The Alchemy of Sadness

18/08/25

Space@Niddry Street, Edinburgh

Thiago (Oscar Fabela) works at a major public relations firm but, when we first meet him, he’s stuck at home, talking via his laptop to HR operative, Aurora (Kristen Tarrago). There has been an ‘issue’ between Latino Thiago and his pushy white boss, Liam (Zachary Story), one that has resulted in Thiago being ousted from his long-established post.

But who is to blame? Liam’s relationship with Thiago has alternated between staring at him in silence, openly flirting with him and then yelling at him to shape up. Thiago doesn’t know how to deal with these wildly contrasting attitudes. What does Liam actually want from him?

It doesn’t help that the two men have recently been handling the comeback of a notorious celebrity chef, who has been widely criticised and publicly shamed for his adversarial relationships with his own workforce. Thiago’s suggestion to base the chef’s return around the launch of a new menu centred on the concept of ‘gratitude’ has been well received by everyone who hears about it – including the chef himself. But since Thiago came up with the concept, why is Liam taking all the credit?

Written by Alex Garcia Lagua (inspired by his own time as a restaurant supervisor) and directed by Leticia Mora, this tight little three-hander examines the toxic environment of the office and the various ways in which people can find themselves exploited by their seniors. Furthermore, who owns an idea? The person who first thought it… or that person’s boss? Both Fabela and Story convince in their respective roles, while Tarrago doubles as the ultra-corporate Aurora and as Thiago’s no-nonsense work-mate, Mari.

I like that the drama is relatively low key. This isn’t some massive world-shaking event: instead, it’s entirely credible, the kind of issue that can be found in any workplace and which can profoundly affect the lives of those who suffer through it.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Tom at the Farm

17/08/25

Pleasance at EICC (Lennox Theatre), Edinburgh

I have high hopes for this critically-acclaimed Brazilian adaptation of Michel Marc Bouchard’s Tom at the Farm. The eponymous Tom (Armando Babaioff) is grieving: his boyfriend, Paul, has recently died in a car accident. Paul will be buried in the rural town where he was raised, so advertising executive Tom leaves the big city behind and makes his way to the remote family farm. But he soon discovers that he isn’t welcome there: Paul’s mother, Ágatha (Denise Del Vecchio), doesn’t know that her son was gay, and his homophobic older brother, Francis (Iano Salomão), is determined to keep her in ignorance. Francis is a brutish, unreconstructed kind of guy, and his threats feel very real. Tom agrees to say nothing, so long as he can attend his lover’s funeral.

Just a few years ago, the plot might have seemed outdated: LGBTQIA+ people in Brazil have had their rights enshrined in law for many years; surely closeting has long been relegated to the past? Sadly, however, this 2011 play is all-too relevant again, as regressive regimes gain strength around the world – and none more so than Bolsanaro’s Brazil. It is no longer a safe place for the queer community, whatever their law says.

So this Cena Brasil Internacional production, directed by Rodrigo Portella, has an important message at its heart: homophobia is toxic and damaging, corrupting everything it touches.

However, I’m not as immersed in the story as I want to be. The vast Lennox Theatre feels too big for four actors, the audience too far away from the action. The staging is simple, relying on the buckets of mud and muck that engulf the space, but it’s all at such a distance; even in the front row, I’m in no danger of being spattered, or pulled in like Tom. I find myself reminiscing about a student production of The Lieutenant of Inishmore I saw back in 2014, where we were herded into a tiny room and given bin-bags to put over our clothes to protect them from the bloodshed. Tom at the Farm needs more of that: what’s the point in all the spitting and fighting and slipping and sliding if the audience experience is sanitised?

I have three other bugbears and they are both with the script. First, Sara (Camila Nhary)’s arrival unbalances the play: it’s too late and precipitates nothing. Second, the climactic, most exciting moment occurs offstage, and is merely recounted to us, which seems especially peculiar in such a carnal production. Third, I’m just a bit over the whole sophisticated city slickers vs. boorish country folk cliché.

Despite all this, there is still a lot to admire here: the performances are angry and raw, the actors’ physical commitment unwavering. The lighting (by Tomás Ribas) is stark and uncompromising, transfixing Tom as effectively as a proverbial deer, illuminating the dark heart of the farm. I like the use of golden English subtitles translating from the spoken Portuguese, and the unfurling of the Pride flag during the final bows.

Tom at the Farm is a haunting howl against prejudice, and a timely reminder that we have to keep on fighting the good fight.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield

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

Animal Farm

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

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

Weapons

15/08/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Yes, I know it’s the Fringe and I do appreciate that cinema is supposed to be taking a back seat this month, but anyone who caught Zach Creggar’s debut movie, Barbarian, back in 2022, will doubtless be as fired up for his sophomore feature as I am. Like its predecessor, Weapons is a wild ride, one that has more twists and turns than a passenger could ever anticipate. I sit spellbound as I am thrown this way and that, sometimes mystified, occasionally terrified, but never ever bored.

The story begins with an inexplicable event. In the little town of Maybrook, Pennsylvania, teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner) arrives at school, ready to teach her class – to find only one pupil waiting for her. He’s Alex (Cary Christopher) and he’s the only kid left because, earlier that same morning (at 2.17am precisely), all his classmates woke up, got out of their beds and ran off into the night with their arms held out at their sides.

Now, nearly a month after that event, the children still haven’t been located. Archer Graff (James Brolin), the father of one of the pupils, wants to know why Justine hasn’t been arrested. After all, it’s only her class that has vanished; she must know more than she’s letting on!

Archer wants an explanation and so does the film’s audience, but, just as he did in Barbarian, writer/director Creggar refuses point blank to offer a straightforward, linear narrative. Instead, he gives us seven different points of view, allowing us to gradually piece the events together as we are flung back and forth in time.

As well as Justine’s and Archer’s observations, there’s the story of what happens to mild-mannered school principal, Marcus Miller (Benedict Wong); the misadventures of Justine’s old squeeze, police officer, Paul Morgan (Alden Ehrenreich); there’s Paul’s clash with vagrant drug addict, James (Austin Abrams); and, of course, Alex’s account. Dare I mention a propitious visit by Alex’s Great Aunt Gladys (a bone-chilling performance by veteran actor, Amy Madigan), who provides the final piece in the puzzle?

I really can’t say any more about the plot without giving too much away; suffice to say, Weapons is an absolute smorgasbord of delights, by turns poignant, tense, bloody and, in its later stretches, darkly comic. It keeps me enthralled from start to finish and, happily, my initial fears that the central premise would remain unexplained prove to be completely unfounded. The explanation might be as mad as the proverbial box of frogs, but it’s right there, waiting to punch you in the kisser, then run gleefully away with its arms held out at its sides.

If Barbarian was a promising debut, Weapons is proof that horror has a brilliant new exponent. Creggar has created one of the most downright unmissable films of 2025 and I’m already hyped to see whatever he comes up with next.

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