Month: April 2025

Calamity Jane

15/04/25

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

As a kid, I was a little bit obsessed with Western movies and I still have a powerful recollection of sitting in a UK cinema, watching enthralled as Doris Day rode a stagecoach across a desert landscape belting out a stirring rendition of The Deadwood Stage. (Checking on the dates, I can see that I was only three years old when Calamity Jane was released, so clearly this was some time after that. I’m guessing I was maybe nine or ten.) When I hear that a touring version of the stage musical is coming to Edinburgh, I’m naturally eager to revisit it.

If Calamity (real name Martha Jane Canary) hadn’t actually existed, she’d seem an impossibly far-fetched invention: a cross-dressing stagecoach driver/gambler/gold prospector/rodeo star, she really did have a relationship with the legendary Bill Hickok, before going on to star in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. Adapted from Hames O’ Hanlon’s 1953 screenplay by Charles K Freeman and featuring songs by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster, this is a rootin’ tootin’ barnstormer of a show, that has no higher ambition than to entertain an audience, an aim which it effortlessly achieves.

Carrie Hope Fletcher dons the buckskins to play the larger-than-life title role, attacking the more upbeat numbers like Windy City with absolute gusto and bringing a thrilling resonance to the show’s most enduring song, Secret Love. Tomas Wolstenholme handles the role of Wild Bill Hickok with panache and submits a lovely acoustic version of Higher Than a Hawk. There are assured performances from Samuel Holmes as effete song-and-dance man, Francis Fryer, and from Seren Sandham-Davies as Katie Brown, both of whom are victims of mistaken identity. But this is a true ensemble piece, with just about every member of the large cast ready and able to play an instrument at the drop of a stetson. This approach gives the show a propulsive energy that never falters, racing from one roistering set-piece to the next.

The episodic storyline is based around a series of misunderstandings, each perhaps too readily resolved by the indefatigable Calamity, but it would be hard to imagine a more downright enjoyable night at the theatre. Tonight’s packed audience rises to the occasion, clapping enthusiastically along to the final hoedown at a volume that threatens to blow the roof off the theatre. You could grumble that songs like A Woman’s Touch and Tis Harry I’m Planning to Marry are a tad reductive, but this piece is completely unapologetic about its origins and, apart from a few minor tweaks, sticks closely to the original screenplay.

I come out humming The Black Hills of Dakota; if you can manage to resist the impulse, then you’ve clearly got a lot more control than I have. If you’re looking for simple, unfettered fun, then why not mosey on down to the Festival Theatre where Calamity and her posse will be kicking up a storm every night until the 19th of April?

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Night, Idiot

12/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Night, Idiot promises to be a breezy comedy of manners, with a strong focus on inter-generational differences. Dani (Zoë Bullock) and her boyfriend, Paul (Andrew Barrett), have just moved into a new flat, and they’ve barely started unpacking when Paul’s mum, Ruth (Pauline Lynch), announces a visit. Zoë’s nervous: she’s only met Ruth once before and that didn’t go well. After all, it’s hardly Zoë’s fault that Paul is still working in a coffee shop, or that his great novel remains a concept rather than anything as concrete as a finished manuscript. So it’s Zoë’s job as a paralegal that pays the rent and bills; so what? That’s up to her and Paul. But Ruth has other ideas: she wants her son to fulfil his potential. And, more importantly, she wants grandchildren. Soon.

The first third is very funny, if sometimes a little far-fetched (surely no one is ever as blunt as Ruth in their criticism of their child’s partner?). But something is clearly troubling Dani…

And then things take a darker turn…

Directed by Shilpa T-Hyland, Night, Idiot is a dynamic piece of theatre: poignant, engaging and full of twists and turns. The script – by Bullock – is clever, offering clear insight into Dani’s mental anguish as she obsessively replays events, dwelling on every Sliding-Doors moment and pondering what might have been. These glimpses into the hypothetical are slick, and I like the fact that Bullock doesn’t offer any easy answers for us or Dani, and nor does she shy away from difficult themes.

Bullock and Lynch make an appealingly-fiery central duo, while Barrett ensures Paul is a sympathetic character, despite his uncommunicative nature and ultimate cowardice. Bullock in particular gets to show off her acting chops: watch out for her so-heavily-signposted-this-isn’t-a-spoiler rendition of Shrek and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

Night, Idiot is an ideal piece for A Play, A Pie and A Pint, with lots packed into the short running time. There’s emotional heft here and I find myself really rooting for the characters. Zoë Bullock is clearly one to watch.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Mr Burton

11/05/25

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

The theme of the ‘inspirational teacher’ is a well-worn cinematic device but, in the case of Mr Burton, it does have the advantage of being true. The titular Mr B (impeccably played by Toby Jones) is a quiet, but authoritarian teacher in a little school in Port Talbot, a man nursing his own thwarted ambitions as a playwright.

We join the story in 1942, when Mr Burton is doing his level best to instil a love of Shakespeare into his students, despite the glowering presence of the coal mines that threaten to claim those young men who are not thrown into the maelstrom of the Second World War. Burton is somewhat bemused to discover that the pupil who has the strongest response to his English literature lessons is Richard Jenkins (Harry Lawtey), a boy all-but abandoned by his coal miner father, Dic (Steffan Rhodri). Richard is obliged to live in the overcrowded home of his sister (Aimee Ffion-Edwards) and her resentful husband, Elfed (Anuerin Barnard).

When Richard shows considerable promise in a amateur production set up by Burton, the teacher is prompted to take the boy under his wing, giving him lessons in elocution in an attempt to erase his local accent, even finding him (and paying for) accommodation with his landlady, Ma Smith (Lesley Manville). Inevitably, tongues begin to wag as suspicious observers cast doubt on Mr Burton’s intentions.

When he takes the step of adopting the boy and lending him his surname, in the hope of getting him a scholarship at Oxford, the gossip intensifies…

Written by Tom Bullough and Josh Hyams and directed by Marc Evans, Mr Burton is an atmospheric period piece that captures the hardscrabble era in which it’s set. Jones is as assured as ever in a role that allows him to give little away, while Leslie Manville is a perfect foil for him – and makes a very decent fist of the Welsh accent. But it’s Lawtey’s star-making turn as Richard Jenkins/Burton that provides the heart and soul of this film. He’s utterly convincing as a shy, vulnerable teenager in the first half and then, when the action skips onward several years, convincingly nails Richard Burton’s sonorous tones and lithe sexuality, as he struggles to come to grips with his breakthrough role as Prince Hal in Stratford.

Lawtey’s astonishing transformation – and the astute comparison with the way that Hal shrugs off his former mentor, Falstaff in Henry IV – ensures that Mr Burton is a riveting piece about the importance of nurture and the many ways in which teaching can provide that all-important first step on the path to greatness.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Alas! Poor Yorick

08/04/25

Studio Theatre, Edinburgh

As the name suggests, Alas! Poor Yorick is a reimagining of Hamlet, which centres on the minor characters of the gravediggers, those fellows of infinite jest who seem to revel in making the simplest actions long and needlessly complicated. John Gorick (as well as rhyming nicely with Yorick) doubles as the first gravedigger and a recalcitrant donkey, forever chasing an elusive carrot. Jon Haynes plays his assistant and (at one point) Hamlet himself, eager to orate over the burial place of the long-deceased jester, even if he does keep picking a soliloquy from the wrong blooming play.

Ridiculusmus enact their long-established brand of clowning, a Godot-like exploration of repetition, occasionally punctuated by absurd observations and deliberately naff jokes, though it must be said that tonight’s performance isn’t as sprightly as I would like, the extended riffs on the futility of existence feeling a little too creaky for comfort.

In the latter stages of the narrative, the arrival of players from the Lung Ha Theatre Company do lend the piece a splash of vigour and a startling change of pace. Emma McCaffrey plays a priest with an unGodly liking for the bottle, while Gavin Yule offers an interesting spin on Laertes. We’ve seen these performers in several very different productions over the years and their versatility is impressive.

If there’s a sticking point here, it’s that the clowning is a little muted and reserved and I’m not convinced that it quite comes off – and the vivacity of the final section only serves to highlight this.

Still, it’s always interesting to explore the possible backstories of Hamlet’s minor characters, and those particular Shakespearean fools/gravediggers will never seem the same again.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Kanpai

06/04/25

Grindlay Street, Edinburgh

We’ve lived in Edinburgh for around a decade, yet for a variety of reasons, have never eaten at Kanpai – only a few steps away from where we live – until a couple of friends suggest meeting there for dinner. First impressions are certainly promising. Behind that modest, unassuming doorway, there’s a relaxed and convivial dining room that exudes good vibes. Kanpai means ‘cheers’ and the name seems a good fit, even if we are still on the wagon. There’s an initially bewildering array of dishes to choose from but the friendly staff are more than happy to offer advice.

The recent boom in sushi restaurants around the city means that there are now plenty of venues offering this kind of cuisine, but it’s clear from the word go that Kanpai’s offerings are a step up from the low-budget eateries we’ve previously visited. There are four of us to dine so we opt to share everything, which means that a riot of dishes, each more colourful than the last, keeps arriving at short intervals before being promptly despatched.

Everything is perfect: the California and Tokyo hand rolls faultlessly assembled; the tuna and avocado maki melt-in-the-mouth delicious. ‘Pace yourself,’ I keep thinking, but then the next platter arrives and I can’t quite hold myself back. Amidst a plethora of excellence, a few dishes stand out from the rest, but I have to say, it’s a pretty high bar.

There’s a delicious plate of pan-fried chicken and vegetable dumplings, perfect when dunked in the bowl of accompanying sauce, and there’s a portion of Tappoyaki octopus fish cakes that are absolutely bursting with flavour. A mizo-glazed aubergine cooked in its skin is as soft and caramelised as you could possibly wish for – indeed, it’s impossible to resist scraping out the skin with a spoon to get those last flecks of goodness into your mouth.

There’s a platter of tempora king prawns, and though tempora can sometimes be my sticking point – the crispy batter tending towards greasiness – this is exactly as it should be: light, dry and crunchy, an object lesson in the fine art of deep frying. A teppan terriyaki salmon is the final course to arrive, perfectly cooked and wonderfully aromatic, the skin finished to an exquisite crisp, the flesh beneath soft.

Would we care to finish off by trying one of Kanpai’s ice creams? Hell, yes! I opt for white sesame flavour (black sesame is also available), while Susan tries the soba, which has a delicate nutty texture. It’s the perfect way to finish off a note-perfect meal and we leave Kanpai feeling that this is up there with the best Japanese food we’ve eaten in the city. One thing’s for certain, we’ll be back.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Restless

05/04/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Writer/director Jed Hart’s debut feature uses the tropes of a psychological thriller to tell the mundane tale of a woman driven to distraction by her noisy neighbours. It’s a clever conceit and the resulting film is funny, tense and very engaging.

Nicky (Lyndsey Marshal) is lonely. First her mum died and then her dad; since then, their house – adjoined to hers – has lain empty. She puts on a brave face for her son when he calls from uni, and bats away her sister’s concern. She’s fine. After all, she’s got plenty to keep her occupied: her job (she’s a carer in a home for the elderly), her hobbies (baking and listening to classical music), and, of course, her beloved cat, Reggie. 

But then Deano (Aston McAuley) moves in next door, and Nicky’s fragile peace is shattered. He’s a sociable guy – way too sociable for Nicky’s liking. It’s an affront to her parents’ memory to have this loutish brute living in their house, playing loud dance music all night long. She needs to sleep…

At first, Nicky tries to be friendly, politely asking if he can keep it down. Sadly, Deano does not take well to criticism, and things soon escalate out of control. But, as Nicky starts to fight back, we find ourselves wondering: who’s the real nightmare neighbour here?

Hart’s script is well balanced, with moments of laugh-out-loud humour undercutting the tension just as it becomes unbearable. Marshal is utterly convincing as the put-upon Nicky, struggling to cope with her empty nest, while McAuley is deliciously boorish without ever straying into caricature. Barry Ward provides the comic relief as Kev, Nicky’s traffic warden pal and potential love interest. Again, despite the heightened characteristics, Kev is never a cartoonish figure; he’s a flawed but sweetly-charming bloke. 

With its moody gloominess, David Bird’s cinematography borrows horror motifs to excellent effect, ramping up the fear factor and turning a domestic dispute into something much more elemental. 

At its core, this is a story of learning to cope with grief – of digging deep to find the strength required for letting go and moving on.

But don’t overlook the fearsome battleaxe, Jackie (Kate Robbins), whose intervention is the final straw… 

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Dancing Shoes

01/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

01/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Lunchtime theatre generally comes with built-in limitations – small casts, modest sets, humble props. But sometimes a production is so chock-full of joy that it effortlessly transcends all barriers. Dancing Shoes, written by Stephen Christopher and Graeme Smith and directed by Brian Logan, is a perfect example: a ‘little’ play that has a lot to say about male friendship and the pressures of trying to escape the stigma of addiction.

We are at a meeting of a support group somewhere in Edinburgh, where recovering drug addicts Craig (Ross Allan) and Jay (Craig Mclean) are eager to introduce themselves and tell us all about their friend, Donny (Stephen Docherty). He’s an older man, something of a loner, who – left to his own devices for far too long – eventually succumbed to the powerful lure of alcohol. Since his mother’s death, he’s been drinking several bottles of wine a night and has become enveloped by an overpowering sense of shame. 

But after visiting the group, he’s managed to step away from temptation and is determined not to slip back into his former habits. At one meeting, the three men discuss the things that really fire them up. Donny makes a surprising admission: he loves to dance. And when Jay gets out his phone and innocently films Donny, leaping around his apartment to one of his favourite tunes, none of them is quite prepared for what happens next…

From this simple premise, a delightful story emerges – an uplifting and heartwarming tale about the pursuit of personal happiness. The script is fast-paced and acerbic, the men’s conversation often laugh-out-loud-funny, yet utterly authentic.

The story is anchored by three delightful performances. Docherty reveals Donny’s inner self, forever peeking cautiously out from behind a veneer of respectability, but simultaneously compelled to reach for new horizons. Allan is terrific as the deadpan, fatalistic Craig, all too aware of how lives can sometimes go awry. And McLean is wonderfully enthusiastic as Jay, constantly looking for ways to turn the latest events to his own advantage. These are not caricatures but fully-fleshed human beings, who carry the scars of their respective addictions deep within them.

The packed audience at this A Play, A Pie and A Pint event reward the performers with a heartfelt ovation and I’m in total agreement with them. Anybody in search of an uplifting afternoon of theatre should slip on their spangly dancing shoes and quickstep their way to the Traverse.

5 stars

Philip Caveney