05/10/23

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Patriarch Rennie (John Michie) has invited a disparate group of people to his retirement party. He’s had to keep the guest list secret from his wife, Edie (Deirdre Davis), because – with the exception of her old pal, film star Jimmy Moon (Benny Young) – there’s no way she’d agree to hosting the people he has in mind. En route to the couple’s country house in the Scottish Highlands is their daughter Emma’s ex-husband, for example – even though their wedding ended acrimoniously and Charlie (Matthew Trevannion) is renowned for wreaking havoc wherever he goes. Of course, he maximises the antagonism by bringing along his latest girlfriend, Jitka (Nalini Chetty), and why wouldn’t Rennie ask the newly-betrothed Frank (Keith Macpherson) and Kath (Patricia Panther) to join the party? It’s not as if Frank’s always been in love with Emma (Sally Reid) or anything, is it? Oops. There’s an uninvited presence too: the ghost of Rennie and Edie’s son, Will (Robbie Scott), who watches over the day’s proceedings with increasing horror…

Playwright Peter Arnott says he set out to to write a ‘Scottish Chekhov’ and to some extent he has succeeded. At first it seems as though, unlike Chekhov, Arnott is looking back at the political moment that nominally serves as the play’s pivot; he has the advantage of hindsight to create dramatic irony. After all, we know the outcome of the 2014 Scottish independence referendum, the divisive topic inflaming the characters. But we soon learn that this is just a distraction: as Charlie says, it’s mere tinkering around the edges while ignoring the real revolution that is on its way, and which only the rich and ruthless will be able to survive.

If Arnott’s script is retro, then David Greig’s direction is decidedly contemporary, a deliberate jarring of styles that helps to illuminate the sense that something is changing, mirroring the mismatch between parochial politics and apocalyptic predictions, Chekhovian naturalism and magical realism. I like the dissonance.

Jessica Worrall’s set also leans into the contrast, a hyper-realistic backdrop juxtaposed with a more figurative interior: a glorious photograph of a Highland glen and a sketched-in kitchen-diner, symbolised by oversized shelving units, enormous tables and vast floral curtains.

Both Simon Wilkinson’s lighting and Pippa Murphy’s sound are integral to the production: the former spotlighting the snippets of conversation that combine to drive the plot, the latter signalling the shifts to the ghost’s point of view, as the sound distorts and fragmented memories play through Will’s Walkman. This supernatural presence is one of my favourite things about the play: Scott physicalises the spirit’s pain and confusion with a beautiful awkwardness.

The first act is very strong, an interesting set-up that promises something the second doesn’t quite deliver. Although the characters are all cleverly depicted, the piece feels somehow unfinished, as if the story arc has been cut short. Rennie’s revelation, when it comes, is anticlimactic, and I don’t quite buy it as a reason for inviting these particular people to his home (why would anyone ever invite Charlie anywhere?). But, even if it’s a little opaque and doesn’t offer any real answers to the issues it grapples with, Group Portrait in a Summer Landscape is an intelligent and ambitious play, leaving us with a lot to think – and talk – about.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield