Theatre

The Whaler’s Wife

29/09/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Hurrah! A Play, A Pie and A Pint is back! There’s something so alluring – almost illicit – about sneaking in a bit of culture in the middle of a working day; surely this is how all lunch hours should be?

This new season kicks off with The Whaler’s Wife, written by Izzy Gray and directed by Beth Morton. Set in 1820s Orkney (Gray hails from the islands), the script is arguably too complex for its one-hour running time. As the play opens, we are introduced to three women whose husbands’ whaleboat, The Diamond, is missing. Marion (Joyce Falconer), a no-nonsense matriarch to whom the others usually defer, is all for carrying on as normal, but Elsie (Shawney Henderson) is keen to write the men off as dead. She’s glad the boat hasn’t returned; she’s not a fan of married life. Meanwhile Bess (Emma Tracey), who has a lot to say about the whalers’ ethics, is clearly nursing a secret…

Woven into this framework is a tantalising mix of folklore, tradition, sea shanties and social history. We learn about the pitiless nature of the women’s lives, as they scrape a living from the sea and land, gutting mackerel and smuggling booze. The men have an even harder job – and it’s brutalised them. Bess deplores not only the whalers’ bloodlust, but also their new habit of seizing ‘wives’ from the lands they visit. It’s all fascinating – but a lot to take in. The unfamiliar (to me) Orcadian dialect lends the piece both lyricism and authenticity, but it does make it harder to follow the – at times literally – labyrinthine plot.

The Whaler’s Wife is handsomely staged, Gillian Argo’s set and costume design belying the limited PPP budget. The songs (arranged by Bethany Tennick) somehow manage to be both haunting and rousing, reinforcing the contradictions at the heart of the story: the poetry and savagery of island life.

Morton’s direction works well: the play ebbs and flows like the tide, from raucous to thoughtful, horror to hope. I’m left with the abiding image of billowing sheets, concealing and then revealing. I’m hooked, but also frustrated. This needs to be a full-length play to give the myriad ideas more breathing space.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Revel

26/09/26

The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

Company Chordelia’s latest production is Revel, a “60+ coming-of-age story” told through a mesmerising blend of dance and physical theatre. Two dancers (Kally Lloyd-Jones – who also writes and directs – and Steinvör Palsson) have arrived backstage a mere nine hours before their evening show. They’re “middle-class women of a certain age” (™Gregg Wallace) and the bodies they took for granted in their youth now require an awful lot of maintenance. These days, their preparation involves pills, creams, massages, yoga and more; the list is long and it is brutal. “I used to be able to drink,” Palsson laments. “I used to be able to sleep,” counters Lloyd-Jones.

Of course, the duo are professional performers so, even as they’re mourning their former physical prowess, I’m in awe of what they can still do. I’m a decade younger than they are and I like to think I’m in reasonable shape, but these two give the lie to that conceit. Sure, they might not be able to do the splits any more, but they can contort themselves into some highly impressive positions, and the section where Lloyd-Jones dances to Odyssey’s Use It Up and Wear It Out is just magnificent.

Although Revel is specific in its exploration of dancers’ relationships with their ageing bodies, it also has universal appeal. This morning at the gym, for example, mulling over this review, I find myself groaning in wry recognition as I squint at my padlock, trying to read the combination, my carefully-packed reading glasses the other side of the locker door…

I particularly enjoy the clowning sections: Palsson’s lark-like morning energy versus Lloyd-Jones’ slug-a-bed refusal to get up; the frantic, repetitive routines they perform in a bid to outrun time. I also love the elegy to a high-heeled shoe, which is strangely affecting.

Revel is a gentle show, amusing and stirring in equal measure – with an upbeat, almost celebratory ending that means we leave the theatre smiling, happy to be granted the gift of growing old.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

NT Live: The Misanthrope

22/09/26

Dominion Cinema, Edinburgh

This is Molière as you’ve never seen him before – unless, of course, you witnessed earlier iterations of Martin Crimp’s adaptation in 1996, 1999 or 2009. The key difference in 2026 is that there’s much more at stake.

The French playwright’s 1666 comedy of manners satirised French salon culture, where superficial manners and flattery were social currency. His aristocratic protagonist, Alceste, rails against the hypocrisy, refusing to play by the generally-accepted rules. But in King Louis XIV’s court, his principles cost him everything: a lawsuit, his social standing – and the love of his life.

Directed by Indhu Rubasingham, the National Theatre’s new version replaces Alceste with Alice (Sandra Oh), a Booker-winning novelist known for her bold political opinions. And, while previous productions of Crimp’s Misanthrope were criticised for a lack of jeopardy (Michael Billingham famously wrote that he could see this Alceste being offered “a Guardian column or a spot on Channel 4), the times have changed. Cancellation culture and social media pile-ons are very real threats. Alice really is risking her neck.

It’s astonishing how apposite the plot is. Alice is supposed to be travelling to Berlin to collect a literary prize of €200k – but the press have unearthed an old interview where she expresses an opinion at odds with current thinking. Her playwright friend, John (Paul Chahidi), urges her to issue a generic apology but Alice refuses. Why should she bow to public pressure and lie about how she feels? If the prize committee renege on their deal, then so be it. She has her film star lover, Stefan (Tom Mison), to comfort her, doesn’t she?

Well, to a point…

Stefan is everything that Alice usually despises: vain and vacillating, with no hidden shallows, let alone depths. He’s charming and handsome, attentive and sweet, but he’s hardly someone to rely on. Just ask his ex-wife, Elaine (Jemima Rooper), who has to dash to London from Paris when Stefan fails to collect their kids from school.

When superfan Esmée (Imogen Elliott) asks for an autograph in her battered copy of Alice’s critically-acclaimed novel, John persuades Alice to give the girl (“It’s woman, actually”) a hearing. Predictably, Esmée has a manuscript of her own that she’d like Alice to read. Like Alceste before her, Alice offers a scathing critique of the deliciously dreadful prose – with terrible consequences. Esmée, it transpires, is an influencer with hordes of followers. If Alice was in hot water before, she’s about to feel the temperature rise…

Crimp’s script is witty and lyrical, written in rhyming verse to mirror Molière’s original. It’s so cleverly done that it takes me a while to notice; when I do, it’s to laugh out loud at some of the more audacious pairings (“We’ve fucked it / why not just sit back and deconstruct it?” or “People will praise a pile of shit / if they’ve dressed up and paid fifty quid for it.”). The juxtaposition of highbrow and lowbrow works really well, reinforcing the theme of a social veneer obscuring the gritty truth.

Rubasingham’s direction is pacy and fluid; the ninety-minute running time flies by, reflecting Alice’s almost manic mood. Robert Jones’ set reveals a series of drawing rooms – each more stifling than the last – until the final party scene, where the walls disappear and scores of chandeliers drop from above. Alice’s isolation is emphasised by Tim Lutkin’s lighting, a single spot highlighting her variance from societal norms, as everyone around her is dressed in Baroque costume while she’s still wearing her customary trouser suit.

Oh is fabulous in the central role, giving us a complex character we can both admire and despise. Cannily, Crimp never reveals what Alice’s objectionable opinion was, so we’re not able to judge her based on our own position. Instead, we have to consider the abstract premise: what is the point in demanding outward conformity to a set of beliefs that are not truly held? And who are the gatekeepers deciding what’s acceptable?

Once again, I find myself mentally thanking whoever it was who came up with the idea of live-streaming theatre. I love being able to see London shows for the price of a film ticket – and Edinburgh’s luxurious Dominion Cinema offers a real sense of occasion.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Edfest Bouquets 2026

It’s time to award our fabulous virtual bouquets to our favourite shows from this year’s Fringe, listed below in order of viewing.

Drum roll, please…

Badgers (Traverse Theatre)

“This is a spellbinding production, weaving us into its fabric and leaving us utterly disarmed…”

Mortal Sin (Gilded Balloon Teviot)

” An eloquent piece of work, demonstrating what can be achieved with talent and a modest budget…”

Kirsty Mann: Corpse (Summerhall)

“A highly effective piece of storytelling, masterfully delivered…”

A Ghost Among the Living (Pleasance Dome)

“This may be Box Tale Soup’s finest achievement to date…” 

Endgame (Pleasance at EICC)

“Illuminates Beckett’s dream-like, complex play, making it more accessible than any other version I have seen…”

Jerk Off! (Underbelly Bristo Square)

“As well as Manzoor’s skilled performance, what makes this so powerful is her refusal to offer us any easy answers…’

Playback (Summerhall)

“A wonderfully affecting piece of theatre, made all the more powerful by its use of genuine found-footage…”

Dracula: Lucy’s Dream (Pleasance at EICC)

“A series of almost hallucinogenic scenes, which flow together into a surreal hour of movement, music and puppetry…”

Noted (Assembly Roxy)

“Noted is family-friendly in the best possible way. There really is something here for everyone. It’s silly, funny, clever and astonishing…”

Sanctuary (Pleasance Dome)

“At once tender and raw, the artifice of its clever construction never overpowering its humanity…”

Once again, we leave the Fringe amazed and impressed by the array of theatrical talent and creativity we’ve witnessed. Now for some much needed sleep!

Philip Caveney & Susan Singfield

A Simply Beastly Murder

29/08/26

Pleasance Dome (Jack Dome), Edinburgh

Rachel E Thorn’s A Simply Beastly Murder is our last show of this year’s Fringe, and it’s a spiffing one to end on. If you’re thinking ‘British film noir’ and ‘Enid Blyton adventures’ is a ludicrous idea for a genre mash-up, then you’re not wrong. It is ludicrous – gloriously so.

Although the Famous Five famously remained the same age for at least seven years’ worth of school holidays, they have – at last – grown up. For some reason, the often-overlooked middle kid, Dick (Alistair Mckay), prefers to be known as ‘Richard’ these days. He’s a PI, capitalising on his childhood experiences of solving crimes. Several years in the States have eliminated his English accent; he’s now a hard-boiled Marlowe-wannabe, complete with trilby, trench-coat and a drink problem.

But now he’s back in London, and he’s called his sister for help. Anne (Thorn), the baby of the group, has barely changed at all. Goody-two-shoes earnestness is still very much her thing, and she’s shocked to find her brother embracing a dissolute lifestyle. She urges him to return to Kirrin Island with her, but Dick – sorry, Richard – has a mystery to fathom first…

Who killed his girlfriend, Margot?

And will they try to frame him for the simply beastly murder?

Directed by James Stone and with additional voices provided by Alistair McGowan, A Simply Beastly Murder is a cleverly-crafted spoof, intertwining the contrasting styles to great comic effect. Immersing Anne amid the grit and grime of the sleazy underground club Dick frequents allows for plenty of square-peg-round-hole humour. Thorn maximises this by playing her role completely straight. The incongruity is delightful.

The show is playful, utilising a range of theatrical devices which we have been asked not to reveal here. Suffice to say, the invention is impressive. Perhaps the section where Dick is alone on stage, talking to pre-recorded voices, goes on too long; perhaps the plotting could be more ambitious. No matter; the production is slick and accomplished, a perfect digestif to say goodbye to Edfringe 26.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Locker Room Talk

28/08/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The scariest thing about this 10-year anniversary staging of Locker Room Talk is not just how little has changed, but how sexual politics actually seem to be sliding backwards. Not only is Pussy-Grabber-in-Chief Donald Trump still parading his misogyny in the White House, but viral influencers such as Andrew Tate have brought the manosphere into the mainstream.

“Locker room talk” has broken out of the closet.

Last time we saw this production, written by Gary McNair and directed by Orla O’Loughlin, it was 2019. Since then, POTUS Biden has been and gone and the UK has weathered five PMs. Between them, none has been able to stem the sexist tide.

Locker Room Talk is simply staged: five women (Caroline Deyga, Gabriel Quigley, Jamie Marie Leary, Nicola Roy and Rachael Spence) stand in front of microphones, earphones in, repeating verbatim recordings of real conversations between real men. Ordinary men. The kind we all work with. Who see nothing wrong in rating their female colleagues out of ten and announcing if they’d give her one or not. It’s all just chitchat, right?

And yes, I know. Not all men.

But, still: too many men. The recordings cover blokes of different ages and backgrounds, from manual labourers to corporate lawyers. The “banter” is all depressingly similar. The saddest section is the little boys, who innocently parrot the prejudice they’ve heard.

The women’s performances are faultless. Let’s just hope the production doesn’t fall on tin* ears.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

*Yes, that is a reference to the ten-year anniversary. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Sanctuary

27/08/26

Pleasance Dome (Ace Dome), Edinburgh

Set in the 1990s and based on real events, Sanctuary is a compelling play about the AIDS epidemic, offering a brand new perspective on those dark and dreadful days as the UK death toll neared its peak.

Michael (Matthew Tennyson) is ill. He’s moved from London into a remote Suffolk farmhouse, which owner Wendy is planning to turn into an AIDS hospice. She wants to provide a place where sufferers can die in dignity, away from judgement and stigma. Sadly, she’s met with local opposition, so there are currently only two patients: Michael and a trans woman, Mary, who is very close to death.

Michael isn’t too sick yet, but he is frightened and lonely, dithering about whether or not he should just pack up and leave. But then an elderly stranger (Richard Cant) appears in the kitchen. He’s a friend of Wendy’s, he says; he’s hoping she’ll be able to give his hair a trim. Michael is suspicious – and rightly so, it turns out, as the man reveals that, actually, Wendy has asked him to come. She’s worried about her young house guest and thinks that talking to an older homosexual might help.

She might not know much about planning permission or council licenses, but Wendy is canny when it comes to human connection. Although he bristles at first, Michael soon opens up to the unnamed man, sharing his anger, his fear, his shame. He talks about hedonism and drug-fuelled sex; about longing and lost love and the sickening number of funerals he’s been to. The stranger is gentle and understanding, offering just the slightest glimpse of hope…

It’s easy to see why Jacob Sparrow’s spare, uncompromising script caught the eye of the judges of the inaugural Leodis Prize for playwriting. Directed by Josh Seymour, the play is at once tender and raw, the artifice of its clever construction never overpowering its humanity.

There are only four more performances of Sanctuary at this year’s Fringe. Don’t miss your chance to see it!

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Noted

26/08/26

Assembly Roxy (Upstairs), Edinburgh

I’m attracted by The Back Pack’s press release, which promises “playful invention” – a phrase that strikes joy into my heart. It chimes with the ideology of the youth theatre company I work with here in Edinburgh so I arrive with a smile this morning, clutching my coffee, expectations high.

The Back Pack’s dizzying mix of clowning, illustration and animation doesn’t disappoint. We whirl from one scene to another with barely time to catch our breath. A short film – gently amusing; a group of school kids with cartoon backpacks – lots of lols. Puppetry, dance, video, cine-theatre – it doesn’t get more eclectic than this.

Twenty minutes in and there are hundreds of pieces of paper discarded on the stage. I’m grinning like a fool, loving every minute – even though I’m struggling to understand how the performers are managing to keep everything under control. There’s so much of it. Including the entire history of the world…

The live-delay is especially impressive (it’s all impressive, but this stands out). The performers are on stage, moving; we can’t tell what their contortions mean. Thirty seconds behind them, an overhead shot is projected onto the backdrop, creating an array of scenarios: horse-racing, moon walks, synchronised swimming. What’s not to love?

The choreography is stunning. The performers – Pete Betcher (who also directs), Katie Kohler, Alec Silver and Lauren McFall – are all excellent dancers, and they form a perfectly drilled quartet, making this most complex of productions look effortless (which logic tells me cannot be the case).

Noted is family-friendly in the best possible way. There really is something here for everyone. It’s silly, funny, clever and astonishing. An ideal start to the day.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Overtone

25/08/26

Pleasance Dome (Jack Dome), Edinburgh

Tom Brennan’s assured play depicts the ongoing relationship between a young couple, set across two entirely different timelines. Paul (Scott Fletcher) and Maggie (Claire Dargo) are teenagers when we first meet them. Paul has finally managed to get into the choir. Maggie is already an enthusiastic member – and both of them are eager to impress their charismatic choirmaster, Alan. It’s clear from the very start that he exerts a powerful hold over them.

They are both excited about those infamous camping trips he organises, where adolescents get to drink and smoke and party – though of course, you have to receive a personal invite from Alan before you can attend…

Then quite suddenly, the narrative skips forward twenty years. Paul and Maggie are now a married couple, meeting up at a posh restaurant to offer advice and encouragement to their goddaughter, who is about to tie the knot herself. But as the evening unfolds, it quickly becomes clear that Alan still has that same grip on the couple, even though they haven’t seen him in years.

Tightly directed by John Hogarth, I love the way this tale unfolds. I’m initially thrown by those abrupt switches in time but, as the story moves on, they soon fall into place and I begin to fully appreciate what this story is really about: the all-pervading menace of those questionable relationships we sometimes experience as teenagers, and the various ways in which they affect us long term. Overtone deals with themes of abuse and coercion and carries a content warning.

Having experienced such a situation in my own youth, I really relate to this story – and I understand the desperate need that both characters have to keep returning to the man who has been exploiting them for years. Both Fletcher and Dargo deliver pitch-perfect performances and I love David Spence’s simple but effective set design, the curtained backdrop that is gradually opened to reveal the full picture.

This North Wall world premiere is a play worth watching and it’s exactly the kind of project the Edinburgh Fringe was made for. There are only a few days left to catch it at the Pleasance so book your tickets now.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Bad Boy

25/08/26

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Laugh), Edinburgh

Meet Jack (Daniel Adolfsson), a laid-back kind of guy, just trying to make his way in the world. Okay, so he recently split up with the girl he’s still hopelessly in love with, and from whom he’s inherited a bulldog (her new partner is allergic, apparently). And yes, he does live in a crummy little flat that doesn’t even have its own shower, but he’s determined to make it as an actor. Meanwhile, to make ends meet, he’s happy to man a suicide line and talk people out of doing something desperate… and there’s no chance of him ever doing anything stupid like that himself because that big break will surely come along one of these days. Won’t it?

Oh, and the guitar on the chair beside him? He doesn’t even play guitar, it’s just there as a conversation piece.

Adolfsson has a relaxed and likeable presence and the story (which he also wrote) is gently and confidently told – which makes the character’s toxicity all the more chilling. He describes his irascible landlord, the shy woman who recently moved in next door, and her eight year old daughter, who just might be interested in having occasional guitar lessons. And then, one day, his best friend casually mentions that he might have fixed him up with a major role in an adaptation of Anna Karenina…

Directed by Lilac Yosiphon, this piece of narrative storytelling is described as a dark, Nordic comedy. It follows a linear path and is most interesting when things go wrong for Jack, which they inevitably do. However, I can’t help feeling this piece could do with a little more fire in its belly, a little more jeopardy.

And the guitar? Sure enough Adolfsson eventually picks it up and gives us a couple of (very good) songs. Which only goes to show, you can’t trust everything a Fringe performer tells you. Maybe it’s a sign that Jack is starting to deal with all those unresolved issues.

3 stars

Philip Caveney