Theatre

Peak Stuff

01/03/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

ThickSkin Theatre have a reputation for ambitious, cutting-edge theatre and I’m happy to say that Peak Stuff – a riveting new play by Billie Collins – does not disappoint. Indeed, this edgy slice of words and music manages to keep me on the edge of my seat throughout. 

I’m immediately pulled in by the ingenious set design, which has drummer Matthew Churcher poised in the midst of a hollow, which is itself surrounded by a series of flat panels onto which Jim Dawson and Izzy Pye’s video designs are projected. Churcher is, in effect, the beating heart of the story, his intricate, propulsive rhythms combining with the soaring, majestic music of Neil Bettles (who also directs) and interacting with the narratives of three disparate characters, all memorably played by Meg Lewis.

Alice is a disaffected teenager, who is both appalled and galvanised by the awful reality of life in the 21st century. The world is burning and nobody seems to care! She’s determined to make her voice of protest heard above the hubbub, but is unsure of exactly how to go about making it happen. Ben works in marketing and is a loner, currently living in his mother’s house, which he is steadily filling to bursting point with a whole series of pointless purchases. They include a massive collection of branded trainers, which he never even takes out of their boxes. Online influencer Charlie is gleefully devoting herself to her latest project: selling parts of her body online to the highest bidder, starting with the little finger of her left hand…

How the lives of this strange, unconnected trio unfold is the bedrock upon which Peak Stuff is built – and the greatest wonder of this multifaceted piece is that there are so many ways it could go wrong; the whole edifice could easily collapse in upon itself in a stream of disconnected words, music and lights. The fact that it never does is surely testament to how tightly drilled this creative unit is. Lewis moves effortlessly from character to character, with just the slightest of changes to her voice and posture; Churcher keeps supplying those metronomic rhythms as the excitement steadily builds – and the three narratives combine with the eye-popping video projections which take us from Albert Square, Manchester to the heart of a blazing building.

This is bold, experimental theatre at its finest and the tumultuous applause that greets the final chord is evidence that tonight’s audience has been just as thrilled as I am.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Jack

27/02/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s a wet and miserable February day, but we don’t care because A Play, A Pie and A Pint is back – and if I say the new season starts with a whimper, that’s no bad thing. Because the whimper belongs to Jack.

And Jack is a puppy.

At first, our protagonist (Lawrence Boothman) isn’t too enamoured with his Christmas present. He doesn’t like dogs. They smell and they piss everywhere and they require a lot of care. But he can’t say that to ‘Him’, his un-named partner, can he? That’d be ungrateful. “Aw,” he says instead. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

Of course, it doesn’t take Jack long to win the protagonist over, vet bills and chewed-up espadrilles notwithstanding. And when ‘He’ is killed in a car accident, Jack is both a source of comfort and a reason to go on.

Appealingly directed by Gareth Nicholls, Jack is a witty, engaging monologue, effortlessly straddling the line between acerbic humour and devastating emotion. Boothman reels us in from the opening lines and we’re absolutely with the protagonist as he mourns his lover and struggles to cope with his grief.

Liam Moffat’s nicely-crafted script paints a convincing portrait of a man adrift. The protagonist doesn’t know how to be a widower; he’s too young; there’s no template for him to follow. Heartbroken, he rebuffs his London friends but, away from the security of his crowd, he’s startled by the homophobia that denies the importance of his relationship and excludes him from his partner’s funeral.

The set, designed by Kenny Miller, is suitably simple: a raised platform with a sparkly backdrop, a single plastic chair and a ticker tape bearing captions for each successive ‘chapter’ of the protagonist’s story. Dogs really aren’t just for Christmas, it turns out.

So Jack gets this PPP off to a flying start. No, I’m not crying. You are.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Vanya: National Theatre Live

23/02/24

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

I have previously been somewhat baffled by the general adulation heaped upon Andrew Scott. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always thought him a perfectly decent actor, but have somehow failed to appreciate the full depths of his talent.

Until now.

Simon Stephens’ brilliant adaptation of Anton Chekov’s Uncle Vanya features seven characters in a complex tale of a family’s interactions on a remote country estate. All of them are played – perhaps inhabited would be a more accurate word – by Scott. There’s no recourse to any costume changes and the set design amounts to little more than a series of chairs, a piano and a doorway. Scott slips effortlessly from one character to the next, using only slight modulations of voice and tiny mannerisms to tell me instantly who he is at any given moment. The effect is uncanny. The term tour de force is often used but I’ve rarely seen it so consummately earned.

Credit should also go to Stephens, whose script strips the story back to its basics (and slightly updates it) so that all the characters’ motivations are clear from the outset – and to director Sam Yates who keeps the whole enterprise beautifully understated, so that it flows from scene to scene like honey in a heatwave. But the lion’s share of the accolades must go to Scott, who is mesmerising in every role: pompous and self-aggrandising at Aleksandr Sebryakov, the retired professor still obsessed with working on his latest project; smooth and sensual as Aleksandr’s young wife Helena; and painfully self-conscious as his daughter Sofia, who has always been told that she’s ‘plain’.

