Edinburgh

Big Stuff

22/06/26

Assembly Roxy (RoxyBoxy), Edinburgh

Stuff. Love it or hate it, we’re all surrounded by it; it’s just the way we deal with it that differs. How about you? Are you a hoarder or a declutterer?

As two self-declared stuff-shunners, we’re fascinated to see what Canadian comics Matt Baram and Naomi Snieckus have to say on the subject.

We hit our first obstacle as soon as we enter the cutely-named RoxyBoxy shipping container (an apt venue). We’re given pencils, cards and a question: what object do you own that reminds you of someone you love? In my best handwriting (I’m always keen to please), I put, “the books my husband wrote,” not realising until later that it should be someone who’s dead. Philip is sitting next to me, very much alive and frowning at his card. “I haven’t got a clue,” he says. I remind him of his great uncle’s mandolin, which is hanging on our wall. “I never met him though,” he says, then shrugs and writes it down. I guess we’re really not ‘stuff’ people.

But that’s okay – because that’s the point of the show. One person’s trash is another one’s treasure and all that. Matt and Naomi are married and, unlike Philip and me, do not agree about clutter. Where Matt sees a bag full of half-used lipsticks, Naomi sees her late mum, putting on her face. Matt wants to chuck it all in a skip; Naomi wants to hold on to everything. The answer – unsurprisingly – lies somewhere in between.

Directed by Kay Sandler, this is a gently comic, life-affirming show – part love story, part obituary, part (metaphorical) communal hug. Snieckus provides the warmth – she genuinely has one of the friendliest faces I’ve ever seen – while Baram tempers the show’s more saccharine moments with his precisely-timed jibes. Their affection for one another is palpable and it envelops the audience too.

Are there any profound revelations or transformative ideas? No. But do I leave with a smile on my face and a general sense of wellbeing? Yes, I do.

I’m still a minimalist though. That hasn’t changed.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Dracula: Lucy’s Dream

21/08/26

EICC (Lennox Theatre), Edinburgh

It may be that you’re thinking, ‘Hmm. Yet another version of Dracula?’

If so, think on. I’m willing to bet that you’ve never seen an adaptation like this one. French-Norwegian theatre company Plexus Polaire present their production in the spacious environs of The Lennox Theatre, using a mix of actors and life-size puppets to depict exactly what it says in the title. This is a visual representation of the dreams of Lucy Westenra. There’s hardly any dialogue, only a series of almost hallucinogenic scenes, which flow together into a surreal hour of movement, music and puppetry.

I sit there mesmerised and can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like this before. There’s a cast of only five performers – though I only realise there are so few of them when they take their bows at the end.

First there’s Lucy, wandering around the huge stage – but then there are two of her and, an instant later, three, running back and forth between gliding stone pillars – and, of course, there’s Dracula, who shifts between human and puppet and back again, at one point even breaking into separate components and floating eerily around the stage. Yngfeld Aspeli directs with all the skill and flair of a magician.

And the truly astounding thing is, you cannot see when one thing becomes another, so seamlessly is it integrated. A couple of times I fail to hold back a gasp of astonishment as something entirely unexpected happens. How do they do that?

There’s unearthly music and chanting voices, spectral lighting effects and half-seen shapes that shift and lurch through the gloom – oh, and there’s a dog! One that that looks real enough to put on a lead and take for a walk…

The Lennox Theatre is packed and the only advice I can give is to GET THERE EARLY because you’ll want to be as close to the stage as you can possibly can be, the better to see the magic unfold. Dracula: Lucy’s Dream is quite simply, a masterpiece.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Long Way Home

20/08/26

Gilded Balloon Patter House (Snug), Chambers Street, Edinburgh

Layla Warren’s earliest memories are of war-torn Tehran, where she is sheltering in her grandparents’ basement from Iraqi bombs. Four decades and three continents later, here she is at the Edinburgh Fringe, recounting her almost incredible tale.

Warren is an engaging speaker. She knows how to turn those enormous eyes on her audience, demanding our attention. The problem is, there’s so much extraordinary information packed into the hour that it’s impossible to take it all in. It’s like listening to a podcast on triple speed. There’s five shows’ worth of material crammed into one, so that – inevitably – we find ourselves skating over the surface.

Directed by Sepy Baghaei, the best moments are those when things slow down; when we’re shown instead of told. A scene where Warren dons traditional Iranian dress and dances at her leaving party stands out, as does her blind grandmother memorising Layla’s face through touch.

There are so many incidents I want to see in more detail, to understand them better and marvel at teenage Layla’s blagging skills. A fifteen-year-old bluffing her way onto an international flight? Landing a job at a top London club? Deciding she wants a TV career so just heading to LA and finding one (the evidence is on YouTube; she was known as Layla Kayleigh then)? It’s all fascinating, but we’re only allowed a tantalising glimpse before we gallop on to the next event.

Sometimes, the breakneck speed works to Warren’s advantage, illuminating the astonishing nature of her life. More often, it undermines the importance of traumatic experiences, such as sexual assault or family breakdown. As an audience, we need longer to process these incidents.

There’s so much potential in this autobiographical show – but its depth is obscured by its overwhelming breadth.

3 stars

Susan Singfield

Amnesia

19/08/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker Two), Edinburgh

What comes to mind when you think of Rhyl? If it’s “Blackpool after a neutron bomb” or “Satan’s armpit” then you’re not alone.

For me, it conjures up fond memories. I grew up in a village a few miles inland and Rhyl was the nearest town. The Little Theatre, where I spent my teenage Saturdays. The White Rose Centre, for shops and summer jobs. Nightclubs (I was a Bistro girl). And all the fun of the fair.

For Kelly (Kimberley Hart-Simpson), it’s home. She lives on West Parade with her bestie, Amrit, in a flat above Les Harker’s arcade with a glorious sea view. Everywhere they need to go is only a short walk away: the Bryn Môr nursing home, where they both work; the Cob and Pen, where they socialise (and where Kelly’s mum performs weekly Tom Jones tribute gigs). Kelly’s happy with her life – but Amrit, it transpires, is not.

And Kelly isn’t good with change…

Hart-Simpson paints a convincing portrait of life in a forgotten town – the sort of place that politicians love to talk about but where nothing ever seems to improve. Outsiders mock Rhyl: it’s “the Costa del Dole” – somewhere to escape from. But Kelly mounts a spirited defence. She’s proud of her home, the tourist spot that spawned not only Carol Vorderman and Mike Peters, but also Lisa Scott-Lee and, well, Kimberley Hart-Simpson. No one should need to feel ashamed of where they’re from (especially when it’s as beautiful as the North Wales coast).

If this all sounds a little po-faced, don’t be fooled. Directed by Kate Wasserberg in association with Theatr Clwyd, Amnesia is a wild ride, with as many highs and lows as Ocean Beach’s infamous Runaway Train. Kelly is always in motion – even when she’s still  – and Hart-Simpson effortlessly draws our attention to her pent-up energy and frustration, fizzing fit to burst. From Ibiza nightclubs to old ladies’ bed baths, we’re under the spell of a talented actor, who knows exactly how to engage her audience. 

Although Kelly is thirty-seven, this is essentially a coming-of-age story, as she learns to accept two crucial truths: things don’t always stay the same, and her own idea of happiness is perfectly valid.

4.5 stars

Susan Singfield

The Trials of Magnus Coffinkey

19/08/26

Summerhall (Red Lecture Theatre), Edinburgh

On a stage littered with autumn leaves, the Storyteller (Rebecca Camilleri) begins a whimsical, rhyming fairytale about a doomed bell hanger called Magnus Coffinkey (Jospeh Zammit). In the middle of the night, high up in a belfry, Coffinkey is spooked, first by a malevolent gargoyle and then by a cauldron of bats. As he falls, he grabs the bell – which proves a near-fatal error. He and it tumble together, the silver bell entombing him in the graveyard.

When Magnus wakes up, it’s to find a sweet, guileless creature stealing his heart. From her, he learns that he is in The Gloom, a space somewhere between life and death. If he wants to return to the world he knows, he’ll need Harmony’s help to mend his broken ticker…

So far, so twee – but there is more to this dark fable than meets the eye. Zammit imbues Magnus with real sorrow, while Camilleri perfectly inhabits a whole host of roles, most heartbreakingly that of Harmony. The piece is, in fact, an ode to grief, Magnus’s story serving as catharsis for Lara (Camilleri), a writer trying to cope with immense loss. Cleverly, despite the allegorical structure, there are no glib answers offered here. In fact, when Lara’s husband, Jeremy (Zammit), attempts to provide the ending Lara’s struggling with she dismisses his maxims as useless platitudes.

Something deeper is required…

Co-written by husband and wife team, Malcolm and Angele Galea of Malta’s Give or Take Productions, this play is at once profound and beautiful, precise and dynamic; the script perfectly complemented by Philip Leone-Ganado’s sure-footed direction. Sam Edmunds’ imaginative use of simple lighting – a bell gobo; a couple of coloured bars; a few overhead lamps – provides the finishing touches, establishing whether we’re in Magnus’s story or Lara’s reality.

Only the most stone-hearted person could fail to cry at this play – but only the most cynical could fail to smile.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Playback

18/08/26

Summerhall (Former Womens Locker Room), Edinburgh

It’s 2013 and Euan Munro is taking his first steps as a filmmaker on YouTube. We watch entranced as clips of the cheeky eleven-year-old play on a large screen at the back of the room and we know instantly that they are too spot-on to have been faked. Then, suddenly, we’ve moved on a couple of years and now here’s Euan in person, still sporting that trademark red baseball cap – only now, he’s being played by his present-day self (aged twenty-four). We join this new incarnation as things are beginning to hot up on the YouTube front.

For one thing, Euan is still sparring with his friend, Cammy (Yana Harris) – also a YouTuber and sometimes Euan’s collaborator. Euan is initially jealous of his pal, who has more followers than he does, but then he gets his own good news. A popular vlogger calling himself Billosaurus wants to be Euan’s friend – and he lives in Iowa! After Billosaurus features Euan’s World as a hot tip on his account, the kid’s legend begins to grow. Soon he’s approaching the dizzy heights of 1000 followers!

Inspired by Munro’s own childhood experiences, this is a cleverly immersive account of the rise of a wannabe digital superstar. But he’s a naïve boy who takes everything at face value as he tries to negotiate his ascent to fame in a world where he’s perceived as easy prey. Would he maybe accept the sum of $100 dollars to show his bare feet on camera? Why not? That’s good money! Luckily, Billosaurus is on hand to advise Euan against accepting the offer, but… who exactly is Billosaurus?

And what is he expecting from this friendship?

Munro’s autobiographical play, directed by Katya Searle, is a wonderfully-affecting piece of theatre, made all the more powerful by its use of genuine found-footage. As the reality of the central character’s situation begins to dawn on him, there’s also an emotional scene between Euan and his mum (Mori Christian.) The final payoff has me welling up with tears. Though young Euan is never directly harmed by any of the people he encounters online, they are all grooming him for their own nefarious purposes – and their silent intent speaks volumes.

Chilling and compelling in equal measure, Playback is another unmissable show at Summerhall.

4. 8 stars

Philip Caveney

Jerk Off!

17/08/26

Underbelly Bristo Square (Dairy Room), Edinburgh

Don’t be misled by the title. Jerk Off! is not a bro-comedy, akin to The Hangover or The Inbetweeners. Instead, it’s a profound autobiographical play about death, abusive relationships – and hip hop.

Nadia P Manzoor is a triple threat. Not only has she penned this provocative script; not only is she a compelling actor; this woman can really dance.

Framed as a story (or perhaps a lesson) for her daughter, Rumi, the play follows Nadia in the aftermath of her mother’s death. She’s only twenty when her mother dies and she doesn’t know how to process her grief. Her British-Pakistani family want her to get married to a nice Muslim boy, but Nadia wants to spread her wings. So when her cousin Zeinab invites her to Boston, she books a ticket right away.

Boston is a revelation: an internship at Harvard (thanks, Zeinab!), a hip-hop dance class and a hot boyfriend. And if the boyfriend’s behaviour raises a few red flags, well, that’s a small price to pay for a cool new life… Until it’s not.

As well as Manzoor’s skilled performance, what makes Jerk Off! so powerful is her refusal to offer us any easy answers. There is nuance upon nuance; there are no heroes or villains here. Instead, we have a cast of flawed humans, failing and succeeding, trying their best and falling short. By the end of the play, Nadia has come to terms with the imperfect reality of who her mother was. The message to Rumi seems to be that people are tricky and love is complicated – but we can learn to make peace with that.

Engaging, informative and challenging, Jerk Off! is not to be missed.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Omar Badawy: Guided Detour

16/08/26

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker One), Edinburgh

Omar Badawy leads us on a Guided Detour through the life of a conflict-averse ‘Posh Arab’, who somehow keeps stumbling into situations where passivity isn’t an option. Take a grey London afternoon in September 2025, for example. Badawy is on his way to a Norwegian-themed fancy dress party. He doesn’t want to go but he’s certainly not going to risk an argument by telling his girlfriend that. So here he is, reluctantly making his way across the city, only to find himself in the midst of Tommy Robinson’s ‘Unite the Kingdom’ march, surrounded by far-right protestors.

Oops.

What’s a non-confrontational Viking to do?

Twenty-eight-year-old Badawy has an affable persona, relating his series of unfortunate events with a rueful, resigned air. The tone is light and the jokes are plentiful, but he makes some serious points. He just wants to get on with his life: he doesn’t want to be drawn into race-debates; why should he? Ever since primary school (a particularly funny anecdote, which I won’t spoil here), he’s been defined by his Egyptian lineage, expected to engage with identity politics.

Confident, articulate and perfectly in control of his material, Badawy is a deceptively breezy comedian. I laugh throughout the show, as if I’m watching something playful and inconsequential. It’s only later, walking home, that the more profound elements begin to assert themselves.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Endgame

14/08/26

Pleasance at EICC (Lomond Theatre), Edinburgh

Which adjective best describes Samuel Beckett’s Endgame? Depressing? Dystopian? Dingy? Dark? Take your pick. And yet this is also a funny play, full of clowning, jokes and silly absurdities. Who better to illuminate the weirdness than the wonderful Flabbergast Theatre?

We’ve been fans of Flabbergast ever since we stumbled across Tatterdamelion at 2016’s Fringe; in the intervening years, we’ve been wowed by The Swell Mob, The Tragedy of Macbeth and Paper Swans. We’re excited to see what they do with “the play that Beckett considered bleaker than Godot“.

Henry Maynard is not only Flabbergast’s founder and the director of Endgame, he’s also Hamm, the blind and dying man at the centre of this piece. Hamm is angry with life, railing against his failing body and the terrible state of the world. The view from his window, he is told, is desolate, post-apocalyptic. Something dreadful has happened out there – and it’s not much better inside his home. Hamm is stuck in his chair, unable to move, utterly reliant on the hapless Clov (Simon Gleave), who’s been with Hamm since he was a boy. Part servant, part surrogate son, Clov is cowed by Hamm, incapable of standing up to him.

The play’s most transparent metaphor is Hamm’s parents’ accommodation. Old and useless, Nagg (Derek Ellwood) and Nell (Complicité’s Annabel Arden) have been discarded like rubbish: they live in a pair of dustbins outside their son’s house, popping up occasionally to beg for food. The price for a hard biscuit is high: they have to listen to Hamm’s endless shouting about how they neglected him when he was young. His accusations are born out by Nagg’s cruel replies but their helplessness makes us sympathise with the aged couple.

Mostly, though, our hearts go out to Clov. He’s the only one who’s able to move, albeit with difficulty, and so he’s stuck caring for these dreadful people, none of whom has a kind word for him. Gleave’s expert clowning gives the play its physical dynamism, preventing it from seeming static, despite the fixed positions of the other three characters.

Skilfully conceived, this production has a clarity that illuminates Beckett’s dream-like, complex play, making it more accessible than any other version I have seen. Just as in life, death looms large – but there are plenty of laughs along the way.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Nesting

13/08/26

Summerhall (Old Lab), Edinburgh

Nesting is a difficult play – complex, ambitious and emotionally devastating. But that’s the beauty of art, right? It comes in so many guises. Sometimes it’s good to be challenged.

This one’s very close to home: it’s about a man dying of MND, the neurological condition that killed my lovely dad four years ago. Billy Mack’s embodiment of the disease is horribly accurate and I find myself crying. A lot.

Mack plays Francis, a widower who lives with his pregnant daughter, Emma (Francesca Hess). The two enjoy a close relationship, teasing and joking and looking out for each other. Emma’s an overworked teacher, and – although he’s retired – Francis is very busy too. He’s making a crib for his new grandchild, lovingly cutting and sanding the wood he’s chosen so carefully.

But there’s something wrong with his right hand…

The diagnosis of motor neurone disease, delivered by Dr Bell (Peter McCormick, who also wrote the play), is devastating.

So far, so sadly ordinary. But then we meet Gull (Michael Guest), a seagull with a mission. If Francis agrees, Gull will kill him and take over his body, stalling the disease at its current level. It’s a no-brainer, he squawks. Not only will Emma be spared the burden of caring for her dad, she won’t even know he’s gone. Francis is very tempted. He just needs some time to think.

Under Ben Standish’s assured direction, Nesting is an arresting, deliberately stagy piece. As befits the Fringe, with its quick turnaround, the set is simple yet extraordinarily effective. A wooden frame with a curtain serves as hospital ward, bedroom window, room divider, etc. Meanwhile, Guest’s performance is a masterclass in physical theatre, committed, unnerving and utterly convincing. If the metaphor is a little opaque, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We find ourselves discussing possible interpretations long into the evening.

McCormick’s script addresses the strain placed on carers too. Hess perfectly conveys the toll her dad’s illness takes on Emma, as she struggles to look after him as well as keeping up with her job and coping with her pregnancy. The impassioned speech she gives is perhaps the most memorable moment of the play. She pleads with Dr Bell to help her, explaining that the care homes she’s approached have rejected her dad because MND is too complex for them! If that’s the case, how is she supposed to cope? How can two hours of daily home help be enough?

Dark, funny, absurd, salient: Nesting is not an easy play to pin down. But it is an intensely thought-provoking drama, one that will stay with you for a long time.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield