Alan McHugh

Restless Natives: The Musical

07/06/25

Leith Theatre, Edinburgh

Since it first opened in 1932, Leith Theatre has had a chequered history. Originally conceived as a gift from the city of Edinburgh, when Leith amalgamated with it (in 1920), the venue was badly damaged during the Second World War and didn’t fully reopen for business until the 1960s. Over the following decades, the doors opened and closed for a whole variety of reasons – but this year it has finally secured a 50-year lease and a National Lottery Grant. Stepping through the doors on launch night feels somehow propitious, the start of an exciting new era for this handsome and much-loved theatre.

Based upon the 1985 film of the same title, the touring musical of Restless Natives seems like an inspired choice for a relaunch. Like the film, the production is set in the 1980s. We open with members of the cast performing a mournful a cappella rendition of Stuart Adamson’s In a Big Country, the sweet harmonies coaxing genuine chills – and then we launch headlong into the story, the exploits of two young men, disenchanted with their lot in Thatcher’s Britain and struggling to make ends meet in Edinburgh.

Ronnie (Kyle Gardiner) is managing a joke shop and hates the fact that much of his regular stock is being replaced by items of tartan tat, aimed at tourists. His best friend, Will (Finlay McKillop), is earning a crust as a road sweep and, incorrigible romantic that he is, constantly searching for his one true love. When Ronnie suggests a radical new way of making dough, Will goes along with the idea. They will climb onto a motorbike, wearing joke-shop masks to disguise their identities and, armed only with a toy pistol and a bazooka filled with itching powder, they will rob coaches loaded with tourists. What could possibly go wrong?

Against all the odds, the ruse works, and it’s not long before our two modern highwaymen – dubbed ‘The Clown’ and ‘The Wolfman’ – are plying a decent trade along the backroads of the Highlands. Not only that but they are generating a strange kind of fandom, with coach passengers openly hoping that they will be the next targets. On one such robbery, Will takes a shine to Margot (Kirsty MacLaren), a vivacious tour guide and, when he meets her afterwards, can’t quite stop himself from revealing his true identity. Since her father, Baird (Alan McHugh), is the local Chief of Police, it’s evident that things are about to become complicated…

This sprightly production, directed by Michael Hoffman, and based on Ninian Dunnett’s original screenplay, has a kind of galumphing charm as it scampers merrily from one encounter to the next with barely a pause for breath. Occasionally, events do somewhat beggar belief. A scene where Ronnie visits a club stuffed to the gills with dodgy characters appears to have wandered in from a different genre entirely – comic opera, perhaps? But Harry Ward is clearly having such a ball playing Nigel, Scotland’s Most Wanted Criminal, it seems churlish to complain. Meanwhile, a visiting Texas Ranger, Bender (Sarah Galbraith), has a propensity to encourage everybody to indulge in a spot of line-dancing at odd moments and… well, hell, why not?

There’s no message here, other than ‘have a good time’ along with a kind of generalised pro-Scotland vibe. This is a romp: each member of the eleven-strong cast giving every ounce of dedication and perspiration that they have. MacLaren’s stunning vocals are a consistent standout, while Gardiner and McKillop convince as the chalk-and-cheese besties. The enthusiastic applause as the cast take their final bow is heartfelt and well-earned – and I’m already looking forward to successive productions as this venue continues to grow and flourish.

Interested parties will find Restless Natives here until Sat 21st of June (and practical jokes really are available in the foyer), before it moves on to the King’s Theatre, Glasgow.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Lena

10/08/23

Assembly George Square (Gordon Aikman Theatre), Edinburgh

Back in the olden days before there was The X Factor or Britain’s Got Talent, a certain presenter by the name of Hughie Green was the Simon Cowell of his day, fronting a shonky TV show called Opportunity Knocks. It was avidly watched, every week, by up to twenty million viewers.

I’m actually old enough to recall the fateful night in 1974 when opportunity knocked for Lena Zavaroni, a precocious nine-year-old from the Isle of Bute. She strode on to that little stage and sang a totally inappropriate song in a voice that could just as well have come from a seasoned veteran. British audiences were both shocked and delighted… and the votes flooded in.

The rest, of course, is tragedy. Lena was catapulted headlong into overnight fame, but was persuaded to move away from her parents’ council house in Scotland to live in London with her manager, Dorothy Soloman (Helen Logan). There she was groomed – there’s no more appropriate word for what happened to her – for stardom. After five consecutive wins on Opportunity Knocks, she was politely asked to step aside and then went on to tour the world. But you can’t separate a young child from her parents without dire consequences further down the road. Her father, Victor (Alan McHugh), and her mother, Hilda (Julie Coombe), could only look on in horror as their daughter’s world began to disintegrate around her….

In Tim Whitnall’s play, Lena’s story is recounted by none other than Hughie Green himself (the usual note-perfect impersonation by Jon Culshaw), while Erin Armstrong plays Lena, from childhood right up to her tragic demise at the age of thirty-five, somehow convincing us she can be all those ages without any prosthetics. Here too, a real character is uncannily recreated, complete with those cheesy costumes and that big, BIG voice. The production details have the ring of authenticity – there’s even a clap-o-meter! And if the character of Dorothy Solomon occasionally veers uncomfortably close to pantomine, well, no matter, every fairy tale must have a villain to hiss.

Lena captures an incredible true story, and I have to confess I appear to have something in my eyes as it approaches its inevitable, heartbreaking conclusion.

We’d like to think that it couldn’t possibly happen in this day and age, but a glance at the latest headlines is enough to confirm that, when it comes to the way we treat celebrities, we don’t appear to have learned anything at all.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Theatre Bouquets 2019

Bouquets&Brickbats

Bouquets&Brickbats

Bouquets&Brickbats

It’s time again to reflect on the year that has passed, and to reconsider all the wonderful (and not so wonderful) theatre we have seen. What lingers in the memory, cuts through this crowded arena even after many months? Which ideas still keep us up at night; what audacious direction still makes us smile? Here – in chronological order – are our picks of 2019.

Ulster American – Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – David Ireland; director – Gareth Nicholls

The Dark Carnival – Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (writer/director – Matthew Lenton)

What Girls Are Made Of – Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – Cora Bissett; director Orla O’Loughlin)

Electrolyte – Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – James Meteyard; director Donnacadh O’Briain)

The Duchess (of Malfi) – Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh (writer/director – Zinnie Harris)

Endless Second – Edinburgh Festival Fringe (Theo Toksvig-Stewart/Madeleine Gray/Camilla Gurtler/ Cut the Cord)

Who Cares? – Edinburgh Festival Fringe (Jessica Temple/Lizzie Mounter/Luke Grant/ Matt Woodhead/ LUNG & The Lowry)

Shine – Edinburgh Festival Fringe (Olivier Leclair/Tiia-Mari Mäkinen/Hippana Theatre & From Start to Finnish)

Solaris – Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – David Greig; director – Matthew Lutton)

Clybourne Park –  Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – Bruce Norris; director – Michael Emans)

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein – King’s Theatre, Edinburgh (writer – Rona Munro; director – Patricia Benecke)

Goldilocks and the Three Bears – King’s Theatre, Edinburgh (writers – Allan Stewart & Alan McHugh; director – Ed Curtis

Susan Singfield & Philip Caveney