Traverse Theatre

The Flames

14/02/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

The Flames is a Tricky Hat Theatre Company for over 50s – and it’s a glorious example of the merits of community theatre. Here, twenty-two amateur performers gather to share their stories, which are then shaped into a cohesive series of vignettes by professional directors, Fiona Miller and Scott Johnston. As an audience member, I find it powerful and life-affirming. For the participants, I’m sure it’s potently therapeutic.

Thanks to choreographer Laura Bradshaw, the piece eddies and flows in a way that feels almost elemental. Set to Malcolm Ross’s gentle score, performed live on an electric guitar, the movement is precise and careful. It’s also wild at times, as varied as the tide. I especially like the super-slow-mo section – where one actor is speaking centre-stage and the others are placing their chairs and sitting on them so gradually that the motion is barely discernible – followed immediately by a change of pace, as the actors rush to surround the speaker.

The stories are short, focusing on those small moments that make a life. Love, loss, outrage, joy – they’re all here. One woman remembers a hat that saves her from falling cicadas, another a psychopath who declared his love. A widow asks if we believe in love at first sight, and recalls the day she met her husband. A shell-shocked man tells us about his wife’s cancer diagnosis. We hear about sibling rivalry, domestic violence, fun days out and so much more. Even within this not-very-diverse looking ensemble, there are myriad experiences.

The production levels are high – this is a polished and impressive piece of theatre – thanks in no small part to Kim Beveridge’s digital design. Projected onto the backdrop is monochrome video footage of the performers: sometimes in extreme close-up, highlighting their emotions; sometimes mid-shots, focusing on the bonds that have formed between them.

This is am-dram with a difference, deeply personal and beautifully crafted.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

[Un]lovable: a Work-in-Progress Performance

13/02/26

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Not So Nice Theatre Company presents a Valentine’s scratch-night with an acerbic edge, showing excerpts from five works-in-progress, all inspired by the prompt, ‘Unlovable’. In the run up to February 14th, the world is awash with heart-shaped tat and exhortations to be romantic. But sometimes life just doesn’t pan out that way…

First up is Clown Divorce, written by Russ Russell and directed by Sarah Docherty. We first meet Clown (Chris Veteri) as he struggles to push a suitcase across the stage. The visual gag is funny precisely because of its predictability: as the drawn out routine builds to its inevitable conclusion, the laughs it receives are very well-earned. Along the way, we begin to notice small details. Clown isn’t wearing any shoes, his socks have blood on them – and where is his red nose? The clue is in the title. Clown has recently divorced, and has lost half of his identity in the process…

Next, we have Wish Me Luck by Melissa Ainsworth. Cassie (Hannah-Mae Engstorm) has just been dumped and is contemplating jumping in front of a bus. Not that she wants to kill herself, mind. She just wants to grab her ex’s attention. But passer-byJamie (Jamie Cowan) isn’t about to stand by and watch it happen. Not after everything he’s been through… Directed by Adele Tunnicliff, WML has an intriguing premise, but needs more time to do justice to the complex issues it raises.

The final piece of the first act is Ryan Lithgow’s three-hander Tit for Tat, starring Veteri (again) as Nathan, Stan Ross as Darcey and Samuela Noumtchuet as Ellie. Under Cormac Myles’ direction, this is a tense dissection of a relationship, the two men veering from hurt and hostility to an uneasy admission that their anger stems from a place of love. However, Noumtchuet is under-used as Ellie: the character’s sudden, unexpected appearance ought to herald a change in pace or tone, but the men’s dialogue continues in much the same vein as before, as they rehash their past.

The standout piece comes after the interval: Emma McCaffrey’s funny and heartbreaking monologue, La Solitude, directed by Becca Donley. We’re well aware of McCaffrey’s prowess as a performer (we have seen them in Lung Ha’s Castle Lennox and Stella Quines’ Disciples) but this is our first experience of them as a playwright and I suspect it won’t be the last. The piece is beautifully written with just the right amount of levity to carry its serious points. At once laugh-out-loud funny, poignant and provocative, this is an intensely thought-provoking play. McCaffrey is Lee, a lively, engaging young woman, who – like McCaffrey – has autism and learning difficulties. We first meet her as a child, eight years old, receiving a diagnosis she doesn’t understand and which nobody explains to her. All she knows is that it makes her parents cry. As a teenager, she is isolated at school, infantilised by teachers and support workers, unable to make friends. And things don’t improve when she reaches adulthood: Lee can’t live independently, but that doesn’t mean she’s a child; it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a job, a social life, or – heaven forfend – a love life. Why shouldn’t she?

Last up, we have Defective, written and directed by Not So Nice’s own AD, Grace Ava Baker. We’re in the near future and Abigail (Indigo Buchanan) has just given birth. The Assessor (Eleanor Tate) has some bad news… With a premise akin to Minority Report, Defective explores the idea of original sin from a mother’s perspective. Is nature really so much more important than nurture? What price are we prepared to pay for a safer society? And whose word should we accept about our children’s destiny? Although the ending is a little muddled – without giving too much away, I don’t understand what Abigail does with that syringe – this is a compelling piece, raising some important questions about autonomy.

All in all, this is an thoroughly entertaining evening, a welcome antidote to all the red roses and slushy poetry.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Theatre Bouquets 2025

Another varied year of theatre-going presents us with the usual problem of choosing what we think were the twelve best shows of the year. But once again, here they are in the order we saw them.

Vanya (National Theatre Live)

“Glides like gossamer through the cuts and thrusts of a family drama – even a scene where Scott is obliged to make love to himself unfolds like a dream…”

Dr Strangelove (National Theatre Live)

“This brilliantly-staged production is a weird hybrid – part play, part film – and at times astonishing in its sheer invention…”

Wild Rose (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“A fabulously entertaining story about ambition and acceptance, anchored by a knockout performance from Dawn Sievewright…”

Chef (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Sabrina Mahfouz’s Chef is an extraordinary play, a monologue delivered in a lyrical, almost poetic flow of startling imagery…”

Lost Lear (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Dan Colley’s beautifully-conceived script intertwines excerpts from Lear with moments in the here and now, gently but relentlessly uncovering the horrors of cognitive decline…

Alright Sunshine (Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh)

“Directed by Debbie Hannan, Cowan’s taut, almost poetic script is brought powerfully to life by Geddes’ mesmerising performance: a tour de force with real emotional heft…”

A Streetcar Named Desire (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Eschews the victim-blaming that so often blights interpretations of this play and turns up the heat on the sweaty, malevolent scenario, so that the play’s final half makes intense, disturbing viewing…”

Common Tongue (The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh)

“A demanding monologue, Caw’s performance is flawless, at once profound and bitingly funny: the jokes delivered with all the timing and precision of a top comedian; the emotional journey intense and heartfelt…”

Little Women (Bedlam Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Watching events play out, I feel transported back into the cocoon of my childhood, curled up in bed reading about these faraway adolescents and their travails…”

The Seagull (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)

“There’s so much to enjoy here and not just Quentin’s perfectly-judged performance as the conceited, self-aggrandising Irina, intent on making every conversation all about her…”

Wallace (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)

“Whip-smart, caustically funny and actually pretty informative (I come out knowing a lot more about the titular Scot than I previously did), Wallace snaps from song to song and from argument to argument like the proverbial tiger on vaseline…”

Inter Alia (National Theatre Live)

“Doesn’t offer any easy answers or let anyone off the hook, but expertly straddles the fine line between trying to understand assailants without diminishing their victims…”

Susan Singfield & Philip Caveney

4Play: 4 New Plays by 4 Scottish Playwrights

12/12/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Last year, 4Play comprised four full plays, performed over two nights. This time around, it’s a truncated affair, with excerpts rather than entire scripts. The first two pieces are only ten minutes long, while the second pair are given longer to develop their themes, each with a running time of approximately twenty-five minutes.

We open with a short extract from Ruaraidh Murray’s Chips, directed by Michael Nardone and Jake Sleet. Nothing to do with the California Highway Patrol, this is a fictionalised account of a true-life tale of… microchip theft. Apparently it was a thing in the 1990s. As if breaking, entering and taking apart computers wasn’t enough of a challenge, Kaz (Christie Russell-Brown) is heavily pregnant, and her partner-in-crime, Wan (Calum Manchip), isn’t exactly focused on the job…

The second piece is Brace, written by Geraldine Lang and directed by Matthew Attwood. Paul (Jack Elvey) and Lewis (Kieran Lee-Hamilton) are apprentice scaffolders, struggling to learn their trade without any real guidance. In their business, mistakes have material consequences, and it’s the people at the bottom of the pile who have to pay. Although I appreciate that the physicality of the boys’ work is key to the piece, I can’t help feeling that it’s a mistake to spend so much time constructing the scaffolding; I’d prefer to hear more dialogue and delve further into the plot.

After the interval, it’s Sunday Palms, which is by far our favourite of tonight’s plays. From the opening soundscape – an oddly unsettling aural representation of a man returning home from work to his empty flat – to the awkward dialogue that follows the unexpected appearance of a childhood friend, Sean Langtree’s script is utterly compelling. Directed by Grace Ava Barker, the piece is immediately intriguing, and I’m fascinated to know where the story leads. Why is Brian (Daniel Campbell) so alarmed by Nathan (Langtree)’s presence? Whose victory does the title presage? Langtree’s Nathan is perfectly observed – just that little bit too needy, too edgy – while Campbell nails Brian’s discomfort, his attempts to hold to societal norms in the face of Nathan’s peculiar demands.

Last up, it’s Hunt by Andrea McKenzie, directed by Gwen M Dolan. We’re in the near future, and AI has taken over the cities. Mags (Deborah Whyte) and Joel (McKenzie) are yearning for a simpler life: to step away from their computers and connect with nature. The trouble is, they’re more familiar with tech than they are with tents, neither has remembered to pack the kettle – and how exactly do you light a fire? What’s more, Joel soon discovers that Mags hasn’t been entirely honest with her, and there’s more to this trip than she’s been told…

Reductions in length notwithstanding, 4Play – and other schemes like it – are vital to ensuring that new voices are heard in theatre. 4Play has had considerable success, introducing Katy Nixon’s Cheapo and Mikey Burnett’s Colours Run, which have both spread their wings and flown to critical acclaim. As Scotland’s new writing theatre, it makes perfect sense for the Traverse to support the event, and we’re delighted to have this opportunity to see emerging playwrights develop their skills.

3.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Arlington

06/11/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Rarely has the word ‘challenging’ felt more appropriate. Set in a dystopian near future, where an unexplained catastrophe appears to have afflicted the world, Enda Walsh’s Arlington plays out like some kind of enigmatic parable and, even after it’s finished, I cannot honestly say that I fully understand what it’s trying to say to me. But I do feel powerfully affected by it.

The play is divided into three distinct sections. In the first act, we meet Isla (Aisha Goodman), a young woman who has been kept prisoner in a Rapunzel-like tower since childhood and has only ever communicated with the outside world via a microphone to an unseen assistant. But now that man has gone, and The Young Man (Alex Austin) takes his place. He’s unsure of himself and clearly unfamiliar with the recording equipment, which leads to some genuinely awkward happenings and some caustically funny exchanges. He also strikes up an immediate connection with Isla, which eventually leads them both somewhere unexpected…

There’s an abrupt cut to the second part, which is essentially an extended dance sequence, performed by Jack Anderson – and this is, I think, the element that many viewers will find divisive. This is not to say that the piece isn’t brilliantly performed; indeed, it’s quite extraordinary, its central premise based (I think) on the many numbing repetitions that life imposes on us. At times, Anderson seems to virtually float around the stage, an ecstatic expression on his face, only the occasional flurry of sweat bearing testimony to the incredible effort he’s putting into this.

The dance goes on for – whisper it – twenty-five minutes – which according to your individual preferences will be either a joyful revelation or an ordeal to be got through.

And then we cut to the final section, where a bloodied Young Man has been made to take Isla’s place and is now being cruelly interrogated by a sardonic female voice. He’s also obliged to take part in humiliating gameshow-like endeavours, simply to be allowed to sleep…

Co-directed by Lucy Ireland and Jim Manganello, Arlington is ingeniously staged, the main action taking place on a raised dais with banks of surveillance equipment ranged below it. All too often I find myself watching events unfold via the monitors, drawn I suppose to the prurient nature of it. There’s also a huge projection screen behind the main stage on which images sporadically appear. These are sometimes very effective, especially an almost transcendental scene where Isla describes an imagined walk through a forest and it magisterially appears as she talks.

Each viewer will take from this play what they think its intention is. For me, it seems to confirm that, no matter how cruel and distancing the world may become, a meaningful relationship can always survive whatever onslaught is thrown at it – and that perhaps, in the end, love really is all that matters.

But I could be way off beam and, in a strange way, that is the play’s main strength. Those who like their theatre cut-and-dried may not warm to it but, long after leaving the theatre, some of the images linger in my mind’s eye, waiting for me to come up with new explanations for what they might actually mean.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Righ Lasgair: The Fisher King

28/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Lexie (Fiona MacNeil) and Effie (MJ Deans) have lived on the Isle of Lewis since childhood. At Lexie’s insistence, they have set off on a fishing trip to the remote Loch that she used to visit with her late father, back when she was wee. Effie has gone along with the idea, but it’s clear from the get-go she’s really not suited to the outdoor life, complaining every step of the way and much more interested in singing and chatting nonsense than pressing on with the hike.

On the long trek to their destination, Lexie spins yarns about some of the mysterious mythological creatures that are connected with this mountainous landscape. Chief among them is the elusive Righ Lasgar: The Fisher King, a creature renowned for luring his victims to their bloody deaths by apparently granting their heart’s desire. Lexie is desperate to catch fish today and, after a distinctly unpromising start, the two women begin to reel them in…

Kenny Boyle’s understated supernatural folk tale would, on the face of it, suggest that it’s an appropriate subject this close to Hallowe’en, but perhaps it’s too understated for its own good: the duo’s bickering is mostly played for laughs, which means that a late-stage attempt to shift the tone abruptly into the realms of terror really doesn’t come off.

There are other issues. While of course it’s commendable to incorporate Gaelic elements into new Scottish writing, reeling off words in the language and then repeating them in English feels ponderous. Non-Gaelic speakers should be able to work out what’s being said from the context. Furthermore, Lexie’s late-stage ‘revelation’ has no impact because it’s something that’s already been announced much earlier in the play.

MacNeil and Deans give this their best shot, and Heather Grace Currie’s set design cleverly evokes the great outdoors in the tiny space of Traverse 2. The costuming of the titular creature (played by Adam Buksh) is also pretty impressive but, sadly, it fails to generate the necessary chills to make that final gear-change work.

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Batshit

23/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Leah Shelton’s Batshit explores the prevailing notion of madness as a female malady, where women’s physical and emotional states are pathologised and othered, deemed peculiar because they differ from the ‘norm’, i.e. the male.

Equal parts cabaret, polemic and eulogy to Shelton’s grandma, Gwen, this clever one-woman show brings its disparate strands together with absolute precision. It’s a demanding piece, blending the personal and the political with compelling sincerity. 

Gwen’s story is the microcosm, neatly illuminating the bigger picture. In the 1960s, following a miscarriage, she announced she didn’t want to be a housewife any more. Crazy, eh? Her husband certainly thought so and, backed up by a male-dominated medical profession, managed to have her sectioned. Despite many months of incarceration, drugged to the eyeballs and under constant surveillance, Gwen didn’t change her mind. She must be really, really cuckoo, right? Maybe repeated sessions of ECT might encourage her to listen to reason? Spoiler: they did. Turns out that people say what you want them to if you torture them enough…

Shelton is a talented physical performer, contorting her body to mirror her characters’ contorted thoughts. The movements are exaggerated and often grotesque, but delivered with such charm and gravitas that they never seem absurd. The metaphors are writ large – there’s nothing subtle about a straight jacket or a gag – but they’re incredibly effective, reminding us that we need to be vigilant even in these so-called enlightened times. Women’s freedoms have been hard-won and we take them for granted at our peril. Have you ever heard an angry or frustrated man being dismissed as ‘hysterical’?

Directed by Ursula Martinez, Batshit is a dazzling firework of a production, its message lingering in a trail of sparks that keep me thinking long after the applause has died away. These three nights at the Traverse (23-25 October) mark the end of the UK tour, so be sure to catch it while you can!

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Black Hole Sign

08/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

There’s a great big metaphor hanging over the unnamed hospital where this dark comedy takes place. A hole has appeared in the roof of A&E and water is dripping down onto the floor. As the story progresses, so the problem steadily worsens, the ingress ever more destructive. 

But senior charge nurse Crea (Helen Logan) and her team can only soldier on regardless, doing their best for their patients, no matter what. Crea has phoned for help about the roof only to be told (by a recorded voice) that she is number 74 in a queue. Her team include her right-hand woman, Ani (Dani Heron), currently doing a bit of soul-searching about her own future; affable porter, Tommy (Martin Docherty), who has long carried a torch for Crea; and Lina (Betty Valencia), an almost cartoonishly helpless student nurse, who arrives chewing gum to ‘help her anxiety’ and who seems incapable of walking past a litter bin without knocking it over.

It’s clearly going to be a tricky night. Mr Hopper (Beruce Khan), a former alcoholic, is admitted with the fatal condition that gives the play its title, an inoperable affliction of the brain that is going to keep deteriorating and will cause his death in a matter of hours – but there’s no sign of anybody visiting him. Meanwhile, octogenarian Tersia  (Ann Louise Ross) is suffering from a urinary infection and is causing havoc as she experiences hallucinatory episodes that make her think that she is at a 1970s disco. The silver glittery shoes she’s wearing are all too real though.

At various points the play keeps cutting to an enquiry, some time later, where the members of staff have been called as witnesses and we learn that something really bad happened on that fateful night, resulting in a tragic death. It’s all too clear that somebody is going to have to pay the ultimate price for this disaster.

Playwright Uma Nada-Rajah is herself a staff nurse, who works in critical care, so it’s little wonder that, despite the sometimes slapstick levels of humour on display, the piece feels authentic, clearly inspired by events that the writer has actually experienced. It’s not the eviscerating howl of despair I came in expecting but then, such grim polemics can sometimes make for difficult viewing, so here the bitter pill has been sweetened with a shot of humour. Amidst the laughter, important points are being driven home.

It’s clear from the outset that tonight’s audience is on board with this fast-moving production, cleverly directed by Gareth Nicholls, though I must confess to being somewhat puzzled by a lengthy blackout, which – considering how little has changed when the lights come back up – seems unnecessary.

This niggle aside, the hearty applause at the play’s conclusion suggests that everyone present is in agreement with the story’s subtext. The National Health Service – one of the greatest institutions of modern times – is on its last legs and anything that forces this pressing concern into the spotlight is more than worthy of our attention.

4 stars 

Philip Caveney

Cheapo

07/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Last time we saw this play – back in December – I was a little confused by the title. This version comes with a strapline that makes things a whole lot clearer – “Cheapo: chess slang for a primitive trap, often set in the hope of swindling a win from a lost position.”

Cheapo‘s previous appearance at the Traverse was part of the annual 4PLAY programme, where four new plays are showcased over four nights. It was our favourite of last year’s quartet, and I’m delighted to have the chance to watch this new iteration.

Katy Nixon’s script still resonates: her writing is spare and succinct, capturing the teenage characters’ raw emotions with devastating precision.

And their emotions are very raw. At a recent party, something dreadful happened to Kyla (Yolanda Mitchell) and she needs Jamie (Testimony Adegbite) to help her deal with the fallout. But Jamie isn’t prepared to renege on what he’s told the police – and he doesn’t understand why Kyla wants him to. In a not-especially-subtle-but-nonetheless-effective metaphor, they play a game of chess, arguing about their possible moves while fighting to avoid checkmate. The mounting tension is expertly undercut by some quirky flights of fancy, as the duo imagine how their lives might have played out in alternate universes – before coming back down to earth with a bump, still mired in the nightmare of their current reality.

The set, by Gillian Argo, is boldly emblematic: a crooked panel of black and white checkered flooring spreads up on to the wall, mirroring the chess board Jamie places on the table. A red carpet appears to signal the dangerous path the pair are on; again, the colour is repeated, this time in the takeaway food cartons that litter the table. It’s cunningly designed, with monochrome stools resembling giant pawns and strip lights that double as, um, light sabres.

Brian Logan is in the director’s chair this time, and the piece is perfectly paced, with long moments of stillness and contemplation punctuating the frenetic teenage energy. The movement is dynamic and I especially enjoy the dance sequences, as well as the way Kyla moves like a chess piece in the imaginary court scene.

Adegbite and Mitchell are perfectly cast: his earnest geek nicely contrasting with her streetwise façade. The exploration of misogyny and racism feels credibly rooted in their characters’ teenage experience, and their respective vulnerabilities and coping mechanisms are skilfully embodied.

Despite dealing with distressing themes, Cheapo is a witty and enjoyable piece of theatre, provocative but ultimately hopeful, that red carpet perhaps signifying something more positive than it first appears: an escape route for our young protagonists.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

Night Waking

01/10/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Adapted from Sarah Moss’s novel, Shireen Mula’s Night Waking is complex and demanding, exploring motherhood, colonisation and the ramifications of history. Nicola Jo Cully performs this challenging two-hour monologue with aplomb, segueing between a range of disparate characters, convincingly portraying the protagonist’s mounting despair.

To be fair, despair seems like a reasonable response to the situation Anna finds herself in. Temporarily uprooted from Oxford to a remote Scottish island, she feels marooned, alone all day with her two young children, while her husband, Giles, conducts his ornithological research into the declining puffin population. Her own academic career has stalled since she became a mum, and her attempts to write are stymied by the overwhelming demands of childcare and housework. She’s already feeling angry and depressed – murderous, even; suicidal – so the discovery of a baby’s bones in the garden is the final straw.

And it’s not the only skeleton in the manor house’s cupboard. Giles has recently inherited the island, and historian Anna is horrified when she uncovers evidence of the atrocities his ancestors perpetrated. No wonder the locals are so unfriendly; old resentments run deep.

I love the overlapping nature of the storytelling here, the way the script skips back and forth in time, slowly peeling back the layers to reveal more about both Anna’s situation and the island’s dark history. Rebecca Atkinson-Lord’s agile direction is complemented by Hugo Dodsworth’s impressive set and video design: the projected background images jolting us from one scene to another, as scattered and disconnected as Anna’s sleep-deprived thought processes; the open grave an unmistakable metaphor for digging up the past.

However, I’m not always convinced by the content. The historical aspects are a matter of record so – shocking though it is – I can easily believe that landowners forcibly shipped the impoverished islanders to Canada, and that infant mortality rates were devastatingly high. It’s the contemporary sections that stretch credulity. Am I really supposed to accept that an Oxford professor would allow her husband’s complete abdication of parental responsibility? That an educated, well-to-do 21st century man would interrupt his wife’s work meeting because their baby won’t stop crying? Any family wealthy enough to own an entire island would surely hire a nanny if they were struggling to cope.

A play to admire, perhaps, rather than to enjoy, Night Waking is wide-ranging and ambitious, as thought-provoking as it is informative, and I find myself utterly absorbed in Anna’s tale. The play’s closing statement, revealing how little has changed for the Highland’s inhabitants over the years, provides a hammer-blow of a conclusion.

4 stars

Susan Singfield