Theatre

Ballet Shoes

04/08/26

National Theatre at Home

We’re visiting my mum and, when she reveals she’s taken out a subscription to NT at Home, we know exactly what we’ll be doing this evening. We start scrolling through the options – and then Ballet Shoes catches my eye.

Wait, what? It’s already played two sold-out runs in its South Bank location? I’d 100% have travelled to London for this if I’d known it was on. How have I missed it? I’m usually all over theatre news, but this one has completely passed me by.

Neither Mum nor Phil is particularly keen; there are lots of other plays they’d rather see. But my enthusiasm is so fervent, I don’t think they can bear to disappoint me. They agree to give it a go. And – spoiler alert – they are both mightily impressed.

Because this is an impressive production. Kendall Feaver’s adaptation of Noel Streatfeild’s much-loved novel is exemplary, knowing exactly which ideas to heighten (and which to dispense with) to retain the heart and spirit of the book. Likewise, director Katy Rudd maintains a lively pace, expertly interweaving theatrical spectacle with more naturalistic storytelling.

For those not in the know, Streatfeild’s best-known children’s story tells the tale of three young orphans, Pauline (Grace Saif), Petrova (Yanexi Enriquez) and Posy (Daisy Sequerra). Rescued from various corners of the globe by an eccentric explorer known as ‘Great Uncle Matthew’ (Justin Salinger), they are thrust on his adopted niece, Sylvia (Pearl Mackie), who has been living a quiet life in GUM’s London home, drawing pictures of the relics he brings back from his travels. But these latest curios take a whole lot more looking after than the usual fossils…

When GUM goes AWOL and stops sending money for his wards, Sylvia and nursemaid Nana (Jenny Galloway) are at their wits’ end. They need to find a way to make some money. One answer is obvious: their shabby Cromwell Road house is enormous; they can take in lodgers! And, once the paying guests are safely ensconced, another opportunity presents itself. Their tenant, Theo Dane (Nadine Higgin), is a teacher at The Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training. If the girls attend this school, they’ll be able to work and help out with the household bills.

Multi-roling Salinger perfectly embodies Madame Fidolia, the formidable Russian ballerina-turned-headmistress, who immediately notices Posy’s dancing potential, singling her out for one-to-one lessons. This plot point leads to some truly beautiful solo ballet from Sequerra, while the children’s other performances – in Alice in Wonderland and an experimental production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – allow choreographer Ellen Kane to create a gleeful extravaganza. No chance to dazzle is missed, as Petrova’s obsession with all-things mechanical is actualised by lodger Jai (Sid Sagar)’s stunning prop car, designed by Frankie Bradshaw.

I can’t think of a single way this glorious production could be improved. It’s lively, engaging and exciting, a perfect piece of family entertainment. And a message from Phil: you don’t have to know the novel to revel in this fabulous show.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Burns’ Project

27/06/26

Henry Irving Room, Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

As someone who has lived in Edinburgh for more than a decade, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I know very little about Scotland’s National poet Robert Burns – or rather, I knew very little before attending this delightful piece of immersive theatre, staged in The Royal Lyceum’s Henry Irving Room. Actually, the lesson begins while I’m still waiting to go in to the event. I fall into conversation with a woman from Moscow, who tells me that Burns is huge in Russia, where people will even study Scots dialect, the better to appreciate his work. Who knew?

Feeling suitably humbled, I take my seat at a long, serpentine dining table, where various white-sprayed props are set out to accompany what amounts to a kind of potted biography of Mr B. He is played by James Clement, who originated the role for last year’s Fringe. He delivers a selection of poems, recollections and encounters from the writer’s life, while musician Lisa Rigby punctuates the proceedings with some of Burns’ songs, her ethereal voice soaring around the room, accompanied by guitar and shruti box.

I do indeed learn much about the man: his humble origins on the family farm in Alloway (which I recently visited); his schooling under the tutelage of John Murdoch; his plans to work on a sugar plantation in Jamaica; and, after the publication of his collected poems, his time spent in Edinburgh, where he quickly established a reputation as a Lothario. It’s sobering to note that Burns managed to sire a total of twelve children in his relatively short lifetime, nine of them with his wife, Jean, and the others with various lovers and servants. In 2019, it was established that he had 900 living descendants…

Clement inhabits the role of Burns with great relish, taking every opportunity for playful exchanges with members of the audience. The various props on the table are cleverly integrated, and Jenny Booth’s clever set allows for some genuinely surprising moments – especially the bit where Robbie is presented as ‘dish of the day.’ Cora Bisset’s assured direction means that this piece succeeds both as a valuable history lesson and as a smooth and entertaining piece of theatre.

I leave humming the tune to A Man’s a Man for a’ That and eager to find out even more about Robert Burns.

Job done.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Hen Night

18/06/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

The fourth and final offering in Assembly Roxy’s season of A Play, A Pie and A Pint is based around an event that any Edinburgh resident will be familiar with. The Scottish capital is a regular venue for parties of the Stag and Hen persuasion – and it’s not unusual to see many such celebrations playing out simultaneously on any given weekend.

Coral has proudly announced that she is going to marry her boyfriend, Scott and her three best friends – Jade (Dani Heron), Lilac (Laura Lovemore) and Amber (Anna Russell-Martin) – have decided to give her the best hen night in recorded history. Jade will do most of the planning; she has a spreadsheet and everything. The escapade (in Edinburgh, naturally) will involve dancing and boozing and er… kayaking and… flower arranging…

So what if none of the girls are exactly over the moon about Coral’s choice of Scott, who is, to put it mildly, a bit toxic? No, they are going to make this an event to remember. And when Coral’s mysterious Irish cousin, Luna, unexpectedly turns up at the nightclub where the girls are getting utterly smashed, it’s clear from the way that all the men are fainting at the very sight of her that there’s something special about the new arrival. Something other-worldly…

The Hen Night, written by Debbie Hannan and directed by Laila Noble, is a bright and breezy production, that nevertheless has plenty of serious things say about female friendship and why women shouldn’t settle for less than they desire. The three players embody their respective roles with pizzazz and also occupy other characters, with both Russell-Martin and Lovemore portraying Coral at various points, while Russell-Martin also gives us the mysterious Luna and a surly, smirking Scott. The brilliantly simple device of a character switching around her hen night sash alerts the audience to who’s being who at any given moment.

Fuelled by the momentum of its own internal logic, The Hen Night powers along, powered by a steady diet of laugh-out-loud quips and astute observations, yet still has the skill to slam home those aforementioned serious points with utter conviction. I must confess that I had some reservations about the play based on its title, but I’m even happier to admit that my assumptions were soon dashed. This makes a satisfying final flourish to what has been an outstanding first season of PPP at Assembly Roxy.

More please!

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Malory Towers

13/06/26

Home, Manchester

Emma Rice Company’s Malory Towers is billed as a “UK” tour. As a Welsh woman living in Scotland, I feel the need to point out that this is actually an “England” tour. Luckily, Phil’s daughter lives in Manchester and, although she and her husband are too young to be Blyton aficionados, they’re always up for a bit of theatre. Which means we get the bonus of spending quality time with them – as well as having somewhere to stay. 

It’s more than a decade since Phil and I have been to Home, but the venue is as vibrant as ever. The audience for this particular show is an odd mix, comprising mainly kids (some of them dressed up in Malory Towers school uniforms) and middle-aged women like me. It makes sense, I guess. For the latter group, it’s nostalgia for the books of our youth. For the former, it’s the more immediate joy of a children’s adventure story, presumably re-popularised by the recent (excellent) CBBC series. 

But, look. I was never going to miss this musical. I’d have travelled much further afield if I’d had to. The combination of Blyton and Rice was always going to be too potent for me to resist. Blyton’s boarding school stories have a special place in my heart, and Rice is my favourite theatre maker, so yeah. This is a must-see. 

Somehow, with just eight performers – the actors also provide the music – Rice manages to evoke the atmosphere of a busy, bustling school. Of course, some characters have been amalgamated, others missed out altogether. But the main players are present and correct.

Step forward, Darrell Rivers (Robyn Sinclair), as flawed and fabulous as ever, determined to be the kind of girl to make her school proud, but hamstrung by a feisty temper that gets her into all sorts of scrapes. Gwendoline Lacey (Rebecca Collingwood) is played less as a preening princess and more as an out-and-out psychopath, complete with murderous intentions. It’s not true to the original, but it does make for some great drama! Alicia (Molly Cheesley) – notorious trickster – is merged with Connie, who can’t keep up with her lessons, and is frustrated by falling behind. The combination works. MD Stephanie Hockley plays, appropriately, musical prodigy Irene, who – for some reason – is given the French teacher’s surname and nationality. Meanwhile, Sensible Sally is played by Bethany Wooding, and horse-loving Bill by Zoë West. But it’s Eden Barrie’s Mary-Lou who’s the standout, her loveably gawky character the centre point, as she learns to overcome her timidity and stand proud of who she is. 

Rice’s direction is as quirky as ever, and her inventive set-pieces are what really make this production. Miss Grayling is a silhouette projection, voiced by Sheila Hancock, a conceit that cleverly distances the head teacher from the girls’ everyday lives, while reminding the audience that they are being looked after. The swimming scene is a particular highlight, with puppets jumping from cartoon cliffs before the actors emerge from the ‘sea’, shivering and spitting water. Best of all is the opening to the second act, the inevitable clifftop rescue. I won’t reveal here how it’s done; suffice to say the entire audience is in paroxysms of laughter. 

Is it all a little too spoofy? It is, for my taste at least. I understand why Rice has taken this route. Blyton’s characters are easy to mock: they’re painted with broad strokes, each with her own standout trait; their concerns and adventures so trivial and trite. But – and I know it’s a different beast entirely – I think the CBBC series manages this better, treating the girls’ adolescent struggles with respect and empathy rather than as a joke. In contrast, this production has a very adult perspective, and almost everything is played for laughs. The one exception is the scene where Gwendoline receives bad news. The poignancy of the moment is beautiful – and intensely emotional. 

I like the overt reminders about the second world war. Blyton never mentions it but, as Rice reminds us here, the series was published between 1946 and 1951. The girls have lived through the war; their fathers, uncles, brothers will have fought in it. No wonder the pupils are so excited about midnight feasts: they’re used to rationing and shortages. This backdrop adds another dimension to the story, which works really well.

Overall, this Malory Towers musical is something of a mixed bag. But am I glad I’ve seen it? Rather!

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Corinthian

11/06/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

The third play of Assembly Roxy’s inaugural A Play, A Pie and a Pint season is The Corinthian, a compelling monologue about real-life footballer, Andrew Watson, who experienced extremes of both prejudice and privilege throughout his lifetime. If the name is unfamiliar, here are a few key facts: Watson was the first Black international football player; the first Black man to captain a national team, as well as winning the Scottish cup three times in 1881, 1882 and 1886. Oh, and he was also distantly related to William Gladstone. And yet, the chances are you’ve never heard of him.

Born in 1856 in Demerara, British Guiana (now Guyana), he was the son of wealthy plantation-owner Peter Watson and local woman Hannah Rose. He had a fairly idyllic childhood but that all changed when the family relocated back to Peter’s native Scotland. It was here that young Andrew experienced the aforementioned prejudice – from his neighbours, his fellow pupils and even from his father’s servants. He was also suddenly impacted by the tragic suicide of his mother.

Joe McCann’s monologue, evocatively performed by Dayton Mungal, conveys Watson’s determination to succeed at all costs and to overcome the various hurdles flung in his path as he makes the long climb to the top of his game. Mungal handles the role with aplomb, occasionally talking directly to the audience and also slipping in and out of various supporting characters. 

Because the play is mostly interested in the time he spent as a football player, it consequently skips over a lot of the intervening years – his schooling in Halifax, his college tuition in Wimbledon and the year he spent at the University of Glasgow studying natural philosophy. I do find myself wondering if this piece would benefit from a longer running time, where Watson’s life could be examined in more detail, offering more nuance to the story. 

For The Corinthian though, the story really kicks off when he is signed to play for local team Parkgrove, where he soon learns that some of the toughest discrimination he will need to overcome emanates directly from his teammates…

Director Martin McCormick throws in some impressive imaginative flourishes, while keeping everything well-paced as Mungal runs, skips and leaps energetically around Heather Grace Currie’s simple set. In quieter, more reflective moments, the actor manages to tug at the audience’s collective heartstrings as he recalls what his mother taught him about perseverance.

The applause at the play’s conclusion is enthusiastic. Though I’m left with the conviction that there’s probably more to say about Watson than there is space for here, The Corinthian nonetheless manages to put the ball convincingly into the back of the net.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Sweat

28/05/26

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

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

23/05/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

Job done.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Funeral For My Boobs

21/05/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Black Diamonds and the Blue Brazil

13/05/26

Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Mayday: Rapid Responses to Our Times

01/05/26

Central Hall, Edinburgh

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Susan Singfield