Lewis MacDougall

Sweat

28/05/26

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

There are many people in the UK who look at what’s currently happening in Trump’s America and ask themselves what seems like a perfectly reasonable question:

“Why?”

Lynn Nottage’s 2015 play, Sweat, offers a compelling explanation. Set in the blue collar community of a steelworks in the fictional town of Reading, Pennsylvania, the story begins in 2008. We meet two young men, recently discharged from their respective spells in prison and here to talk to parole officer, Evan (Ako Mitchell). They are Jason (Lewis MacDougall), a sullen, introspective youth with neo-Nazi tattoos on his face – and Chris (Rudolphe Mdlonwa), who has emerged from his incarceration with utter faith in the Holy Bible and a determination to put the past behind him.

We are then transported back to the year 2000 and a local bar, where Stan (Christopher Middleton) rules the roost, plying his customers with shots, but knowing exactly when to warn them they’ve had enough. He’s assisted by Oscar (Manuel Pacific), a Columbian-American, who rarely speaks and is treated with cool indifference by the regular patrons. Chief among them are a trio of women, Jessie (Laura Cairns), Tracey (Lucianne McEvoy) and Cynthia (Debbie Horley). The latter pair are respectively the mothers of Jason and Chris, who at this stage in the story are best friends.

Change is afoot in the steelworks where the women have worked since their teens. There’s talk of cutbacks in salaries and equipment being mysteriously relocated elsewhere. Stan keeps warning them that they could all wake up tomorrow to find that their jobs have been moved to Mexico. Meanwhile, both Tracey and Cynthia have applied for the same management role and when Cynthia is accepted for the position, it inevitably drives a wedge between them.

And then those rumoured cutbacks start to kick in – and, as the pressure steadily rises, it’s clear that something bad is coming…

Sweat is an important play with plenty to say about the societal divisions sewn by Reagan that have led us to Donald Trump. A cleverly constructed scene when the TV in the bar appears to show a whole succession of American Presidents uttering the same empty rhetoric is key. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I begin to appreciate the impulses that have driven disenfranchised communities to seek change at any cost (I’m looking at you, MAGA and Reform). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with them, but I do begin to comprehend their collective rage. And it’s a rare play that can sway me to such a degree.

Sweat boasts a pressure cooker of a script, everything building to an inevitable violent catharsis. Joanna Bowman handles the direction with considerable skill, coaxing strong performances from every member of the cast – and I’ve rarely been so impressed by the talents of a set designer. Francis O’Connor opens with a stunning scene on the factory floor, where literal sparks are flying, before cutting to the stark floodlit interior of the prison, where Derek Anderson’s lighting comes into its own. And then the various elements that comprise Stan’s bar glide magisterially down from the rafters to create an utterly convincing American drinking hole.

The play’s abrupt and tragic conclusion leaves me suitably shattered – and the long silence before the audience applauds is testament to its power. It’s not what you’d call an easy watch, but it is a potent and eloquent piece, well worth your time and money.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Saint Joan

21/03/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Stewart Laing’s stripped-back adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan is based not on the 1923 original, but on a screenplay Shaw wrote later (presumably with an eye on Hollywood), a script which eventually made it into print in the1960s but never transitioned to the big screen. It’s a shorter, tauter version of the story, which focuses on Joan’s origins – and on her subsequent trial.

The piece is initially narrated by Chorus (Martin O Connor) as a series of action lines, inviting the audience to picture the scenes as they unfold. Joan (Mandipa Kabanda, in her theatrical debut), a sixteen-year-old peasant girl, turns up unexpectedly at the farm of Robert de Baudricourt (Thierry Mabonga), insisting that she be given a horse and a suit of armour. (Well we’ve all been there!) Voices in her head have told her that she must ride to the rescue of the city of Orléans, which is currently under siege by the English army. Those same voices assure Joan that not only can she save the city but, furthermore, she’s destined to be the one to crown the Dauphin in Rheims Cathedral.

Against all the odds, Robert is convinced by Joan’s visions and grants her request. The ensuing carnage in Orléans does appear to have a seemingly miraculous outcome with the French defeating the English, providing a turning point in the 100 years war. But of course, as we all know, history doesn’t have a happy ending planned for Joan – and all too soon, she finds herself on trial for witchcraft, judged and assessed by a bunch of toxic males, who feel threatened by her seemingly supernatural abilities. Only Ladvenu (Lewis MacDougall) finds some sympathy for her plight, but he is shouted down in the general chorus of ‘burn the witch!’

As I said earlier, it’s stripped-back and spare, but the harsh declamatory style of the dialogue sometimes makes it hard to follow proceedings – and it seems ironic that a huge blank screen standing onstage throughout is barely utilised as anything more than a handy barrier to conceal costume changes. There’s one brief sequence with a few static images and music by Charli XCX – and a longer filmed epilogue, created by Adura Onashile, which features a tarred-and-feathered Joan speaking directly to camera, evoking comparisons between her mission and the work of protestors against the current conflict in Palestine. Are social media activists channelling Joan as a prototype? This seems to suggest that they are – but, the inevitable effect is to make those earlier scenes seem even starker by comparison – and wouldn’t Joan’s immolation benefit from some suitably fiery visuals? I can’t help feeling this is a missed opportunity.

Still, this is a serious, thought-provoking performance piece with the six-strong cast moving from character to character with total commitment. MacDougall is particularly compelling as Ladvenu and Ross Mann manages to imbue elements of humour into the bullish, vengeful Chaplain. A four-way production between Raw Material, Perth Theatre, Aberdeen Performing Arts and Citizens Theatre, Saint Joan in at the Traverse until the 21st of March.

3.4 stars

Philip Caveney