Ross Allan | Bouquets & Brickbats

01/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

01/04/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Lunchtime theatre generally comes with built-in limitations – small casts, modest sets, humble props. But sometimes a production is so chock-full of joy that it effortlessly transcends all barriers. Dancing Shoes, written by Stephen Christopher and Graeme Smith and directed by Brian Logan, is a perfect example: a ‘little’ play that has a lot to say about male friendship and the pressures of trying to escape the stigma of addiction.

We are at a meeting of a support group somewhere in Edinburgh, where recovering drug addicts Craig (Ross Allan) and Jay (Craig Mclean) are eager to introduce themselves and tell us all about their friend, Donny (Stephen Docherty). He’s an older man, something of a loner, who – left to his own devices for far too long – eventually succumbed to the powerful lure of alcohol. Since his mother’s death, he’s been drinking several bottles of wine a night and has become enveloped by an overpowering sense of shame.

But after visiting the group, he’s managed to step away from temptation and is determined not to slip back into his former habits. At one meeting, the three men discuss the things that really fire them up. Donny makes a surprising admission: he loves to dance. And when Jay gets out his phone and innocently films Donny, leaping around his apartment to one of his favourite tunes, none of them is quite prepared for what happens next…

From this simple premise, a delightful story emerges – an uplifting and heartwarming tale about the pursuit of personal happiness. The script is fast-paced and acerbic, the men’s conversation often laugh-out-loud-funny, yet utterly authentic.

The story is anchored by three delightful performances. Docherty reveals Donny’s inner self, forever peeking cautiously out from behind a veneer of respectability, but simultaneously compelled to reach for new horizons. Allan is terrific as the deadpan, fatalistic Craig, all too aware of how lives can sometimes go awry. And McLean is wonderfully enthusiastic as Jay, constantly looking for ways to turn the latest events to his own advantage. These are not caricatures but fully-fleshed human beings, who carry the scars of their respective addictions deep within them.

The packed audience at this A Play, A Pie and A Pint event reward the performers with a heartfelt ovation and I’m in total agreement with them. Anybody in search of an uplifting afternoon of theatre should slip on their spangly dancing shoes and quickstep their way to the Traverse.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

26/03/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Hotdog (Chloe-Ann Tylor) is all dressed up and ready to party!

Wearing a garish hired costume and carrying a handbag, a phone and a bottle of lemonade, she’s leaving the sanctuary of her flat and heading off to an undisclosed location to strut her stuff. Outspoken and full of pent-up bile, she is determined that tonight she will be the life and soul of the party. She will dance and drink and curse and laugh out loud! She will sweep aside anybody who has a single bad word to say about her and show them who’s the boss.

But, as is so often the case, her forced exuberance only exists to mask a deeper, darker truth. Because something bad happened to Hotdog in the recent past – something that it’s going to take her a very long time to come to terms with.

Written by Ellen Ritchie and directed by Beckie Hope-Palmer, with an enchanting central performance by Chloe-Ann Tylor, the latest piece from A Play, A Pie and a Pint is an astutely observed drama that deals with the subject of trauma. Tylor (most recently seen by B&B in Same Team: A Street Soccer Story and in the fabulous Battery Park) talks directly to the audience, discussing her character’s uncompromising, no-holds-barred approach to life. She tells us about her apparent hatred of her over-protective mother and her revulsion for the kind of fridge-magnet things that people are prone to say to her.

As she chips steadily away at the brittle carapace she’s constructed around herself, the real story gradually emerges – and it’s utterly heartbreaking.

Tylor is joined onstage by Ross Allan, who at first undertakes the role of a silent stage hand, ensuring that props, music cues and sound effects are there whenever Hotdog needs them. It’s only in the poignant final stretches that he becomes Andy, the proprietor of the chippy where Hotdog tends to finish up her evenings. As in his previous role, he is exactly the helping hand she needs, the one who keeps a caring eye on her. He’s also the bearer of a truth universally acknowledged – that Joni Mitchell is the greatest lyricist of all time.

Kenny Miller’s set might at first glance seem overly complicated, but all those meticulous white lines on the floor – like Hotdog’s motivation – eventually fall into place.

4 stars

Philip Caveney