It’s that time of year when we award virtual bouquets to our favourite shows from this year’s Fringe.

Once again, we’ve seen some absolutely magnificent productions, so – without further ado – here’s our pick.

Shake Rag Hollow – Assembly Rooms (Front Room)

“A powerful play that gradually builds to a shattering crescendo…”

Alright Sunshine – Pleasance Dome (Jack Dome)

 “Cowan’s taut, almost poetic script is brought powerfully to life by Geddes’ mesmerising performance: a tour de force with real emotional heft…”

She’s Behind You! – Traverse Theatre

“McKnight has the audience in the palm of his spangly-gloved hands, eliciting gales of laughter as well as contemplative silences…”

Bury the Hatchet – Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome)

“An inspired piece of theatre, wonderfully propulsive, perfectly judged and by turns shocking, intriguing and acerbically funny…”

The Other Mozart – Assembly George Square Studios

“An object lesson in reclaiming women’s history, The Other Mozart is exquisitely conceived and realised, a magnum opus in its own right.”

Lost Lear – Traverse Theatre

‘Feels worthy of its progenitor: a clever, multi-faceted drama; a treatise on the nature of life and death…”

Vagabond Skies: The Van Gogh Musical – Gilded Balloon at the Museum

“It’s when all the voices come together that the piece really dazzles, the harmonies soaring…”

Lachlan Werner: Wondertwunk – Pleasance Dome (10 Dome)

“There are elements of horror in the story, which put me in mind of the theatre of Grand Guignol…”

Macbeth – Zoo Southside

“Lively and engaging, switching from up-tempo toe-tappers to plaintive ballads at the drop of a stetson…”

1984 – Pleasance Courtyard (Above)

“It’s chilling to acknowledge that, in today’s turbulent world, Orwell’s warnings about totalitarianism seem more relevant than ever…”

Mariupol – Pleasance Courtyard (Beneath)

“Mariupol is an expertly-crafted piece of theatre, starkly illustrating the brutality of war without ever sensationalising it.”

The Insider – Pleasance Dome (King Dome)

“Every single utterance – every bump, squeak and scratch – is weirdly amplified in the crucible of my head. The result is totally immersive and weirdly compelling.”

Susan Singfield & Philip Caveney

16/08/25

Assembly George Square Studios (Studio One), Edinburgh

It seems today is the day for literary adaptations: we’ve just come from Macbeth and, after Animal Farm, we’ll be taking in Lord of the Rings. This being the Fringe, it’s not just the source material that’s wildly varied, but also the approaches taken. Macbeth (by Barden Party) is a raucous bluegrass musical rendition of the play, while Fly, You Fools! is Recent Cutbacks’ Foley-focused parody of LOTR. Guy Masterson’s Animal Farm is the most earnest of the three: a faithful retelling of Orwell’s damning political allegory, performed by one actor (Sam Blythe) with no costume changes and almost no props.

This pared-back approach is the play’s greatest strength – but also its weakness. Blythe’s performance is undeniably impressive, as he switches from animal to animal, using only his voice and physicality to differentiate between them. This works best when the creatures are clearly discrete from one another: Moses (the raven) is especially well-done, as is Molly (the prancing pony). It’s harder to tell the difference between the various pigs, of course, but Blythe is adept at ensuring we know who’s who. The story is accessibly evoked, and I like the well-placed allusions to our current societal concerns, such as “fake news” and a bullet purportedly grazing a leader’s ear.

However, for those of us who know the novella well, there’s not much new to be gleaned. This production doesn’t shine any fresh light on proceedings; it doesn’t ask us to reconsider our response. Instead, it’s a straightforward retelling of the story, which I think is best suited to an audience unfamiliar with the book, who can still be shocked and discomfited by the way things pan out.

A bravura performance of an important apologue, this version of Animal Farm is well-worth seeking out if you’ve always wondered what all the fuss is about but just haven’t got around to reading it yet…

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

12/08/25

Underbelly, (Iron Belly), Edinburgh

Nathan Jonathan’s engaging 60-minute monologue is based on his own recollections. He tells the story of ‘David’ – a Jamaican-English teenager, who, after he and his mum suffer domestic abuse at the hands of his dad, is forced to move from the city of Manchester to an unspecified small northern town.

Dumped into a local school, where he literally doesn’t know anyone, David’s is the only non-white face in evidence. Perhaps inevitably, he suffers repeated bullying at the hands of the school’s hardcase, ‘Kevin.’

It’s the early noughties and, over the ensuing four years, David navigates his way through the trials of puberty, a disastrous first date with an Emo girl he’s fallen for, and the trials and tribulations of adapting to a newly burgeoning phenomenon: the internet. In one flashback, he cuts away from the scene depicting the incident that made his mum flee their home, promising us that he will return to it…

Jonathan is an engaging and fearless performer, racing energetically back and forth across the stage of Iron Belly as he takes on a whole gaggle of characters, slipping into different accents, as he demonstrates the many pitfalls that lie in wait for luckless strangers in small towns. It’s not all dark and despairing. A scene where Jonathan goes through a series of noughties dance routines has me laughing in recognition.

There’s no doubting the commitment of this young actor/writer, though I do think that, when he finally returns to that earlier scene, he pulls his punches somewhat. I’d prefer to see the scene addressed full-on, the true horror of the situation stripped bare, thus offering catharsis to the audience.

Nevertheless, A Small Town Northern Tale is an impressive debut, one that explores racial identity without ever falling into the pitfalls of cliché.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

07/08/25

Assembly Roxy (Upstairs), Edinburgh

I haven’t seen Rob Auton performing live before, but I have heard him on The Elis James and John Robins Show and found him appealing. So I’m looking forward to this hour, my introduction to a new (to me) comedian. He doesn’t disappoint.

In what is (I learn) something of a departure for Auton, CAN is a character comedy. The eponymous ex-motivational speaker charts his ascent from an ordinary man doing a home workout to a global influencer, changing hearts and lives. And then he tells us of his descent, his growing disillusion with the whole idea of motivation, his acceptance of normality.

Can tells us it’s hard to describe our existence on earth; likewise, it’s hard to describe this hour-long story. It’s gentle and life-affirming, silly and bleak, familiar and strange. Auton’s dry, deadpan delivery belies the emotional heft; he’s mocking motivational speakers and yet somehow motivating me (just into a kind of general positivity; I’m not planning on doing anything drastic like moving the toaster…).

I don’t want to give too much away, but the hour flies by in a carefully-orchestrated onslaught of ideas. There’s some pretty standard observational stuff mixed in with the surreal; some poetic riffs and some important points. I’m sold. And I’ll be back to see whatever Auton does next.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

20/01/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

After Black Panther and Wakanda Forever, Ryan Coogler clearly needed to strike out in a new direction, and here’s the long-awaited result. While on the face of it, Sinners initially comes across like a more complex version of From Dusk Till Dawn, it’s far more ambitious than Tarantino’s film: a Gothic vampire-musical mashup, though more seriously intentioned than that description might suggest.

It’s 1936 and shady twins, Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B Jordan), return to their old stomping ground in Mississippi. They’ve been working for mobsters in Chicago for quite some time and have returned with mountains of cash and noble intentions. They are determined to set up and run a juke joint, where the local Black community can gather to drink and dance and listen to music. Of course there’s money to be made from the enterprise, but that’s almost an afterthought. Is it a problem that they’ve purchased the building and the land from members of the Ku Klux Klan?

In order to set the right tone for their venue, the twins recruit their cousin, Sammi (Miles Caton), a young musician, who – despite being the son of a local preacher – has a near supernatural ability to play guitar and sing the blues. They also secure the services of veteran musician, Delta Slim (Delroy Hatton), who is as much lured by the twins’ access to good booze as by the handsome wages they offer him.  Also present on the launch night  are the twins’ respective old flames. Smoke’s ex, Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), is a cook and ‘Hoodoo’ priestess (the latter talent sure to come in handy at some point), while Stack’s former girlfriend, Mary (Hailee Steinfeld), is a white-presenting mixed-race woman with an uncanny ability to instigate trouble.

It’s all going swimmingly until the unexpected arrival (at sundown) of a fugitive called Remmick (Jack O’Connell). He’s being pursued by Native American trackers, but they are forced to give up once darkness falls. Remmick is a wandering Irish musician with an unusual method of recruiting others to his cause. He’s a vampire… and he’s soon lured by the sounds of music issuing from the juke joint, music that he wants to claim as his own, even if he does want to bowdlerise it, make it white. But he can’t come inside the juke joint unless he’s invited…

Sinners – as you may have gathered – is a great big allegory, where the word ‘vampire’ could just as easily be substituted for ‘colonialism’. It’s handsomely filmed in 70mm and expensively mounted, meaning that just about every frame looks ravishing. The recreation of the pre-war era is beautifully visualised and the cameras linger hungrily on the details. For me, it’s the many musical aspects that provide the most memorable sections: three mournful-looking vampires harmonising beautifully on a plaintive version of The Wild Mountain Thyme; a slow and languorous pan around the juke joint where Sammi’s performance is augmented by unnamed musicians from a whole variety of different eras; and, best of all, the massed vampire hordes outside the building, bashing out a rollicking version of The Rocky Road to Dublin while O’Connell dances a frenzied Irish jig.

Not everything about Sinners is quite as assured. For one thing, having two Michael B Jordans for the price of one might seem like a great idea on paper but, when the action kicks off, I’m sometimes unsure which twin I’ve got eyes on. At times, the mumbled dialogue makes me wish I’d chosen a subtitled presentation. And furthermore, there’s a general ponderousness to the storytelling, an earnest  desire to show every last detail, that too often slows down the momentum, allowing my attention to wander. I feel sure that a tighter edit would help no end. This could lose thirty minutes and be all the better for it.

Nitpicks aside, Sinners is an unusual venture in these troubled times: a big-budget extravaganza that is neither a sequel nor a prequel, and that furthermore has no glimpse of spandex in the mix – unless you count that weirdly-dressed dude with the electric guitar, adding a frenzied solo to Sammi’s acoustic performance.

Do stay in your seats until the credits have rolled for a while. Eighty percent of the audience at the screening I attend wander off and miss an important 90s-set coda, where Sammi (now played by blues legend, Buddy Guy) is still touring the clubs – and still playing his ol’ guitar.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

05/04/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Writer/director Jed Hart’s debut feature uses the tropes of a psychological thriller to tell the mundane tale of a woman driven to distraction by her noisy neighbours. It’s a clever conceit and the resulting film is funny, tense and very engaging.

Nicky (Lyndsey Marshal) is lonely. First her mum died and then her dad; since then, their house – adjoined to hers – has lain empty. She puts on a brave face for her son when he calls from uni, and bats away her sister’s concern. She’s fine. After all, she’s got plenty to keep her occupied: her job (she’s a carer in a home for the elderly), her hobbies (baking and listening to classical music), and, of course, her beloved cat, Reggie. 

But then Deano (Aston McAuley) moves in next door, and Nicky’s fragile peace is shattered. He’s a sociable guy – way too sociable for Nicky’s liking. It’s an affront to her parents’ memory to have this loutish brute living in their house, playing loud dance music all night long. She needs to sleep…

At first, Nicky tries to be friendly, politely asking if he can keep it down. Sadly, Deano does not take well to criticism, and things soon escalate out of control. But, as Nicky starts to fight back, we find ourselves wondering: who’s the real nightmare neighbour here?

Hart’s script is well balanced, with moments of laugh-out-loud humour undercutting the tension just as it becomes unbearable. Marshal is utterly convincing as the put-upon Nicky, struggling to cope with her empty nest, while McAuley is deliciously boorish without ever straying into caricature. Barry Ward provides the comic relief as Kev, Nicky’s traffic warden pal and potential love interest. Again, despite the heightened characteristics, Kev is never a cartoonish figure; he’s a flawed but sweetly-charming bloke. 

With its moody gloominess, David Bird’s cinematography borrows horror motifs to excellent effect, ramping up the fear factor and turning a domestic dispute into something much more elemental. 

At its core, this is a story of learning to cope with grief – of digging deep to find the strength required for letting go and moving on.

But don’t overlook the fearsome battleaxe, Jackie (Kate Robbins), whose intervention is the final straw… 

4 stars

Susan Singfield