Theatre

Little Shop of Horrors

25/01/24

Church Hill Theatre, Edinburgh

True confession time. Little Shop of Horrors is my favourite musical.

Sure, there are more serious shows out there, more portentous pieces, but there’s something about this silly, B-movie-inspired spoof that I find utterly irresistible. Based on a seldom seen 1960 Roger Corman produced film and adapted by Charles Griffith, with music by Alan Menken and lyrics by Howard Ashman, Little Shop of Horrors is a whole ton of fun, blessed with some of the most downright infectious songs ever written. Watch it through and you’re sure to emerge from the theatre singing one of them.

So when I hear that EUSOG have chosen it as their new production, I don’t need an awful lot of persuading. (That’s Edinburgh University Savoy Opera Group. Thanks for asking.) We’ve seen quite a few of their productions over the years and know that their standards are very high.

Lights down and pretty soon the trio of sirens, Crystal (Gemima Iseko-Behano), Ronnette (Marie Kende) and Chiffon (Duha Bilal) are soulfully introducing us to the story’s setting on Skid Row, where the titular florist’s shop can be found. It’s owned by Mr Mushnik (Hunter King) who keeps his two employees on a very tight rein. They are Seymour (Conor O’Cuinn), a hapless orphan with a flair for botanical experimentation, and Audrey (Allison Lavercombe), a tragic young woman currently suffering through an abusive relationship with sadistic dentist Orin Scrivello (Nash Nørgaard). 

But Seymour has discovered an interesting new plant, (which he has named Audrey II). It turns out that said plant has a powerful hunger for very unusual (and problematic) food…

From the opening song, raunchily blasted out by a ten piece band, you know you’re in for an exhilarating ride. The production sticks fairly close to the original but there are a couple of timely tweaks. The character of Audrey is played less for laughs than in earlier versions – and let’s be honest, the subject of domestic abuse isn’t exactly ripe for giggles. As portrayed by Lavercombe, she’s a fragile and helpless victim, desperately seeking escape, so much so that her signature song, Somewhere That’s Green hits me more powerfully than ever before, taking me dangerously close to tears.

And then there’s Audrey II (Thaddeus Buttrey), who in this production has the ability to step out from  his green lair and wreak havoc. Buttrey’s powerful voice nails the role with absolute authority. Nørgaard delivers a slickly arrogant Scrivello and let’s not forget O’ Cuinn, who plays the central role of Seymour to absolute perfection. He and Lavercombe’s rendition of Suddenly Seymour is every bit as spellbinding as it should be.

But of course, this is an ensemble piece, with every member of the seventeen-strong cast giving it their all. I love the way they work together to represent the evil plant’s developing power, a flailing forest of green clad arms, reaching out towards the audience. Plaudits must go to co-directors Tom Beazley and Amy Stinton and to musical directors, Emily Paterson and Falk Meier. 

I leave singing (apologies for that!) There’s only two more chances to catch this joyful production, so grab a ticket if you can and get yourselves up to the Church hill Theatre in Morningside where the Mean Green Mother from Outer Space is just dying to meet you.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Brief Encounter

30/12/23

Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester

It’s my birthday (hurrah!) and I’m in Manchester, visiting my daughter and her husband, which is already a massive improvement on last year. (In 2022, Susan and I found ourselves stranded in Carlisle for two nights when flooding interrupted our train journey back to Edinburgh. Deep joy.) As an added bonus, we’re also visiting the Royal Exchange Theatre, always a favourite venue when we actually lived in this neck of the woods. 

Tonight, we’re seeing Emma Rice’s adaptation of Noël Coward’s Brief Encounter, perhaps most fondly remembered for David Lean’s iconic 1945 film adaptation. But of course, it began life as a theatre production in a collection of works entitled Tonight at 8.30. Rice has had the brilliant idea of incorporating some of Coward’s songs into the narrative, making it not exactly a musical so much as a play with music cleverly incorporated into the narrative, with four musicians onstage throughout. This is an ambitious move and much more interesting than a straight recreation of its much-adored progenitor.

The plot is so familiar I won’t spend too much time recounting it. Laura (Hannah Azuonye) is awaiting her train at Milford Junction when she gets a bit of grit in her eye. GP Alec (Baker Mukasa), who happens to be having a cup of tea in the café when she stumbles in, comes to her assistance. From this inconsequential incident a friendship develops, which becomes increasingly problematic as the twosome keep bumping into each other. All too soon, they realise they are falling in love. 

But both of them are happily married and are tortured by the thought of deceiving their respective partners. So what should they do for the best?

Anyone familiar with Lean’s film will be aware that Rice sticks fairly close to that script (something that we confirm by rewatching it on the long journey home the following day), but she does some astute restructuring. Some of the film’s minor characters are given more developed roles here: the relationship between railwayman Albert (Richard Graves) and cafe manager Myrtle (Christina Modestou, most recently seen by B & B at the Edinburgh Fringe in the wonderful Grand Old Opera House Hotel) is more prominent and there’s also a developing romance between café worker Beryl (Ida Regan) and porter Stanley (Georgia Frost). The contrast between the polite conversations of the middle-class protagonists and the earthy, working-class station employees is effectively captured.

At key moments, the actors slip effortlessly into one of the ‘The Master’s’ torch songs, giving the proceedings a louche, cabaret feel, and there’s a brilliantly-choreographed routine where the whole cast move around the Exchange’s circular stage to a series of different musical pieces, culminating in a frenzied jitterbug. The performances are all exemplary, but I particularly enjoy Modestou’s soulful rendition of No Good at Love and Regan’s plaintive interpretation of Mad About the Boy. 

There’s also a delightful coup de théâtre involving the big station clock that hangs over the proceedings, while hats should also be lifted to the versatile Matthew Allen, who handles a whole string of smaller roles, singing, tap dancing and, at one point even playing the flipping saxophone! 

Sarah Frankcom directs with considerable skill – I fondly recall seeing her delightful production of Blithe Spirit in this very theatre, way back in 2009 – and, all in all, this is a delightful and occasionally surprising production that celebrates the spirit of its illustrious predecessor.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Same Team – A Street Soccer Story

12/12/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Street Soccer Scotland is a charity using football for positive social change, and Street 45 is its women’s programme. It makes perfect sense. Team sports promote both physical activity and social connection; they provide a sense of purpose and help build self-esteem. People experiencing poverty, homelessness or addiction; those in the care or criminal justice systems; those with mental illness or other support needs: all too often, they’re marginalised, excluded. Street Soccer Scotland aims to create a sense of hope and opportunity for them.

Same Team – A Street Soccer Story serves a similar purpose: to remove the stigma associated with certain life experiences, to celebrate the women at the centre of the tale – and to raise awareness of this most deserving charity. It’s also a cracking good play.

As we take our seats, five women drift onto the stage dressed in sports gear, stashing their belongings in lockers and beginning to warm-up. “Are you here for the try-outs?” they ask us. Several audience members get up and join in the running drills. (Spoiler: they don’t make the squad.)

Jo (Chloe-Ann Tylor) is chosen as captain. Of course. She’s the star player, and this is Scotland’s chance to win the Homeless World Cup. “There are five rules,” she tells her team. “Players always come first. We look to the future. We never leave anyone behind. We place others before ourselves. We keep our promises.”

The rules are not always easy to follow. The women’s lives are complicated. Single parent Sammy (Kim Allan) is facing eviction – again. Her teenage sons are hard work, and she’s not looking forward to moving back in with her disapproving mother. Middle-class Lorraine (Louise Ludgate) has been unceremoniously dumped by her husband after twenty years. She’s staying on a neighbour’s couch and fretting about her perilous finances.

Things are even harder for teenager ‘The B’ (Hannah Jarrett-Scott), who has only just come out of prison. She’s brittle and defensive, unable to secure a job. Meanwhile, her ex-classmate Noor (Hiftu Quasem) is still at school. She lives with her grandfather – her Nana – and he’s got dementia. A chance meeting between the pair proves fortuitous, as The B tells Noor about the Change Centre. “There’s loads going on, like fitba… You were always a good player. There’s trials on for my old team. You should come along.”

And Jo. Well. Jo’s got problems of her own.

But for a few hours each week, the women leave their troubles at the edge of the pitch and focus on the game. Their commitment to the team and to each other gives them something important to feel proud of. Slowly, they let their guards down, opening up to one another and forging friendships. Their shared sense of purpose binds them together.

Written by Robbie Gordon and Jack Nurse in collaboration with the women from the Dundee Change Centre, Same Team is a heartwarming and affecting piece of drama. The narrative is clear-eyed and unsentimental, affording the characters the dignity and respect they deserve. Director Bryony Shanahan maintains the kinetic pace appropriate to the theme, with softer, sadder moments punctuated by riotous cheering or flashes of anger. The movement feels real – even though we never see a ball or an opposing team. The light and sound (by Lizzie Powell and Susan Bear respectively) are integral to the atmosphere, especially once we arrive at the World Cup in Milan. I particularly like the way the different countries’ flags appear in the floodlights.

Perhaps I don’t quite buy finicky Lorraine’s inclusion in the team; perhaps some of The B’s jokes don’t need explaining by the other characters, but this is compelling and important theatre, with five impressive performances from the ensemble cast. Jarrett-Scott is a gifted comic actor, always able to undercut even the most heart-breaking scenes at exactly the right moment. Tylor brings the emotional heft, her Jo a smouldering fuse just waiting to explode.

Same Team – A Street Soccer Story is playing at the Traverse until the 23rd December, and – although it’s not a festive tale – it embodies the spirit of the season. Grab yourself a seat in the stands and get ready to cheer.

Oh, and make sure you know the words to Flower of Scotland.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Pantomime Adventures of Peter Pan

01/12/23

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s that time of year again – oh yes, it is. We’re sitting in the Festival Theatre, where there’s a very festive atmosphere. Behind us, two rows of Cubs and Brownies chatter excitedly, waving light-up wands and eating vast amounts of chocolate. Families, including adults, are no less giddy. Christmas outfits are clearly de rigeur: there’s an abundance of baubles and sparkle, from headbands to socks and every item in between. We’re soon caught up in the fun.

This year’s theme (and it is a theme, rather than a story) is Peter Pan. This version of the tale (written by Harry Michaels and Allan Stewart) takes the form of a sequel to JM Barrie’s original. Even though his old adversary, Captain Hook (Grant Stott) was eaten by Jock the Big Green Croc a long time ago, Peter Pan (Kieran Lynch) is in trouble: the pixie dust that allows him to fly has disappeared from the magic waterfall, leaving him grounded. He sends Tink (Rebecca Stenhouse) to fetch his old friend, Wendy (Robyn Whyte), to see if she can help. It soon transpires that somehow Hook has returned, and that he’s behind the problem… Can he and Starkey (Clare Gray) persuade the erstwhile ship’s cook, May McSmee (Stewart) and her son (Jordan Young), to rejoin his crew?

This Peter Panto is as big and bold a show as we’ve come to expect. Crossroads’ production values are always impressive: the costumes lavish, the props spectacular. The opening sequence sets the standard, with a beautifully animated video-projection that leads us straight into the fantasy. The lighting (by Jack Ryan) is very clever, transforming the same set in an instant from a pretty pastel fairyland into a terrifying red-hued pirate lair. The sound (by Guy Coletta and Andrew Kirkby) is dialled way past eleven, immersing us in Neverland. And there are pyrotechnics a-plenty too.

Pantomime survives by being endlessly adaptable, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the casting of Flawless as Hook’s pirate crew. This is a masterstroke, lending the pantomime some real edge, as the street dancers inject a dose of cool into the cheesiness. What seems on paper like an odd marriage, in fact works really well within the piece. It’s not just their awe-inspiring dance moves, but their presence as a kind of Greek chorus, observing the ridiculous antics around them and providing a silent commentary and response.

Stewart and Stott are the lynchpins, and this is a silver panto-versary for both of them. Their onstage rapport is legendary, and it lives up to the hype. They know how to work together to mine the laughs, and always give the impression that they’re having the time of their lives. Stewart is a fabulous Dame – his Aunty May can’t help but dominate every scene she’s in – and Stott clearly relishes his cartoonish villainy. Jordan Young fits in well as the still new-ish number three (following Andy Gray’s sad demise), and his clowning is superb.

There are a couple of negatives. It’s no secret that plot always comes second to tropes in a panto but the balance shifts a little too far here. The storyline gets lost: Peter Pan and Wendy are sidelined and Captain Hook’s redemption doesn’t really register. What’s more, the climactic moment when Peter Pan finally flies again (I’m not counting that as a spoiler – the only surprise would be if he didn’t) just isn’t as impressive as it should be. We’ve already seen Tink take to the air, after all, so it’s a little underwhelming when Peter just follows the same trajectory. I don’t think it helps that the cast look out into the auditorium when they’re wondering where Peter is, so that the audience follow their guidance and look up, prepared to see him appear above our heads; it’s an anticlimax when he simply descends from the flies on strings and flutters across the stage. In any other production, this would be enough, but our expectations have been elevated by the amazing animatronic crocodile and other effects.

But it seems churlish to dwell on these niggles when everything is nigh-on perfect and we’re having so much fun. The Pantomime Adventures of Peter Pan is on until Hogmanay, so grab yourself a ticket, dig out your Santa deeley-boppers and head on down to the Festival Theatre for a few hours of sheer joy.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Snow Queen

25/11/23

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen has never been my favourite fairytale. Although there are plenty of gloriously memorable images – and the book I had as a child was beautifully illustrated – I’ve always found the plot unwieldy. Happily, in this very Scottish adaptation, Morna Young does an excellent job of clearing the dead wood, jettisoning some of the unnecessary complications and illuminating the story’s season-appropriate warm heart.

We start off in Victorian Edinburgh, where we were for last year’s An Edinburgh Christmas Carol. But we don’t stay there long: The Snow Queen is about a quest, so of course there’s an epic journey to be made. Best friends Gerda (Rosie Graham) and Kei (Sebastian Lim-Seet) are orphans, living with their respective grandparents. Every evening, they climb up onto the roof of their tenement to tend to their pot plants and plan for the future. Kei dreams of going to university, while Gerda wants to see the world.

Meanwhile, in another realm, some trolls have broken a magic mirror and its shards have caused havoc, turning Beira, the Scottish Queen of Winter, into the evil Cailleach Bheur (Claire Dargo), determined to reign forever, and never relinquish her power to Bride, the Queen of Spring. Bride (Naomi Stirrat) isn’t strong enough to overpower the Snow Queen, but she does manage to slow her down – by planting five seeds of spring inside five human beings. So far, the Snow Queen has tracked down four… and now she thinks she knows where the fifth one lies. Kei doesn’t stand a chance. Corrupted by the magic mirror, he turns against Gerda and follows the Cailleach Bheur to her icy lair. But the Snow Queen has reckoned without Gerda, and underestimated the power of true friendship…

With a lively score by Finn Anderson and some very memorable songs – including Quines Gotta Fight and the innuendo-rich A Horse with a Horn – this production is as bold and vivacious as everything we’ve seen Cora Bissett direct. Graham and Lim-Seet convince as sweet and wholesome children, while Dargo’s white witch is suitably scary. Samuel Pashby – who plays Corbie, the Snow Queen’s corvid assistant – is an excellent clown, his gymnastic capers always engaging. But it’s Hamish the Unicorn (Richard Conlon) who steals the show, which does unbalance things a little – but, honestly, it doesn’t matter a jot. After all, this is a piece of festive family fun, and it’s hardly surprising that a rainbow-farting magical beast should be the mane (sorry) attraction.

I’m a little bit in love with Emily James’ set, which mirrors (and thus closes) the Lyceum’s dress circle, reflecting the theatre back at us. It’s huge and imposing and difficult for the actors to negotiate – and therein lies its beauty. The image is as in-your-face as it gets, too direct to count as subtext, and I admire its audacity. It’s impossible to ignore. James’ costumes are wonderfully opulent too: I’m drawn to the bright colours of the flowers in the fairy garden, and to the Cailleach Bheur’s shimmering pastels.

The Snow Queen straddles the line between theatre and panto, Hamish’s broad humour contrasting with the more serious underlying themes. For the most part, I think this works, although some of the jokes don’t land as well as they might, eliciting titters rather than belly laughs. Perhaps it would be an idea to have Hamish and Corbie engage more directly with the audience, signalling the tonal change. Nonetheless, the enthusiasm with which the final rendition of A Horse with a Horn is sung suggests that even the youngest attendees are fully on board.

A sparkling delight.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Play Pretend

24/11/23

Traverse Theatre

Framework Theatre is a rather special support organisation for emerging theatre-makers in Scotland, helping to build a “better, stronger, Scottish theatre sector”. It’s often said that you should write about what you know, and playwright Katie Fraser certainly does that, with this self-referential piece about, um, emerging theatre-makers, battling the old guard and forging a new way.

Actors Amy (Claire Wootton) and Greg (Gerry Kielty) are rehearsing a new piece about Flora MacDonald and Bonnie Prince Charlie. For her, it’s an exciting opportunity, her first professional role since leaving drama school. For him, it’s a backwards step; his career trajectory has been stymied by an unspecified scandal, so he’s slumming it, waiting out his time on the naughty step by directing and starring in this ‘little’ play.

To begin with, Amy is deferential, and Greg responds well to this. He’s pleasant, happy to share the benefits of his experience. But we soon see his darker side as Amy gains confidence and begins to question his peculiar interpretation of what is supposed to be a feminist play, written by ‘Harriet’, a young female playwright.

It makes sense that Greg should contrive to keep Harriet from the rehearsal room, as he tries to assert his dominance over the narrative. But Play Pretend suffers a little from the absence of this third character: I find my attention diverted from the action on stage as I wonder why she doesn’t ignore his instructions and come to see what’s happening to her play. It might be more convincing if we were to hear Greg making up outrageous excuses about why she can’t attend.

Fraser’s script comprises a series of vignettes, from which the story emerges bit by bit, the two actors learning more about each other as the rehearsal process goes on. It’s a strong idea and generally works well, although I do find myself wishing for higher stakes, and for a bolder, more cathartic climax.

Laura Valerie Walker’s sprightly direction highlights the meta-theatricality of the piece. The slow-motion transitions are effective in conveying the passing of time, moving us from one snapshot to the next, reminding us that this is all a performance, but they are too protracted, and start to become a little wearisome towards the end. The set, by Isadora Gough, with its over-abundance of tape marks on the floor and moveable furniture, reinforces the point that this is a constructed image, an illusion, designed to tell a tale.

Both Wootton and Kielty inhabit their dual roles convincingly. Wootton nails Amy’s mixture of self-assurance and desperation, her superficial politeness masking her frustration with Greg’s pomposity. She needs this part to kickstart her career, so she forces herself to put up with his condescension – but Wootton shows us what a struggle this is. It is to Kielty’s credit that we feel any sympathy for Greg: he is a bombastic, arrogant man, showing no contrition for his past aberrations and riding roughshod over the two young women he’s working with, assuming that he knows more than both the playwright and female lead about what this feminist drama needs. Nonetheless, Kielty manages to convey Greg’s underlying vulnerability, his fear at being left behind as the tide turns, his self-esteem dependent on his status.

With its artfully-woven historical and contemporary strands, Play Pretend is a thought-provoking and insightful piece about the struggles we face as we try to move towards a more egalitarian society. When you’re used to privilege, as the saying goes, equality feels like oppression.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Flip!

03/11/23

Summerhall, Edinburgh

Racheal Ofori’s FLIP! is a fresh and keen-eyed take on the Faust story. Two young graduates, eager to make their mark, are enjoying moderate success on their WePipe channel. Their videos are vibrant and fun, full of silly catchphrases and exuberant dance routines, pragmatic beauty tips and off-the-cuff remarks. They’re enjoying making them – and it shows. For Crystal (Jadesola Odunjo), the collaboration and creativity are paramount, but Carleen (Leah St Luce) is hungry for cold hard cash. She has to be: unlike Crystal, she doesn’t have parents who can bankroll her, and her hard-earned degree doesn’t seem to be helping her to get a decent job.

So when a new app starts to gain traction, Carleen is all over it. FLIP! is hugely popular, its short video format both punchy and easily accessible. Crystal takes a bit of convincing – she’s not keen on the app’s style or ethos – but, before long, the duo are doing well. Until Crystal says something that other users don’t like, and she’s trending for all the wrong reasons…

Carleen is faced with a dilemma: should she stand by her friend and eschew her newfound notoriety, or sign a deal with FLIP! as one of their brand ambassadors?

Under Emily Aboud’s assured direction, FLIP! is a kinetic, engaging piece of theatre, turning an almost empty stage into a convincing digital universe. Aline David’s lively choreography helps to underscore the characters’ youth – their exuberance and naïvety – and both Odunjo and St Luce deliver flawless performances, charting the characters’ respective journeys from dreams to despair.

Because, of course, just as every action has an equal and opposite reaction, every exciting new promise of autonomy and riches soon has the sharks circling, working out how they can exploit it for their own ends. And FLIP! are no exception, cunningly demanding the rights to Carleen’s digital image and then using AI to create content for her. Sure, she’s making money, but she’s no creative control, no pride in her work. The fun has gone – and so has her best friend. But if she reneges on the deal, what then? FLIP! will just use someone else, and she’ll be back in a dead-end job. There’s no way out.

Ofori’s social commentary is sharp and incisive, and we leave the theatre with much to discuss. FLIP!‘s Edinburgh run is over now, but it’ll be at the Soho Theatre from 7th-25th November, so do try to catch it if you’re in London. It’s FLIP!pin’ great!

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Dead Dad Dog

02/11/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

John McKay’s quirkily titled play originally debuted at the Traverse in 1988, before transferring to the Royal Court Theatre in London – so it’s great to have the opportunity to see it back in its original home. This deceptively simple two-hander takes the form of a series of titled vignettes punctuated by snatches of classic 80s pop songs.

It’s early morning in Edinburgh and ‘Ek’ (Angus Miller) is preparing breakfast and psyching himself up for an interview at BBC Scotland, where he hopes to start a new career. He’s ill-prepared for the arrival of his father, Willie (Liam Brennan), a quiet man in a loud suit. Ek’s surprise is understandable: Willie has been dead for twelve years. He explains that he’s been granted the opportunity to visit Ek so that the two of them can ‘reconnect’. “Heaven,” he tells Ek, “is OK.”

The visit comes with some awkward conditions. Ek and his dear-departed Dad must remain within a few paces of each other at all times (otherwise there are disastrous side-effects). What’s more, Willie can be seen – and heard – by all and sundry. Which is awkward to say the very least. But Ek is determined to attend his job interview anyway, and even goes ahead with a date with his latest crush. A bad idea? Well yes, but this is hardly a realistic story and much pleasure is derived from the absurd comedic situations that the duo are obliged to stumble through.

Both Miller and Brennan offer assured and likeable performances and I love the simplicity of the staging, where one wooden chair is the only prop, pressed into service to represent a whole range of different things. There’s a strangely old-fashioned feel to the piece – so much has changed since 1988 – and sadly, a planned second half, featuring a more contemporary sequel, Sonny Boy, is unable to go ahead due to illness in the cast. (The current foul weather conditions might be part of the problem too.)

This is a shame, because added pleasure would surely stem from seeing how things have metamorphosed over the intervening years. Nonetheless, Dead Dad Dog is an entertaining piece. Liz Carruther’s direction keeps the pot bubbling merrily away and McKay’s script provokes much hilarity (and the occasional touch of pathos) as we go. Fingers crossed we get to see that sequel.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Grandmothers Grimm

01/11/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The Grandmothers Grimm, written and directed by Emily Ingram, returns to Edinburgh for the final two nights of its latest tour. Premiered in 2017, this long-running play continues to resonate six years later, drawing in a sizeable crowd tonight at the Traverse.

Revisionist fairy tales are nothing new: like pantomimes, these stories survive because they’re endlessly adaptable. But this production, by Some Kind of Theatre, is more about intellectual property: who invented the stories, who owns them – and who gets the credit.

It’s no surprise to learn that the past was sexist (the present is pretty sexist too). But it is perhaps news that the Grimm brothers’ project – collecting traditional folk tales for a compendium – actually deprived a lot of working-class female storytellers of their living, like a nineteenth-century Spotify. After all, who’s going to pay to listen to an old woman tell them a story if they have ready access to a printed copy of the text? Jacob (Justin Skelton) and Wilhelm (Gerry Kielty) might argue that they never claimed authorship of the tales, readily acknowledging their process, but it was their names on the cover – and their profits in the bank.

Marie Müller (Ingram) opens the play, alone, weaving her narrative with practised ease. This, we understand, is how the stories were traditionally told: a paying audience listening, rapt, as an elderly, peasant woman draws us in. When Jacob and Wilhelm burst onto the stage, accompanied by the middle-class Marie Hassenpflug (Sophie Harris), it’s clear that Old Marie doesn’t stand a chance. She’s displaced, allowed to speak only for as long as it takes for the brothers to transcribe her words.

Hassenpflug doesn’t fare much better. She’s educated so the Grimms are superficially more respectful towards her. Nonetheless, they purloin her stories with a blatant disregard for her authorship; it doesn’t occur to them to credit her (a bit like those celebrity children’s authors, who don’t credit their ghost writers…). Harris imbues Hassenpflug with a fierce dignity, which makes for a stark contrast to the brothers’ pettiness.

Kietly’s Wilhelm is focused on sales. He thinks the stories need to be sanitised so that parents will buy them for their children. Skelton’s Jacob hates this idea: he doesn’t want to create the kind of sappy stories he associates with Charles Perrault. He favours a warts and all approach, arguing that the darkness is what makes the tales. I’d agree with him if it weren’t for the fact that his version of ‘authenticity’ denies the existence of the real originators.

The staging could hardly be more simple: the performance area is almost empty, save for a desk and a couple of books; the only additional props are some feathers, cups and apples. This is no-frills, low-budget, black-box theatre – and none the worse for it. Skelton provides the comic relief, galloping round the stage as a donkey prince, as the quartet bring the various tales to life. It’s deftly done, so that we hear the original versions and then see them warped and changed. The pace never falters.

If The Grandmothers Grimm feels like a natural fit for the Edinburgh Fringe, then it’s nice to be transported back to August on this cold November night.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Treason the Musical

27/10/23

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

“Remember, remember, the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”

We haven’t forgotten, of course. Bonfire Night looms large in the national calendar: every year, we bundle up in hats and gloves for an evening of funfairs, ginger parkin and fireworks. Guy Fawkes is burned again and again, his straw-stuffed effigies punished annually for his attempted crime.

So no, he’s not forgotten. But what exactly do we remember?

On the way to the theatre, I realise just how shaky my own grasp of the history is. I know that Guy Fawkes and some Catholic collaborators attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament and that it was something to do with the Reformation. I know that he was hung, drawn and quartered. And, um, that’s it.

So I’m fascinated to learn more about the context, to understand how James I/VI angered Catholics by reneging on his promise to stop persecuting them, sacrificing their freedom for his own financial gain. Ricky Allan’s songs and Charli Eglington’s book help to illuminate the lives of those forced to deny their faith. It’s a salient message: in a world of tyranny and subjugation, terrorism is inevitable.

Although Guy Fawkes (Gabriel Akamo) is the name we all know, this show, directed by Hannah Chissick, focuses primarily on Martha and Thomas Percy (Nicole Raquel Dennis and Sam Ferriday), opening with their illicit wedding and charting their troubled marriage. Although both actors deliver strong performances, this seems like something of a mis-step, as the ups and downs of their relationship are less interesting than the actual gunpowder plot, which is relegated into second place.

In fact, Fawkes barely features in the actual story here. Instead, he’s cast as an observer, a narrator, leading the audience through the events as they unfold. This has a curiously distancing effect: he never actually enters the scenes to interact with the other characters, so it appears as if he were not involved. This means that the ending, when he’s captured and tortured, feels unearned. We don’t know what he’s being punished for.

There’s a problem with the pacing too, particularly in the second act. While the first is punctuated with a little levity in the form of Oscar Conlon-Morrey’s Iago-like Robert Cecil, manipulating King James (Joe McFadden) with practised ease, the second is a far more sombre affair, with too many ballads getting in the way of the action. Dennis and Emilie Louise Israel (Anne Vaux) give it socks and their soaring voices are undeniably impressive, but it does get a little wearing listening to them worry about how ‘vulnerable’ their menfolk are, when I’m impatient to know what’s going on with the barrels of explosives and the attack on parliament.

There is much to like, however. I love Taylor Walker’s choreography: the ensemble work is impressive, the artful movement adding to the sense of menace and unease. And the vocals are impressive: perhaps Israel is the standout, but there are no weak links here. It’s a real pleasure to listen to these performers sing.

Best of all, the production looks sumptuous: between them, Philip Witcomb (set) and Jason Taylor (lights) have created a thing of beauty, all sliding doors and shafts of light; one moment a palace, the next a tunnel. The transitions are instant and almost magical, an exemplar of stagecraft’s sleight of hand. The moment when a boat comes sliding out of the darkness is thrilling, transporting us to the Thames at night, the tension immediately cranked right up.

So, although it smoulders rather than going off with a bang, this is certainly a handsome piece of work.

3 stars

Susan Singfield