Theatre

Sweat

28/05/26

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

There are many people in the UK who look at what’s currently happening in Trump’s America and ask themselves what seems like a perfectly reasonable question:

“Why?”

Lynn Nottage’s 2015 play, Sweat, offers a compelling explanation. Set in the blue collar community of a steelworks in the fictional town of Reading, Pennsylvania, the story begins in 2008. We meet two young men, recently discharged from their respective spells in prison and here to talk to parole officer, Evan (Ako Mitchell). They are Jason (Lewis MacDougall), a sullen, introspective youth with neo-Nazi tattoos on his face – and Chris (Rudolphe Mdlonwa), who has emerged from his incarceration with utter faith in the Holy Bible and a determination to put the past behind him.

We are then transported back to the year 2000 and a local bar, where Stan (Christopher Middleton) rules the roost, plying his customers with shots, but knowing exactly when to warn them they’ve had enough. He’s assisted by Oscar (Manuel Pacific), a Columbian-American, who rarely speaks and is treated with cool indifference by the regular patrons. Chief among them are a trio of women, Jessie (Laura Cairns), Tracey (Lucianne McEvoy) and Cynthia (Debbie Horley). The latter pair are respectively the mothers of Jason and Chris, who at this stage in the story are best friends.

Change is afoot in the steelworks where the women have worked since their teens. There’s talk of cutbacks in salaries and equipment being mysteriously relocated elsewhere. Stan keeps warning them that they could all wake up tomorrow to find that their jobs have been moved to Mexico. Meanwhile, both Tracey and Cynthia have applied for the same management role and when Cynthia is accepted for the position, it inevitably drives a wedge between them.

And then those rumoured cutbacks start to kick in – and, as the pressure steadily rises, it’s clear that something bad is coming…

Sweat is an important play with plenty to say about the societal divisions sewn by Reagan that have led us to Donald Trump. A cleverly constructed scene when the TV in the bar appears to show a whole succession of American Presidents uttering the same empty rhetoric is key. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I begin to appreciate the impulses that have driven disenfranchised communities to seek change at any cost (I’m looking at you, MAGA and Reform). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with them, but I do begin to comprehend their collective rage. And it’s a rare play that can sway me to such a degree.

Sweat boasts a pressure cooker of a script, everything building to an inevitable violent catharsis. Joanna Bowman handles the direction with considerable skill, coaxing strong performances from every member of the cast – and I’ve rarely been so impressed by the talents of a set designer. Francis O’Connor opens with a stunning scene on the factory floor, where literal sparks are flying, before cutting to the stark floodlit interior of the prison, where Derek Anderson’s lighting comes into its own. And then the various elements that comprise Stan’s bar glide magisterially down from the rafters to create an utterly convincing American drinking hole.

The play’s abrupt and tragic conclusion leaves me suitably shattered – and the long silence before the audience applauds is testament to its power. It’s not what you’d call an easy watch, but it is a potent and eloquent piece, well worth your time and money.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Baby Mash-Up, What On Earth Are You Doing?

23/05/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The play that lurks behind that somewhat portentous title is a strange, fragmentary affair, featuring seemingly unanswered questions in the life of the titular character. These moments are revealed in a series of short scenes that career back and forth across the years. When we first encounter her, Baby Mash-Up (Claire Lamont) is a child, drawing simple designs onto paper, her primitive artwork displayed on a series of hanging sheets that provide a backdrop. But as soon as she speaks, it’s clear that she’s actually an adult looking back at her own childhood.

But this is to be no ordinary journey through one person’s life. It will include the bombastic observations of her father (Benny Young), her tragic mother (Pauline Goldsmith) and her sister (Jasmin Gleeson). There will be regular interruptions from various famous philosophers, memories of the horrors of Belfast’s Bloody Friday – and some involuntary tap-dancing. There are also regular visits from two mysterious young men (Paul Gorman and Cristian Ortega). The latter duo appear to have been charged with resetting Baby M’s life when things go wrong – which they often do – a simple process that involves putting her into a washing machine and pressing the ‘on’ switch.

Note to self: where can I get one of those? Amazon?

You could say that the play is pretentious and perhaps it is, a little bit, but that’s not necessarily a criticism. Some of the most ambitious art is ostentatious by its very nature and it’s undeniable that Sally Hobson’s Baby Mash-Up does exert an increasingly stronger hold on me as it progresses, until by the final scenes, I am completely hooked.

On the technical side, I’m impressed by Nicholas Bone’s tight direction, which keeps the piece unerringly on course – and by Cal Owen’s inventive set design, which is further enhanced by Dick Straker’s immersive video effects. The cast are uniformly excellent in their respective roles (particularly Gorman and Ortega, who are compelled to leap from character to character at the drop of a philosopher’s hat) and even if I do leave the theatre still asking myself ‘what the flip was that all about?’ I have nonetheless been both challenged and thoroughly entertained.

Job done.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Funeral For My Boobs

21/05/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

A double mastectomy is not generally something to make a song and dance about… but that’s pretty much what you’ll get from Hannah Howie’s Funeral For My Boobs. If you are expecting something dour and po-faced, let me assure you that this is an upbeat show that hurtles gleefully through a whole range of songs, dance routines and comedy exchanges. Which is not to say that it doesn’t have its more thoughtful moments, because it most surely does.

The story is based on Howie’s own experience of choosing to undergo the aforementioned surgical procedure after learning that she had inherited a gene through her family line that gave her an 85% chance of contracting breast cancer, leaving her with difficult decision. The play takes a holistic approach, exploring the complex relationship we have with our bodies, the myths and the realities of life with mammary glands, and the pressures heaped upon young girls as they go through puberty.

Opening in madcap grande guignol fashion, Howie rejoices in throwing out just about every breast-related pun you can think of, before singing and dancing up a storm. She’s brilliantly supported by Right Boob (Kirsty Malone) and Left Boob (Gregor John-Owen), who also slip in and out of a whole variety of other roles.

Musical director Stuart Fleming provides some impressive keyboards and Chris Stuart Wilson directs with flair and precision. A special nod should go to Heather Grace Currie for her inventive set and costume design, which belies the modest budget of A Play A Pie and a Pint.

Here’s the beauty of it. Whenever I think I’ve got the measure of the piece, it takes off in an entirely different direction and delights me all over again. There’s an impressive range of familiar songs to relish, ranging from Fleetwood Mac and Billie Eilish, to an beautifully-sung excerpt from Bizet’s Carmen – and, just when you wonder if there’s anywhere else this can go, we’re given a rendition of Celine Dion’s theme from Titanic that literally has me crying… with laughter. 

And then, to top it all off, Howie slips behind the keyboards to deliver a heartfelt ballad dedicated to her grandma, who died from the same condition in her early 30s.

I really can’t find anything to fault in this utterly fabulous production. I urge anyone who can grab a seat for one of the last couple of shows at the Roxy to do so and, while you’re there, to maybe consider making a donation to The House of Hope, Scotland, who provide support to people impacted by breast cancer.

Expect to have your expectations shattered… in a good way.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Black Diamonds and the Blue Brazil

13/05/26

Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh

Sally (Dawn Steele) works in the high-pressure cauldron of a London-based law firm but, after the death of her beloved father, she is called back to her home town of Cowdenbeath to attend his funeral. Dad (Barrie Hunter) was a lifelong fan of the local football team – the ‘Blue Brazil’ of the title. One of her father’s friends informs Sally that her dad’s deepest wish was to have his ashes scattered on the team’s home ground of Central Park.

She initially surmises that the ritual will take place after the next game, only a few days away but soon learns that Dad has requested it should only happen after Cowdenbeath’s next win. And it turns out that his team doesn’t have a great record of scoring actual goals. In fact, their ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory is almost beyond belief. 

Sally’s sojourn in her Dad’s council house is haunted by recollections of her father’s obsession with his team’s history and her own terrible memories of what happened to her Mum. As the season slips inexorably by, Sally begins to wonder if she’ll ever get back to the career she’s worked so hard for…

Black Diamond and the Blue Brazil, based on the book by Ron Ferguson and adapted by Gary McNair, is quick to point out that you don’t have to be a Cowdenbeath fan to enjoy this story, but it certainly helps if you are. It’s clear from the laughter (and at one point some actual tears) in tonight’s packed audience that there are many supporters in the house.

Steele does an excellent job of the world-weary, comedic patter, evincing plenty of perfectly-timed laughs from the crowd, but the story is essentially one long litenany of failure, which doesn’t exactly make for an easy watch. The story is punctuated by Ricky Ross’s plaintive ballads which are a little too one-note to help lift the mood – and since each song appears to be a retelling of the scene we’ve just witnessed, they don’t quite generate enough momentum to power the story. Sitting way back at stage left, Ross feels somehow distanced from what’s happening, commentating rather than collaborating.

This play first surfaced as an audio piece and its staging seems a little uneven in its adaptation. Jessica Worrall’s set design is unapologetically realistic in concept, right down to an urn containing the deceased remains. I prefer the occasional moments when the songs are illuminated by Lewis Den Hertog’s video projections, hinting at the long history of the team and its roots in the black soil of coal mining.

At this point, I should confess that I’ve never had any interest in football, though I do sometimes enjoy theatrical interpretations of it (SameTeam immediately springs to mind). However, it’s clear from tonight’s heartfelt standing ovation that the majority of the crowd are with this every step of the way. 

Maybe I’m the problem, but for me, this doesn’t quite hit the back of the net..

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Mayday: Rapid Responses to Our Times

01/05/26

Central Hall, Edinburgh

This National Theatre of Scotland production, co-curated and directed by Cora Bissett and Hannah Lavery, comprises live music, theatre, poetry, comedy and dance. Commissioned as a rapid-response project – a reaction to our turbulent political climate – this is part call-to-arms and part howl into the void. Because sometimes we need the catharsis of the latter before we can can put on our big-girl pants and contemplate the former.

Organisationally, this is a triumph, each act flowing smoothly into the next, even when an ensemble as large as the Loud and Proud choir has to file onto the stage. There’s a lot that could go wrong: as well as the numerous performances, there are short films, set changes and BSL interpreters, not to mention the house band. That it all unfolds without a glitch is mightily impressive.

The auditorium is packed; this is a sell-out. It’s not surprising: we’re all looking for answers and maybe artists are the right people to pose the questions. They have strong voices, diverse audiences and myriad means of expression. Some of us will respond to ideas that emerge from dance; others to music or drama. It doesn’t matter. Anything that makes us pause and think. And act accordingly.

For me, the strongest elements of the evening are the punchiest. The songs – especially Dawn Sievewright’s rendition of Bissett’s It’s No a Wean’s Choice and Kitti’s feminist polemic – are especially stirring, and I also appreciate the insights I gain from both Tia Rey and Sanjeev Kohli’s spoken word sections. The choirs are very affecting, as is the garland of socks that campaign group Mothers Against Genocide Scotland have hung around the venue, each tiny bootee representing a child who has died in Gaza.

Although theatre is usually my favourite art-form, I find the dramatic scenes included here the least effective elements of the evening. Although they’re well-performed (and have been penned by writers I admire, including Apphia Campbell and Uma Nada-Rajah), there isn’t enough time for the arguments to develop or for us to fully engage with the characters.

No matter. Overall, the evening is a resounding success, reminding us that – together – we can make a difference. There are lots of people out there, right now, trying – and, if we join them, we can become part of the solution. Because we really do have to do something, don’t we?

Even if it’s as small as turning out to vote next week, to stop the fascists in their tracks.

Susan Singfield

Off the Rails

30/04/26

Assembly Roxy

Off the Rails is Stephanie MacGaraidh’s professional writing debut – and what a debut it is. Playwright, songwriter, actor, musician: this is a one-woman show in every sense of the phrase. And it’s extraordinarily affecting.

It’s an auspicious start to the Assembly Roxy’s first ever season of Òran Mór’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint, whose productions usually play at the Traverse when they come to Edinburgh. The venue works well for the small-scale black box shows that PPP is known for, although the old building is not very accessible, which might exclude some of the Traverse’s regular patrons. If the rest of the plays are as good as this one, it will be a real shame for them to miss out.

MacGaraidh is Maggie, a woman on the run – or, more specifically, a woman on a train. In the quiet coach. Wearing pyjamas. With only an empty tote bag and a stale Go Ahead bar as luggage.

It’s not the way most people dream of spending their 30th birthdays…

The tone evolves with the people Maggie meets on her journey north, from raucous hen party to lonely widower. MacGaraidh plays every character with conviction, eliciting both laughter and tears. Maggie’s story emerges bit by bit, revealed through an enticing mix of song and monologue, slowly revealing a young woman who has never really recovered from high school bullying, and whose adulthood is blighted by social anxiety.

I’ve rarely seen a looper used to such excellent effect, not only as backing vocals and added guitar, but also as interior monologue, amplifying the tension as Maggie’s life veers off the rails. The intrusive train announcements intensify the pressure even further, so that we’re as relieved as Maggie when one final encounter brings her back from the brink.

Directed by Katie Slater, Off the Rails is a triumph – and MacGaraidh is surely a star in the ascendance.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Jackals

24/04/26

Tech Cube, Summerhall

We’re in Vienna in the 1890s (well, we’re really in the Tech Cube, Edinburgh, but you get the idea), where Sigmund Freud (Claire Macallister) is fast becoming the most prominent name in the field of psychoanalysis. His first meeting with new patient, Emma Eckstein (Becca Robin Dunn), is initially clumsy and awkward but they soon get the measure of each other and Emma becomes a regular visitor to his office, both as a patient and as a contributor to his research. Indeed, as the years roll by, she begins to contemplate a future in the same line of work.

When they first meet, Emma is prone to bleeding copiously, a symptom we now know is caused by endometriosis but which in that era was identified – mostly by Freud – as an inevitable result of ‘hysteria.’ But when he brings in his friend, surgeon Wilhelm Fleiss (also played by Dunn), to perform a nasal operation on Emma, he unwittingly initiates the key event that will essentially end their friendship and leave Emma scarred for life…

Written by the two performers and directed by Olivia Millar-Ross, Jackals is an engrossing and often unexpectedly funny piece of work. The two actors handle their roles with skill. Macallister captures Freud’s pomposity and his tendency to claim other people’s ideas as his own, while Dunn also excels as the contradictory Emma, a woman at once fragile and fierce. In one key scene, Dunn slips on a black waistcoat and makes a confident switch to the swaggering, self-aggrandising Fleiss, urging Freud to pursue his dreams to the bitter end, to take advantage of his new-found fame.

Niroshini Thambar’s sound design is eerily haunting and Melanie Jordan’s short movement pieces, punctuating the various acts as five years unroll, are nicely judged transitions. A moment when Macallister eviscerates an orange to depict Eckstein’s surgery is a particularly effective touch and I also love the scenes where the two performers crouch on a desktop, glaring balefully into the audience like the creatures of the title.

I leave the theatre outraged by what happened to Eckstein and determined to find out more about her, which I suppose must surely be one of the main objectives of the play. It’s eye-opening.

There are just a couple more opportunities to catch Jackals at Summerhall before it moves on, so book your tickets now.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Gush

23/04/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Ally (Jessica Hardwick) is expecting her first baby. She’s looking forward to becoming a mum, but she’s also scared of losing her own identity. Already, before ‘Bug’ has put in an appearance, she’s ceded some of her autonomy to Kevin, her loving but anxious husband, who asks her to drink rooibos tea instead of her preferred English Breakfast, and keeps imploring her to ‘relax.’ Her world seems to be shrinking and she’s desperate to claw back her sense of self…

Especially that one particular aspect of herself she’s never had the courage to explore.

In a few short weeks she’ll be too busy, too tired, too focused on looking after her child, so it’s now or never, she reasons. And never isn’t an option. Ally’s always known she’s bisexual but she’s only ever been with men. She needs to try sex with a woman, just once, before she settles down for good. She deserves this last hurrah, doesn’t she?

Hardwick’s ebullient performance anchors the monologue effectively: she’s funny and appealing, so that we want her to find fulfilment, despite the moral ambiguity of her plan (namely, cheating on her husband with a sex worker). Jess Brodie’s script is witty and well-paced, the cringe-comedy elements perfectly judged, so that I often find myself laughing from behind my hands, my toes literally curled, as Ally’s quest leads her from one awkward moment to the next.

Becky Minto’s design is deceptive. At first, the set appears to be all clinical white surfaces, a perspex-coated cyclorama morphing into a hard-edged bed, softened only by a few cushions. But as the play develops and the lighting (courtesy of Renny Robertson) becomes more subdued, we notice that the bed’s walls are clad in intricately knitted wool, reminiscent of a baby’s blanket, and there’s a pleated cotton valance around the raised platform.

Under Becky Hope-Palmer’s direction, this is a lively, kinetic piece of drama, and there are some lovely creative touches. I like the way the audience is manipulated into vicarious embarrassment and, more specifically, the simplicity of Ally’s bump becoming her baby.

If you’re in the mood for a highly-original take on impending parenthood, Gush might just be the play for you. There are only two nights left to see it in Edinburgh though, so you’ll need to get your skates on.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The High Life

07/04/26

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

Way back in 1994, a seven-part television series aired on the BBC. The brainchild of actors Alan Cumming and Forbes Masson, it offered a surreal blend of Scottish whimsy and outrageous musical routines. Cumming played Sebastian Flight and Masson was Steve McCracken, two flight attendants working for the fictional airline, Air Scotia. These were men for whom sarcastic asides came fitted as standard. A second series was planned but never came to fruition but, over the years, The High Life achieved a sizeable cult following. Who could have foreseen that three decades later the two originators would team up with Johnny McKnight to create a stage musical inspired by that very series? And who could have predicted that it would star four members of the original cast and would be presented by The National Theatre of Scotland, no less?

But the proof is right here on the stage of the Festival Theatre, as Sebastian and Steve prepare for take off once more. Suffice to say, their old adversary, Shona Spurtle (Siobhan Redmond), is still prowling the aisle ‘like Mussolini in micro-mesh,’ keeping our two heroes well and truly under her thumb, while Captain Hilary Duff (Patrick Rycart) can always be depended on to wander in at inappropriate moments, making rambling observations about whatever happens to be on his mind. Not the flight, that’s for sure.

The sense of affection from the packed auditorium is palpable and the staunch fans’ reactions to familiar references are loud and appreciative. As somebody who has never seen the TV series, I must admit that these allusions go right over my head – but it doesn’t really matter. This is, more than anything else, utterly devoted to unbridled silliness in all its exquisite forms. The script is packed with superb one-liners and up-to-the-minute political references. The lead players demonstrate that they really can turn their boundless skills to just about any genre – and the supporting cast are (nylon) uniformly excellent. Kyle Gardiner is particularly impressive in the role of new recruit Mylie, while Rachael Kendall Brown is utterly adorable as Kylie, the stewardess who has been secretly carrying a candle for Shona.

Colin Richmond’s set and costume design are suitably ingenious, taking nylon to places it’s never been before, while Emily Jane Boyle’s slick choreography keeps the 11-strong cast striding, dancing (and occasionally crawling) across every inch of the massive stage. Director Andrew Panton handles all the rampant mayhem with commendable skill and the pace never flags for a moment.

The first act culminates in a sudden and startling manner. During the interval, Susan and I speculate about what might await us in the second. It speaks volumes that both of us are half-right and simultaneously, completely wrong about where Flight 123 is ultimately headed. The High Life goes to places most other airlines dare not venture and it’s fun to travel with them. My advice would be to get yourselves down to the Festival Theatre before this show jets off on tour.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Miss Lockwood Isn’t Well

01/04/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s April Fool’s Day and the final offering in this season’s A Play A Pie and a Pint seems an apt choice for the occasion. Miss Lockwood Isn’t Well focuses on the trials and tribulations of primary school teacher Alice Lockwood (Karen Young), who has been suspended from work after experiencing a series of visions. Each encounter features a saint, who arrives in her classroom bearing helpful advice. Mind you, the insights she’s granted aren’t (at least, initially) in Joan of Arc territory.

That earring she lost? It’s under the fridge. Apparently.

Dr Freer (Jane McQuarry) has been given the tricky task of determining whether or not Alice is fit to return to work. For the assessment, Alice has requested that her parish priest, Father Mackin (Mark Cox), should also be in attendance, presumably to offer some moral support – though his snarky, mocking attitude probably isn’t what she was hoping for. Dr Freer asks Alice to explain, in her own words, the bizarre encounters that have brought her to her current situation and her ensuing account makes up the substance of James Reilly’s acerbic and occasionally hilarious play.

Young manages to keep her character grounded throughout, wide-eyed with dismay that anybody would think her a potential danger, but occasionally slipping into a kind of altered state – whereupon some of her revelations really do seem to verge on the miraculous. It’s an intriguing twist. Cox is given the lion’s share of the one-liners, which he handles with perfect timing, coaxing big laughs from the audience – and McQuarry makes an excellent job of the play’s trickiest role, refereeing the constant sparring of her two companions, yet still managing to create a convincing and utterly professional character.

This is an undeniably intriguing piece. The revelation that there are actually thousands of patron saints recognised by the Catholic church – and that many of them have pretty inane responsibilities – adds to the general air of amusement. Did you know, for instance, that there’s actually a patron saint of dysentery? St Polycarp. Thanks for asking.

Catriona McLeod handles the direction with her usual skill and Heather Grace Currie’s neon-splashed set revels in the innate tackiness of Catholicism (sorry, lapsed Catholic speaking). If the play’s conclusion doesn’t quite smack home with a killer punch, this is a thoroughly entertaining way to spend a Wednesday lunchtime.

Come to think of it, there’s probably a patron saint for those too. Saint Pie-us? I’ll get my coat.

4 stars

Philip Caveney