Theatre

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

Into the Woods

22/01/26

Church Hill Theatre, Edinburgh

Although I’m not really a fan of Sondheim (he’s not exactly the king of singalong, is he?), I do love a good fairytale and who better to perform this mystical mash-up than the ever-impressive EUSOG?

Co-directed by Tai Remus Elliot and Hunter King, Into the Woods brings together Little Red (Richeldis Brosnan), Cinderella (Maia Jones), Jack Beanstalk (Reuben Reilly) and Rapunzel (Aarya Gambhir). The named-for-a-cabbage, famed-for-her-hair princess plays a minor role, but her baker brother and his wife are central to the plot, as is the witch who keeps her imprisoned in a tower. Like her mother-in-law before her, the baker’s wife (Rosie Wilkinson) is desperate for a child – and just as ready to do a deal with the green-fingered witch who lives next door (Lauren Green). And so the baker (Shaun Hamilton) is duly dispatched to the woods, where he must find the four items the hag requires: a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, some hair as yellow as corn, and a slipper as pure as gold. No prizes for guessing which characters are in possession of said treasures.

Ninety minutes of mayhem ensue, as the various stories overlap, causing Midsummer Night’s Dream levels of chaos in the woods. It all builds to the inevitable conclusion: the goodies gain riches, get married or have babies, while the baddies all die – or are at least brutally maimed. And all those who survive live happily ever after…

Until Act 2, when reality kicks in. “I was raised to be charming, not sincere,” says Cinderella’s prince (Max Middleton), apologising for his wandering eyes. The baker isn’t adapting well to parental responsibility and there’s a giantess on the hunt for the young lad who slew her spouse.

If the first act is stronger than the second (and it is), I lay the blame at writer James Lapine’s door. The play is too long: Act 1 feels like a complete story, and Act 2 just isn’t as inventive. I like the idea of subverting the famous stories, but the plotting is clunky and unadventurous.

Nonetheless, this production is admirable, with some cracking choreography from Morgan Hazelip and Tilly Heath Born, particularly for Last Midnight, which Green performs with evident gusto. Of course, the music is key – and there is a lot of vocal talent among the cast, most notably Green, Wilkinson and Jones. The orchestra (led by musical director Abby Bailey) handles the tricky time-signatures with great skill. It’s a shame there are a few technical problems with the sound, so that the vocals are sometimes overwhelmed by the instruments.

Elliot and King really bring out the humour in the show, with the two princes (Middleton and Aisling Ní Dhochartaigh) given ample scope to explore the silliness of Agony.

The lighting design (by Lewis Eggeling, Sophie Bend and Kiran Mukherjee) creates a suitably mystical atmosphere, emphasising the wild unpredictability of the woods. There are some lovely touches, such as the hard-edged beams highlighting the separateness of the fairytales before they converge, and the gentle downlights, suggestive of sunbeams filtering through the trees. However, the balance between eerie shadows and visibility perhaps requires a little tweaking, as there are moments where the actors’ faces are obscured, making it harder for the audience to connect with their emotions.

The costuming is ingenious: the wolf (Naomi Jessiman)’s lace-frilled suit is particularly memorable, as is the witch’s dress with its drop-down cloak. So hats off to wardrobe (Sophie Slight, Eloise Robertson and Olivia Fialho Rosa).

All in all, this is a vibrant, sprightly production, as polished and ambitious as we’ve come to expect from EUSOG. There are only two more chances to see it, so do whatever it takes to acquire a ticket – sell your cow, steal a cabbage, find a hen that’ll lay you a golden egg – and get yourself to the Church Hill Theatre as quickly as you can.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Hamnet

10/01/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

There is a tide in the affairs of [wo]men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune – and the confluence of Maggie O’Farrell, Chloé Zhao and Jessie Buckley exemplifies this theory. All three are at the pinnacles of their respective professions and their combined talents make for a flawless film. Hamnet is artfully crafted and beautifully realised, a privilege to watch.

Adapted by O’Farrell and Zhao from the former’s critically-acclaimed novel, Hamnet stars Jessie Buckley as Agnes, more commonly known as Anne Hathaway or, let’s be honest, “Shakespeare’s wife”. Here, she is reimagined as a kind of woman-of-the-woods, her deep connection to nature a central tenet of her character. Her nephews’ Latin tutor, William (Paul Mescal), is beguiled by her, and – before long – they are pledging their commitment to one another in a secret ‘hand-fasting’ ceremony. Their families are horrified when Agnes falls pregnant, and only reluctantly agree to making their marriage official.

Agnes and William don’t care: they are deeply in love and adore their three children, Susannah (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), Judith (Olivia Lynes) and Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe). But that doesn’t mean it’s all plain sailing. While William can’t bear the confines of country life, Agnes knows she couldn’t survive in the city, away from the natural world. William doesn’t want to become a glove-maker like his father; he’s driven: he needs to write, to tell stories, to make his mark in the capital. Agnes realises there’s only one option, and tells him to go, to seek his fortune on the London stage, while she and the children remain in Stratford.

And so William departs for a double life with his wife’s blessing, at once successful playwright and loving family man. Meanwhile, Agnes grows ever more concerned about Judith’s health, fretting over her premonition that she will have only two children when she dies. And when calamity comes, she has to deal with it alone…

Readers often worry about movie adaptations of their favourite books, but I don’t think anyone needs to be concerned about this one. With O’Farrell on board as co-writer, the screenplay complements the novel perfectly. Buckley is magnetic, the intensity of her performance drawing us deep into her heartbreak and recovery, turning Agnes into a living, breathing woman instead of a mere footnote in her husband’s history, a cast-aside irrelevance, mother of his children but inheritor only of his “second best bed”. Mescal is also well-cast as William, torn between his vocation and his love for Agnes, turning his own anguish into a dramatic memorial to his lost child.

Under Zhao’s direction, Hamnet moves at a dreamy pace, yet never feels slow or dull. Lukasz Zal’s cinematography captures the symbolic importance of the forest, both to Agnes and – by extension – Shakespeare’s plays, where it is a place of magic and transformation, simultaneously dangerous and healing. The colour palette emphasises Agnes’s singularity, her red dresses distinctive in a sea of brown and green and grey. In her own way, she is every bit as extraordinary as William.

The three children play their parts well, and props to Nina Gold for casting Jupe’s real-life brother Noah as Hamnet’s fictional counterpart in the original Globe Theatre production of Hamlet. Their likeness adds to the cathartic effect of the performance, underscoring Agnes’s realisation that this is William’s theatrical expression of his grief. This final section is also a hymn to the shared experience of live theatre, the way plays can touch their audiences made literal as Agnes reaches for the hand of the young actor so reminiscent of her son, inspiring those around her to do the same.

Flawless from start to finish, Hamnet is an unmissable film, fully deserving of its Oscar nominations, and certainly worth a trip to the cinema to see it on the big screen.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Singin’ in the Rain

30/12/25

Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester

It’s Philip’s birthday, and his lovely daughter and her husband have treated us to a night out at our favourite theatre. We were press-night regulars at Manchester’s Royal Exchange before we relocated to Edinburgh a decade ago, and we’ve never lost our love for the alien-like glass pod, squatting improbably amid the opulence of the old corn exchange. But we’re here for more than just the bricks and mortar, of course, and director Raz Shaw’s revival of Singin’ in the Rain offers a whole lot of nostalgic fun – as well as another chance to see the venue’s well-used water feature in action.

The show’s lead, Louis Gaunt, is off sick tonight, so understudy Adam Davidson steps into Don Lockwood’s black and white Gatsby brogues, impressing with his slick performance of this incredibly demanding role. He and Danny Collins (as Cosmo Brown) make a formidable duo, hoofing up a storm and delighting the audience with their dance moves.

Laura Baldwin plays Lockwood’s silent movie co-star, Lina Lamont, who refuses to accept two major facts: she doesn’t have the requisite talent to succeed in the newfangled ‘talkies’ and her engagement to Don is just a PR stunt. Baldwin nails the character of the petulant diva, imbuing Lina with just enough vulnerability to make us sympathise with her, despite her cruelty and hubris. Meanwhile, Carly Mercedes Dyer dazzles as Lina’s nemesis, Kathy Seldon, who is not only an accomplished singer and actor, but also Don’s true love. Dyer’s vocals are soaringly beautiful, making it easy to believe that studio boss RF Simpson (Julius D’Silva) wants to hire her, even if it means betraying Lina, his most bankable star.

The movie clips are cleverly staged, designer Richard Kent perfectly utilising the in-the-round performance space to suggest the rotating of the cinema reels. Captions are projected onto semi-circular boards framed with vanity lights, while Alistair David’s exuberant choreography reinforces the circularity. The use of blackouts and freeze-frames is wonderfully comic: this is a very playful musical, gently satirising not only the characters but also the theatrical conventions they employ.

It’s no mean feat to take a well-loved classic and render it so fresh and appealing. But Shaw’s sprightly production manages to do just that, allowing each of the big numbers (by Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freedby) enough space to shine. My only slight criticism comes courtesy of Betty Comden and Adolph Green’s original screenplay: I think the Broadway Ballet sequence at the start of the second act is far too long. Although the dancing is magnificent, I can’t help feeling it interrupts the narrative, akin to a self-indulgent drum solo in a live performance of a song. That niggle aside, I have nothing but praise for this sparkling show. Collin’s rendition of Make ‘Em Laugh is comic perfection, while the titular number is a vibrant spectacle. But be warned: if you’re in the first two rows, you’re really gonna feel the effects of that infamous water feature…

We couldn’t have asked for a better way to see out 2025. Happy New Year!

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Theatre Bouquets 2025

Another varied year of theatre-going presents us with the usual problem of choosing what we think were the twelve best shows of the year. But once again, here they are in the order we saw them.

Vanya (National Theatre Live)

“Glides like gossamer through the cuts and thrusts of a family drama – even a scene where Scott is obliged to make love to himself unfolds like a dream…”

Dr Strangelove (National Theatre Live)

“This brilliantly-staged production is a weird hybrid – part play, part film – and at times astonishing in its sheer invention…”

Wild Rose (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“A fabulously entertaining story about ambition and acceptance, anchored by a knockout performance from Dawn Sievewright…”

Chef (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Sabrina Mahfouz’s Chef is an extraordinary play, a monologue delivered in a lyrical, almost poetic flow of startling imagery…”

Lost Lear (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Dan Colley’s beautifully-conceived script intertwines excerpts from Lear with moments in the here and now, gently but relentlessly uncovering the horrors of cognitive decline…

Alright Sunshine (Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh)

“Directed by Debbie Hannan, Cowan’s taut, almost poetic script is brought powerfully to life by Geddes’ mesmerising performance: a tour de force with real emotional heft…”

A Streetcar Named Desire (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Eschews the victim-blaming that so often blights interpretations of this play and turns up the heat on the sweaty, malevolent scenario, so that the play’s final half makes intense, disturbing viewing…”

Common Tongue (The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh)

“A demanding monologue, Caw’s performance is flawless, at once profound and bitingly funny: the jokes delivered with all the timing and precision of a top comedian; the emotional journey intense and heartfelt…”

Little Women (Bedlam Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Watching events play out, I feel transported back into the cocoon of my childhood, curled up in bed reading about these faraway adolescents and their travails…”

The Seagull (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“There’s so much to enjoy here and not just Quentin’s perfectly-judged performance as the conceited, self-aggrandising Irina, intent on making every conversation all about her…”

Wallace (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Whip-smart, caustically funny and actually pretty informative (I come out knowing a lot more about the titular Scot than I previously did), Wallace snaps from song to song and from argument to argument like the proverbial tiger on vaseline…”

Inter Alia (National Theatre Live)

“Doesn’t offer any easy answers or let anyone off the hook, but expertly straddles the fine line between trying to understand assailants without diminishing their victims…”

Susan Singfield & Philip Caveney

4Play: 4 New Plays by 4 Scottish Playwrights

12/12/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Last year, 4Play comprised four full plays, performed over two nights. This time around, it’s a truncated affair, with excerpts rather than entire scripts. The first two pieces are only ten minutes long, while the second pair are given longer to develop their themes, each with a running time of approximately twenty-five minutes.

We open with a short extract from Ruaraidh Murray’s Chips, directed by Michael Nardone and Jake Sleet. Nothing to do with the California Highway Patrol, this is a fictionalised account of a true-life tale of… microchip theft. Apparently it was a thing in the 1990s. As if breaking, entering and taking apart computers wasn’t enough of a challenge, Kaz (Christie Russell-Brown) is heavily pregnant, and her partner-in-crime, Wan (Calum Manchip), isn’t exactly focused on the job…

The second piece is Brace, written by Geraldine Lang and directed by Matthew Attwood. Paul (Jack Elvey) and Lewis (Kieran Lee-Hamilton) are apprentice scaffolders, struggling to learn their trade without any real guidance. In their business, mistakes have material consequences, and it’s the people at the bottom of the pile who have to pay. Although I appreciate that the physicality of the boys’ work is key to the piece, I can’t help feeling that it’s a mistake to spend so much time constructing the scaffolding; I’d prefer to hear more dialogue and delve further into the plot.

After the interval, it’s Sunday Palms, which is by far our favourite of tonight’s plays. From the opening soundscape – an oddly unsettling aural representation of a man returning home from work to his empty flat – to the awkward dialogue that follows the unexpected appearance of a childhood friend, Sean Langtree’s script is utterly compelling. Directed by Grace Ava Barker, the piece is immediately intriguing, and I’m fascinated to know where the story leads. Why is Brian (Daniel Campbell) so alarmed by Nathan (Langtree)’s presence? Whose victory does the title presage? Langtree’s Nathan is perfectly observed – just that little bit too needy, too edgy – while Campbell nails Brian’s discomfort, his attempts to hold to societal norms in the face of Nathan’s peculiar demands.

Last up, it’s Hunt by Andrea McKenzie, directed by Gwen M Dolan. We’re in the near future, and AI has taken over the cities. Mags (Deborah Whyte) and Joel (McKenzie) are yearning for a simpler life: to step away from their computers and connect with nature. The trouble is, they’re more familiar with tech than they are with tents, neither has remembered to pack the kettle – and how exactly do you light a fire? What’s more, Joel soon discovers that Mags hasn’t been entirely honest with her, and there’s more to this trip than she’s been told…

Reductions in length notwithstanding, 4Play – and other schemes like it – are vital to ensuring that new voices are heard in theatre. 4Play has had considerable success, introducing Katy Nixon’s Cheapo and Mikey Burnett’s Colours Run, which have both spread their wings and flown to critical acclaim. As Scotland’s new writing theatre, it makes perfect sense for the Traverse to support the event, and we’re delighted to have this opportunity to see emerging playwrights develop their skills.

3.2 stars

Susan Singfield

The Fifth Step: NT Live

01/12/25

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

As if NT Live performances weren’t enough of a treat, we’ve recently ramped up the indulgence levels by choosing to watch them at Edinburgh’s most bougie cinema, the Dominion. At 3pm this afternoon, we zip up our raincoats and venture out into the December drizzle, ready for the half-hour walk that will take us to our huge, reclining seats.

The Fifth Step is a compact, one-act play by Jack Ireland, and its ninety-minute running time is perfectly judged. This is a tight and concentrated piece, where small impulses are magnified, vague doubts forensically explored. The in-the-round set, designed by Milla Clark, is almost brutalist, comprising a stark square with raised, cushioned sides, reminiscent of a boxing ring or a trampoline: a taut jump mat, ready to absorb the characters’ anger, or give them the push they need to set themselves free.

We’re in the world of AA, where acceptance meets strict protocols and kindness sometimes seems harsh. Jack Lowden plays Luka, a twenty-something alcoholic, scared that he’s turning into his dad, and desperate to avoid this destiny. Nervy and uncertain, he isn’t sure that he can do it, not when sobriety leaves a booze-shaped void he fills with loneliness and self-loathing. Hovering in the room after a meeting, he gets chatting to James (Martin Freeman), who has been on the wagon for more than twenty-five years. The older man knows exactly what Luka is going through, and offers to become his sponsor. From hereon in, we watch as their relationship develops – and as they both continue to battle against their respective addictions.

Ireland’s script is darkly funny, and director Finn Den Hertog maximises its comic potential, without ever belittling the men’s experiences. Not much happens, and yet all of human life is here: our frailty, our fabulousness; our bravado, our beauty; our destructiveness and our shared desperation. Luka begins by looking for easy answers: if he does whatever his sponsor says, then surely he’ll find happiness. But James has his own demons to grapple with and he knows that life is far more complex than that. You just have to keep on being honest, keep facing up to your own failings – and keep supporting one another along the way…

Unsurprisingly, Lowden and Freeman deliver faultless performances. They’re perfectly cast, Freeman’s wry stillness the ideal foil for Lowden’s twitchy, pent-up energy. A fascinating insight into not just addiction but also notions of authority and responsibility, this is definitely one to watch if it’s showing at a cinema near you.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Cinderella: A Fairytale

29/11/25

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Look, I love a good panto as much as the next drama queen. Still, I have to admit there is something very special about this chance to see a Christmassy rendition of one of the world’s most famous fairy-tales without the distraction of all the boo-hiss-he’s-behind-you-wink-wink-nod-nod stuff. Cinderella‘s plucky orphan narrative is a compelling one, not least because of its moral certainty, where the good are rewarded and the bad are well and truly punished: there’s vengeance at play here, as well as virtue. And, in this version by Sally Cookson, Adam Peck and the Original Company, that dichotomy is writ large.

Ella (Olivia Hemmati) lives in a gloriously-realised enchanted forest, all dappled sunlight and multi-coloured birds. The home she shares with her dad (Richard Conlon) is one of those idyllic, romantically-ramshackle cottages where poor people live in story books, and she’s happy there. But when Father marries Mother (Nicole Cooper), everything changes: not only does her step-mum impose a whole raft of irritating rules, she also brings along her own two children, Sister (Christina Gordon) and Brother (Matthew Forbes), who are so priggish and uptight that Ella can’t stand them. And then, just as she’s getting used to the new regime, Father dies, leaving a grieving Ella at Mother’s mercy…

The strength of this show lies in its aesthetic: Francis O’Connor’s set and costume design evoke an ethereal other-worldliness, where magic feels eminently possible. The bird puppets (directed by Forbes and manned by Leo Shak, Stephanie Cremona and the cast) are fabulous, their rainbow plumes as appealing as they are fantastical. Even as a middle-aged woman, I’m completely captivated; how alluring must this staging be for the children in the audience?

The love story element is underplayed: Prince (Sam Stopford) is a nerdy teenage ornithologist and he and Ella strike up such a lovely, convincing friendship that the idea of their marriage seems jarring and incongruous. Director Jemima Levick wisely eschews any overt wedding pageantry, but I do wonder if it would be better to remove the romance entirely, focusing instead on the simple affection between the pair. After all, it’s not as if there’s the same financial imperative for this Ella, who seems to be living in a whimsical approximation of the contemporary world, as there was for her Grimm progenitor, who needed a husband to escape her servitude.

Cooper is obviously having a whale of a time as the odious Mother, camping up her tantrums and cruelty to create a deliciously-devilish interpretation of the character. The protracted toe-chopping sequence – the production’s only real nod to the folk story’s dark heart – is a gruesome highlight. Meanwhile, Gordon and Forbes’ Ugly Siblings are more sympathetic and nuanced than their traditional counterparts, frightened and corrupted by their toxic mum – and clearly redeemable. Carly Anderson has less to do as Queen, who appears here as a slightly-sozzled, benignly-bemused socialite. It’s an interesting take on the role but she is under-used.

Jon Beales’ music and Emily Jane Boyle’s choreography complement each other perfectly, enhancing the story and ensuring the pace never flags.

All in all, this is a delightful production, and one that is sure to enthral audiences of all ages this festive season.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield