The James Plays (Festival Theatre: 3 – 13 Feb.’16)

Posted in 4*, Festival Theatre, Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre by Alan Brown

Steven Miller (James I) Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

“‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.”

‘Poisoned dresses are something out of children’s stories … if you want to kill her. Put a knife in her’, which would explain, right enough, why there is a whopping great sword on the boards. Still, The James Plays do imply – with a nod and a wink and a catchy dance step – that the Scots are one wicked antidote to the English. They also, with stirring ease, bring on guid strong women. Admire (or not) the toxic fortitude and murderous determinations of James I, II, and III but applaud Queens Joan, Mary and Margaret and give thanks for Annabella, Meg and Phemy.

There is no shortage of bloodletting in Rona Munro’s gutsy trilogy of how to keep head and crown together – in fact the ginormous sword runs with the red stuff – but actually the property of the piece is the kist in the bedroom. That’s ‘proper furniture’ [that chest], with a hundred uses’. You can hide a boy king in it for a start – and ‘drop it out of the window and brain any bastard climbing up the castle’. Munro’s writing is like that: hands-on, unhesitating and constructive.

Best, if you can, to see the plays in order – that’s from 1420 to 1488; and although they’re too inventive and complete to be Horrible Histories they do, in their savage and entertaining scenes, come pretty close: in James I, for instance, when Walter Stewart nails horseshoes to the hands and feet of one of his tenants, old Ada, for scolding him; or in James II when the young king peeks out of his kist to see his mother about to have sex with her ‘protector’ John Stewart. Too many Stewarts? Well, there’s always a Douglas on the make and by the time of the bi-sexual James III, there’s his lover, architect Cochrane, and fine wine and madrigals before all else, especially trying to rule Scotland.

Laurie Sansom’s convinced direction and Jon Bausor’s set design, with drawbridge, allow a febrile exchange between private and public space. The royal four-poster is closely guarded and/or spied upon, take your pick, and the king swings his sword on its canopy. When Parliament assembles it is alongside an audience on stage. The throne is up there too, occasionally occupied, but the space also doubles as a tower room where Isabella Stewart is held captive and spins out her prophetic misery.

Blythe Duff (Isabella Stewart) in James I & II Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

That’s Blythe Duff as Isabella and as Annabella in James III and it is, again, a terrific performance. She reprises the roles from the original 2014 production with the same astringent glee and love. She’s there at the very end, dressing the new king with clothes and jewels and with an absolute definition of understatement: ‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.

And, yes, these dramatised chronicles do at times go on … and on. The squabbling lords might get to you, as they certainly did to James III, or it might just be that the set-piece addresses to the Three (male) Estates are too PC, too YES-NO referendum freighted for your taste, or that you find staged medieval football awkward, but then there’s the wheel of fortune to turn and it’s a mighty one to get going and even harder to brake. These are, after all, history plays and since when were they short and sweet?

Matthew Pidgeon (King James III) in James III
Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

Go into the National Museum of Scotland, as I did in-between plays. You’ll find wolves on level 1, ‘Beginnings’, and they certainly belong in the nightmare sequences of James II, but search further and there ain’t too much in the Kingdom of the Scots: one small panel for each of ‘our’ Jamies and arrowheads from the walls of Threave Castle. More fun certainly, more knowledge possibly, is to be had watching Peter Forbes as gross, droll, Balvenie stacking up the Douglas lands; or see Dani Heron as Phemy, 15, assault a guard who’s presuming to search the queen’s rooms. Ballsy! And then there are the sovereign roles: Steven Miller as James I, the poet king, keyed up, commanding in the thick of it but who would have given everything to pen ‘Love, love me do’ in his time; rangy Andrew Rothney as James II, damaged and vulnerable, but who has that majesty thing ; and Matthew Pidgeon as James III, truth seeker, rascal man, outrageous king in black patent winklepickers , only matched by his virtuous Danish queen, Margaret, played by Swedish actress Malin Crepin, naturally.

I saw The James Plays in 2014, when I had been reviewing Fringe shows, and was disconcerted by the numbers on stage and by the sheer size of the venture. In review terms it was a stand-off. Now, second time around, I’d call it all audacious and vivid. Showstoppers with attitude.

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 6 February)

Go to The James Plays at the Festival Theatre and to the National Theatre of Scotland

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5Feb2016

The Pillowman (Bedlam Theatre 2 – 6 Feb. ’16)

Posted in 4*, Bedlam, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre by Jacob Close

Scott Meenan as Katurian. Photo: Mollie Hodkinson

“This show will wring the life out of you, in the best way possible.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars Outstanding

Pillowman is to dark comedy what heroin is to vapor rub. Martin McDonagh’s tale of bloody flesh and fairytales is dark, dirty and sometimes barefacedly brutal – and in the hands of director Emily Aboud, often stingingly clever as well.

Set in a faceless concrete prison, ‘Pillowman’ tells the story of writer Katurian questioned about gory child murders strongly resembling the short stories he writes. Throw in a heaping helping of torture, a pinch of weirdly psychotic police banter and as much moral relativism as you can stomach, and you’ve got a play which (despite quite a few good laughs) stays tensely uncomfortable the entire way through. Make no mistakes: this show will wring the life out of you, in the best way possible.

But a script without a director doesn’t get too far, and with Emily Aboud returning to the stage after her barnstorming production of Equus, there’s never any doubt it’s in safe hands. Apart from some strangely static blocking at the beginning, her overall vision for the production strikes gold: McDonagh’s work feels just as grittily surreal as it should.

And on the note of surreality, the set for this production is a gem- it’s not often I’ve seen twists dependent entirely on clever set design, let alone done so with such skill. There were some design choices, though, which seemed less prudent than others: a series of videos projected onto the stage wall would have had twice the impact if performed live. Whilst the presentation detracted nothing, it was slightly disappointing to think of its potential. And to sound designer Alex Greenwald, I’ll say only this: The low ambient drone? Fantastically slithery.

Luckily, the propitious problem of wasted potential is brilliantly absent from the cast. Theatre veteran Scott Meenan captures the quiet intensity of Katurian excellently. Subtle yet passionate is a hard duality to pull off, so it was a joy to see it done so well. And even more so when combined with Douglas Clark as Michal: the burden of the fool in black comedy is a heavy one, but Clark makes the part feel as natural as breathing.

Hot off the heels of EUSOG’s Addams Family, Esmee Cook expertly runs the emotional gamut as wonderfully sadistic second-in-command Ariel – but the indisputable star of the police parade is Paddy Echlin as Detective Tupolski. Sardonic and hilariously removed from normal logic, Echlin dominated the stage whenever his annoyingly wrong tie came flapping through the set doors.

The supporting cast were noticeably solid, especially in terms of physical theatre – Sian Davies in particular has a peculiar knack for playing tragically adorable kids.

With such energy and dynamism throughout, however, it was a disappointment to see the production fall into the trap of lengthy and jarring set changes. For a piece which, in every other aspect, set up a wonderfully naturalistic and believable surreality of tone, these seemed like a strange choice. They were luckily few and far between, but are still a bit like stopping a delicious meal to eat a couple of handfuls of packing peanuts.

Overall, I was impressed by Pillowman. It has creative and well-crafted direction and maintains the kind of thick atmosphere most other shows could only dream of (although, making the Bedlam Theatre feel like a freezing cell requires little help). Combine with stellar acting and a well-chosen crew, and you’ve got a production that’ll knock your socks off – and then probably strangle you with them, but still.

Reviewer: Jacob Close (Seen 3 February)

Go to Pillowman at Bedlam here.

Visit Edinburgh49’s Bedlam archive.

4Feb2016

The Table (Traverse, 3rd Feb ’16) part of the Manipulate visual theatre festival

Posted in 5*, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre, Traverse by Steve Griffin

“One of the most wonderful performances I have ever witnessed”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars: Outstanding

One table, one puppet, three men, no strings. And one of the most wonderful performances I have ever witnessed.

While it might seem quite basic, this spectacular puppet show (which could also be classified as stand-up comedy – more on that later) is a tour-de-force in keeping theatre simple yet incredibly effective. Within seconds, the carefully constructed cardboard face and cloth body became an intriguing old man whose every word and movement held me completely captive. And for a show an hour long, that’s no mean feat for something with no pulse.

The puppet began by introducing us to his table – his home – pointing out the garden, his vegetable patch, and where it might be extended to grow more carrots. All the while, he kept us entertained with witticisms most comedians would be proud of, and a dash of audience interaction to keep us all on our toes. And it’s all delivered so naturally, I was completely transported into the world of the table.

Yet while the slow and sometimes inappropriate ponderings of a confused old man were a delight in themselves, the crux of the performance lay in its original purpose – to retell the story of Moses’ saving of the Israelites and his eventual death on the mountainside. In this guise we see him humble, we see him angry and we see him defeated. We see him battle against the elements and lie down to sleep (which is far more difficult for a puppet than it may be assumed). And when he finally leaves the table, I genuinely felt lost and upset to say goodbye. Perhaps this says something about my childish tendencies, but the sell-out crowd of all ages seemed just as moved as I was.

The hands and voice behind this masterpiece – Nick Barnes, Mark Down and Sean Garratt – lovingly move every centimetre of the puppet with precision in care, and always in sync, down to their own breathing. What was particularly enjoyable about their roles were the playful and apparently improvised moments of the show, where the performers joked with and challenged each other to keep up with the pace. At one stage the poor puppet’s hand fell off, probably by accident, but this was covered and managed very well, even if the performers found themselves creasing up with infectious laughter.

About two minutes in I was hooked and thought this show has the potential to launch itself into my top ten favourite things I’ve ever seen on stage, and by the end it had firmly secured its place. Simply masterful.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 3 February)

Go to The Table at Manipulate and Blind Summit

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3Feb2016

Macbeth: Without Words (Traverse, 2nd Feb ’16) – part of the Manipulate visual theatre festival

Posted in 4*, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre, Traverse by Steve Griffin

Sandra Franco photo.
Ludens Ensemble

“A compelling, highly intelligent and creative retelling of the famous story”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

Macbeth: Without Words is one of those shows you see from time to time where you can’t quite decide if you love or hate it. It’s gutsy, original, and a full-on hour long assault of the senses that I couldn’t take my eyes off.

The piece starts with one actor, in a corset and clown make-up, leaping around the stage acrobatically before picking up a microphone and making a range of strange noises. Those with a more traditional perspective on Shakespearian theatre might baulk at the very interpretative style, which I’ll admit took some getting used to, but what unfolded was a compelling, highly intelligent and creative retelling of the famous story.

It is a very physical performance, as it needs to be to convey the monstrous action. There is no spoken dialogue. The dexterity of performers was sensational, as the cast of three managed to create almost every character from the play – all identifiable through their physicality and token elements of props and costume. Stand out moments included the initial stabbing of the king silhouetted through a plastic sheet, and Lady Macbeth appearing through that same plastic sheet towards the end, in all her ghostly presence.

Although without speech, it was not without noise; and many of the sounds were created by the performers live – either vocalised into microphones or using various banging, rubbing and scraping of props and instruments. The layering and looping of these created fantastic tension and atmosphere, with a real sense of baleful magic and connection between the performers and the action. Given how powerful this technique was, especially at the beginning where a complex soundscape was created very simply, it was a shame that for some scenes the company relied on pre-recorded sound, leaving me feeling a little bit cheated. At one point a recording of bagpipes was played, and I felt the company – in Edinburgh of all places – missed a trick.

It was also disappointing that for a show pertaining to be “without words”, that short excerpts from the script were occasionally projected onto a screen to clarify the action on stage. I admit that the task to portray every nuance of Shakepeare’s work without any words at all is nigh-on impossible, but in some scenes it was done so well – the incantations of the witches, the murders, the washing of the hands, the breaking of the news – all performed using physicality, silhouette and props, that it was such a shame that the company “copped out” in those rare moments. It seemed that with a little bit more work or development the company will have created a piece truly “without words” and fit for any European Capital of Culture.

This could have been one of those mind-blowing, life-changing performances that I’ll never forget, but unfortunately, those few flaws held it back somewhat. Still, ‘tis far from a sorry sight and overall the battle was far more won than lost.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 2 February)

Go to Macbeth: Without Words at Manipulate

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3Feb2016

LoopsEnd (Traverse, 2nd Feb ’16)

Posted in 3*, Circus, Dance, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre, Traverse by Steve Griffin

“A visual feast”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars: Outstanding

I have seen many spectacular aerial displays over the years, from companies all over the world, and with their latest work, LoopsEnd, Edinburgh and LA based Paper Doll Militia is definitely right up there with the best of them in terms of risk, precision and wow-factor. However, while technically the gymnastics were great, I was a bit disappointed by the overall cohesion of the work.

A performance in two parts, the first half, Ashes, was inspired by the tearing down of an industrial estate where the group used to rehearse. The main visual element of the piece was two long ropes hanging from the rigging, twisted and weighted down with bags of powder. Even watching the ropes untwist and retwist in the empty space was graceful and compelling, and when combined with George Tarbuck’s stunning lighting design and the trademark tricks and treats of a seasoned aerial company, this piece was, at times, nothing short of a visual feast.

Throughout the performance, white powder was used in various ways to represent the “ashes” – one performer literally had a pile on his shoulders in the opening sequence, while the closing image was of the two bags attached to the hanging ropes slowly emptying as the ropes swung in the space. These individual instances were very powerful visually, but it was difficult to see the link between these, and any sort of narrative or progression within the piece. Indeed, many of the “theatrical” devices seemed under-developed and incomplete: there were too many moments of clichéd wide-eyed wonder and writhing around in angst, and at one point one performer walked back and forward many times, overtly undecided about whether to touch the rope. Such basic and overused devices unfortunately offset the splendorous vision of the other sections.

In the second piece, Unhinged XY, projection was also used, which in some ways added another dimension to the visual smorgasbaord, but in others gave a seemingly unnecessary layer of complexity and confusion to the action – again, it often wasn’t clear how the costumes, music, acrobatics, projections and design all married up.

The aerial silk work in this piece, and the use of wind and fabric combined to make some stunning visuals and standout moments. When one performer walked up a hanging piece of silk, weighted at the bottom by another, while competing with gusts around her, I was awestruck by the strength and artistry on show.

It was a bit of a shame that both pieces relied quite so heavily on overpowering recorded sound and music. While at some points it was great in setting and supporting the overall tone of each section, its constant use meant the work was unable to establish a mood for itself, so I would have preferred a more selective and sensitive approach to the aural aspects of the performance.

Overall, there’s no denying the talent and visual creativity that have earned Paper Doll Militia their excellent reputation. However, LoopsEnd left me somewhat hanging in mid-air, rather than applauding with my feet flat on the ground.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 2 February)

Go to Paper Doll Militia

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21Jan2016

The Weir (Lyceum: 15 Jan – 6 Feb. ’16)

Posted in 4*, Rated: Outstanding, The Lyceum, Theatre by Alan Brown

l to r. Lucianne McEvoy, Darragh Kelly, Brian Gleeson, Frank McCuster, Gary Lydon. Photo. Drew Farrell

l to r. Lucianne McEvoy, Darragh Kelly, Brian Gleeson, Frank McCuster, Gary Lydon.
Photos. Drew Farrell

“You will not want to let these characters go home”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

For an Irish play set in an out of the way bar, The Weir is pretty sobering. That it is also witty, articulate, and beset by place, loss and sprites is less of a surprise. Writer Conor McPherson has serious form by now when it comes to the dregs of self at the bottom of a glass, or more cheerfully, to the poetry in the head of a creamy pint of Guinness.

Except that the Guinness in Brendan’s bar is ‘off’ because the fecking tap is broken. Jack has to help himself to a bottle (it’s that kind of village pub); Finbar’s ok because he’s become a tad more sophisticated and drinks Harp Lager; Jim, gentle soul, is happy with small chasers; Brendan is pleased to keep them company; and Valerie, well, she’s down from Dublin and might stay a while. She has a white wine – awkward – poured in a straight glass. There is no smoking ban yet and Designer Francis O’Connor has the craic curling across a wide, low beamed, space with the telegraph poles leaning drunkenly outside. There is a television above the bar but it’s a careful, appealing touch when Jack reaches up to switch off the rugby – it might have been gaelic football. The reception was bad anyway.

Nothing interferes with the story telling and there is no interval. First, Jack with his faerie road and spooky knocks at the door; then Finbar, with a terrifying old woman on the stairs; then Jim’s unwitting shocker in the graveyard that summons Valerie’s nightmare; and finally, cleverly, at the fireside, it’s back to Jack as he mournfully recalls his lost chance at love and marriage. Each tale is far too enthralling, too involving and heartfelt, to be contained as a monologue. The silence after Valerie’s story is literally stunning. Director Amanda Gaughan lets it down evocatively, rendering the men helpless in their sympathy.

McPherson’s achievement is to write bar stool conversation that is as moreish as good peanuts, wholesome against the odds. And the Irish cast are very, very good at helping themselves: Gary Lydon as Jack, sturdy, crumpled; Darragh Kelly as Jim, fond, credulous; Brian Gleeson (yes, son of ….) as Brendan, open, obliging; Lucianne McEvoy as Valerie, injured, self-possessed. And Frank McCusker as Finbar, whose equable, decent, tones stay short of the self-satisfied.

Brian Gleeson, Brendan, and Gary Lydon as Jack.
Harp Lager and Draught Guinness as themselves.

‘The Weir’ was written in 1997, enjoyed immediate success and has attracted lyrical approval thereafter. Personally, I’ll play safe and just recognise how companionable a piece it is. You will not want to let these characters go home in the rain*. Single men, who know each other well, have gathered hospitably, stood each other a drink (or two), and have talked idly. However, there is the one woman amongst them and it’s Valerie who’s channeling the hard stuff.

(*Too tempting, sorry, not to cross -reference to Seamus Heaney’s Casualty from a darker period whose subject is the ‘Dawn-sniffing revenant’ plodding home from the pub in midnight rain.)

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 19 January)

Go to The Weir

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10Dec2015

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (King’s Theatre: 28 Nov. ’15 – 17 Jan. ’16)

Posted in 4*, King's Theatre, Musical Theatre, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre by Steve Griffin

Frances Mayli McCann as Snow White with Ensemble.
Photos by Douglas Robertson

“Packed with laughs for audiences of all ages”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

I’ll admit, ever since the age of about 9, panto has never been very near the top of the list of my favourite art forms. And it’s true that I do tend to like my theatre a bit more high-brow. In saying that, this panto all but shattered my age-old preconceptions by being very, very funny, and at the same time embodying surprisingly high production values.

Where to start, but with Edinburgh’s pantomime royalty – Grant Stott, Allan Stewart and Andy Gray. Their on-stage chemistry is just as visible as they say it is, with lots of friendly jibes and presence that oozed confidence and star quality. The banter between them was great, and their improvisation and cover-up skills were spot-on. Stewart in particular impressed as Nurse May, with a dazzling array of seamless costume changes and a likeability that almost made the stage feel instantly more alive whenever he was on it.

Andy Gray, Allan Stewart and Grant Stott.

Andy Gray, Grant Stott and Allan Stewart.

Both Greg Barrowman as Prince Hamish and Frances Mayli McCann as Snow White also impressed with powerful singing voices, and their personalities perfectly balanced out those of their more esteemed cast members. But for me it was the dwarfs who stole the show, in particular the scene where they were riding an array of animals, and I was disappointed these characters were not used more often. The troupe showed fantastic energy and comic timing, and brought the ridiculous hilarity already on display to new heights every time they made an entrance (or exit!).

The script wasn’t so much littered as smothered with witty one-liners, topical references, football jokes, and a healthy sprinkling of good old-fashioned farce. Indeed, this show certainly has a bit of everything for the little’uns and their respective elders: there’s flying, dinosaurs, pyrotechnics, colourful costumes and a touch of audience interaction. I defy anyone not to giggle at at least one element of this offering.

The musical numbers were all delivered with aplomb, with dance sequences many grades above the step-ball-change choreography I was expecting. Song selection (mainly covers of popular songs) often seemed shoehorned in for the spectacle, but then again, one doesn’t go to panto for that. Still, the music was upbeat, in tune and full of fun.

I can forgive that the structure was a bit all over the place, that some of the scenes between the fab three bordered very closely on self-indulgent, and the almost never-ending rendition of a well-known Christmas song towards the end. It’s a show packed with laughs for audiences of all ages, and brings a lot of sparkle to brighten even the hardest of hearts. Oh yes it does!

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 8 December)

Go to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

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7Dec2015

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Lyceum: 28 Nov.’15 – 3 Jan.’16)

Posted in 4*, Rated: Outstanding, The Lyceum, Theatre by Fairley Rachel

l.tor: Charlotte Miranda Smith as Susan, Ben Onwukwe as Aslan, and Claire-Marie Sneddon as Lucy.
Photos. Royal Lyceum Theatre.

“Fantastical adventure and heart”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

Allegory or not, “It’s [still] a magic wardrobe. There’s a wood inside it, and it’s snowing, and there’s a faun and a witch and it’s called Narnia. Come and see.”

And enchanting it certainly is. This 2009 adaptation follows the adventures of four WWII evacuees as they travel through the wardrobe and discover the mysterious, wintry world of Narnia, encountering everything from witches to talking lions, to Father Christmas. C S Lewis’ wondrous story is expertly captured on the Lyceum stage by director Andrew Panton, and is an absolute triumph of a Christmas show.

The one thing that is immediately evident is how polished a production this is. Each scene change is almost like an smooth apparition; as if in some transitory dream, the audience move from one moment to the next without really knowing how they got there, and it’s wonderful. As the oak-panelled set opens out to reveal Narnia for the first time, one cannot help but gasp – with the younger audience – at the intricate display on stage: snow falls and coats the floor in a sparkling white blanket; tall icy trees seem to go on forever and that iconic lamp post glows in the shadows, waiting patiently for Mr Tumnus to appear. The impressive set is further complimented by sumptuous costume design, particularly in that of the animals. Mr and Mrs Beaver and Aslan the Lion are brought to life not only through their physicality but also through that wardrobe, but literally this time.

Stunning set and faithful costume aside, it is the strength of the cast that bring the real magic to this production. Special commendation must go to James Rottger, Charlotte Miranda Smith, Christian Ortega and Claire-Marie Sneddon, playing children Peter, Susan, Edmond and Lucy, respectively. As an audience member, there is often an underlying fear when watching adult actors in child roles as, if poorly performed, it can often remove you from the story. Yet this troupe executes their performances with such a warm and honest vulnerability that it is impossible not to be drawn into their adventure.

This childlike wondering proves all the more effective through the addition of song to the narrative. While some numbers do feel unnecessary, they do give the show another dimension of fantastical adventure and heart. After defeating the Witch, and the cast start singing the words, “You can’t know, but you can believe”, the spellworking in the theatre is almost palpable, and it is hard to suppress the urge to wave back at Aslan and the faun as they bid their farewell to their audience.

As stage magic goes, cutting the mustard might be up there as tricky; and evil White Witch (Pauline Knowles) has trouble living the part that is forever Tilda Swinton’s. A chilling performance works for her at times but it is often ambushed by pantomime warmth and is limited by the reach and power of the virtuous characters.

However, this is holy Advent time and this is a lovely production of a miraculous story that will delight the expectations of the children and grown-ups who come to see it.

Reviewer: Rachel Cram (Seen 4 December)

Go to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at the Lyceum.

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30Nov2015

‘The Great Train Race’ (Interchange, Galashiels: 29 Nov. ’15)

Posted in 4*, Other, Rated: Outstanding, Theatre by Alan Brown

Ellie Zeegen and Simon Donaldson
Photo: Firebrand Theatre

“You might want to take sides and cheer your engine along”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

Where better to stage this play of trains than in a bus and railway station? And so to the impressive Galashiels Interchange, which may have a Borders postcode, but whose track once more runs straight to Edinburgh and onto the ED49 platform. The permanent way is back – ‘Hurrah!’ – and the winding A7 is properly historic.

Redoubled ‘Hurrahs!’ too for the return of Robert Dawson Scott’s 2013 flag waving, whistle tooting, tale of men and locomotives (and a gender bending signal box). It is the summer of 1895 and two railroad companies – the North British and the Caledonian – are competing to run the fastest overnight service between London and Aberdeen. They take different routes – up the east and west coasts respectively – but the two eventually converge at Kinnaber Junction, 38 miles from the finish, which is where the signal box comes in – big time. And, just to add to the headlong fun, there are no speedometers in the cabs.

This is main-line ‘Play, Pie and a Pint’: three actors and 45-50 minutes long, which happily enough is almost the journey time between Gala’ and Waverley on the Borders Railway. Could The Great Train Race be performed on a moving train? Maybe director Richard Baron entertained the idea and brought it to the (Fat) Controllers of ScotRail. Well, we do get a Sir Topham Hatt character of sorts, and the piece is staged in the rectangular ‘round’. Not exactly in a carriage but the action goes from side to side, round n’ round, with the passengers occasionally buffeted by the wind from a passing train. Never mind, you might be on a ‘Grouse Express’ and the shooting parties have lobster in their hampers. You might want to take sides and cheer your engine along or – more likely – just sit forward and enjoy a show performed at speed and with great, engaging, spirit.

It is easy to distinguish the actors. When they are not sporting beards or holding balloons or dumping ‘hot’ coals in your lap, livery is all. Ali Watt is decent Norrie, railway clerk of the North British. He has the uniform, English accent, and manners of a man who believes in the rulebook and in fair competition. Dumping timetables and ‘dropping’ stations is simply not on. On the other footplate, in overalls, is Cammie (Simon Donaldson, educ. Earlston High School), a fitter in the engine sheds whose speech runs more along the lines of “Yer dancer”, which to describe a 2-4-0 ‘Hardwicke’ locomotive is going some. In-between the two and indicatively Doric, stands Kinnaber (Ellie Zeegen), whose friendly and eager narrative is the coupling rod.

It is a chuffing good story, merrily told, and with such invention and detail that the Borders Railway might wish that they were passenger numbers. Oh, sorry, there are tales of overcrowding already; which is scarcely Firebrand Theatre’s fault.

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 29 November)

Go to Firebrand Theatre

28Nov2015

‘To Breathe’ (Summerhall: 24 – 28 Nov ’15)

Posted in 3*, Dance, Rated: Nae Bad, Summerhall, Theatre by Steve Griffin

Photography: Andrew Perry. Back line, l to r: Erin Whalley, Tiffany Soirat, Anna Elisabeth Thomsen. Front line, l to r, Adela Briansó, Lewis McDonald, Maddie Flint.

“Inventive and intriguing”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars: Nae Bad

It’s not often you see student theatre groups perform original work with such a strong dance element, especially pieces on complex themes with so much thought behind them. They generally take hours upon hours to devise and rehearse, so one must give Theatre Paradok kudos for even getting to the startline of this show, and for packing Summerhall’s Demonstration Room to the rafters with an eager audience on a Thursday night.

Given the premise of To Breathe as a physical exploration of body and breath, to me it was a somewhat strange choice to develop it with a cast of performers with limited dance experience and training. The lack of finesse and technique on display in the more choreographed elements unfortunately detracted from what could have been a very powerful and moving (no pun intended) performance, and this was the lasting impression I took with me – a great concept, but perhaps slightly overreached.

As a theatrical spectacle, it was certainly very accomplished: it contained a lot of light and shade, tension and calm, with a good sense of progression and drive, and the performers’ ability to create changing moods seamlessly was very impressive. Early on the piece was very playful, and the performers raised several laughs in their innocent self-discovery, before moving onto more emotive storytelling. Rachel Stollery’s design really complemented the action, as did the subtle use of music, and with a healthy mix of ensemble and solo sections, structurally this show ticks all the boxes.

What the troupe may not have shown in dance technique or grace, they more than made up for in emotional intensity, concentration and sheer gumption. There was a great energy and spirit to the performance, with the whole company throwing themselves into it wholeheartedly. Maddie Flint in particular was utterly watchable throughout, with a very engaging and expressive face.

Lewis MacDonald and Tiffany Soirat

While choreographically it was a fairly safe piece (albeit with a few too many cliched motifs for my liking), there were moments of dramatic risk that were inventive and intriguing. In one of the duets (performed by Lewis McDonald and Tiffany Soirat) the dancers fought and tussled to cover each other in paint, in a sequence that was both passionate and very well controlled. There were some great lifts on show, and this section oozed with sexual chemistry. Later on, the dancers experimented with different movements with their hands in a pile of mud, which again showed great creativity, yet it was difficult to see the connection between this and the rest of the performance.

Overall, the heart and soul of this performance were absolutely in the right place – but I would have liked to have seen more focus on the dance elements to make it more complete.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 26 November)

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Category Archives: Theatre

The James Plays (Festival Theatre: 3 – 13 Feb.’16)

“‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.”

The Pillowman (Bedlam Theatre 2 – 6 Feb. ’16)

“This show will wring the life out of you, in the best way possible.”

The Table (Traverse, 3rd Feb ’16) part of the Manipulate visual theatre festival

“One of the most wonderful performances I have ever witnessed”

Macbeth: Without Words (Traverse, 2nd Feb ’16) – part of the Manipulate visual theatre festival

“A compelling, highly intelligent and creative retelling of the famous story”

LoopsEnd (Traverse, 2nd Feb ’16)

“A visual feast”

The Weir (Lyceum: 15 Jan – 6 Feb. ’16)

“You will not want to let these characters go home”

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (King’s Theatre: 28 Nov. ’15 – 17 Jan. ’16)

“Packed with laughs for audiences of all ages”

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (Lyceum: 28 Nov.’15 – 3 Jan.’16)

“Fantastical adventure and heart”

‘The Great Train Race’ (Interchange, Galashiels: 29 Nov. ’15)

“You might want to take sides and cheer your engine along”

‘To Breathe’ (Summerhall: 24 – 28 Nov ’15)

“Inventive and intriguing”