Theatre

Mariupol

17/08/25

Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath), Edinburgh

Katia Haddad’s two-hander is an epic tale of love and loss spanning thirty years, exposing the quiet horrors of war: the tendrils that insinuate their way into ordinary people’s lives, strangling their hopes for happiness.

It’s 1992, a year after the dissolution of the USSR, when “Steve” and Galina (Oliver Gomm and Nathalie Barclay) meet at their friends’ wedding in the titular Ukrainian city. Steve (real name: Bondarenko, nicknamed for his karaoke renditions of Stevie Wonder songs) is a well-travelled naval officer, while Muscovite Galina is a literature student, who has so far only dreamed of seeing foreign lands. “You’re in a foreign land,” Steve reminds her, and he’s right: Ukraine is now an independent state. But it doesn’t feel foreign to Galina: “We speak the same language,” she says. And indeed they do, in more ways than one. But, after a whirlwind holiday romance on the picturesque Belosarayskaya Sandbank, it’s time for the two to say goodbye and return to their ‘real’ lives.

Three decades later, Russia invades Ukraine. Galina’s teenage son, a member of the Russian army, is captured by Ukrainian forces in Mariupol. She’s desperate to rescue him – and can only think of one person who might be able to help. But can Steve – who has lost everything and is fighting for his country’s very existence – really be expected to come to the aid of an enemy soldier?

Gomm and Barclay are both perfectly cast, delivering heartfelt but understated performances, which feel totally authentic. They seem to age before my eyes, and it’s impossible not to empathise with these two regular Joes, who ought to be free to focus on more mundane problems. Directed by Guy Retallack, Mariupol is an expertly-crafted piece of theatre, starkly illustrating the brutality of war without ever sensationalising it. Hugo Dodsworth’s monochrome video projections emphasise the awful devastation in Ukraine.

Of course, the ongoing nature of this particular conflict adds real urgency to the production, and I find myself crying as the dreadful human cost is laid bare. But tears are not enough. The play supports the David Nott Foundation, which trains doctors in countries impacted by conflict – including Ukraine – and I feel compelled to make a donation as soon as I get home. If you’d like to do the same, you can do so here: https://davidnottfoundation.com/.

A deeply moving and important play, Mariupol is horribly relevant but beautifully drawn.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

1984

17/08/25

Pleasance Courtyard (Above), Edinburgh

We first chanced upon the work of theatre company Box Tale Soup at 2023’s Fringe, where we were impressed by their intriguing adaptation of MR James’ Casting the Runes. If 1984 seems like an ambitious step-up in scale, we needn’t worry. All of the company’s impressive tricks are deployed to great effect to bring George Orwell’s dystopian masterpiece to the stage.

For starters, there are those distinctive-looking puppets, sometimes external representations of the people who carry them – which makes me think of the masks we so often choose to display to the world – and in other instances, they are characters in their own right.

The story of Winston Smith (Mark Collier), his forbidden romance with Julia (Antonia Christophers), and his ultimate torture at the hands of O’Brien (Noel Byrne), is so universally known, it seems pointless to say too much about the storyline; suffice to say, this adaptation leaves nothing out – and it’s also chilling to acknowledge that in today’s turbulent world, Orwell’s warnings about totalitarianism seem more relevant than ever.

The inventive ways in which this familiar story is told are so intriguing and immersive that I never suffer from the common problem of knowing what happens next – each successive scene has some new detail to marvel at. The performances from all three actors are compelling and the complex set in which the drama unfolds is so skilfully manipulated and rearranged as the story progresses that the pace is never allowed to flag.

From the very beginning I’ve been aware of a set of closed doors at the back of the stage – and when the doors of Room 101 are finally opened, this powerful adaptation exerts an even more chilling grip on its spellbound audience.

Before I go, one question. How many fingers am I holding up?

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Fly, You Fools!

16/08/25

Pleasance Courtyard (Beyond), Edinburgh

New York-based theatre company Recent Cutbacks specialise in producing no-budget parodies of epic films. Last year, their Hold Onto Your Butts (an unlicensed version of Jurassic Park) gave us plenty of cheap laughs and, as predicted in our review, they’ve returned with that show – and also a companion piece, Fly, You Fools!, their interpretation of Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Rings.

Three performers – Nick Abeel, Kyle Schafer and Regan Sims – team up with Foley artist Kelly Robinson, plus a collection of props that look like they’ve been salvaged from the back of a wardrobe, and do their damnedest to perform a version of the movie for a packed crowd at the Pleasance.

I have to confess to being a fan of the Rings trilogy, which for three years of my life were a birthday go-to for me and my daughter – but I can’t deny that they have more than their fair share of pomposity and illogical happenings, which makes them fair game for a debunk. Clearly today’s audience is in full agreement. There’s raucous laughter as the performers switch from character to character and height to height, doing their level best to depict Frodo and his crew making their way to Mordor – or as they prefer to say it, Morrrrrrdddddoooooor.

And yes, that most pertinent of questions does get a mention: why didn’t they just fly there there on the back of an eagle and save themselves a lot of hassle?

The story was developed by Matt Zambrano and directed by Kristen McCarthy Parker. It’s a fun way to spend an hour but is it as strong as HOYB? For my money, Fly, You Fools! doesn’t er… land quite as effectively as its predecessor – a lengthy sequence featuring crap shadow theatre slows down the pace somewhat – but there are close to three hundred people at Beyond who appear to be having the time of their lives.

Mission accomplished. (Now there’s a franchise they might have some fun with…)

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Macbeth

16/08/25

Zoo Southside, Edinburgh

The last thing we need to see is another version of Macbeth. And yet, when Barden Party’s bluegrass adaptation is recommended to us, we somehow can’t resist. So here we are, coffee in hand, ready to spend our Saturday morning in the company of cowboy-witches, banjo players and a murderous would-be monarch.

This is the most fun rendition of the Scottish play I’ve ever seen: it’s a rambunctious, in-yer-face musical, and the seven-strong cast are having a blast. The “travelling troupe from New Zealand” usually perform outdoors, often in people’s gardens, but they’re clearly very adaptable, making the most of Zoo Southside’s tiny black-box theatre space.

The genders are switched: Macbeth (Laura Irish) receives a prophecy from two weird brothers (Caleb James and Wiremu Tuhiwai). Egged on by her husband (Ollie Howlett), she murders Queen Duncan (Tara McEntee) and ascends to the throne. Frightened for her life, Duncan’s daughter, Malcolm (Kit Berry), flees to England but, although he is suspicious of Macbeth, Banquo (Criss Grueber) remains loyal to his friend – and we all know where that leads. The gender-swap doesn’t change anything much, but it does add to the feeling of irreverence: this production isn’t bound by any stuffy idea of what Shakespeare ‘ought’ to be. This is pure entertainment – and yet it remains true to the heart and spirit of the bard’s script.

It’s great to see an actor who uses a wheelchair in such an active role: Grueber’s Banquo is a fierce soldier, celebrated for his prowess on the battlefield and more than ready to show off his fighting skills. Meanwhile, James and Boyle are terribly unsettling as the cowboy-hatted witches, writhing across the stage and screaming in our faces. (At one point, Philip screams back.)

This is very much an ensemble piece, but Irish and Howlett are compelling in the central roles, Irish’s intensity ensuring that we mourn the woman Macbeth might have been, before her corruption. I especially like the way that McEntee exaggerates Duncan’s ego, as she forces people to laugh at her jokes, i.e. the dodgy puns that proliferate in Shakespeare’s dialogue.

The music is lively and engaging, switching from propulsive up-tempo toe-tappers to plaintive ballads at the drop of a stetson.

Murder has never been so full of life.

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Lachlan Werner: Wondertwunk

15/08/25

Pleasance Dome (10 Dome), Edinburgh

Originality counts for a great deal at the Fringe and I have to say that Lachlan Werner has that commodity in spades. We’re here to catch his act mostly because a publicist we work with casually mentioned that she thought it would be ‘right up our street.’ The fact that it so definitely is probably says something about us, because this is utterly weird – but, I should add, in a good way. And it’s clear from the audience reaction that we’re far from the only ones delighted by what we’re viewing.

Werner plays Jack Hammer, the Strongest Boy in the World. He might not look the type to be lifting weights and bending steel bars, what with his impeccably-plaited curls, his grotesquely-painted features and his cupids-bow lips; and yet, thanks to some shonky-looking props, he manages these macho skills with ease. He performs every night in a circus owned by his clearly dodgy dad (depicted by a monstrous life-sized puppet), and his only friend in the world is a talented sea lion called Slippy, who, it turns out, can balance wine glasses on his nose.

Werner is a gifted ventriloquist, able to switch from his own cartoonish little voice to his dad’s gruff tones (or the distinctive bark of a sea lion) with apparent ease – and, while on paper the ‘jokes’ are simply a string of lame puns and outlandish boasts, there’s something so utterly beguiling in Werner’s delivery that I find myself laughing helplessly along from start to finish.

There are elements of horror in the story which put me in mind of the theatre of Grand Guignol, as Jack slowly begins to uncover grisly secrets about his father and, ultimately, himself. A guy from the audience is invited onto the stage to become his assistant and ends up as the object of his affection, an integral part of the show, as Werner flirts outrageously with him. By the show’s final stages, the entire audience is cheering Jack on, wanting him to to vanquish the powers of evil, to find a new identity and a suitably happy ending.

This show takes me completely by surprise and I’m fairly confident that other first-timers will have the same experience. One thing’s for certain: unless you’re already a fan of Lachlan Werner, you won’t have seen anything quite like it before. It’s sublime.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Help! I’m Trapped in a One-Woman Show

14/08/25

Pleasance Dome (10 Dome), Edinburgh

Kate Skinner offers a nuanced perspective on widowhood in this frank one-woman show. The septuagenarian actor lost her beloved husband, Ron McLarty, in 2020, after seventeen years of marriage – and has mourned him ever since. “The thing about closure,” she tells us, “is that it isn’t real. It was made up by Oprah.”

But it’s been five years now and Skinner is torn: she doesn’t want to “move on” into a future without Ron, but she’s still here and she wants to live. Over the course of an hour, we learn how she makes her peace with this dichotomy, accepting that her grief will always be present, while forging new connections for herself.

Make no mistake: there are a lot of laughs to be had here. Skinner is searingly open, divulging every detail of her disastrous foray into online dating. It’s refreshing to hear an older person speak so candidly about sex; so often, these voices are muted. Her occasional bitchiness is also amusing, and she’s a born performer, creating a relaxed and intimate tone, so that we feel we’re being taken into her confidence.

There’s not a lot more I can say: this is a gentle and ultimately life-affirming piece of work. It’s a pleasure to spend sixty minutes in the company of this vivacious woman, who is unafraid to address a complex emotional subject that clearly resonates with many in the audience.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Vagabond Skies: the Van Gogh Musical

13/08/25

Gilded Balloon at the Museum, Edinburgh

Far removed from the rough-hewn scramble of so many Fringe Productions, Vagabond Skies has all the precision and style of a West End musical. The brainchild of creative team Tony Norman and Mark Edwards, the show comes to the Fringe in a stripped-down version, designed to slot into a shorter running time. But on the evidence of viewing this, I’ll be one of the first in the queue for the full-length version.

Vagabond Skies skilfully avoids many of the pitfalls of the true life biography and in its telling, it’s both informative – I actually learn things about the great artist I didn’t previously know – and genuinely affecting. There are some superb vocal performances throughout, and not just from the leads. The ten-strong cast offer fabulous ensemble work, moving effortlessly from scene to scene, each character given the opportunity to make their mark.

We first encounter Vincent (Alex Bloomer) in 1879 when he is working as a missionary, struggling to spread the word of God to the dirt-poor mining communities of Borinage, Belgium, who clearly have bigger things to consider – such as where their next meal is coming from. After that, we follow Vincent’s early years as an artist in Nuenen and Antwerp, and we share his correspondence with his supportive brother, Theo (Richard Dawes). Next, we are plunged headlong into Vincent’s tumultuous time in Paris, his difficult relationship with the bullish and self-centred, Paul Gauguin (Patrick Jennings), and we see him suffer at the hands of bullies and art critics alike.

Some of the most memorable solo performances here are from the female members of the cast. Jordan Frazier is fabulous in the role of Agostina, the owner of the Café de Tanborin; Maren Ovidia offers a bruising ballad as prostitute, Sien; and Francesca Layland performs a stunning solo as Theo’s wife, Joanna. But once again, it’s when all the voices come together that the piece really dazzles, the harmonies soaring. It would take a staunch soul indeed not to well up when listening to the show’s extended finale – or to Vincent and Theo’s heartbreaking duet on Brother of Mine.

But then there are the visual delights to consider: a back-projection screen the size of the stage blooms with vivid images of some of the artist’s most iconic works, gradually rearranging and erasing them to be replaced by others, with subtle flourishes of animation added to the mix. The danger here is that those paintings could overpower the performances, but somehow the production walks the precarious tightrope between the different disciplines, ensuring that everything is kept in perfect balance.

Vagabond Skies is a sumptuous and brilliantly performed entertainment, worthy of the unique artist who inspired it.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Living on the Moon

12/08/25

Gilded Balloon at Patterhouse (Dram), Edinburgh

I have to hand it to Molly McFadden. Recently diagnosed with ‘mild cognitive impairment,’ she could be excused for deciding to take things easy and put her feet up. Instead she’s opted to bring a show to the Edinburgh Fringe, a daunting ambition for the average teenage drama student, let along for a woman in her seventies. The fact that she recently discovered that she has the gene for Alzheimer’s must feel like a potential threat and was perhaps the spur she needed to bring her show to the Fringe.

Living On the Moon, directed by Michael Glavan, is mostly about Alzheimer’s (a recurring theme this year) and is based around McFadden’s recollections of her own mum, who spent the last twelve years of her life stricken by the condition. Those who’ve managed to catch Lost Lear at The Traverse, will have seen the subject captured and portrayed to harrowing effect, but McFadden’s approach is more gentle than that. In her one-woman show, McFadden’s mother, ‘Memory’, is a skilfully-made puppet: a carefree, occasionally irascible mother-figure given to interrupting her daughter’s torch songs with unfettered recollections of earlier times when she was clearly ‘a bit of a one.’

The tone here is whimsical, suffused by a bitter-sweet sense of loss, and McFadden’s former career as a cabaret singer comes to the fore. She has an impressive vocal range and delivers the songs with absolute authority. ‘Memory’ is a delightful creation, full of character and mischief.

I do however sense that in places, McFadden is pulling her punches a little, shying away from the full horror of the situation. Perhaps she needs more time to process what has happened before she can fully explore its depths. Nevertheless, she delivers an absorbing hour on the stage.

Those who prefer a soft approach to this most distressing of subjects will find McFadden (and Memory) at the Gilded Balloon, Patterhouse.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Michelle Brasier: It’s a Shame We Won’t Be Friends Next Year

12/08/25

Gilded Balloon at the Museum (Auditorium), Edinburgh

Ah, who doesn’t dread a wee-hours-of-the-morning shame spiral? It turns out that even the uber-confident Michelle Brasier has to deal with these joy-sapping tummy-churners. Yes, that’s right: the bold, brash, in-yer-face Aussie, who struts about the stage like she couldn’t give a flying fuck, even she lies awake wincing with embarrassment, remembering old slights, reliving awkward encounters. But, unlike most of us, Brasier decides to tackle them head-on.

The title of the show refers to something a mate said to her at the end of Year 6. Clearly, it resonated, making her second-guess herself for years, wondering what was wrong with her. I’m guessing Brasier is popular IRL: she comes across as warm and funny, open and engaging. But still, that comment niggled, chipping away at her self-esteem.

It’s a Shame We Won’t Be Friends Next Year is a gentler affair than last year’s Legacy and, to our great delight, this venue has much better sound. This really matters: we get to hear the full range of her impressive singing voice and can also discern most of what she says (her speaking rate still clocks in at a gazillion words per minute). IASWWBFNY is a nostalgic show, looking back at the hurtful moments that shaped her: that offhand remark from a primary school pal; a scathing comment from an industry snob; a brutal review from a snippy critic. Brasier decides to track them all down and demand answers.

With musical support from her partner, Tim Lancaster, the show is cleverly-crafted, as poignant as it is hilarious. And it’s not all about the bad stuff: there’s a lot here about the positive differences people can make, most notably the high-school drama teacher, who provided a safe space for her and other “freaks”, telling Brasier that she could fly and opening the window to a wider world. The standout for me is a song about her schoolfriend Sally, which makes me cry. Sensibly, there are no jokes in this section, just a beautiful reminder of why we need to “stand up for the dolls”.

Part self-reflection, part-eulogy to that drama teacher, IASWWBFNY is a memorable and thought-provoking hour of musical stand-up. And you’ll learn more about The Fast and the Furious franchise than you ever wanted to.

2 stars (just kidding)

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager

10/08/25

Pleasance Courtyard (Above), Edinburgh

Bunkum Ensemble’s The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager is a Kafka-esque nightmare of a play, skewering the emptiness at the heart of many people’s work.

Ben Weaver (Jack Parris, who also wrote the script) is an ordinary kind of guy, an unassuming office drone, who works to live, to pay the bills. As the play opens, we see him suited and booted, in town early for an interview, eating an almond croissant to kill the time. But Fate has something different in store for Ben today: when he picks up a lanyard bearing the name ‘Ben Manager’, he finds himself caught in a Faustian trap…

Ben aces his interview. As Ben Manager, he is king of the vacuous PowerPoint, master of the mindless acronym. He knows his OOOs from his ETDs and he’s great at restructuring (“You’re all fired!”). What’s harder to understand is what it’s all for: what does the company actually do? What exactly is his role? Disoriented, Ben tries to remember what used to drive him. “I think I’d like to be creative,” he muses. “Maybe costume design?” But these half-formed thoughts are nebulous, impossible to grasp, lost to the demands of his daily routine.

Parris is commanding in the central role, a leaf-cutter ant caught in the corporate machine. As events build to an almost hallucinatory crescendo, his mental unravelling is cleverly physicalised, and I love the disconcerting effect of the baby-sized puppet-colleague (operated by Teele Uustanti), its words spoken into a microphone by musician-performer Mike Coxhead). The audio-visual design is also impressive, adding to Ben’s (and our) growing sense of disconnection from reality.

Although it elicits plenty of laughs from the audience, The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager is fundamentally a brutal and discomfiting piece of theatre – and I’m not sure I’d find it amusing at all if I worked a nine-to-five.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield