Lawrence Boothman

Bury the Hatchet

05/08/25

Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome), Edinburgh

I’ve long been fascinated by the case of Lizzie Borden, after reading Evan Hunter’s fictionalised account of her story back in my youth – and, of course, many people are aware of the little poem that begins, ‘Lizzie Borden took an axe…’

I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘playful’ to describe a true-crime drama before – but it’s the first word that springs to mind when thinking about Out of the Forest’s production of Bury the Hatchet. It’s not that Sasha Wilson’s script treats its grave subject disrespectfully, far from it. It’s just that the story is handled in such an offbeat and refreshing way.

This fascinating hybrid – part true-crime investigation, part re-evaluation – looks at all the different threads of the mysterious murder of Lizzie Borden’s parents in the prosperous neighbourhood of Fall River, Massachusetts, in the year 1892. With all the relevant pieces in place, it attempts to make sense of them. Wilson plays Lizzie, while Lawrence Boothman and David Leopold embody a whole cast of different characters, switching from role to role with only a token item of clothing or a simple prop to ensure I’m never confused as to who is who. And trust me, it’s a tangled tale.

At key moments, Lizzie will snatch up a mandolin, while her companions grab a violin and a guitar, and they bash out a series of bluegrass standards (at one point, even a Nina Simone classic), their voices blending in stirring harmony. In other fourth-wall-breaking moments, the actors briefly step out of their guises, bewildered by the complexity of the task they’ve taken on, pausing to question the likelihood of some of the weird evidence submitted by Lizzie in her defence.

‘She said what? Mosquito bites?’

If I’m making this sound too convoluted, don’t be misled. Bury the Hatchet is an inspired piece of theatre, wonderfully propulsive, perfectly judged and by turns shocking, intriguing and acerbically funny. Vicky Moran’s direction keeps everything bubbling away at full throttle so that the pace is never allowed to lag. This is an object lesson in how to pitch a true-crime drama – and how to hold an audience absolutely spellbound.

So was Lizzie Borden guilty of a heinous crime? Did she walk away from the gallows simply by virtue of being a prosperous white woman? Or was there another, more complex explanation for what happened to the Bordens? Whatever the case, they were brutally murdered and nobody ever had to answer for the crime.

Interested parties should make their way to the Pleasance Queen Dome to judge for themselves – and prepare to be utterly captivated by this thrilling production.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Jack

27/02/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s a wet and miserable February day, but we don’t care because A Play, A Pie and A Pint is back – and if I say the new season starts with a whimper, that’s no bad thing. Because the whimper belongs to Jack.

And Jack is a puppy.

At first, our protagonist (Lawrence Boothman) isn’t too enamoured with his Christmas present. He doesn’t like dogs. They smell and they piss everywhere and they require a lot of care. But he can’t say that to ‘Him’, his un-named partner, can he? That’d be ungrateful. “Aw,” he says instead. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

Of course, it doesn’t take Jack long to win the protagonist over, vet bills and chewed-up espadrilles notwithstanding. And when ‘He’ is killed in a car accident, Jack is both a source of comfort and a reason to go on.

Appealingly directed by Gareth Nicholls, Jack is a witty, engaging monologue, effortlessly straddling the line between acerbic humour and devastating emotion. Boothman reels us in from the opening lines and we’re absolutely with the protagonist as he mourns his lover and struggles to cope with his grief.

Liam Moffat’s nicely-crafted script paints a convincing portrait of a man adrift. The protagonist doesn’t know how to be a widower; he’s too young; there’s no template for him to follow. Heartbroken, he rebuffs his London friends but, away from the security of his crowd, he’s startled by the homophobia that denies the importance of his relationship and excludes him from his partner’s funeral.

The set, designed by Kenny Miller, is suitably simple: a raised platform with a sparkly backdrop, a single plastic chair and a ticker tape bearing captions for each successive ‘chapter’ of the protagonist’s story. Dogs really aren’t just for Christmas, it turns out.

So Jack gets this PPP off to a flying start. No, I’m not crying. You are.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield