Tag: edinburgh

REVIEW: Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts at Capital Theatres

Published on by ruthiooLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts attempts to escape its TV roots on the Festival Theatre stage 

Inspector Morse has occupied a distinctive place in British culture for decades, beginning with Colin Dexter’s novels and reaching iconic status through the ITV series that defined the detective as a brooding, classical‑music‑loving presence wandering through Oxford’s darker corners. Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts, staged this week at the Edinburgh Festival Theatre, arrives steeped in that legacy. It leans heavily on nostalgia and familiar rhythms, offering a theatrical mystery that feels very much in the spirit of a long television episode brought to life.

This production is ultimately an affectionate nod to a classic, but not quite convincing as a piece of theatre in its own right. The Festival Theatre’s enormous stage proves a challenge from the outset. With a relatively small cast and an intimate, clue‑driven story, the space dwarfs the action. One can’t help imagine how much more naturally it might have fit into the more compact King’s Theatre, where the scale would have matched the quieter energy.

Colin Richmond’s set design is one of the show’s strongest assets. The pivoting pieces that reveal both the Macbeth production within the story and the backstage world behind it are clever and visually engaging. At times, the decision to keep the backstage area visible works beautifully, especially when the action moves into the wings and dressing rooms. At others, though, it feels unintentionally messy, with half‑hidden props and set pieces lingering in view and giving scenes a cluttered, slightly chaotic feel.

The production makes extensive use of props and set pieces to signal shifts in location, and while these are handled with care, the scene changes themselves often drag. The familiar Morse soundtrack plays over them, offering a warm hit of nostalgia for fans, and Tom Chambers uses the pauses to convey the detective’s frustrations. Yet more often than not, these transitions stall the momentum rather than build atmosphere, contributing to a pace that feels sluggish for much of the first act.

There is also a peculiar moment in the second half when Morse appears to suffer a sudden bout of agony mid‑scene. The discomfort lingers briefly into the next scene before vanishing without explanation. If this was intended as a nod to the character’s well‑known health issues from the novels and television series, it lands oddly and feels out of place, especially as it is never referenced again.

The final stretch of the play mirrors the familiar structure of a Morse episode, with the last fifteen minutes accelerating sharply as clues knit together. On stage, however, this sudden burst of speed becomes confusing. The resolution involving shards of glass, a glove, and a sudden injury unfolds so quickly that it is difficult to follow, and the motivations behind the murder feel muddled, especially when adding in yet more scene shifts. For a genre that usually invites the audience to piece things together, the clarity simply isn’t there, leaving the ending more bewildering than satisfying.

There is still pleasure to be found in the nostalgia, the callbacks, and the recreation of Morse’s world. Tom Chambers brings a thoughtful presence to the role, and the production is never dull. Yet something about the adaptation doesn’t quite translate. Where Agatha Christie’s mysteries often thrive on stage, the introspective, episodic nature of Morse feels more at home on television. The result is a show that is competent and occasionally charming, but not especially gripping, and one that never fully escapes the sense of being an overly long TV episode performed live.

For Tickets and Listing, please visit: https://inspectormorseonstage.com

REVIEW: The Events

Published on by nmcgarrityLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

An electrifying performance you will not forget

‘The Events’ is a play written by David Greig, directed by Jack Nurse, and assistant directed by Morgan Ferguson. It follows the journey of Claire (Claire Lamont) – a priest, a choir leader, and the sole survivor of a church mass shooting – as she grapples with trauma, grief, and confusion. A summary doesn’t fully do justice to the plot and story unfolding in Greig’s play, which offers a visceral hope for the future even in the face of the darkest aspects of humanity.

Wonder Fools, along with the live community choir, put on a performance that is jarringly unsettling, tearfully hopeful, and deeply beautiful. Walking into the theatre, the choir is smiling and cheerful, the overhead lighting warm and inviting: you are offered tea, coffee, and to join in with the choir’s warm-up songs. It is impossible to feel uneasy or anticipatory for the dark events about to unravel. Indeed, in the face of the choir’s easy welcome, the audience is lulled into a sense of security and comfort. When The Boy (Sam Stopford) — the shooter, never given a name — appears onstage, this security shatters. For that split second, the audience feels the same fear, horror, and shock as the choir do, as it is revealed The Boy murdered them all. The people in the choir feel real: as they disappear into the darkness, and as the audience understands them to be dead, it is hard to shake the connection that we had with the choir, and the feeling we have lost something, along with Claire.

From this electric beginning, I knew I was watching a five-star performance, and I was never proven wrong. Lamont’s grief and desperation to understand what has happened to her is devastatingly compelling. Lurching between the past and the present and the possible, Lamont’s portrayal of Claire’s spiral is beyond impressive. Confronted with the impossibility of the question – “What if bad things just happen?” – in her search for reason after unthinkable violence, Lamont demonstrates victimhood and the healing process as complicated, ugly, agonising, angry. 

Stopford oscillates between equal parts menacing, despicable, lost, and tragic. Stopford also has the challenging task of playing other characters that Claire seeks out on her journey – a racist politician who condemns The Boy’s actions but believes his message worth listening to; a neglectful father who rejects The Boy in one breath and talks about mocking him the next; Claire’s girlfriend, Catrina, who suffers from Claire’s obsessive compulsion to uncover the truth about The Boy. Despite the monumental difficulty of making each of these characters compelling and fleshed-out, Stopford goes above and beyond. 

The choir is what ties this whole performance together. At times jovial, other times haunting or frightening, their songs and presence add another tier of uneasiness. They exit the stage very rarely, almost always watching, and it is impossible to forget their fates. Each member of the choir was a vital addition to the play: their presence is a necessity, and each one of the choir members is equal parts chilling and painfully human.

From the haunting music (by composer John Browne, sound designer Gary Cameron, and community choir directors, Calre Haworth and Gerard Johnson) to the powerful use of lighting and shadows (from lighting designer Lizzie Powell), not a single area of the performance detracts from the story. While I personally wished the ending was different, I believe it remained true to the overall message of the play – that forgiveness may not be possible, or complete understanding, but empathy is always an option for us, even in the face of the worst moments of our life. 

A magnetic, incredible show in every aspect, Wonder Fools’ performances of ‘The Events’ is not to be missed. The show has concluded its tour at the Tron Theatre in Glasgow, but continues at Dundee Rep on the 25th February before going to the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh on the 27th and 28th February.

REVIEW: The Wood Paths

Published on by Alli CaineLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Strangely compelling and whimsical, carving out far deeper concepts from the wood working process

The highly anticipated Manipulate festival, which ran from the 4th to the 10th of February, is known for its awesome array of boundary-pushing works. The evenings of the 9th and 10th saw the performance of ‘Wood Paths’ by director Andrejs Jarovojs at the Traverse Theatre.
Wood Paths is definitely not a traditional theatre experience. This becomes more
understandable with a little research into Jarovojs’s directorial past, where his works are
noted for their conceptual experimentation and innovative contemporary forms and
expression. In this sense, Wood Paths delivers. It strays far more into the territory of
performance art, and with this in mind, this intriguing performance may be far better
understood and enjoyed. If you are delighted with having a more unusual theatre
experience, then this may be one for you.
The stage is minimalistic, open. Real, big, wooden tree trunks appear. Pallets, tools and
axes waiting to be used. The stage is a woodshop or an imagined forested landscape,
potentially, more aptly, a place of possibilities. Everything suggests that things are to be
done or made, or perhaps this is just our human instinct, and perhaps that is exactly the
point. The show is non-verbal, and also had no sound effects or music, which actually
worked incredibly well, as all sounds were made by the actors and tools. The performers
were Rūdolfs Gediņš, Edgars Samītis, and they worked together chopping, fashioning and creating with the available material. Their performance was impressive mainly because of their physicality, since they were strenuously working or moving for most of the hour and twenty minutes. They worked well together, very in-tuned with the others practice, making rhythm and symmetry a central focus of the experience. A humorous and suspenseful addition to the side of the stage was a large printer that acted as the only form of delayed dialogue between the men. This, too, is minimal and poetic in nature.

Jarovojs seemed to dig into the notion of endurance, both obviously and subtly, and at
the expense of both performers and the audience. This performance is concerned with
process and less so with result, unless the result is just a word for a temporary pause. There is genius in the creation of a piece that can pull on so many threads without being explicitour associations with masculinity, evolution of human creativity and technology, environmentalism, skill vs time. The way the arc of the show was kept fluid and unexpected, starting with a well know concept and ending somewhere far more whimsical yet socially relevant, was delightful and quite touching. It is definitely a piece to be experienced rather than explained. I think its strength lies in how it leaves you questioning and weather that is good or bad can be up to you. Give it a watch!

REVIEW: Romeo and Juliet

Published on by ethanmclucasLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A staging of one of Shakespeare’s most famous texts that boldly states “no buts,” and “no gimmicks” – and does so, magnificently.

Romeo and Juliet is a play that has received countless stagings. The tragedy of two forbidden star crossed lovers is a tried and true classic. Many companies which stage their own adaptation of the text feel the need to explicitly add new material or elements that were not in the original version of the text such as a more conventional setting or through the use of gimmicks.

Director Salvador Kent is doing the opposite. Their only major additions to the material are moments of stillness which allow the audience to truly feel the different impactful moments of the  play. These moments let what could be predictable emotional beats of a  well worn text, hit the audience with a flood of feeling that can shatter the hard outer shells of even the people who have seen this play a hundred times. An extended moment of nothing but close eye contact between Romeo and Juliet on their first meeting says more about them and their connection than even Shakspeare’s own words can do.

But Kent and the actors all around do his words justice too. The soliloquies and monologues are especially a highlight. Each one has been paid the utmost attention and each is as captivating as the last without ever feeling similar or overly indulgent. A supreme feat. Particular praise to an extended moment from Lady Capulet, played by Raphaella Hawkins, who early in the play, reflects on the life of her daughter Juliet, compared to her own with masterful melancholy. A moment that is often passed over, but not here.

Mercutio, played by Noah Sarvesvaran, is another highlight, commanding the stage and effortlessly entertaining. However, intriguingly, this production frames his character as overly lustful, hedonistic and ultimately a bully. This, combined with a far more restrained Tybalt, one which seems to actively be fighting against the short tempered nature traditionally associated with the character, inverts the classic dynamic, framing Mercutio as far more of a villain. This new dynamic is fascinating and provocative, raising questions of the company our hero, Romeo, keeps and the morality of such a world. All of this is done with expert nuance and crucially without having to add anything to the text and instead, exploring what is already there.

Ben Kay’s set is simply brilliant. It of course includes the balcony set at the back of the stage but its best aspect is its simplest and yet most ingenious: the low lying rostra in the centre of the stage. Coloured grey and with the texture of concrete, it is a platform, a paved courtyard, but most importantly: it is a flat tombstone. Even before the play starts, two beams of light shine upon it, Romeo and Juliet, already sealed away. There is not anyone who does not know how this story ends, so by having this tombstone present throughout, having it double as the place enemies fight and lovers lay, all the while, the audience knows what is coming and this only emphasises the tragedy of the piece even more.

This production’s costume design is one element that does not hold up as strongly as the others. Many of the characters are in simple white shirts and black jackets with very little variation between them causing them and which side of the conflict they are on to be indistinguishable. A moment later on in the production with a coffin feels overly laborious and on the nose and a rare moment of the dramatic effect not landing. Finally, the real set piece moments, the fights, soliloquies, the dancing, are fantastic, but the moments in between them can at times feel slightly neglected. The masquerade ball near the beginning of this production is a noticeable highlight that is as mesmerising as it is strange, especially with the incredible masks provided by Moira Hamilton, and there is slight disappointment that the production never returns a moment of that nature for the rest of its run.

These are minor blemishes on an otherwise fantastic production. One that runs at over three hours but flies by, never feeling slow and sluggish. It is truly a taught production that justifies every second of itself. Romeo and Juliet by the Edinburgh University Shakespeare Company is a Shakespeare production unabashedly afraid of being a Shakespeare production. It has a remarkable confidence in itself and proves that this text, no matter how many times it has been staged, can be something remarkable in the right team’s hands.

REVIEW: Manipulate Festival: Animated Documentary Shorts

Published on by Tamsin DunlopLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A joyful, serious, and skilful showcase of international animators“

Manipulate Festival takes to the Edinburgh Filmhouse for the very first time at tonight’s screening of eight animated documentary shorts. Animation and documentary don’t immediately overlap in any mental Venn diagrams; lazy assumptions take animation to be whimsical and creative, documentary always serious and formulaic. 

But ahead of the screening, Artistic Director and CEO Dawn Taylor explains to the audience why these art forms are so integral to one another: animation allows for the representation of things too unsafe or even impossible to film. It can recreate moments otherwise lost to memory, it can take the viewer into places never thought possible, and – above all, really – it can make the complex and overwhelming accessible and understandable. 

The eight films curated for tonight’s showcase are all highly varied in tone and content: we begin with ‘My Dead Dad’s Porno Tapes’ which is about, well, director Charlie Tyrell’s dead dad’s porno tapes. But not really: it’s about grief and taboo and intergenerational trauma and reticence and anger. It is exceptionally moving and exceptionally funny – as will emerge as a theme of tonight’s documentaries, it takes the insurmountable (death and everything in its wake) and focuses on the seemingly irrelevant mundane (a 2008 Radiohead concert, Hot n Horny Harlots on VHS).

It’s also true of the screening’s most overtly political films, such as ‘Our Uniform’ (a beautiful and textured exploration of being a girl in Iran – but mostly their school uniforms) and ‘I Died in Irpin’ (the horrendous story of fleeing Ukraine from Russian bombs – but mostly about regretting your ex-boyfriend). There’s something almost deceptively soothing about the animated mode; it’s misleadingly easy to watch, distractingly gorgeous to look at. It draws you in and sucks up your attention, until you’re left astounded by the weightiness of what you’ve just learned – educational entertainment, at its very best.

Animals and their tendency to get tied up in culture are another theme. ‘Percebes’ follows the journey of shellfish in Portugal’s Algarve, which seemingly has the same tourism complex as Edinburgh: they need them, they hate them (‘We can’t enjoy when the city is alive, because we’re working’, says a fishmonger). ‘Veni Vidi Non Vici’ is another Portuguese offering, focussing on the tradition of bullfighting and the tricky ethics of balancing tradition with modern morality. ‘The Harbourmaster’ is perhaps the emotionally lightest of the night, animating the life and forcible death of a chain-smoking, troublemaking Norwegian swan – like a Scandi Bojack Horseman. 

The most affecting film of the lot is indisputably ‘Inside, the Valley Sings’ (Natasza Cetner and Nathan Fagan), an almost unbearably vivid insight into the interior lives of American prisoners held in solitary confinement. Banging their heads against the wall, directing movies on a brick wall, fantasising of their children’s voices. It is a gut punch and it is a masterful piece of animation; the hand drawn faces of the incarcerated contrasted become imprinted in your mind. One particularly powerful moment comes from Frank de Palma, a man who spent 22 years in solitary confinement. There were no mirrors in his cell, and he tells of seeing his 58 year old face for the first time since he was in his 30s, ‘I cried – I had gotten old.’

Manipulate Festival’s Animated Documentary Shorts screening was a wonderful display of international talent, highlighting the very best of how animation can educate, move, and firmly press itself into the deepest corners of an audiences’ brain (much like fingers in stop motion clay).

This screening was a one-time event shown at the Edinburgh Filmhouse on the 7th of February as part of the Manipulate Festival which is running in venues across Scotland from the 4th to the 10th of February.

REVIEW: Burnout: A Verbatim Play

Published on by nmcgarrityLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A highly emotive and educational piece of theatre vital for the modern world.

From the premise alone, Burnout: A Verbatim Play promised to be fascinating. Composed of dialogue entirely from twenty-seven interviews conducted by writer Ellen Bradbury, Burnout revolves around experiences of (you guessed it) burnout, and the pervasiveness of this feeling throughout society. Four incredible actors – Ellinor Larsson, Ewan Little, Pablo López Sánchez-Matas, and Evie Mortimer – took to the stage to relay Bradbury’s findings on burnout to a wider audience. Over the course of an hour, the play explores burnout across a myriad of areas, such as education, healthcare, and activism. 

The stories told – despite the characters’ insistence – could belong to anyone. This is both a strength and slight weakness of the show. While it ensures the audience can resonate deeply with the narratives they hear, I found it hard to connect to the characters themselves. With twenty-seven different voices, the actors felt more like conduits for the stories, rather than characters. This isn’t a comment on the acting, which was superb. Rather, I felt the set-up – where each actor portrayed multiple interviewees – limited the depth of the individuals behind the stories. It was difficult to feel attached despite the actors’ commendable performances. However, this is a very small issue I had and didn’t detract much from what was overall a highly moving show.

Occasionally half-hidden in deep shadows, occasionally exposed with a flood of light, each actor brought a compelling mix of humour and vulnerability to every story they told. There was not a moment where the actors didn’t have the entire audience’s attention. From the heartfelt to the hilarious to the hopeful, each one gave a believable, beautiful performance.

The writing, by Bradbury, and the directing by Emma Ruse together painted a strong image. Chairs onstage highlighted the growing clutter of a mind in burnout; the stutters included in Bradbury’s script kept the stories true to life and a showcase of the difficulties in talking about such a personal issue. Also highly notable are the uses of lighting (Tom Showell) and sound (Maia Imogen Harding), which further create tension.

While I felt the structure of the play and its contents were sometimes very safe, that does not stop it from being a fantastic performance. At only an hour long, the content covered is incredibly impressive. What starts as individual stories ends with the actors talking not only to the audience, but to each other. It emphasises the play’s message: during burnout, despite what you may feel, you are not the only one experiencing this. Burnout, Bradbury tells us, is a symptom of the system we live in – but we don’t have to deal with it alone. 

This show’s run is now concluded and ran from 6th February 2026 until 7th February 2026 at the Tron Theatre in Glasgow.

REVIEW: Manipulate Animated Horror Shorts

Published on by Finn Baldwin1 Comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A Strange and Powerful Selection of Well-Curated Shorts”

The Manipulate festival’s horror shorts screening was initially intended as a retrospective. As the host of the event explains, upon seeing the quality and diversity of the current animated horror landscape, the plan for the screening was changed to highlight some of the best artists currently working in the medium. The eight shorts come from all over the globe and encompass a wide variety of ideas and animation styles. Though not all perfect, the sheer work and effort put into each of these short films makes the whole event difficult not to admire.

The screening opens, rather weakly, with Buzzkill. Made by US animator Peter Ahern, Buzzkill is the most traditional of the shorts in terms of style and plot. A basic (if somewhat nonsensical) story is carried by cute, cartoony animation, and leaves with a fun but shallow impression.

The interest picks up with the next film Larval by Alice Bloomfield, the only UK animator featured. Larval has a simple story and simple message that is rendered in a beautifully trippy animation style. With no dialogue Bloomfield is able to capture complex feelings and tell a sad, striking story through powerful symbolic imagery, truly showing just how much can be done with the medium.

Larval is followed by the small and charming Algo en el Jardin, a Chilean movie by Marcos Sanchez. This film is about as simple as it gets, with no dialogue and not much of a story, Algo en el Jardin is a short and unsettling work that does what it has to and gets out quickly.

The best of the screening also happens to be the longest. From French animators Stéphanie Lansaque and François Leroy, Sisowath Quay is a haunting and beautiful work. The film is filled with interesting horror concepts and wonderfully evocative imagery. It reaches a level of depth with its allegory that feels on par with what is usually only achieved by feature-length films. This packed short is one of the few films at the event that truly got under my skin and stuck with me long after the credits had rolled.

From one great height to another, Sisowath Quay is followed by Les Bêtes, the second US entry, this one by Michael Granberry. With a simple, Fantasia-esque story, Les Bêtes really shines with its stellar stop motion animation. The titular beasts are all wholly distinct and wonderfully inventive in both look and craft. Though there are plenty of harrowing moments the final image is delightfully hopeful and left me with a smile on my face.

Regenerative Being, by Ukrainian animator Stas Santimov is similarly stand-out, not for its animation but its music. Regenerative Being is the music video for the Eluvium song of the same title, and uses its uncomfortable and frightening imagery to contrast with the slow melancholy of the song. This contrast lends itself to some truly striking moments and transforms the animation and the song to much more than the sum of their parts.

Next up was Italian animator Matteo Burani’s Playing God. Another stop motion work, Playing God is certainly the most technically impressive film on this list. With a tragic and darkly amusing story rendered impressively with clay figures and human actors, Playing God is the kind of film that, more than anything, left me pleasingly baffled as to how exactly it was even constructed.

Closing out the screening was the Taiwanese Praying Mantis, by animator Joe Hsieh. The story of Praying Mantis is well-rounded and interesting, managing to fit a well-structured flashback sequence and twist into only seven minutes. The animation of the titular praying mantis feels out of place however, and brings down the overall quality of the film.

All in all, Manipulate has put on an excellent selection of horror shorts. The diversity of creators and ideas present among these films is very refreshing and admirable and really highlights just what can be done in an animated horror short.

This screening was a one-time event shown at the Edinburgh Filmhouse on the 6th of February as part of the Manipulate festival which is running in venues across Scotland from the 4th to the 10th of February.

REVIEW: Carlos Acosta’s Nutcracker in Havana

Published on by ayoungishperspective1Leave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A charming reimagining with all the exuberance of the original and more

Carlos Acosta’s Nutcracker in Havana takes the classic Christmas ballet in a new direction with his charming Cuban re-imagining. 

The stage was set at the beginning of both acts with an animated tour of a stunning and empty Havana, winding through alleyways and up over buildings until arriving at the scene. The physical set stayed relatively simple, with the sunny island setting of the opening giving way to a large Cuban family home, to a dazzling snow-covered candy wonderland, to a carnival tent, with scene transitions often marked by the rolling past of a vintage car, carrying characters from one scene to the next. Still or slow-moving projections at the back of the stage helped to set the scenes without interfering with the dancing.

The dancing is, naturally, superb. The choreography sticks to classical ballet for much of the show, breaking (sometimes seamlessly, sometimes suddenly) into modern ballet, character dance, and multiple traditional Caribbean styles. Some of the more iconic characters of the original ballet, such as the Prince and the Sugar Plum Fairy, were firmly rooted in classical ballet both in choreography and costuming, maintaining the Sugar Plum Fairy’s iconic sparkly tutu and dressing several other dancers in classic European ballet costuming. The variety of dances in the second act brought more character dancing and a wide range of styles, sticking to the structure of the suites of the original ballet. Although the choreography could have leaned more into the modern and Cuban styles, it struck a good balance between styles, allowing fans of classical ballet and less classical forms alike to be charmed by the dancing. 

The music, like the choreography, was altered but never strayed too far from Tchaikovsky’s original score. The instrumentation was updated with jazz-style brass and electric guitar added to the orchestra, while the rhythms of the score were strikingly adapted to syncopated beats and complex percussion. Some of the more recognisable movements of the original music were kept almost intact, while others were refreshingly new. Also like the choreography, the music could have potentially been pushed much further into more traditional and modern Cuban styles and still maintained the energy and wonder of the original.

While the adaptation could have departed more from the original Nutcracker in Havana is a very successful re-imagining that holds on to the joy, the charm, and the exuberance of the Christmas classic while introducing a new setting and new artistic styles. This production will have modern dance fans and ballet traditionalists alike rejoice with sun-soaked Christmas spirit.

REVIEW: Press to Pulp

Published on by Finn BaldwinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A Funny and Informed Love Letter to Noir” 

Noir is a genre that has long since been diluted into vague pastiche and misunderstanding of what it once was. Truly good noir satire must toe a careful line, appearing recognisable to laymen while remaining knowledgeable enough to satisfy noir devotees, a balance that Press to Pulp strikes almost perfectly.

The persona of the noir detective is split into four, each representing different aspects and evolutions of the genre. This provides an effective entry point for audiences of all levels of familiarity. Whether deeply informed or entirely new to noir, there is something recognisable in these characters that makes the target of the play’s satire immediately clear. Within the story, this device is neatly justified through a handful of real anecdotes about Raymond Chandler, one of the most prolific noir writers of the 1930s and 40s. As a fan of Chandler’s, the inclusion of the famous story about neither him nor the screenwriters knowing who killed the chauffeur in The Big Sleep is particularly charming.

These references prove to be more than playful nods. The very construction of noir storytelling becomes integral to the play’s central mystery. Especially effective is the main twist, which is expertly foreshadowed and answers questions that were not even apparent at the time. Much like classic noir, however, the plot itself leans toward the convoluted and hard to follow, with the sharp wit and charm of the characters providing the main appeal.

The central detective, Carmady, is a delight, perfectly nailing the 1940s transatlantic accent and delivering Chandler-esque quips with natural ease. The women of the story, Fran Fatale and Mrs Broaddame, are similarly effective and genre-accurate. Some of the other detectives are less successful. Dumas, in particular, is a one-note character whose note quickly becomes more irritating than amusing. Melvin and Evans fare slightly better, though there is a lingering lack of clarity around exactly what aspects of noir they are satirising. While all three convey recognisable tropes, they suffer in comparison to the sheer watchability of Carmady, making time spent away from him occasionally frustrating.

Ultimately, the production’s enthusiasm and affection for noir shine through its shortcomings. Most importantly, Press to Pulp never stops being funny and rarely loses sight of its genre roots. The performance seen was a work in progress, and it is easy to see that with a little refinement, it has the potential to be something genuinely special.

REVIEW: The Burns Project, National Trust for Scotland

Published on by CaitlinTodd_PetrieLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld lang syne.”

With Burns Night right around the corner, the National Trust for Scotland brings this theatrical treat to the Georgian House in Edinburgh. Created by James Clements, who stars as Robert Burns himself, the show is accompanied by Lisa Rigby’s beautiful music inspired by Burns and directed by award-winning director Cora Bissett. Following its sold-out run at the Fringe in 2025, this production is the perfect way to get into the spirit of Burns Night.

Upon arrival at the Georgian House, we are welcomed by front-of-house staff member Robbie and given the opportunity to examine a 200-year-old book by Burns before entering the performance space. We then meet producer Tuesday McPhail, who explains the seating arrangements, which gradually become clear over the course of the one-hour show. The audience is gathered around a long, curving dining-room table, used creatively to drive the narrative forward. There are moments of audience interaction throughout, while Rigby sits in the corner of the room, accompanying the action with lively tunes that help set the tone for the evening.

The partnership between Clements and Rigby is a real strength of the production. They complement each other beautifully, bringing a sense of energy and cohesion to the performance. The show feels at times like a Robert Burns version of Six the Musical, exploring his past lovers and children from Burns’ own point of view. The dining-room table becomes a character in itself, its lights illuminating the folds and creases of the tablecloth, with clever use of table settings to support the storytelling and visual imagery. At moments, it feels almost cinematic, as though stepping into a Disney film.

Rigby’s soundtrack feels authentic and sensitively composed, setting the mood throughout, while Clements’ portrayal of Burns captures a wide emotional range as the poet moves through different stages of his life. From beginning to end, it is clear how much thought, care and passion have gone into this project, along with a deep love for Burns’ story and Scottish history more broadly. The performance also incorporates recorded voices, drawn either from Burns’ past or from discoveries made during the research process. These recordings add texture and commentary, offering insight into how Burns was perceived and introducing additional voices that enrich the narrative.

There is some gentle audience participation throughout, mostly involving Clements playfully selecting female audience members to represent Burns’ various love interests. This occasionally prompts amused looks of caution from their partners. For me, the show felt akin to an immersive experience you might find at the dungeons, but stripped back of darkness and fear. Instead, it offers theatre and history combined, retelling the story of a historical figure in a way that excites, entertains and captivates. With only a limited number of performances remaining and a waitlist filling up ahead of Burns Night on Sunday 25 January, this is one to catch if you are in Edinburgh and fancy an engaging piece of historical entertainment centred on Scotland’s most famous poet.