08/08/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

I have never has the misfortune to be linked to a famous sibling but Lucy Barât is the older sister of Carl Barât of The Libertines – a notorious band in their day (but mainly, it has to be said, for their tabloid-fodder antics, rather than their music).

After finishing school, Lucie puts in her years at drama college and emerges fresh and hopeful for a successful career in acting, but spends much of her time being pursued by older male producers, who claim they can get her in front of ‘the right people’ – provided she’s suitably nice to them. Around the same time, brother Carl’s career goes meteoric and she is invited along for the ride, sharing his easy access to drug-fuelled parties. Don’t misunderstand, she’s pleased for her brother, but – yes, okay, she’s jealous of him. Eventually, she gets her own big break – a role in an epic sword-and-sandal film, shooting in Malta. But she scuppers her chances when, hopped up to the gills on booze and drugs, she manages to puke over the sandals of an A-lister…

After this disappointment, she begins the inevitable slow descent into drug and alcohol addiction, followed by countless spells in rehab, as she struggles to get herself back on track.

Barât is a confident performer and she handles this one-woman show with considerable zeal. Director Bryony Shanahan keeps everything stripped back and straightforward. Barât talks directly to the audience, sharing her observations about the destructive nature of missed stardom. She also has an impressive singing voice, though we only catch snatches of this, as her songs are generally interrupted by memories of the next mishap.

If there’s an issue here, it’s that too often the story strays uncomfortably into the realms of self-pity and there’s isn’t really enough in the way of conflict – or, indeed, redemption – to sugar the pill. Since her brother’s story also features a similar arc (not to mention the awful woes of frontman Pete Doherty), what we’re really left with is the age-old tale of an artist failing to meet their own high expectations.

Barât assures us that she’s happy now, which is certainly good to hear. But Standing in the Shadows of Giants feels a little too introspective, and I leave feeling decidedly downbeat.

3 stars

Philip Caveney