Love the Sinner

Starving

12/03/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s December, 1972 and Scottish independence campaigner and all-round firebrand, Wendy Wood (Isabella Jarrett) is preparing to enter the fifth day of her hunger strike. She’s seventy-eight years old and this is just the latest in a long string of adventures.

It’s also December 2024 and, at the age of thirty, copywriter Freya (Madeline Grieve) is stuck in her Edinburgh flat, crippled by insecurity and afraid to venture out into the world she finds so overwhelming. She too hasn’t eaten for a while – but her hunger has more existential beginnings.

Somehow the two women find themselves occupying the same time and space. Which is all fine and dandy, until Freya checks out her companion on Wikipedia and discovers that A. She’s famous and B. She died in 1981.

Imogen Stirling’s sprightly debut play (we previously saw her performing in the fabulous Love the Sinner) flings these disparate characters together and explores what makes them so different. At the same time, it uncovers the qualities that they have in common. Director Eve Nicol has the good sense to keep the proceedings all stripped back, just a bright banner and a couple of microphones for those moments when the women need to vent their feelings – which they both do, volubly and admirably.

Jarrett is quite awesome as Wendy, staunch, bold and ever resistant to the idea of being told ‘no!’ (After the show, I also look Wood up on Wikipedia, and it’s quite the eye-opener). As Freya, Grieve handles her more nuanced character with absolute assurance. I find myself alternately amused and amazed by the breadth of the material covered here, and there’s plenty to make me think about the various political issues that are touched on. I also love the play’s exuberant conclusion, the two protagonists joining together in a rousing rap about the need for freedom.

Once again, A Play, A Pie and A Pint have come up with a production designed to brighten your afternoon. Don’t miss your chance to share it.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney

Love the Sinner

17/05/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The seven deadly sins have been a source of inspiration for many writers over the centuries. This fabulous interpretation from poet/performer Imogen Stirling gives them a powerful contemporary relevance. Conceived during lockdown, it’s an assured piece of gig theatre, which takes those seven infamous traits and reimagines them as everyday people, living in a contemporary city beset by a near-apocalyptic rainstorm. We’re in Glasgow and the Clyde is threatening to burst its banks.

It’s here that our protagonist, Sloth, finally stirs herself from the bed she’s been lying in for far too long and ventures out onto the rain-lashed streets to attend a party hosted by her friend, Gluttony. Stirling’s playful and incisive words evoke a whole series of familiar tropes – the social-media obsessed millennial, the guilt-afflicted porn addict, the business-centred entrepreneur intent on looking good at all times. But these are more than just stock characters: Stirling’s astute words skewer them, imbuing each of them with a cinematic clarity, bringing them to life as she reveals their flaws and strengths.

This is by no means a solo endeavour. Stirling’s verbal observations are accompanied by musician Sonia Killmann’s ominous soundscapes. She sits front of stage, conjuring pulsing, vibrant music and occasionally lending her vocals to Stirling as they sing together in lilting harmony. Behind the performers, Ellie Thompson’s enthralling video and projection designs offer atmospheric images of the city at night and tantalising glimpses of out-of-focus characters reacting to Stirling’s monologue. Matthew Lenton directs the whole endeavour with great skill, helming the piece to its powerful and frenetic conclusion.

As the last chords fade, I find myself applauding enthusiastically with the rest of the packed audience and wishing there could be some kind of encore – but how would you follow this?

Love the Sinner is a mesmerising piece of theatre. Catch it if you can.

4. 6 stars

Philip Caveney