


19/08/23
Assembly George Square (Studio 3), Edinburgh
Somewhere in the wilds of the Yorkshire Dales, there’s something seriously wrong down on’t farm.
Deborah (Helen Fullerton) is desperately trying to protect herself and her teenage daughter, Megan (Madeleine Farnhill), as a terrifying epidemic holds the country in its sway. Something is turning ordinary people into creatures to be feared. Oh, they look normal but they have developed unnatural appetites.
The situation has been ongoing for a couple of years now, and is completely out of control, but Deborah is determined to soldier on, putting her trust in her free-range pigs, the way she always has. And thankfully, the prize sow is about to farrow, which will mean a fresh supply of good, wholesome food.
As for those occasional strangers who stumble upon the farm, they are dealt with in no uncertain terms because Deborah is very handy with a rifle and she’s not afraid to use it. She’s also determined to ensure that Megan will eat her three square meals a day…
The Hunger opens with a high-octane scene and keeps the same histrionic tone throughout. Both actors deliver intense, convincing performances, but I’m less happy with the storyline, which isn’t always entirely credible. If the two women have been cooped up together for so long, why does Megan have no idea what’s happening? There’s a revelation waiting down the line but this aspect of the script conspires to defuse it somewhat and, when it finally comes, it isn’t exactly a surprise.
A tense, horror-tinged production from Black Bright Theatre, this is the kind of dystopian end-of-the-world scenario that’s currently enjoying much popularity (and there are definitely echoes of The Last of Us here), but it needs a little more light to go with all that unremitting shade. Still, it keeps me hooked throughout, and I particularly enjoy the tense, open-ended conclusion, which steadfastly refuses to allow the audience to relax as we leave the theatre.
Maybe skip the visit to the kebab house on the way home.
3.8 stars
Philip Caveney