that he’s knocking on a bit now and is worried that the piece might be too much for him, but he’s still game for an epic tale that won’t skimp on the details. And as the heavy armour goes on piece-by-piece, we begin to appreciate the tenacity of the man, and the way (rather like Quixote himself) Downey steadfastly refuses to accept that this epic undertaking might be beyond his abilities.

DQIAVBB delivers a charming and gently amusing hour upon the stage. Downey staggers back and forth, interacting with his appreciative crowd, choosing one of them to ‘Knight’ him. When he notices ‘Dulcinea’ siting in the front row, he performs a silly, ramshackle dance for her that soon starts to go wrong and has me laughing out loud. I also find myself admiring the ingenuity of the aforementioned puppets (‘it’s all done with magnets,’ Downey informs us at one point) and there’s a significant moment in the proceedings where Quixote struggles to get back to his feet for a very VERY long time, and I find myself wondering if I should run down the steps to the stage and lend him a hand. Which I suspect may be the point.

While this is an enjoyable and lighthearted performance – I laugh pretty much from start to finish – it’s also tinged with sadness at the iniquities of old age. And if you think that you need a massive special effects budget to depict a mounted knight doing battle with a windmill, think again. It’s amazing what you can do with papier maché and sticky-back plastic. 

Oh, and by the way, back in the day, I did try to read Don Quixote and gave up after a few chapters. This piece is (happily) much more accessible.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Hamlet

08/02/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I’m a sucker for a modern interpretation of Shakespeare, illuminating the continued relevance of his themes. I’m also a menopausal woman who needs to pee quite frequently, so when I read that Aneil Karia’s Hamlet has a tight sub-two-hour running time, I’m sold. I might actually be able to sit through the whole film!

London, 2025. Hamlet (Riz Ahmed) is devastated by the death of his father (Avijit Dutt), the mega-rich owner of a controversial construction company, Elsinore. Numb with grief, the young heir is horrified when his mother (Sheeba Chaddha) announces she plans to remarry without delay – taking Old Hamlet’s brother, Claudius (Art Malik), as her new husband.

As if things weren’t difficult enough, Hamlet soon has a lot more to deal with, when his father’s ghost appears before him, accusing Claudius of killing him and urging his son to seek revenge. True to Shakespearean form, Hamlet devises a convoluted scheme to prove his uncle’s guilt. He’ll pretend to be mad, verbally abuse his girlfriend, and interrupt his mum’s wedding with a play that shows the groom committing murder. What could possibly go wrong?

In this version, Hamlet and his family are British Indians, and we’re in England, not Denmark. In my favourite change to the original, Fortinbras is no longer the defeated King of Norway, but instead the name of a collective of homeless people, who’ve been displaced by Old Hamlet’s cruel business practices. Here, Hamlet’s madness is not just a reaction to his own situation, but a response to the belated realisation that his family’s wealth comes from theft and exploitation. His struggle, in the end, is to restore social justice, as well as to avenge his dad.

There’s a lot to like about this film. It’s exciting and propulsive, stripping Hamlet down to its most interesting parts, while retaining enough soul-searching to make us understand the young protagonist’s despair. I love the depiction of the players’ performing Old Hamlet’s murder, and the famous soliloquy (“To be or not to be…”) is utterly thrilling, as Hamlet – driving through London’s busy night-time streets – floors the accelerator and takes his hands off the steering wheel…

I’m not sure that the omission of Horatio works particularly well: the contrasting counsel of Horatio and Laertes (Joe Alwyn) adds an interesting dimension to the play that is lacking here. I also think that, in a contemporary adaptation such as this, Ophelia (Morfydd Clark) could be given more to do. On the other hand, I like the subtle changes to Gertrude’s character, cleverly rendering her innocent of any crime while also giving her more agency. Chaddha’s performance is nuanced and convincing – and Timothy Spall was surely born to play Polonius.

But this is Riz Ahmed’s film, and he’s as fine a Hamlet as I’ve ever seen: a flawed young man tormented by grief and guilt, behaving badly and impulsively, hurtling towards his own demise. It’s a tale as old as, well, four hundred years. And still it endures.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Send Help

07/02/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

After a somewhat muddled attempt to helm a Marvel film (2022’s Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness), Sam Raimi heads back into the kind of territory that’s a better fit for his directorial skills. If Send Help initially seems like an odd choice of vehicle, it nonetheless features the kind of perfectly-judged horror tropes that he’s founded his reputation on. And if it’s vaguely reminiscent of JM Barrie’s 1902 play, The Admirable Crichton – with the gender roles reversed – well, that may just be coincidental.

Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) has worked for years as a strategist for an American financial institution and has become the right-hand woman of the company’s CEO. She’s confidently expecting a hard-earned promotion when his son, Bradley (Dylan O’Brien), takes over the business, but it’s clear from the outset that the smug new boss has a low opinion of Linda with her sensible shoes and her tuna salad sandwiches. He informs her that the role of Vice President will go to his bestie, Donovan (Xavier Samuel), who plays golf with him and knows not to take things too seriously. The fact that Don has even less business acumen than Bradley seems not to bother the latter one jot.

But Bradley is sensible enough to keep Linda on the team for an important trip to Thailand, where he fully expects her to use her skills to finalise the company’s upcoming merger with their Eastern counterparts. On the flight over, Donovan chances on an old audition tape that Linda has made for the survival reality show that she watches in her leisure time. He gleefully shows it to the others. The all-male team take great delight in mocking her ambitions… and then the plane is hit by a sudden storm and suddenly, nobody’s laughing any more.

Come morning, Linda and Bradley are the sole survivors of the crash, stranded on an apparently uninhabited island. Bradley has suffered a leg injury. And the tables are beginning to turn…

Raimi has always had a knack of leavening his horror tropes with well-timed gags and that’s a quality that’s very much to the fore here. The screening I attend is punctuated by gales of laughter and gasps of horror in pretty much equal measure. Okay, so a late stage ‘revelation’ may not be quite the surprise that screenwriters Damon Shannon and Mark Swift were presumably aiming for, but there are nonetheless plenty of other unexpected twists and turns in the narrative that I really don’t see coming.

Both McAdams and O’Brien supply impressively nuanced performances (the film is essentially a two-hander) and, whenever I start to warm to one or the other of them, something happens to push me back in the opposite direction. But the overarching message about toxic masculinity comes through loud and clear and, no matter how devious Linda Liddle becomes, I can’t help rooting for her – even when she’s puking in the face of the person she’s attempting to deliver the kiss of life to.

Raimi aficionados will need to keep a very sharp eye out for the inevitable Bruce Campbell cameo – blink and you’ll surely miss it – but it is there.

Send Help is fast, frenetic and perfectly paced. It’s good to have the veteran director back in the driving seat with his foot on the accelerator.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney