A Play A Pie and A Pint

The Swansong

18/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Based on a 2008 radio play by David Greig, this lunchtime musical by Eve Nicol and Finn Anderson tells the tale of a suicidal young woman saved by a talking swan. And yes, it’s as quirky as it sounds.

Lydia (Julia Murray) can’t see a way forward. After “a shit day, a shit week, a shit life,” she’s had enough. Armed with a bottle of gin and a headful of suicidal thoughts, she walks to her local duckpond, intent on drowning herself in its muddy shallows. But when she stumbles into Swan (Paul McArthur)’s nest, he offers her a deal: if she’ll come with him for one last party, he’ll make it so she can die instantly and painlessly just by clicking her fingers, any time she wants. Curious, Lydia agrees.

And so follows a wild night out, as the unlikely duo fly across the Edinburgh skies before drinking their way from bar to sex club to London sleeper train. As the hours pass, Lydia becomes less intent on ending her life. It’s not that Swan does or says anything especially profound, it’s just that he’s there, listening without judging, giving her the space and time to reconsider.

With an onstage band comprising musical director Dale Parker (piano) and Rachel Dunns (sax and flute), the music is seamlessly integrated into this latest piece for A Play, A Pie and A Pint, as Swan encourages Lydia to take to the pub stages and sing her self-penned songs. Both Murray and McArthur have soulful, expressive voices, ensuring we make a real emotional connection with their characters.

However, although the performances are faultless and the direction cohesive, I can’t help feeling that this play adds up to less than the sum of its parts. There’s clearly an allusion to Leda and the Swan, but the storylines are very different and I don’t know what I’m supposed to infer. Is it simply the collision of the human and the divine? If so, to what end? I’m also unconvinced by the Swan’s proposal: if Lydia really wants to die, she already knows how to make that happen. Surely he needs to offer something more than a slightly quicker way out?

Nonetheless, there’s no denying that, despite its dark themes, this is an engaging piece of musical theatre, and a more than worthwhile way to spend your lunch hour.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

The Legend of Davie McKenzie

11/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Another lunchtime spent at the Traverse Theatre in the splendid company of A Play, A Pie and A Pint. The Legend of Davie McKenzie is terrific, a reminder of just how rewarding it can be to lose yourself for an hour or so in an affecting piece of drama. Written by Stephen Christopher and Graeme Smith (who last season gave us Dancing Shoes) it’s the story of two hapless youths, stuck on a scheme somewhere in Scotland. They meet as kids in the 1980s and instantly bond – not over football or rugby, but their shared love of iconic action movies. But, even though they dream big, they’ve been born into the wrong lives. They’re destined to fail.

The story is narrated by Sean (Afton Moran), the less confident member of the duo. When we first meet him, he’s in a prison cell, serving out his time for drug offences. Davie (Sean Connor) has been released earlier than his pal and, returning to an empty flat and a cache of hidden drugs, has taken a one-way trip to tragedy. His death doesn’t stop him from returning to the prison, as confident and motor-mouthed as ever, ready to direct Sean through a movie he’s envisaged that will serve as Davie’s memorial. All he needs Sean to do is to find a way to get out of prison fast…

Both leads are superb and they are brilliantly backed by Ruaraidh Murray as an affable prison guard, a terrifying Cockney Geezer and a sympathetic funeral director, flitting between the roles with great skill – at one point he’s even called upon to play a helicopter! Gillian Argos’s set design is a perfect example of simple scenery that can be moved, swapped and manipulated to suggest a whole series of different locations. Director Jake Sleet keeps the momentum at full throttle as the canny script gleefully unleashes a barrage of witty exchanges and legendary film references. Can you spot them all? I think I got most of them…

Which all serves to further highlight the poignancy of the play’s final act, when Sean talks about the cost of losing Davie – what it means when your closest friend in the world steps out of the spotlight and into the darkness.

A word of warning. You may want to have a pack of tissues to hand when Sean raises a fist into the air and Simple Minds strike up a very familiar song…

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Someone’s Knockin’ on the Door

04/03/36

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Jack (Jonathan Watson) and Kathy (Maureen Carr) are recording an online chat with their granddaughter, Molly, providing her with some recollections she might be able to use in a school project that’s looking for ‘untold Scottish stories.’ Their separate reminiscences take them both back to the long hot summer of 1976, when they set off on their first ever holiday – two years after a rushed marriage, when Kathy fell unexpectedly pregnant.

In the van that Jack borrows from work, they drive to Campbeltown near the Mull of Kintyre. Jack has a hidden agenda. He’s been a rabid Beatles fan ever since he first heard the strains of Love Me Do, and now he’s nurturing a powerful compulsion to visit the secluded cottage where he knows his hero, Paul McCartney, has been spending much of his time since the world’s most famous band went their separate ways…

This first production in the new season of A Play, A Pie and a Pint, written by Milly Sweeney, is apparently based on a true story. It’s a lighthearted, whimsical piece, deriving much of its humour from the ways in which the memories of the two contributors differ in so many important aspects. The constant cross-cutting between them is the basis of the drama but the couple’s banter is not always as precise as it be and I’m left with the feeling that this piece could have benefitted from a little more rehearsal time.

There’s an attempt to draw comparisons between the break up of the Fab Four and the disintegration of Jack and Kathy’s relationship, a central premise that occasionally feels a little too forced for comfort – but I do like the fact that the play readily accepts that not every marriage is destined to last forever, a touch of realism so often lacking in drama.

Both Watson and Carr are familiar performers at PPP and both are appealing in their respective roles. Sally Reid directs the piece with a light touch and Heather Grace Currie’s simple set design successfully evokes the era. The image of a postcard – which is an important element in this supposedly true recollection – is occasionally illuminated in the background.

Someone’s Knockin’ on the Door provides a charming, if innocuous, opening to the new season – I do however occasionally find myself wishing for a little more grit in the telling.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Righ Lasgair: The Fisher King

28/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Lexie (Fiona MacNeil) and Effie (MJ Deans) have lived on the Isle of Lewis since childhood. At Lexie’s insistence, they have set off on a fishing trip to the remote Loch that she used to visit with her late father, back when she was wee. Effie has gone along with the idea, but it’s clear from the get-go she’s really not suited to the outdoor life, complaining every step of the way and much more interested in singing and chatting nonsense than pressing on with the hike.

On the long trek to their destination, Lexie spins yarns about some of the mysterious mythological creatures that are connected with this mountainous landscape. Chief among them is the elusive Righ Lasgar: The Fisher King, a creature renowned for luring his victims to their bloody deaths by apparently granting their heart’s desire. Lexie is desperate to catch fish today and, after a distinctly unpromising start, the two women begin to reel them in…

Kenny Boyle’s understated supernatural folk tale would, on the face of it, suggest that it’s an appropriate subject this close to Hallowe’en, but perhaps it’s too understated for its own good: the duo’s bickering is mostly played for laughs, which means that a late-stage attempt to shift the tone abruptly into the realms of terror really doesn’t come off.

There are other issues. While of course it’s commendable to incorporate Gaelic elements into new Scottish writing, reeling off words in the language and then repeating them in English feels ponderous. Non-Gaelic speakers should be able to work out what’s being said from the context. Furthermore, Lexie’s late-stage ‘revelation’ has no impact because it’s something that’s already been announced much earlier in the play.

MacNeil and Deans give this their best shot, and Heather Grace Currie’s set design cleverly evokes the great outdoors in the tiny space of Traverse 2. The costuming of the titular creature (played by Adam Buksh) is also pretty impressive but, sadly, it fails to generate the necessary chills to make that final gear-change work.

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Maybe Tomorrow

14/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

“Glamour and strife! Bigger than life!”

Siân Silver (Liz Ewing)’s showbiz career is careering towards the end of Sunthorpe-on-Sea’s dilapidated pier, where the seventy-five-year-old singer is gamely touting her outmoded razzle-dazzle to ever-smaller audiences for a measly £250 a week. It’s a long way from the stardom she dreamed of, but at least she’s still on stage, performing – until the theatre manager tells her she’s no longer required. Siân doesn’t know who she is if she’s not sparkling in the spotlight. What’s left when even the dregs she’s settled for are so cruelly stripped away?

Forced to confront her failure, Siân is visited by the ghost of Siânny past (Julia Murray). Young Siânny is brimming with hope and vitality, urging her future self to embody the spirit of her long-time heroine, Little Orphan Annie. Instead of bemoaning her hard-knock life, Siânny thinks Siân should focus on making the most of the years she has left. “Maybe now it’s time…”

At first, Siân’s having none of it but she soon realises she has nothing to lose. Why not step into the plucky red-head’s ankle socks and Mary Janes? After all, why should little girls have all the fun? The role of Annie is wasted on a ten-year-old! If she has to bow out, then she’ll do it on her own terms…

Written by Hannah Jarrett-Scott with music and lyrics by Brian James O’Sullivan, Maybe Tomorrow is a decidedly quirky piece of musical theatre, rife with heart and humour. The songs work well, paying homage to Charles Strouse’s original score without allowing it to overwhelm this play. Under Lesley Hart’s direction, Ewing shines as the protagonist (and not just because of her sequinned costumes), imbuing the fading performer with pathos. Siân is talented but unappreciated: of course she’s resentful; of course she’s angry at her producer-ex, who promised her centre-stage but left her in the wings. Murray provides excellent support, not only as the vivacious Siânny, but also as a series of minor male characters, with an impressive range of hats, accents and, um, farts.

An ageing Annie-fan myself, I enjoy this show immensely. It’s undeniably absurd, but somehow rather beautiful. It feels like the start of something that could easily evolve into a full-length musical production, where both themes and characters would have more space to breathe. Why not pop along to the Traverse this week and see for yourself? “You’re gonna have a swell time.”

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Cheapo

07/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Last time we saw this play – back in December – I was a little confused by the title. This version comes with a strapline that makes things a whole lot clearer – “Cheapo: chess slang for a primitive trap, often set in the hope of swindling a win from a lost position.”

Cheapo‘s previous appearance at the Traverse was part of the annual 4PLAY programme, where four new plays are showcased over four nights. It was our favourite of last year’s quartet, and I’m delighted to have the chance to watch this new iteration.

Katy Nixon’s script still resonates: her writing is spare and succinct, capturing the teenage characters’ raw emotions with devastating precision.

And their emotions are very raw. At a recent party, something dreadful happened to Kyla (Yolanda Mitchell) and she needs Jamie (Testimony Adegbite) to help her deal with the fallout. But Jamie isn’t prepared to renege on what he’s told the police – and he doesn’t understand why Kyla wants him to. In a not-especially-subtle-but-nonetheless-effective metaphor, they play a game of chess, arguing about their possible moves while fighting to avoid checkmate. The mounting tension is expertly undercut by some quirky flights of fancy, as the duo imagine how their lives might have played out in alternate universes – before coming back down to earth with a bump, still mired in the nightmare of their current reality.

The set, by Gillian Argo, is boldly emblematic: a crooked panel of black and white checkered flooring spreads up on to the wall, mirroring the chess board Jamie places on the table. A red carpet appears to signal the dangerous path the pair are on; again, the colour is repeated, this time in the takeaway food cartons that litter the table. It’s cunningly designed, with monochrome stools resembling giant pawns and strip lights that double as, um, light sabres.

Brian Logan is in the director’s chair this time, and the piece is perfectly paced, with long moments of stillness and contemplation punctuating the frenetic teenage energy. The movement is dynamic and I especially enjoy the dance sequences, as well as the way Kyla moves like a chess piece in the imaginary court scene.

Adegbite and Mitchell are perfectly cast: his earnest geek nicely contrasting with her streetwise façade. The exploration of misogyny and racism feels credibly rooted in their characters’ teenage experience, and their respective vulnerabilities and coping mechanisms are skilfully embodied.

Despite dealing with distressing themes, Cheapo is a witty and enjoyable piece of theatre, provocative but ultimately hopeful, that red carpet perhaps signifying something more positive than it first appears: an escape route for our young protagonists.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

FEIS

23/09/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

All is not well at Maguire’s School of Irish Dance. Back in the day, this Glasgow-based outfit was seen as a leader in its ghillie-footed field, when Deirdre (Louise Haggerty) won enough rosettes to paper the walls of her teenage bedroom. Decades later, the school’s fortunes are flagging disastrously and she’s been reduced to offering a ‘VIP’ service, performing online for an exclusively male clientele, who are not above offering extra money for her used socks.

Deidre’s mother, Maura (Julie Coombe), is blissfully unaware of these new measures but, when her teenage granddaughter, Aoife (Leah Balmforth), falls flat on her face at the 2023 Irish World Championships, things look pretty grim. Then Maura manages to scare off the school’s only other decent dancer and it’s clear that something has to give…

Billed as a dark comedy – though perhaps the term ‘farce’ might be more appropriate – FEIS (pronounced fesh) is a cautionary tale about ambition and the lengths to which some people are prepared to go to in oder to secure a win.

Writer Anna McGrath pursues the laughs with a vengeance, though it has to be said that the various twists and turns of the story often defy credibility and, in one particular instance, a real-life star of the Irish dance world has a pretty heinous accusation levelled against him.

Haggerty gives the lead role her all, even throwing in what looks to this novice like an impressive bit of Irish-dancing, but I remain unconvinced that anybody would go to the lengths Deidre does in order to attain her objective. Balmforth feels severely underused throughout, while Coombe’s is obliged to deliver a series of fat-shaming comments at an unseen dancer that feel somewhat at odds with contemporary thinking. (This may be the point but it feels ill-judged to me.)

Musician Brian James O’ Sullivan adds some spirited jigs and reels to the proceedings. Michael Flatley, meanwhile, was unavailable for comment.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Wallace

10/08/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

“The Scottish can’t rap!”

Thus proclaims one of the three-strong cast of Wallace, shortly before they launch into their opening salvo and prove that – hell, yes – they really can! This intriguing production, which launches the autumn season of A Play a Pie and a Pint, is obviously inspired by the success of Hamilton. It proudly proclaims that Scottish history is just as deserving of a contemporary retelling as anything that ever went on in the USA and, in that ambition, it succeeds big time.

Three friends chatting over drinks in a bar become extra-animated when one of them claims to be an actual descendent of William Wallace – you know, the guy from Braveheart. This is the precursor to a deep dive into the hero’s history, as the three players musically discuss the known facts, the probable myths and even the possibility that (whisper it) WW might not have existed.

Written by Rob Drummond, with music and lyrics by Dave Hook (who also performs alongside Patrica Panther and Manasa Tagica), Wallace offers an audacious exploration of Scotland’s most celebrated warrior, all backed by a pumping four-four beat. The trio of performers switch effortlessly between characters merely by throwing on a jacket or a hat, depicting Wallace’s supporters as well as those who fought against him in his doomed bid for Scottish independence.

Hook stays in the role of Wallace, while Tagica does a splendid job of portraying Edward Longshanks, complete with dark glasses and a red fur coat. Panther, after pointing out that women have been virtually written out of history, takes on the swaggering persona of Robert the Bruce with evident relish.

Whip-smart, caustically funny and actually pretty informative (I come out knowing a lot more about the titular Scot than I previously did), Wallace snaps from song to song and from argument to argument like the proverbial tiger on vaseline, holding the audience spellbound right up to the final triumphant chord. Snappily directed by Orla O’Loughlin, this is a perfect example of how to make history vibrant and compelling enough to dazzle a contemporary audience.

It’s pure dead brilliant.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Ivor

15/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s Scarlet’s twenty-first birthday, and she’s promised to spend it with her mum. Single-parent Sarah (Laura Harvey) is beyond excited: she’s not enjoying her empty nest, and is determined to go the extra mile for her student daughter (Alice Glass). A landmark occasion requires a significant gift – and what could be more significant than an actual iceberg?

The titular piece of polar glacier – “Ivor” – dominates both the family kitchen and the Traverse 2’s stage: a great big hulking metaphor, displaced and dangerous.

Scarlet’s not exactly delighted by the surprise. Not only is it weird, it’s also way too much. She feels suffocated by her mother’s ridiculous largesse. How now can she break the news that, in fact, she won’t be staying here after all? That she’s planning to go to London with her girlfriend, Jude (Betty Valencia), and has only popped in to collect something…

Jennifer Adam’s sprawling script encompasses ecological disaster, terrorism and helicopter parenting. The creaking, leaking iceberg symbolises more than the melting ice caps: it’s a reminder of the enormity of the task ahead for Jude and Scarlet, young women determined to save the world. Meanwhile, the petty squabbles and hypocrisies between the three loom just as large. It’s a lot to pack in to fifty minutes’ playing time and, although director Catriona MacLeod succeeds in pacing it well, I can’t help wishing there were a little less here. Valencia’s performance is strong, but I think the play would be more compelling without Jude, with a tighter focus on the mother-daughter dynamic, set against the ever-looming climate crisis.

Heather Grace Currie’s clever design almost fills the small stage with an Ivor comprising huge white sheets teased into peaks, which is quite an achievement on a small budget. Unfortunately, this affects the sight-lines, and I wonder if a more abstract construction – an up-lit empty frame, for example – might serve the piece better.

The idea behind Ivor is pleasingly quirky but, in its current form, it doesn’t really suit the PPP running-time. Given longer to develop its themes – Jude’s family’s experiences in Colombia in particular need a lot more attention – this could be a really fascinating play, with much to say about the troubled times we live in.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Night, Idiot

12/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Night, Idiot promises to be a breezy comedy of manners, with a strong focus on inter-generational differences. Dani (Zoë Bullock) and her boyfriend, Paul (Andrew Barrett), have just moved into a new flat, and they’ve barely started unpacking when Paul’s mum, Ruth (Pauline Lynch), announces a visit. Zoë’s nervous: she’s only met Ruth once before and that didn’t go well. After all, it’s hardly Zoë’s fault that Paul is still working in a coffee shop, or that his great novel remains a concept rather than anything as concrete as a finished manuscript. So it’s Zoë’s job as a paralegal that pays the rent and bills; so what? That’s up to her and Paul. But Ruth has other ideas: she wants her son to fulfil his potential. And, more importantly, she wants grandchildren. Soon.

The first third is very funny, if sometimes a little far-fetched (surely no one is ever as blunt as Ruth in their criticism of their child’s partner?). But something is clearly troubling Dani…

And then things take a darker turn…

Directed by Shilpa T-Hyland, Night, Idiot is a dynamic piece of theatre: poignant, engaging and full of twists and turns. The script – by Bullock – is clever, offering clear insight into Dani’s mental anguish as she obsessively replays events, dwelling on every Sliding-Doors moment and pondering what might have been. These glimpses into the hypothetical are slick, and I like the fact that Bullock doesn’t offer any easy answers for us or Dani, and nor does she shy away from difficult themes.

Bullock and Lynch make an appealingly-fiery central duo, while Barrett ensures Paul is a sympathetic character, despite his uncommunicative nature and ultimate cowardice. Bullock in particular gets to show off her acting chops: watch out for her so-heavily-signposted-this-isn’t-a-spoiler rendition of Shrek and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

Night, Idiot is an ideal piece for A Play, A Pie and A Pint, with lots packed into the short running time. There’s emotional heft here and I find myself really rooting for the characters. Zoë Bullock is clearly one to watch.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield