Debbie Hannan

The Hen Night

18/06/26

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh

The fourth and final offering in Assembly Roxy’s season of A Play, A Pie and A Pint is based around an event that any Edinburgh resident will be familiar with. The Scottish capital is a regular venue for parties of the Stag and Hen persuasion – and it’s not unusual to see many such celebrations playing out simultaneously on any given weekend.

Coral has proudly announced that she is going to marry her boyfriend, Scott and her three best friends – Jade (Dani Heron), Lilac (Laura Lovemore) and Amber (Anna Russell-Martin) – have decided to give her the best hen night in recorded history. Jade will do most of the planning; she has a spreadsheet and everything. The escapade (in Edinburgh, naturally) will involve dancing and boozing and er… kayaking and… flower arranging…

So what if none of the girls are exactly over the moon about Coral’s choice of Scott, who is, to put it mildly, a bit toxic? No, they are going to make this an event to remember. And when Coral’s mysterious Irish cousin, Luna, unexpectedly turns up at the nightclub where the girls are getting utterly smashed, it’s clear from the way that all the men are fainting at the very sight of her that there’s something special about the new arrival. Something other-worldly…

The Hen Night, written by Debbie Hannan and directed by Laila Noble, is a bright and breezy production, that nevertheless has plenty of serious things say about female friendship and why women shouldn’t settle for less than they desire. The three players embody their respective roles with pizzazz and also occupy other characters, with both Russell-Martin and Lovemore portraying Coral at various points, while Russell-Martin also gives us the mysterious Luna and a surly, smirking Scott. The brilliantly simple device of a character switching around her hen night sash alerts the audience to who’s being who at any given moment.

Fuelled by the momentum of its own internal logic, The Hen Night powers along, powered by a steady diet of laugh-out-loud quips and astute observations, yet still has the skill to slam home those aforementioned serious points with utter conviction. I must confess that I had some reservations about the play based on its title, but I’m even happier to admit that my assumptions were soon dashed. This makes a satisfying final flourish to what has been an outstanding first season of PPP at Assembly Roxy.

More please!

4.3 stars

Philip Caveney

Alright Sunshine

03/08/25

Pleasance Dome (Jack Dome), Edinburgh

Edinburgh playwright Isla Cowan is making quite a name for herself in Scottlish theatre – and it’s easy to see why. We’ve watched two of her previous pieces (2023’s And… And… And… and 2024’s To Save the Sea) and been mightily impressed; today’s production of Alright Sunshine is even better: an intense monologue about being a woman, being a police officer, and the darkness lurking behind sunny days on the Meadows. 

PC Nicky McCreadie (Molly Geddes) is dedicated to her job. It comes first: before her family, before her relationships, before her health (who has time for eggs for breakfast when there’s a Greggs on the way to work?). Her dad was polis too, and she’s determined to be the kind of officer he’d be proud of… if he were alive. She’ll be as strong, as focused, as brave as he always urged her to be. She won’t give in to her feelings. She won’t cry. She won’t be weak like her mum. She won’t be a girl.

Directed by Debbie Hannan, Cowan’s taut, almost poetic script is brought powerfully to life by Geddes’ mesmerising performance: a tour de force with real emotional heft. The playful, observational tone of the opening sections – where the park’s ‘timetable’ is humorously detailed – is skilfully undercut by the gradual disclosure that all is not okay in PC Nicky’s world. She’s seen too much, given up too much, suppressed too many emotions in her bid to be the perfect policewoman. Now that carefully-constructed carapace is breaking apart and she has no idea what she’s supposed to do.

It would be a crime to reveal any more than this; suffice to say that this is a compelling play with an important message at its heart. If you can watch it without giving in to your feelings, without crying, without being a girl, then you probably need to talk to someone. Soon.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Salty Irina

10/08/23

Roundabout at Summerhall, Edinburgh

Eve Leigh’s Salty Irina, isn’t your average tale of first love, nor even of coming out – although it is both of those things. Instead, a much darker, more frightening theme emerges as Eirini (Yasemin Özdemir) and Anna (Hannah Van Der Westhuysen) embark on a reckless mission… 

They’re teenagers, so of course they think they’re invincible; of course they’re likely to take risks. Sitting in the audience, several decades ahead of them, I can only watch in horror as they convince themselves that infiltrating a far-right festival is a good idea. From a grown-up, liberal vantage point, it’s clearly a bad idea for anyone. For an immigrant? For lesbians? For two wide-eyed young girls with more idealism than guile? It can only end badly.

But Eirini and Anna want to do something. There’s been a spate of murders in their (unspecified) city and the police don’t seem to see the link. The victims are all immigrants, but – because they’re from different ethnic groups – each is being treated as an isolated case. So when the girls learn that a fascist group is holding an event nearby, it seems logical to them to don disguises and investigate. An older hippy in their squat says what the whole audience is thinking: “Don’t go!” But when have teenagers ever listened to boring know-it-all adults telling them what to do? 

It’s not until the final third of the play that Jana (Francesca Knight) appears. We’ve seen her before, acting as a stagehand, passing props, clearing the set; it’s a neat conceit. The threat she poses has always been there, in the shadows, but it’s only when the girls are isolated and vulnerable that she reveals herself.

If Eirini and Anna were older, the plot would be fantastical. Honestly, at first I think the whole thing is a bit far-fetched, but then I google ‘far-right festivals’ and discover that they really are a thing, even here in Scotland. (God knows what marketing I’ll be faced with now, as the internetty algorithms get to work.) But their age makes me ache for them: I absolutely believe that they would step boldly, naïvely into the fray, convinced that they are doing the right thing. 

Debbie Hannan’s direction is fresh and contemporary, all minimal props and non-literal interpretation. It feels as youthful as the play’s protagonists, the transitions snappy and impetuous. 

Van Der Westhuysen and Özdemir (last seen by us in Autopilot and You Bury Me respectively) are perfectly cast, embodying the journey from youthful innocence to devastating experience. 

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield