Colin Richmond | Bouquets & Brickbats

07/04/26

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

Way back in 1994, a seven-part television series aired on the BBC. The brainchild of actors Alan Cumming and Forbes Masson, it offered a surreal blend of Scottish whimsy and outrageous musical routines. Cumming played Sebastian Flight and Masson was Steve McCracken, two flight attendants working for the fictional airline, Air Scotia. These were men for whom sarcastic asides came fitted as standard. A second series was planned but never came to fruition but, over the years, The High Life achieved a sizeable cult following. Who could have foreseen that three decades later the two originators would team up with Johnny McKnight to create a stage musical inspired by that very series? And who could have predicted that it would star four members of the original cast and would be presented by The National Theatre of Scotland, no less?

But the proof is right here on the stage of the Festival Theatre, as Sebastian and Steve prepare for take off once more. Suffice to say, their old adversary, Shona Spurtle (Siobhan Redmond), is still prowling the aisle ‘like Mussolini in micro-mesh,’ keeping our two heroes well and truly under her thumb, while Captain Hilary Duff (Patrick Rycart) can always be depended on to wander in at inappropriate moments, making rambling observations about whatever happens to be on his mind. Not the flight, that’s for sure.

The sense of affection from the packed auditorium is palpable and the staunch fans’ reactions to familiar references are loud and appreciative. As somebody who has never seen the TV series, I must admit that these allusions go right over my head – but it doesn’t really matter. This is, more than anything else, utterly devoted to unbridled silliness in all its exquisite forms. The script is packed with superb one-liners and up-to-the-minute political references. The lead players demonstrate that they really can turn their boundless skills to just about any genre – and the supporting cast are (nylon) uniformly excellent. Kyle Gardiner is particularly impressive in the role of new recruit Mylie, while Rachael Kendall Brown is utterly adorable as Kylie, the stewardess who has been secretly carrying a candle for Shona.

Colin Richmond’s set and costume design are suitably ingenious, taking nylon to places it’s never been before, while Emily Jane Boyle’s slick choreography keeps the 11-strong cast striding, dancing (and occasionally crawling) across every inch of the massive stage. Director Andrew Panton handles all the rampant mayhem with commendable skill and the pace never flags for a moment.

The first act culminates in a sudden and startling manner. During the interval, Susan and I speculate about what might await us in the second. It speaks volumes that both of us are half-right and simultaneously, completely wrong about where Flight 123 is ultimately headed. The High Life goes to places most other airlines dare not venture and it’s fun to travel with them. My advice would be to get yourselves down to the Festival Theatre before this show jets off on tour.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

15/10/25

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Sometimes a particular production of a play can be a revelation. The Royal Lyceum’s The Seagull is a good case in point. Chekhov famously insisted that his plays were actually comedies – yet every time I’ve gone along to see one, I have been presented with something ponderous and rather miserable.

This inspired interpretation of the Russian’s best-known play, adapted by Mike Paulson, finally sets the record straight. While it’s indisputable that the story has a tragic conclusion, the journey there is spirited and so chock-full of acerbic humour that, from the opening lines, I’m laughing.

In the first act, the elderly and infirm Pyotr Sorin (John Bett) is entertaining his family and their friends at his country estate. His younger sister, former actress Irena Arkadina (Caroline Quentin), has brought along her son, Konstantin (Lorn McDonald), who is deeply in his mother’s thrall and has aspirations to be a playwright. Irena is also accompanied by her lover, Trigorin (Dyfan Dwyfor), a fêted young writer, though it’s clear he derives very little pleasure from his success.

Although unnerved by Trigorin’s presence, Konstantin presses ahead with a performance of his latest project. He’s enlisted the help of an aspiring actress, Nina (Harmony Rose-Bremner), who lives on a neighbouring estate. He claims to be seeking a ‘new theatrical form’ and he’s devastated when his mother airily dismisses the monologue as ‘incomprehensible.’ He’s even more upset when Nina (who he clearly adores) seems much more interested in talking to Trigorin than to him.

Meanwhile, Masha (Tallulah Greive), the daughter of the estate’s boorish steward, Shamrayev (Steven McNicholl), is hopelessly in love with Konstantin, though he seems barely aware of her existence. She views the fact that shy local schoolteacher, Medvendenko (Michael Dylan), is in love with her as something of a major irritation.

In such a tangle of unfulfilled longing, it’s inevitable that tragedy is waiting somewhere in the wings…

There’s so much to enjoy here and not just Quentin’s perfectly-judged performance as the conceited, self-aggrandising Irena, intent on making every conversation all about her. The gathering of disparate characters is well-realised, with Bremner excelling in the role of the increasingly-unsettled Nina, whose obsession with becoming an actress threatens to lead her headlong into madness. Dylan generates a goodly share of the laughs as the hapless and self-critical Medvendenko, in particular during his pithy exchanges with the local physician, Dr Dorn (Forbes Masson), who seems to have brought along enough laudanum to put everyone out of their misery.

I’m entranced by Anna Kelsey’s autumnal set design, particularly in the first act where Konstantin’s outdoor stage has an ethereal beauty. Director James Brining brings out all the nuances of Chekhov’s witty script and the piece seems to zip along, buoyed by what I assume is the simple intention of making this one of the most accessible Chekhovs you’re ever likely to see – an aim that is accomplished with élan.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney