Godzilla Minus One

15/12/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Believe it or not, Godzilla is fast approaching his 70th birthday. His first screen outing was in 1954 in Ishirō Honda’s titular film, which featured a man in a rubber suit, clumsily demolishing a miniature cardboard city. Over the years, Japanese company Toho Films has produced more than thirty motion pictures starring the giant reptile, but has never managed to equal the excitement of that first venture.

More recently, American studios have tried to get in on the act, expending billions of dollars in attempts to come up with a decent version of the tale, but it has to be said that, while they’ve usually managed to get the visuals up to snuff, the human elements – even when played by bankable talent – have been found wanting. So when I start hearing rumours that Takashi Yamazaki’s Godzilla Minus One is well worth seeing, I’m initially doubtful. Honestly? Hasn’t this idea been done to death?

I’m delighted to report that my doubt was misplaced. This is surely the best version of the story since it came into existence.

It’s 1945 and Japan is rapidly losing the war. Would-be kamikaze pilot Koichi (Ryunosuke Kamiki) bottles out of going through his final mission; instead, he touches down on the remote island of Odo, claiming a fault with his plane. But the crew of engineers based there can find nothing wrong with it. And then the island comes under attack from the big G, and Koichi fails to protect the resident engineers, who are all chomped to bits except for their officer, Sosaku (Munetaka Aoki), who brands Koichi a coward.

Later, in the bombed-out ruins of Tokyo, Koichi meets a young woman called Noriko (Minami Hamabe), who is looking after Akiko, a little orphan girl she has found abandoned in the devastation, and the three of them set up as a kind of impromptu family. Koichi thinks his luck has finally changed when he lands a paid job with a crew of men aboard a little wooden boat. Their mission is to detect and detonate some of the hundreds of Japanese and American mines that still litter the waters around Tokyo. At least, that’s what they’re told.

But of course it’s only a matter of time before that pesky reptile rears its ugly head again and decides to head ashore on the rampage…

The strength of writer/director Yamazaki’s film is that he’s provided us with human characters who we actually care about, before launching headlong into all that destruction. Make no mistake, the big action sequences are there, and they are suitably impressive – but they don’t dominate the proceedings. The balance between the two different strands is masterfully done and everything builds to a climax that has me holding my breath.

Be warned, despite a 12A certificate, this film isn’t really suitable for youngsters and I note a couple of families leaving early, their kids unable to handle the subtitles and the visceral action sequences. But big kids like me, who have despaired for years of ever seeing new life breathed into this franchise, should take the opportunity to check this one out on the big screen.

It may have taken seventy years but we finally have a Godzilla worth watching.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Maestro

14/12/23

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

Like several other recent films, Maestro has been bankrolled by Netflix and consequently ended up with a fleeting theatrical release before moving on to the streaming service. Much of the advance publicity has been caught up in the furore generated by writer/actor/director Bradley Cooper’s controversial decision to use a prosthetic nose in order to look more like his chosen subject, Leonard Bernstein, a complex issue I don’t feel qualified to wade into.

The film itself is undoubtedly accomplished and Cooper’s performance moves beyond impersonation, as he captures the composer’s restless nature, depicting him as a powerful, chain-smoking force of nature, a man constantly warring between his evident devotion to his wife, actor Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan), and the succession of male lovers that drift into his orbit. He’s also at war with himself, lamenting his inability to concentrate on the classics he loves because of his commitments to provide music for various film and broadway productions. (When these include the likes of West Side Story, it’s hard to commiserate with him.)

Set over decades, the two actors enact their roles with absolute authority, while cinematographer Matthew Libatique uncannily captures the different eras with a range of camera techniques and varying aspect ratios. The effect is that the images gradually grow in scale as the years unfold. An early monochrome sequence where the two young lovers watch of production of On The Town and end up dancing with the cast is a particular highlight.

This is perhaps a film to admire rather than enjoy, with the story so tightly focused on the central characters that supporting players are barely given the opportunity to make much of an impression. Sarah Silverman as Leonard’s snarky sister Shirley comes the closest, but she’s only occasionally onscreen. Lovers of classical music will doubtless respond favourably to the long intervals where Bernstein conducts massive orchestras and choirs in his distinctive animated style, while those who are oblivious to its charms may feel distanced and (dare I say it?) a little bored by the excesses. Happily for me, I belong to the former category.

Maestro is a handsome, brilliantly executed film, one that belies the fact that this is only Cooper’s second outing a director. (2018’s A Star is Born was his debut; thanks for asking.) Made with the full cooperation of the Bernstein family, this is something of a Marmite movie. Mulligan (who is top-billed) submits a powerful performance as a woman compelled to a lifetime of compromise and her later scenes, where she slowly succumbs to illness, are devastating.

Many will decide to wait a week or so to stream this at home but it does deserve to be seen on the biggest screen available and with a speaker system that can do justice to that magnificent score.

4 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

Wonka

08/12/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

The omens were always good for Wonka. Director Paul King and writer Simon Farnaby have already delivered two brilliant (5 star) Paddington films, but were willing to assign the upcoming Paddington in Peru to other hands in order to focus on this origin tale based around Roald Dahl’s most celebrated character. What’s more, Timothée Chalamet – who seems to have the uncanny ability to choose box office winners with ease – was signed up for the title role right from the very beginning.

And sure enough, Wonka turns out to be as sure-footed as you might reasonably hope, powered by a deliciously silly story and some sparky songs by Neil Hannon, plus a couple of bangers salvaged from the much-loved 1971 film starring Gene Wilder. Laughter, music and magic: they’re all here in abundance.

In this version of the tale, the young Willy Wonka arrives in a city that looks suspiciously Parisian (but is actually Oxford). His masterplan is to pursue an ambition he’s had since childhood: to create the world’s most delicious chocolate.

Armed with an original recipe from his late mother (a barely glimpsed Sally Hawkins) and augmented by some magical tricks he’s picked up along the way, Wonka has mastered the chocolatier’s arts to the final degree, but has somehow neglected to learn how to read. Which explains why he soon ends up as a prisoner, working in a hellish laundry run by Mrs Scrubbit (Olivia Colman, for once playing a convincingly loathsome character) and Mr Bleacher (an equally odious Tom Davis). It’s here that Wonka acquires a small army of workmates, including Noodle (Calah Lane), a teenage orphan who has mysterious origins of her own and who soon proves to be Wonka’s most valuable ally.

When he’s eventually able to sneak out and pursue his main goal, he quickly discovers that the local chocolate industry is dominated by three powerful and devious men, Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Prodnose (Matt Lucas) and Fickelgruber (Matthew Baynton), who are willing to go to any lengths to protect the stranglehold they currently enjoy. They see Wonka as a potential threat and will stop at nothing to eliminate him…

Mostly, this works a treat. Chalamet is an astute choice for the lead role, capturing the man-child quality of young WW, whilst still managing to hint at the darker elements that lurk deep within him. Lane is suitably adorable and, if the triumvirate of evil chocolate barons never really exude as much malice as you’d like, it’s no big deal. The only real misstep is the fate of the local police chief (played by Keegan Michael-Key), who takes bribes in the form of chocolate and who steadily puts on more and more weight, until he’s almost too big to fit in his car. While this fat-shaming device may be true to the ethos of Mr Dahl, it feels somewhat out of place in a contemporary story.

And of course this being a Wonka tale there must be Oompa-Loompas, played here by an orange-skinned, green-haired Hugh Grant, who is wonderfully pompous and self-possessed, yet somehow manages to be quite adorable at the same time. As you might guess, Mr Grant is obliged to dance (again), something he allegedly hates doing. He’s used sparingly through the film but still nearly manages to steal it from under Chalamet’s nimble feet.

All-in-all, Wonka is an enjoyable family film, as bright, glittering and irresistible as a bumper hamper packed with tasty treats. It’s interesting to note, however, that I didn’t come out of this feeling like tucking into some. On the contrary, a scene where Willy and Noodle find themselves drowning in a big vat of molten chocolate actually has me feeling faintly queasy.

Nonetheless, those seeking an enjoyable couple of hours at the cinema, could do a lot worse than buying a ticket for this delightful offering, which will appeal to viewers of all ages.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Nightmare Before Christmas (30th Anniversary Edition)

03/12/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Let’s talk Christmas movies. There are many cinema fans out there who will tell you that It’s a Wonderful Life provides the perfect festive viewing. Others will argue that Love Actually is the real deal. There are even a few diehards who will doggedly insist that the ideal place to spend a couple of seasonal hours is Nakatomi Plaza.

But listen up. The Nightmare Before Christmas is (improbably) thirty years old and has been rereleased in a new digital print. What’s more, it’s currently showing in cinemas across the UK in 4DX. Those looking for a cinematic treat in the run up to the festivities should take the chance to revisit its charms.

The twisted brainchild of Tim Burton, this animated fantasy adventure is more of a team effort than much of his later output. Henry Selick takes up the directorial reins, Michael McDowell and Caroline Thompson handle the screenplay and Danny Elfman composes the score – even handling the vocals for lead character, Jack Skellington (elsewhere voiced by Chris Sarandon).

Jack is the unofficial King of Halloween Town, expending all his efforts on the annual task of providing its creepy inhabitants with all the grisly delights the big night demands. But he’s become jaded with the predictability of it all and longs for something a wee bit different. When he chances upon the festive preparations happening in neighbouring Christmas Town, he spots an opportunity to make a dramatic change for the better. Why can’t his followers get in on the act? They may be a collection of undead horrors but don’t they deserve a little fun?

But of course, even the best of intentions can go awry.

Meanwhile, Jack is unaware that Sally (Catherine O’ Hara), an assembled creature put together by the villainous Doctor Finklestein (William Hickey), worships him from afar and is having terrible premonitions about this new change of direction. She wants – more than anything else – to help Jack but he seems totally focused on his new direction…

Deceptively simple yet virtually bursting at the seams with visual invention, TNBC‘s stop-frame animation provides a constant source of delight and achieves the near-impossible, managing to be simultaneously both deliciously creepy and suitably heartwarming. Indeed, the two different ingredients are juxtaposed with such panache, it’s a constant thrill to see what will happen next. One minute I’m wincing as a child pulls a horrendously unsuitable ‘gift’ from its wrapping, the next I’m sighing with relief as Santa Claus (voiced by Edward Ivory) steps up to the plate to ensure that Christmas comes in as planned. Elfman’s score is memorable and the new 3D print looks absolutely gorgeous.

The 4DX experience, normally reserved for big action blockbusters and violent punch ups, works a treat here, as we are swirled and jolted back and forth along with the frantic onscreen antics. Not sure I’m mad about the sudden stench of ‘Frog’s Breath’ that assails us at one point, but hey, it all contributes to making this a Christmas treat we’re unlikely to forget in a hurry.

Glancing around at this afternoon’s audience, I’m surprised to see that it’s entirely composed of grown-ups, which seems a shame, because kids will adore this quirky alternative to the latest anodyne Disney animation. Big kids like me will surely love it too. Win win.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

The Pantomime Adventures of Peter Pan

01/12/23

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s that time of year again – oh yes, it is. We’re sitting in the Festival Theatre, where there’s a very festive atmosphere. Behind us, two rows of Cubs and Brownies chatter excitedly, waving light-up wands and eating vast amounts of chocolate. Families, including adults, are no less giddy. Christmas outfits are clearly de rigeur: there’s an abundance of baubles and sparkle, from headbands to socks and every item in between. We’re soon caught up in the fun.

This year’s theme (and it is a theme, rather than a story) is Peter Pan. This version of the tale (written by Harry Michaels and Allan Stewart) takes the form of a sequel to JM Barrie’s original. Even though his old adversary, Captain Hook (Grant Stott) was eaten by Jock the Big Green Croc a long time ago, Peter Pan (Kieran Lynch) is in trouble: the pixie dust that allows him to fly has disappeared from the magic waterfall, leaving him grounded. He sends Tink (Rebecca Stenhouse) to fetch his old friend, Wendy (Robyn Whyte), to see if she can help. It soon transpires that somehow Hook has returned, and that he’s behind the problem… Can he and Starkey (Clare Gray) persuade the erstwhile ship’s cook, May McSmee (Stewart) and her son (Jordan Young), to rejoin his crew?

This Peter Panto is as big and bold a show as we’ve come to expect. Crossroads’ production values are always impressive: the costumes lavish, the props spectacular. The opening sequence sets the standard, with a beautifully animated video-projection that leads us straight into the fantasy. The lighting (by Jack Ryan) is very clever, transforming the same set in an instant from a pretty pastel fairyland into a terrifying red-hued pirate lair. The sound (by Guy Coletta and Andrew Kirkby) is dialled way past eleven, immersing us in Neverland. And there are pyrotechnics a-plenty too.

Pantomime survives by being endlessly adaptable, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the casting of Flawless as Hook’s pirate crew. This is a masterstroke, lending the pantomime some real edge, as the street dancers inject a dose of cool into the cheesiness. What seems on paper like an odd marriage, in fact works really well within the piece. It’s not just their awe-inspiring dance moves, but their presence as a kind of Greek chorus, observing the ridiculous antics around them and providing a silent commentary and response.

Stewart and Stott are the lynchpins, and this is a silver panto-versary for both of them. Their onstage rapport is legendary, and it lives up to the hype. They know how to work together to mine the laughs, and always give the impression that they’re having the time of their lives. Stewart is a fabulous Dame – his Aunty May can’t help but dominate every scene she’s in – and Stott clearly relishes his cartoonish villainy. Jordan Young fits in well as the still new-ish number three (following Andy Gray’s sad demise), and his clowning is superb.

There are a couple of negatives. It’s no secret that plot always comes second to tropes in a panto but the balance shifts a little too far here. The storyline gets lost: Peter Pan and Wendy are sidelined and Captain Hook’s redemption doesn’t really register. What’s more, the climactic moment when Peter Pan finally flies again (I’m not counting that as a spoiler – the only surprise would be if he didn’t) just isn’t as impressive as it should be. We’ve already seen Tink take to the air, after all, so it’s a little underwhelming when Peter just follows the same trajectory. I don’t think it helps that the cast look out into the auditorium when they’re wondering where Peter is, so that the audience follow their guidance and look up, prepared to see him appear above our heads; it’s an anticlimax when he simply descends from the flies on strings and flutters across the stage. In any other production, this would be enough, but our expectations have been elevated by the amazing animatronic crocodile and other effects.

But it seems churlish to dwell on these niggles when everything is nigh-on perfect and we’re having so much fun. The Pantomime Adventures of Peter Pan is on until Hogmanay, so grab yourself a ticket, dig out your Santa deeley-boppers and head on down to the Festival Theatre for a few hours of sheer joy.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Ox and Finch

26/11/23

Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow

We are in Glasgow, mostly for the purposes of visiting the Kelvingrove Gallery and Museum, but we’re in the mood to make a day of it and hankering for a fancy lunch first, so we put out a call on the old socials, asking for recommendations. Most of the replies we receive mention Ox and Finch, which is why we find ourselves striding along Sauchiehall Street on a brisk November morning, working up an appetite.

The place has a vaguely rustic feel, with a team of industrious chefs in the open kitchen area, poised to deliver the goods. The central premise here is small plates to share, which sounds like a great idea, so we settle into a snug booth for two and place our orders. We love the fact that, like its sister restaurant, Ka Pao, the restaurant offers a bottle of still or sparkling water to accompany the meal at no cost. More places should adopt this approach.

First up there’s a bowl of fresh sourdough with whipped butter and a generous helping of gordal olives, crisp, crunchy and infused with lemon, which makes a perfect palate cleanser.

Next up there’s whipped feta, a bowl of creamy, cheesy delight flavoured with banana chilli and fresh oregano, served with toasted flatbreads. This is so delicious, we’re glad to have a bit of sourdough left over to mop up what’s on the plate. We soon discover that pretty much everything we’ve ordered is great. This may not be the best-looking selection of food we’ve ever been served, but taste-wise, it’s faultless.

The crab tubetti is next, an indulgent and aromatic delight, little tubes of pasta in a rich chive and urfa pepper sauce, every mouthful a revelation. In hindsight, it’s hard to single out one dish in particular as the highlight, but this could well be it. There’s something in those sumptuous, sticky mouthfuls that is completely gratifying.

Next out is charred hispi cabbage and I ask you, when was the last time you were enthusiastic about a brassica? But this crispy hunk of greenery, studded with creamy blue cheese and sprinkled with macadamia nuts is absolutely stunning and the accompanying thin slices of pear provide a perfect contrast.

A couple of impressive meat dishes follow. The pan-fried pork is sublime – melt-in-the-mouth tender medallions of flesh are accompanied by smoked ham hock and wonderfully earthy butter beans – while the slow-cooked lamb shoulder stands on a mound of creamy polenta with a scattering of salsa rossa and herb salad. So far, so perfect. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking, You can’t possibly have room for pudding, can you? But remember, these are small plates, perfectly judged – and it would be silly, wouldn’t it, to come all this way without going for the full experience? Well, that’s our excuse and we’re sticking to it.

So we sample three puddings: the raspberry and olive oil mille feuille, the delectable pastry layers cooked to a crisp brandy-snap consistency and loaded with sweet filling; the Montenegro semifreddo, a cold ice cream-like confection served with poached plums and pistachios; and a coffee and praline tiramasu, which is perhaps my least favourite of the three, though that has a lot to do with me not particularly liking the flavour of Tia Maria. (Susan is a fan though and assures me that it’s one of the best she’s ever tasted.)

So, there we are, suitably fortified and ready to walk on to the labyrinthine delights of the Kelvingrove, which is little more than a stone’s throw further along the road. My only regret here is that Ox and Finch has been in existence since 2014 and I have only just found it. 

As we’re paying the bill, our waiter slyly tells us that a brand new menu is coming in just a couple of weeks’ time. Would we be up for another visit?

Oh yes, I rather think we would.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

The Snow Queen

25/11/23

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen has never been my favourite fairytale. Although there are plenty of gloriously memorable images – and the book I had as a child was beautifully illustrated – I’ve always found the plot unwieldy. Happily, in this very Scottish adaptation, Morna Young does an excellent job of clearing the dead wood, jettisoning some of the unnecessary complications and illuminating the story’s season-appropriate warm heart.

We start off in Victorian Edinburgh, where we were for last year’s An Edinburgh Christmas Carol. But we don’t stay there long: The Snow Queen is about a quest, so of course there’s an epic journey to be made. Best friends Gerda (Rosie Graham) and Kei (Sebastian Lim-Seet) are orphans, living with their respective grandparents. Every evening, they climb up onto the roof of their tenement to tend to their pot plants and plan for the future. Kei dreams of going to university, while Gerda wants to see the world.

Meanwhile, in another realm, some trolls have broken a magic mirror and its shards have caused havoc, turning Beira, the Scottish Queen of Winter, into the evil Cailleach Bheur (Claire Dargo), determined to reign forever, and never relinquish her power to Bride, the Queen of Spring. Bride (Naomi Stirrat) isn’t strong enough to overpower the Snow Queen, but she does manage to slow her down – by planting five seeds of spring inside five human beings. So far, the Snow Queen has tracked down four… and now she thinks she knows where the fifth one lies. Kei doesn’t stand a chance. Corrupted by the magic mirror, he turns against Gerda and follows the Cailleach Bheur to her icy lair. But the Snow Queen has reckoned without Gerda, and underestimated the power of true friendship…

With a lively score by Finn Anderson and some very memorable songs – including Quines Gotta Fight and the innuendo-rich A Horse with a Horn – this production is as bold and vivacious as everything we’ve seen Cora Bissett direct. Graham and Lim-Seet convince as sweet and wholesome children, while Dargo’s white witch is suitably scary. Samuel Pashby – who plays Corbie, the Snow Queen’s corvid assistant – is an excellent clown, his gymnastic capers always engaging. But it’s Hamish the Unicorn (Richard Conlon) who steals the show, which does unbalance things a little – but, honestly, it doesn’t matter a jot. After all, this is a piece of festive family fun, and it’s hardly surprising that a rainbow-farting magical beast should be the mane (sorry) attraction.

I’m a little bit in love with Emily James’ set, which mirrors (and thus closes) the Lyceum’s dress circle, reflecting the theatre back at us. It’s huge and imposing and difficult for the actors to negotiate – and therein lies its beauty. The image is as in-your-face as it gets, too direct to count as subtext, and I admire its audacity. It’s impossible to ignore. James’ costumes are wonderfully opulent too: I’m drawn to the bright colours of the flowers in the fairy garden, and to the Cailleach Bheur’s shimmering pastels.

The Snow Queen straddles the line between theatre and panto, Hamish’s broad humour contrasting with the more serious underlying themes. For the most part, I think this works, although some of the jokes don’t land as well as they might, eliciting titters rather than belly laughs. Perhaps it would be an idea to have Hamish and Corbie engage more directly with the audience, signalling the tonal change. Nonetheless, the enthusiasm with which the final rendition of A Horse with a Horn is sung suggests that even the youngest attendees are fully on board.

A sparkling delight.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Napoleon

25/11/23

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Over his long career, Ridley Scott has taken on all manner of subjects, in pretty much every genre you can name. It’s interesting to note that his very first feature film, The Duelists, was set during the Napoleonic era, so perhaps it was only a matter of time before he returned to the period and took on the story of the little Corsican – a subject that has brought many other directors to their personal Waterloo. In this particular case, it’s taken forty-six years to get there.

Some cinephiles will tell you that the ultimate Napoleon movie has already been realised way back in 1927, when Abel Gance produced a staggering version of the great man’s life under the same title. It was certainly remarkable and I speak as someone who sat through one of Kevin Brownlow’s restorations of the film in the early 80s – all five and a half hours of it (complete with a live symphony orchestra and several judicious toilet breaks). Compared to that, Scott’s two hours and thirty-eight minutes seems relatively jaunty.

Those who have complained that this version is historically inaccurate may be missing the point. Scott is clearly far more interested in the legend than the reality. It’s a matter of record, for instance, that Napoleon probably owes his defeat at Waterloo to the fact that he suffered from bleeding haemorrhoids and couldn’t sit on his horse – but that’s a film that nobody wants to see.

And yes, Joaquin Phoenix may be too old for this role, and surely needed some de-ageing for those early scenes, but he makes a great job of it, mining the man’s hubris and determination to the core, even descending into brattishness when taunted with the spectre of England’s superior navy. Vanessa Kirby offers up a more opaque Josephine, playing everything so close to her bosom that we’re never entirely sure if she actually loves her husband or merely sees him as her personal plaything. Their complex relationship is at the beating heart of this film and perhaps it would have been more fairly titled Napoleon and Josephine.

The inevitable result is that pretty much everybody else in the film is reduced to cameo roles, including Rupert Everett as the Duke of Wellington and an unusually hirsute Mark Bonnar as Napolean’s early confidante, Junot. David Scarpa’s screenplay makes a determined attempt to find some humour amidst all the pomp and misery.

But of course, Scott is the king of spectacle and if it’s battle scenes you’re looking for, there are plenty of them here, so thrillingly recreated that I find myself wincing at every explosion, every visceral thrust of a sabre. Each of the major confrontations is depicted in a different way and I particularly relish the scenes set in the Russian winter, where Napoleon is left bewildered by the fact that his adversaries refuse to meet him on the battlefield, even choosing to torch Moscow rather that surrender it to him. This is stirring stuff, the awful choreography of destruction played with absolute conviction and I cannot think of a director who could have made a better job of it.

Producers Apple Films have already announced that a four hour plus director’s cut of Napoleon is waiting somewhere down the line, and while this has worked for Scott before with Kingdom of Heaven, I’m not convinced that a longer film can hope to add much to the exhilarating theatrical release, which has me gripped pretty much from start to finish.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Play Pretend

24/11/23

Traverse Theatre

Framework Theatre is a rather special support organisation for emerging theatre-makers in Scotland, helping to build a “better, stronger, Scottish theatre sector”. It’s often said that you should write about what you know, and playwright Katie Fraser certainly does that, with this self-referential piece about, um, emerging theatre-makers, battling the old guard and forging a new way.

Actors Amy (Claire Wootton) and Greg (Gerry Kielty) are rehearsing a new piece about Flora MacDonald and Bonnie Prince Charlie. For her, it’s an exciting opportunity, her first professional role since leaving drama school. For him, it’s a backwards step; his career trajectory has been stymied by an unspecified scandal, so he’s slumming it, waiting out his time on the naughty step by directing and starring in this ‘little’ play.

To begin with, Amy is deferential, and Greg responds well to this. He’s pleasant, happy to share the benefits of his experience. But we soon see his darker side as Amy gains confidence and begins to question his peculiar interpretation of what is supposed to be a feminist play, written by ‘Harriet’, a young female playwright.

It makes sense that Greg should contrive to keep Harriet from the rehearsal room, as he tries to assert his dominance over the narrative. But Play Pretend suffers a little from the absence of this third character: I find my attention diverted from the action on stage as I wonder why she doesn’t ignore his instructions and come to see what’s happening to her play. It might be more convincing if we were to hear Greg making up outrageous excuses about why she can’t attend.

Fraser’s script comprises a series of vignettes, from which the story emerges bit by bit, the two actors learning more about each other as the rehearsal process goes on. It’s a strong idea and generally works well, although I do find myself wishing for higher stakes, and for a bolder, more cathartic climax.

Laura Valerie Walker’s sprightly direction highlights the meta-theatricality of the piece. The slow-motion transitions are effective in conveying the passing of time, moving us from one snapshot to the next, reminding us that this is all a performance, but they are too protracted, and start to become a little wearisome towards the end. The set, by Isadora Gough, with its over-abundance of tape marks on the floor and moveable furniture, reinforces the point that this is a constructed image, an illusion, designed to tell a tale.

Both Wootton and Kielty inhabit their dual roles convincingly. Wootton nails Amy’s mixture of self-assurance and desperation, her superficial politeness masking her frustration with Greg’s pomposity. She needs this part to kickstart her career, so she forces herself to put up with his condescension – but Wootton shows us what a struggle this is. It is to Kielty’s credit that we feel any sympathy for Greg: he is a bombastic, arrogant man, showing no contrition for his past aberrations and riding roughshod over the two young women he’s working with, assuming that he knows more than both the playwright and female lead about what this feminist drama needs. Nonetheless, Kielty manages to convey Greg’s underlying vulnerability, his fear at being left behind as the tide turns, his self-esteem dependent on his status.

With its artfully-woven historical and contemporary strands, Play Pretend is a thought-provoking and insightful piece about the struggles we face as we try to move towards a more egalitarian society. When you’re used to privilege, as the saying goes, equality feels like oppression.

4 stars

Susan Singfield