He’s delightfully gossipy as Maria – the mother of the titular Ivan (Vanya), a hard working man who has selflessly devoted himself to supporting Aleksandr, whom he has idolised since childhood – and wonderfully tragic as Mikhail, the middle-aged country doctor who is desperately in love with Helena.

And finally, he is comically ingratiating as Ilya, an impoverished landowner, now dependent on the goodwill of the Sebryakov family. A delightful running joke has us (and the rest of the cast) forgetting that he’s there, observing everything that happens.

If this sounds hopelessly complicated on paper, fear not. The wonder of this National Theatre Live production is the way in which it glides like gossamer through the cuts and thrusts of a family drama, where even a scene where Scott is obliged to make love to himself unfolds like a dream. Throw in a rendition of Jacques Brel’s heartbreaking ballad If You Go Away and I’m completely sold, a convert to Scott’s evident talent.

Vanya – and Scott – are both extraordinary. If you get the opportunity to see this, I urge you to take it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Two Sisters

15/02/24

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

As the title suggests, there’s more than a nod to Chekhov in David Greig’s new play, Two Sisters, currently premiering at Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum Theatre, where he’s also artistic director. And it’s not all about the gun…

That’s not to say that this is an adaptation; it’s not. The plot, structure and cast of characters are very different. And yet it is, despite all that, a cleverly updated version of the same idea, embracing the Russian’s major themes – suffering, love, longing, change – and distilling his bitter humour and nihilistic worldview into something immediately recognisable to a modern audience.

Emma (Jess Hardwick) is a corporate lawyer, married to a hotshot businessman with his own plane. She’s also pregnant and sees her impending motherhood as some kind of deadline: if she can’t pen a novel before the baby’s born, then it will be too late. With this in mind, she books herself a caravan at the holiday park she used to visit with her family as a child. A whole week to herself, reminiscing and writing. What could be more perfect?

But she’s reckoned without her flaky older sister, Amy (Shauna Macdonald), who’s always ricocheting from one crisis to another. This time, her long-suffering husband has caught her shagging the plumber, so she’s come to cry on Emma’s shoulder. 

And rekindle an old flame…

Directed by Wils Wilson, this is a slow-paced piece, reflecting the characters’ inertia. The chorus of teenagers embodies this listlessness too, at once pulsing with life and stymied by lethargy. They hang around the park, aloof and watchful. Nothing escapes their attention. It all matters too much, and yet it doesn’t matter at all.

Macdonald and Hardwick are a charismatic duo, the former’s sharp edges and barely-suppressed longing contrasting perfectly with the latter’s languid determination. Their relationship feels real and convincing. 

Lisbeth Burian’s wonderful set is like a brutal mirror, emphasising the grottiness of the seaside resort, with its peeling edges, dingy caravans and rusting climbing frame. Emma might be blind to the park’s fatal decline, indulging in nostalgia-fuelled fantasies of restoration, but we in the audience are all too aware that it is a lost cause. 

There are a few false notes. I find myself distracted by Lance (Erik Olsson)’s assertion that he’s only ever left Fife to visit Ibiza, when he clearly has a Swedish accent. I wonder too why Amy’s been sleeping in her car when she’s got a job in television; surely she can afford a hotel? These are minor points, but they snag, pulling me out of the drama. I also think that the fourth-wall-breaking teenage chorus could be given more to do; the play comes to life whenever they’re involved.

In true Chekhovian spirit, there is no easy take-home message here; the characters are not gifted with a happy ending, and the threads are not neatly tied. Instead we’re left with a sense of  melancholy. “Our life is not ended yet. We shall live! The music is so happy, so joyful, and it seems as though in a little while we shall know what we are living for, why we are suffering… If we only knew – if we only knew!”

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Taming of the Shrew

09/02/24

Pleasance Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s hard to believe it’s five years since we saw EUSC’s last version of The Taming of the Shrew; it feels much more recent. Directed by Tilly Botsford, it was a marked success.

Any notion we have that it might be too soon for the student company to revisit this controversial play is soon dispelled when we realise how very different this interpretation is. Director Minna Gillett’s gender-swapped adaptation cleverly unearths the humour, reminding us that it was always intended to be a comedy, just like the fabulous 10 Things I Hate About You, which Gillett cites as inspiration.

Of course, the central relationship between ‘Petruchia’ (Maria Wollgast) and ‘Kit’ (Ted Ackery) is irredeemably toxic – she bullies and gaslights him into submission – but it doesn’t feel as problematic as the Petruchio/Kat pairing: Petruchia doesn’t have the weight of an entire patriarchal system behind her, and Kit isn’t institutionally broken. It’s still horrible on a personal level, less so on a political one.

Usually, the shrew is the lead role but here the tamer takes centre stage, and Wollgast shines as the suitor, oozing charisma as she struts and frets her hour upon the stage. Ted Ackery clearly relishes his turn as the brattish Kit, imbuing him with a surly teenage petulance and playing up the comic elements. Fraser Murray (as Tranio) has the house in stitches, while Anna Yarwood (as Grumia) and Juliet Gentle (as Biondella) both prove excellent clowns. Indeed, the whole company performs well; there is no weak link here.

The set, designed by Émilie Noël, is suitably fresh and contemporary, and impressively professional. In fact, everything about this show feels right. Gillett has got to the very heart of the piece, nimbly side-stepping or overturning all the problematic aspects in a simple, unfussy way.

This Shrew is a triumph.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

The House

03/02/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Imagine if you will a Punch and Judy show, elevated to the very peak of its puppetry potential – where, in an incredibly complex set, a whole cast of brilliantly-sculpted characters caper and bicker with all the subtleties of human comedians – and you’ve pretty much got what Sofie Krog Teater’s The House is all about. Appearing at the Traverse Theatre as part of the Manipulate Festival, this has a sold-out crowd screeching with laughter as it rockets to an uproarious conclusion.

We are told first of how a house can speak of what has happened within its walls, and then we’re shown the titular abode, an old crematorium. It’s been owned for years by an old woman who now lies in a four-poster bed up in the top bedroom, rapidly approaching her demise. Her nephew, Henry (who bears an uncanny resemblance to Stan Laurel), and his wife, Cora ( a cigarette constantly jutting from her mouth), run the business on her behalf. Cora knows that there’s a will that names them as their great aunt’s successors and she’s gleefully counting the days to the big payoff. But at the last minute, a lawyer is summoned and an important change is made…

Cora is intent on keeping the house for herself – and only the old woman’s faithful dog stands between her and justice.

I know that puppeteers Sofie Krog and David Faraco are concealed within that miniature house somewhere, because I definitely saw them climb inside it at the beginning. And I know they must be operating everything that happens, but the illusion is so brilliantly engineered, I forget about them completely as they unleash one ingeniously conceived bout of slapstick after another.

The puppets themselves are wonderful little creations, so full of character and nuance that they almost come alive as they scamper from room to room, trying to outwit each other. Everything about this performance – the lighting, the music, the props – is exquisite and I love the piece’s grisly sense of humour, its celebration of the darkness of the human soul. Oh, and did I mention that the house can revolve, to show us an entirely different view of what’s happening within?

If you haven’t managed to catch Sofie Krog Teater on this visit, do keep an eye out for them in future. This unique show offers a touch of genius that will brighten the day of anyone lucky enough to see it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Protest

27/01/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Hannah Lavery’s 2023 play, Protest, makes a brief but welcome return to Edinburgh as part of its new tour, with two performances at the Traverse this weekend. Having missed it at last year’s International Children’s Festival, we’re delighted to have the chance to catch up with this lively, engaging production from Fuel, Imaginate, Northern Stage and the National Theatre of Scotland.

Amy Jane Cook’s set is a brightly-coloured children’s playground, the natural habitat of the P7 girls whose story this is. The climbing frames and running track serve both to entertain and to constrain, opening up possibilities at the same time as imposing limitations.

Through three cleverly-interwoven monologues, we learn about the challenges faced by these very different characters. Alice (Kirsty MacLaren) is a live wire – and the best runner in her class, so she’s outraged when a boy gets chosen for the final leg of the inter-form relay. Jade (Harmony Rose-Bremner) has always been proud of her family history but her happiness is “dented” when she faces racist abuse for the first time; suddenly, she doesn’t feel so secure in her home town. Meanwhile Chloe (Amy Murphy), a quiet, introverted child, has the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s desperate to save the planet, but how can she do it on her own? She hasn’t got any friends and she can’t even ask her brother to help her any more, because he’s gone all moody since their dad left home.

But is any of these girls prepared to accept what’s happening? No way. They’ve got their Grans on their side, and they’re ready to stand up. To raise their voices. To protest.

Under Natalie Ibu’s assured direction, this is a vibrant, kinetic piece of theatre, the girls’ unselfconscious physicality propelling the action. Rarely still, they’re bursting with energy and enthusiasm, besides themselves with the injustice of it all and delighted with their efforts to put things right. It’s tonally spot-on, embracing the naïve optimism of eleven-year-olds – and reminding us how this might just be what we need to change the world.

Splendidly acted, this is a delightful and inspiring play, and I am pleased to see that it has attracted a young audience today. Children aged 8+ should get a lot from it – and the adults accompanying them are in for a thought-provoking treat as well.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

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