Tag: glasgow

REVIEW: Black Hole Sign

Published on by Lena HolmanLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A striking and unsettling production, Black Hole Sign features standout performances and a raw exploration of human fragility under hospital bureaucracy.

Uma Nada-Rajah’s Black Hole Sign plunges the audience into the relentless chaos of a hospital ward—crumbling inside and out—where human fragility collides with the pressures of bureaucracy. The play captures both the absurdity and gravity of life in such a space, highlighting the tension between professional obligations and human vulnerability.

The staging is stark and functional, reflecting the impermanence of the world it depicts. There are no walls—only curtains, constantly shifted to define different areas of the ward—and everything except a single fixed desk moves on wheels or sliding systems, keeping the objects within the space in near-constant motion. This shifting environment mirrors the unpredictability of hospital life, where routines are fragile and situations can change in an instant, and it keeps the audience alert, reinforcing the sense that the ward is always on the verge of disorder. Fluorescent lighting reinforces the cold, clinical atmosphere, and actors taking on multiple roles heighten this sense of instability. The contrast lies in the nurses’ care: in a sterile, impersonal environment, their warmth and compassion feel fragile, easily overshadowed by the harshness around them.

While the plot is discernible from the opening, the true focus of the play lies in the relationships: each character takes on different positions in relation to others—friend, confidant, lover, or surrogate family—creating overlapping connections that shape the emotional landscape of the ward. Martin Docherty stands out in dual roles, while Helen Logan’s portrayal of Crea captures the strain between professional duty and personal cost with nuance and authenticity. These interactions convey the weight of responsibility, the fleeting comforts of human connection, and the strain imposed by a system stretched to its limits.

The 90-minute runtime without an interval mirrors the fatigue of a night shift, creating a lingering sense of unease. While some characters are lightly sketched on the page, limiting the depth of certain interactions, the absurd, graphic, and otherworldly sequences are striking and memorable, offering moments of dark humour or surreal relief amid the relentless realism.

Even as the story reaches a resolution, it feels deliberately unfinished, leaving the audience asking whether the pressures of the ward—and the fragility of those who work within it—will play out the same way for the next in line.

Black Hole Sign is a thought-provoking, challenging, and at times uncomfortable exploration of life in a hospital. It offers a raw depiction of the demands placed on healthcare workers while highlighting the resilience, compassion, and humanity that persist in testing circumstances.

REVIEW: Rhys Darby -The Legend Returns

Published on by ivyleebarronLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

An uproariously funny piece of comedy, complete with robots, Olympic champions, and a strong, clear message to take home.

Earlier this week, Rhys Darby took the stage at the Theatre Royal to perform his brand new stand up show; The Legend Returns, on the penultimate night of his UK tour. This show is filled with masterful callbacks and colourful characters—that Darby manages to play so well, you forget there’s only one person on the stage. 

Darby managed to get the audience on-side immediately, partly due to his opener; Steve Wrigley who—as Darby put it—prepared us for the Kiwi humour we were about to see. Wrigley performed a clean thirty minutes of behind the scenes anecdotes, light crowd work and memorable (if slightly overdone) criticisms of generational quirks to get us started off. This opening act was a much needed energy boost to get everyone in the mood for laughing.

After a brief interval, Rhys Darby entered the stage and the show began. Darby utilises his knack for physical comedy successfully and consistently, giving us impressions of robot vacuum cleaners or cyber trucks. There is barely a still moment on the stage in the hour long show, which is a clear testament to his incredible stamina. 

Not only does Darby nail the physical comedy—the sound effects he created live on stage are even more impressive than they are  funny (which is saying something), and made for some fantastic storytelling. His talent for creating strange sounds is highlighted during his bit about wacky new Olympic events, where he uses a soundboard to create a song that unravels into a story about man on the railway line who refuses to leave. Within this story, Darby manages to fit; a police car blaring it’s siren, a helicopter circling the scene, and of course, a slow moving train—along with all sorts of fun character voices.

Despite all of this, most of the hour is taken up by Darby’s fantastical story about a not so distant future, where robots are planning a revolution against humanity. Accompanied by his trusted Rumba, Darby is the hero who manages to save humanity by preventing this disaster. While bizarre and silly at times, this story is a powerful warning about the dangers of generative AI. Through clever analogies and farcical humour, Darby tells us exactly how quickly AI could ruin our society, and chastises the billionaires who are profiting off of it. It is an incredibly powerful and relevant message, delivered in a way that will leave you thinking for a while.

All in all, a wonderfully entertaining show written from the heart. If you have a chance to catch Rhys Darby’s stand up show, you shouldn’t miss it!

IN CONVERSATION WITH: THE NAKED NEDS

Published on by ayoungishperspective1Leave a comment

Hot off the heels of their sold-out 2024 tour, The Naked Neds are back! Get ready for a rollercoaster of laughter, tears, and maybe a few awkward moments with Paul, Jamie, Tony, Harry, and Bev! 

‘The Naked Neds’ follows a group of Glasgow lads as they navigate the turbulent aftermath of their best friend’s suicide. In a world where politicians’ expenses seem to matter more than NHS waiting lists, they decide to take matters into their own hands. After a string of failed fundraising attempts and just when their lives couldn’t get any more complicated, one of the boys finds a lump, throwing their plans – and everything else – into a whole new perspective and they realise there’s only one thing they can do; take their clothes off! 

How did the idea of combining comedy with a live self-check demonstration come about?

Ingram Noble: When I realised that me and my mates had no idea how to check ourselves I knew something had to be done about it. You can read as many leaflets or guides as you like, but nothing is going to stick in your head like three idiots on a stage talking you through how to check yourself. It’s been groundbreaking, as far as we know (and we’ve done the research!) it’s the first time it’s ever been done on stage and last year’s tour, albeit small, left us with loads of feedback from young men that checked themselves for the first time after seeing the show, after hearing that I knew that my job was done, well, almost done.

What has been the most surprising or memorable reaction from an audience member so far?

Ingram Noble: Irvine was mad – in the best possible way. They came on the ride with us and their energy just propelled us along the way. I was that into it I managed to rip a pair of tearaway trousers into shreds – with one show to go. (Sellotape did nothing but wax my legs!)

Lucian Burlingame: Probably my gran after the show, being so surprised that I had just done a full monty. 

Aidan Curley: The last night in Glasgow when my mum, girlfriend and friends all threw roses on the stage at me.

How do you strike the perfect balance between delivering laugh-out-loud moments and addressing serious health topics?

Ingram Noble: Striking the perfect balance between comedy and serious health topics is all about authenticity and timing. As a writer, I focus on ensuring that the humour feels natural to the characters and the world they inhabit, rather than forcing jokes into sensitive moments. Comedy works best when it’s rooted in truth, so I let the humour come from the characters’ personalities and interactions rather than making light of the issue itself. Pacing is also key; I structure the script so that the laughs create a comfortable atmosphere before weaving in the more serious elements. By building trust with the audience through humor, they’re more open to receiving important messages without feeling like they’re being lectured. And when you incorporate laddish, Glaswegian culture, the jokes almost write themselves. There’s something about the way Glaswegian men talk, rip into each other, and navigate awkward conversations that makes comedy flow naturally, even in unexpected moments. Of course, I always test the balance in rehearsals, making adjustments based on real reactions. The goal is for people to walk away having laughed, but also having learned something meaningful. 

Lucian Burlingame: I think the script tends to balance extremely well, where there’s a build up between the two, but it does take a lot of experimenting line-by-line to see where you can make a change to help deliver it. 

Aidan Curley: Finding the perfect balance between laughs and addressing serious issues in the play has been going through the script and making use of the characters’ jokes in the best way possible but also trying to find moments to make them vulnerable. 

Barry Morrell: We don’t treat the serious stuff like an afterthought – but we also never preach. The laughter opens the door, and once people are comfortable, we slip in the truth. It’s like having a pint with your mates and ending up chatting about the stuff that no one usually talks about. That balance comes from being honest, not trying to be clever. 

Hannah Mary Taylor: I think it’s about understanding that the characters use comedy and laughter as a way to explore these issues, it brings them up from the darker side of what they’re all going through. Once you understand that, it’s a lot easier to understand that there’s a lot going on behind the jokes and a lot more emotion. I think the two intertwine with one another and I don’t think these characters are capable of exploring one without the other.Lewis Gillon: I see the characters as real people going through things day to day, just like in reality. Treating each scene with the respect and humility it deserves is important due to the severity of the topics being shown. Authenticity is the thing that springs to mind, and placing myself in the characters’ shoes and trying to convey it had this become my reality and what my response would be to the people closest to me.

What’s one hilarious or unexpected thing that’s happened during a live performance of The Naked Neds?

Ingram Noble: Falling off of the stage, but I’m sure everyone else has mentioned that. On the final night, last year in Kirkcaldy we all lost it, completely just left the script behind after everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. There were no staples in the staple gun, beer cans were full instead of empty, though I have a feeling that might have been Lucian and Aidan trying to have a drink at the end of the tour! 

Lucian Burlingame: Ingram falling off of the stage in Glasgow and improvising a line to get out of it perfectly. 

Aidan Curley: The most hilarious thing to happen during The Naked Neds performances has to be when Ingram exited the stage and fell off of the stage. The fall was loud and sounded painful, all whilst I’m on stage with Tanya trying not to break character. To be fair to him, he managed to play it off as part of the show.

How has partnering with Cahonas Scotland helped amplify the show’s life-saving message?

Ingram Noble: There’s no point in doing the show if we’re not doing it right. Cahonas Scotland has helped us make sure that beyond the laughs, we’re delivering something genuinely meaningful. Their support has extended the show’s reach beyond the stage, allowing us to engage with audiences through online awareness campaigns, and real action. Knowing that young men are leaving the theatre not just entertained but actually checking themselves for the first time proves why this partnership matters. Their expertise in raising awareness about testicular cancer and the importance of self-checking has given our show real credibility. While The Naked Neds is first and foremost a comedy, having the backing of a respected charity ensures that the health message at its core is accurate, impactful, and reaches the right audience. I would encourage anyone reading this to head to their website (www.cahonasscotland.org) to get the lowdown on testicular cancer! (Check yersel’!)

What do you hope audiences take away – not just about men’s health, but about friendship and vulnerability?

Ingram Noble: For me, The Naked Neds is the most important thing in the world because it’s more than just a comedy, it’s a conversation starter. I want audiences to leave not only with a better understanding of men’s health but also with a deeper appreciation for friendship and

vulnerability. At its core, this show is about the way men, especially in laddish, Glaswegian culture navigate emotions, banter, and bravado while struggling to say the things that really matter. I hope people see themselves and their mates in these characters and realise that it’s okay to drop the act sometimes. It’s okay to check in on each other. It’s okay to talk about fears, health, and mental well-being without feeling like less of a man. If even one person walks away from the show and opens up to a friend, checks themselves for the first time, or just feels a little less alone, then we’ve done our job. Because at the end of the day, The Naked Neds isn’t just about laughs — it’s about a lot more. 

Lucian Burlingame: 100% that friendship is key in any situation and that vulnerability isn’t a weakness. Your friends will always be there to get you out of stuff like this. We want the audience to leave and remember to be grateful for the friendships they have. 

Aidan Curley: I hope the audiences take away, not just information about mental health but about men being able to be vulnerable around friends and being able to express themselves in a way that they aren’t going to be ridiculed by their mates for it. I also want the audience to see what a community of mates can do when put in a time of sadness and how they can work together to bring hope and raise awareness for the rest of the community. 

Barry Morrell: That it’s okay to not be okay – and it’s more than okay to talk about it. We want people to leave feeling like they’ve just had a night out with their best mates, where nothing was off-limits. If a bunch of blokes can get naked on stage and talk about testicles, you can probably check in on your mate or open up a bit yourself. 

Hannah Mary Taylor: I hope they take away how important your friends are. How important it is to be open with your friends and to be there for them in times of need and to have a laugh with them when things aren’t looking so good. 

Lewis Gillon: I hope it encourages men to feel heard and listened to. Too many men suffer in silence because they can’t articulate the weight on their shoulders and would feel judged for doing so. I hope it demonstrates how “manly” being vulnerable is and how impactful a healthy conversation about life with friends can be.

Find The Naked Neds on tour at a theatre near you:
23rd of May: Macrobert Arts Centre (Stirling)
6th & 7th of June: East Kilbride Arts Centre (East Kilbride)
13th of June: Cottiers Theatre (Glasgow)
1st – 9th of August: SpaceUK @Surgeons’ Hall (Edinburgh Fringe)
15th of August: The Lanternhouse at Cumbernauld Theatre (Cumbernauld)
29th of August: Rutherglen Town Hall (Rutherglen)
5th of September: 53two (Manchester)

6th of September: The Little Theatre Cleadon (Sunderland)
13th of September: Beacon Arts Centre (Greenock)
19th of September: Three Villages Hall (Arrochar)

CAST AND CREW 

Paul – Lucian Burlingame 

Jamie – Ingram Noble 

Harry – Aidan Curley 

Tony – Barry Morrell 

Bev – Hannah Mary Taylor 

Cammy – Lewis Gillon 

Writer & Director – Ingram Noble

Image credit: Beth Chalmers

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Katherina Radeva

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Bottoms is the newest work from cutting-edge, fearless performance makers Two Destination Language, which makes its World Premiere as part of Dance International Glasgow, 14 – 15 May, 2025. Known for embracing joy on stage, and celebrating the power and movement of non-traditional dance bodies, Two Destination Language’s Bottoms explores the tradition of Can-Can, a dance which first evolved during the Industrial Revolution as a way for workers to escape social norms, let off steam and express themselves through wild displays of physical prowess. We sat down with Co-Director and Performer, Katherina Radeva to learn more about the production.

You describe Bottoms as a space of joy and abandon, but it’s also clearly political. How do you balance those two things—delight and defiance—on stage?

I honestly feel that joy is political. It is a political statement to look for joy in the current global political climate. Claiming a moment of delight is refusing to let the bastards get you down. If politicians don’t have to take their influence terribly seriously, and we’ve seen that in Boris as well as Trump, then there’s a defiance inherent in holding onto joy despite the horrifying impacts of military, environmental and economic misadventure. Those 60 minutes people choose to spend with us – we want them to feel like a release: leaving them entertained and surprised and thoughtful and hopefully with questions about the world we share. The balance is like life – you can’t have light without dark and you can’t recognise the shadows without the light.

The show reclaims the Can-Can from its commercialised, glamourised image. What surprised you most when digging into the dance’s roots and original spirit?

Workers, mostly men, would gather to drink after work and they began to throw some shapes, showing off and letting off steam. This was in opposition to the formally defined social dances of the time. Then, women joined the party by kicking their legs high along with the men. Then, business spotted an opportunity, and welcomed the cancan in their cabarets: they adopted and monetised the popular dance. At the same time Toulouse Lautrec was painting and drawing the girls kicking their legs and then, as now, the theatre management figured that sex sells. For functional reasons, many women’s underwear had an open crotch at the time, and so the high kicks teased audiences with what they might glimpse. So, the cancan was popularised for those who could pay to see the show, and occupy a particular kind of gaze as its audience.

I guess the most surprising thing for us was that men started it. You can really imagine the joy that dancing brought them, at the end of a hard working day. There’s something really delightful about imagining the dance before it was brought into the conformity of an entertainment to be bought and sold.

You mention that none of your dancers would meet the Moulin Rouge’s traditional criteria. How does that shift the energy and meaning of the Can-Can in Bottoms?

Well, none us would! You’ve got to be tall and thin, extremely fit with long legs, tiny waist etc. We are all gloriously different from that. I mean, I am a size 14, 43 year old perimenoposal woman – and I’m reclaiming the dance, remaking it for my body and the glorious group of dancers I’m part of in this.

We have deconstructed the dance choreographically – there is recognisable cancan, but we’re questioning the spectacle, and the gaze that the dance we’re familiar with invites, and the idealised bodies it relies on. At the same time, we’re fascinated by performance, the relationship it creates between an audience member and the people they’re watching. Is there a power dynamic, and how is it constructed? What can we do to play with that relationship? The cancan is a tool which lets us retain a handful of humour while we play with those questions.

This show seems to be in conversation with how we value labour and bodies—especially in performance. As artists in a post-pandemic, burnout-heavy world, what do you want audiences to take away from that?

We are working for you: on stage, in front of your eyes, we’re working. The things we do in the show: those are our jobs. It’s a job we love doing! The delight we take in our jobs (not the endless admin and producing and hoping that our work will be fairly remunerated, but the making and performing) is real, and at the same time it’s something we’re paid for. Paid to do it, and to make it look like we enjoy it so the audience goes away satisfied. People should be paid for their work, and that work should be satisfying. Maybe that comes back to the political, so in this show, we’re working hard for you. But in not being a group of ultra-flexible super-fit people who have trained in musicals (although some of us are some of these things) we are questioning what audiences really perceive and what is of value to that audience. The bodies and labour you see are shaped by years of training and lived experiences; what you see is shaped by the work that went into creating this through rehearsals and before those in planning and researching… Like lots of work, the visible labour is only a fraction of what’s involved.

There’s a lot of humour in your work—why is that important when you’re dealing with topics like capitalism, conformity, and exhaustion?

If we took a melancholic approach, we could just accept defeat in the face of capitalism, and its demand for conformity and its insistence on exhausting us through labour and consumption. Humour can be a really powerful tool: we might not individually have a lot of power (or capital), but we can resist the demand that we take seriously the values of capitalism and its destructive attitude towards nature and people. There’s room for essays and politics, but we want to deal with some of those things by offering something to smile about.

You’re performing in Bottoms as well as co-directing. How does being in the work physically affect the way you shape the show and connect with your audience?

That wasn’t the plan. It turned out we needed another person to make the show work, and so I joined in. It has been hard to hold and carry many hats, and what feels right inside the work doesn’t always look right from outside. Video is a brilliant tool for helping all of us on stage step outside and see what we’re creating. We’re working with a really superb team of performers, shaping lots of the work together. Our process is a bit like sculpture: we’ve got a block of stone and need to let the shape inside it become visible. Sometimes, one area is beautiful but doesn’t match the whole, and we have to reshape or remove it. But also, we’re shaping it to match this company of performers: made with different people, it would look and feel different, and that’s the same with my role in it too. I can’t be in and out at any moment, so more of the design, the conceptual thinking and the composition of the work has taken place between rehearsal weeks – and I think we all benefit from those breaks.

Tickets for Bottoms can be found here.

REVIEW: Mozart Sinfonia Concertante

Published on by Sam WLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Not a single word is spoken all night, and yet you  leave with the feeling that a lot was said

You’re invited to a concert. Classical music. While not your typical fare, you look forward to  it. You’re excited, even. So you arrive early at Glasgow’s City Halls, a venue steeped in history and tonight playing host to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, a performing arts company that formed over a century after the grand hall was originally built. Three pieces will be played, one a world premiere and the others well-loved classics. The lights dim and a group of  musicians, all dressed in the standard black, appear on stage and take their seats. They get ready. A shroud of silence settles over the audience. Are they getting ready too? There’s always an air of anticipation right before the first notes are played, an electric feeling that is seeking a channel to spark the night alive. The musicians raise their instruments to their lips. And into that silence – noise. 

Noise. It hasn’t come from the stage. No, it has come from the audience. Someone’s phone.  Someone has forgotten to switch off their phone and you are sat there smugly because you  always put your phone on silent before any event. But instead of the killing their phone immediately, the noise has kept blaring on, and you have now twisted around to locate the  commotion. It was then you realised it wasn’t just some phone ringing – it was an audience  member seemingly watching TikToks on full volume. 

It is a regrettable way to begin a review. I must apologise as this disruption is in no way a  reflection on the performance; in fact, the performance was equal parts virtuosic and  moving. But it is also a regrettable way to begin an otherwise excellent evening. So, a plea from your humble reviewer: turn off your damn phones. And if you must blast TikToks out loud, the comfort of your own home is a much better locale than you can imagine. 

Away from modern distractions, the evening is kickstarted by the premiere of Jay  Capperauld’s Carmina Gadelica. Inspired by Alexander Carmichael’s collection of ancient  Scottish folk poetry, this piece is performed in five movements by a wind dectet that evokes the natural world that Scotland boasts, from the fluidity of the waters to the song of the  birds. The highlight, however, is the third movement, a musical recreation of songs sung by women who worked on cloth, where a steady beat drives forward a sense of anticipation. 

You are then taken back in time to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante K364.  Written in a deeply unhappy time of his life, it begins with a vigorous first movement that  has an almost mischievous edge. Here, the winds take on a supporting role as the strings  come out to play, but it’s the second movement that grabs you and holds on to you. Led by the wonderful Stephanie Gonley on violin and Max Mandel on viola, it is wistful, and demands you introspect. When it ends with a sense of finality, you come away having  touched on emotional truths within.

The final piece of the night is Franz Schubert’s Symphony No 4 in C minor, D 417. Titled  ‘Tragic’, it’s a dramatic piece. Again, the second movement conveys the melancholy, and the  orchestra plays it with a touch of the Romantic, every note like a stroke of a painting. Such strong emotion is mirrored in a happier mood in the final movement, and the orchestra once more matches it with gusto, playing it with a force that literally shakes your boots. It is a triumphant end to the symphony, and a fitting one for the evening.

Image Credit: Eoin Carey

REVIEW: Studio3

Published on by nmcgarrityLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

“A mixed bag of stellar acting and poignant themes“

The Tron Theatre’s Studio3 shows – Alright Sunshine, Fleg, and Fruitcake – presented strongly written, boldly original plays from some of the best and newest of Scottish writers. Commissioned by A Play, A Pie, and A Pint, the three plays were performed across a single afternoon and evening, though are now available to watch as stand-alone performances for the next short while. Each of the plays pushed limits in various ways, to varying degrees of success.

The strongest performance and writing came from Alright Sunshine. Written by Isla Cowan, directed by Debbie Hannan, and acted by Danni Heron, the play revolved around a monologue from a police woman, Nicky, and how she copes with her job under suspicion of police brutality. The play started casual, conversational, and fantastically relatable – only to subvert expectations with a dive into something dark and electric as Nicky fell apart. While some sections of the script felt repetitive at times, the repetition of “Dinny be a girl” was one aspect that worked to chill and move audiences alike. The audience was forced to confront the difficult emotions about being a police officer, and their dual role as perpetrator and supposed protector of the city. Heron gave a gripping performance, demonstrating phenomenal acting throughout the entirety of the fifty-minute piece. Dealing with dark themes that many women can relate to about men, their abuse of power, Cowan’s writing is superb, and I look forward to seeing the future of her work.

Next up was Fleg by Meghan Tyler, an absurdist play set in East Belfast after the death of the Queen. With delightful characters such as Caroline (Jo Freer) and Bobby (Kevin Lennon), two staunch unionists who mourn the Queen’s death in hilarious fashion (“She was too young!” had the audience in stitches) and the living version of the British Empire as a sexy woman (Danni Heron) who pole dances, the play doesn’t disappoint in terms of comedy. It was also an insightful take on how extemist ideology can take hold of people in dark moments. I do believe the themes of xenophobia and non-binary identity could have been more tactfully handled, and would have benefitted from a longer run-time. Some scenes felt rushed, again perhaps due to the limited run-time, but some scenes were especially moving, such as the exchange between the council worker (Danni Heron) and Caroline: “Are you happy?” Caroline was asked, which prompted her decisions for the rest of the play. Overall, the play was a little on the nose, but the larger than life characters and the fantastic actors certainly helped convey the central themes of the downfall of Britain, domestic violence, and the relevance of cosplay and jam sandwiches.

The final performance, Fruitcake by Frances Poet, posited itself as a “romantic comedy for the existentially weary,” though felt unsure at times what it wanted to be. It switched between moments of heartfelt reflection on a friendship broken by mental illness and grief to a comedy, seeming sometimes to be poking fun at the themes it represented. Mikey (played by Kevin Lennon) was often the butt of the joke, his ‘visions’ being played as comedy despite how much distress they seemed to be causing him. At times, it was hard to know whether to laugh or not at certain jokes during tense, beautiful moments, and overall might have benefitted from less comedy and more focus on the relationship developed between Mikey and Holly (Jo Freer), the latter of whom sometimes seemed unsympathetic towards Mikey’s clear struggle. Overall, the writing was powerful, but struggled in its genre, leaving us laughing, but uneasy about if we should be at all.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Milly Sweeney and Sally Reid

Published on by ayoungishperspective1Leave a comment

Glasgow based playwright Milly Sweeney and the award-winning director and actress Sally Reid (Scot Squad, BBC Scotland and Shirley Valentine, Pitlochry Festival Theatre) are coming together for the new play Water Colour, a story about connection, mental illness, and opening yourself up to the world. The new play, which is Sweeney’s professional debut, is produced by the Byre Theatre in partnership with Playwrights’ Studio, Scotland and Pitlochry Festival Theatre. We sat down with them both to learn more about Water Colour and their collaboration.

Milly, how did it feel to win the St Andrews Playwriting Award for your debut play? What inspired Water Colour?

Winning the St Andrew’s Playwriting Award is honestly a dream come true, and I still can’t quite wrap my head around it! I’ll never forget the moment I got that call from Playwright Studio Scotland. I’ve loved writing since I was a little girl, and wee Milly would be absolutely chuffed to know her work was getting recognised like this. 

“Water Colour” came about when a good friend and mentor of mine, Steve Lauder-Russell (who is now the movement director for “Water Colour!”) encouraged me to write a two-hander. I’d been writing plays for the young people at the Glasgow Acting Academy, as well as for my own theatre company, Cuttin’ Aboot, for a few years at this point. Big ensemble casts, and ambitious stories. He challenged me to write something a bit more intimate and character driven, with the end goal being that we could cast and produce the show ourselves one day. Little did we know, the show would end up being bigger than we ever imagined! 

Steve told me about a friend of his, who had to talk a suicidal woman down from one of the bridges that crosses the Clyde. He thought (with his friend’s consent, of course) this could be an interesting and important story to develop. It’s not the first time I’ve heard a story like this, and after engaging in some research, I found that suicide rates in Glasgow are in fact on the incline. I knew it was the right story to tell.

Sally, what drew you to direct Water Colour and how did you approach the project?

I really like working on new plays that have not had a life yet and so when I was asked to read Water Colour I was already drawn to it from that perspective. I really enjoy working closely with a writer on a new piece of work and we can really delve in to make it a collaborative experience and the best it can be. I also adore the studio space at Pitlochry and am looking forward to making a show in that space.

The play explores mental illness and self-acceptance. Why are these themes important to address today?

Milly: I don’t think I know anyone who hasn’t struggled with their mental health at some point or another. It’s not uncommon. But there’s a general sense of hopelessness in the world right now that’s pretty hard to ignore. We’re living in really scary, uncertain times, and it’s society’s most vulnerable groups that are going to suffer the most as a result of this. I think portraying mental health struggles, and people living in spite of them, is crucial. It’s us saying “I see you, I see your struggle, but it’s going to be ok.”

Sally: I think these themes are important to address at any time because despite so many great charities and guidance in this area, we still need to keep it alive and talk about it and what better way than to see these themes represented in a live play, and which are dealt with so beautifully by the writer. 

Milly, can you tell us about Esme and Harris? What do you want audiences to take away from their stories?

Esme is an art student, struggling with isolation, self-esteem and identity. She’s had depression and anxiety for a long time, but when we meet her, she has really hit rock bottom. Esme’s journey is all about committing to mental health recovery, whatever that may mean to you. Committing to the idea that things can and will get better. 

Harris is a budding chef who’s battling intense anxiety, guilt and intrusive thoughts. He’s experiencing a lot of this for the first time and he doesn’t yet have the vocabulary to recognise these symptoms for what they are, which is really scary for him. 

It was important to me that I created two very different characters who are both struggling with their mental health, to show that mental illness does not discriminate. However, Esme and Harris’s opposing factors in gender, sexuality and class rear their heads when it comes to seeking help for their struggles.

Sally how did you work with Molly Geddes and Ryan J Mackay to bring these complex characters to life?

We haven’t started rehearsals yet, but I met both of these wonderful actors in the audition and they both brought to life the characters and lifted them off the page and made Milly’s dialogue really sing. I am really looking forward to working with them in rehearsals and sharing all of our ideas. 

Milly, the setting on a bridge over the Clyde feels symbolic. How does it connect to the play’s themes?

There is a lot of scope for imagery and metaphor due to the bridge setting. The phrase “build a bridge and get over it,” comes to mind – something both of the characters are struggling to do. The Clyde itself is a real force in the play. When I think of the Clyde, I think of it’s powerful currents, able to drag even the strongest swimmers under. The battle that is struggling to keep your head above the water in a turbulent world. But at the same time, I think the Clyde is one of the most beautiful, eye-catching things in Glasgow. It’s a rich part of our history, and home to a whole host of wildlife. You can see it as this big, black abyss, or you can choose to find the beauty in it.

Milly, how did you balance personal experiences with creating the characters’ emotional journeys?

 “Water Colour” is a work of fiction, but I did draw from my own experiences struggling with my mental health. I couldn’t not. I like to think that this made for a really honest piece of theatre. That being said, when creating Esme and Harris, I tried my best to make them really different from myself, as to ensure nothing was hitting too close to home. I definitely pepper bits of myself and my lived experience in everything I write. They say “write what you know” and that has always reigned true to me. Glasgow is almost a character itself in the play, and as someone who has lived in Glasgow my whole life, I like to think I portray her pretty accurately.

Sally, how has collaboration shaped the development of Water Colour with Milly and the cast?

We have continued to keep in contact about ideas on the play ahead of rehearsals; sharing visual images, music, references that we like or make us think of Water Colour. We have a sound designer/composer and a movement director too, so there are a lot of creative brains on this and I love to have an open, organic rehearsal room to share ideas when bringing a play to life.

Milly, how does the play encourage empathy and understanding towards mental health struggles?

I think when it comes to mental health, people are a lot more accepting of it in theory than they are in practice. They’ll preach about it on social media, but in real life, roll their eyes at the colleague who is taking time off work, or the man on the bus who is a bit rowdy, or the pal who keeps cancelling plans. I’ve always been raised with the mentality that you need to be kind to others, because you never know what someone else could be going through. The events in “Water Colour” are set in motion by an act of bravery on Harris’ part towards a girl he doesn’t even know. There’s this idea of collective responsibility. We all need to look out for each other.

What does it mean for you to present Water Colour through the Byre Theatre, Pitlochry Festival Theatre and Playwrights’ Studio, Scotland? How does this show play into the future of Scottish theatre?

Milly: “Water Colour” is a product of pure collaboration. From Pitlochry and the Byre working together to produce it, to Frances Poet helping dramaturg the play, to Sally and Steve and the wonderful Scottish actors, and Playwright Studio Scotland being there to guide me every step of the way. “Water Colour” is an amalgamation of lots of hard work from a lot of different Scottish based creatives, and that’s something I’m really proud to be a part of. I hope that the St Andrew’s Playwriting Award is able to keep running, because it gives emerging writers a chance. A chance to get their foot in the door and learn from the very best.

Sally: I’m really looking forward to working at Pitlochry with a different hat on this time after playing Shirley Valentine last year a s part of the season. I love the theatre and all of the people who work there and I’m excited to do a studio piece on such an intimate scale with a subject matter and characters that are so real and raw. I think it’ll be exciting for an audience to be up close and personal with these lovely characters. I think this play and Milly will excite a Scottish audience to see the talent that exudes from her and from the brilliant young actors and that Scottish theatre is in safe hands if they continue in the industry!

Water Colour runs at Pitlochry Festival Theatre from 9-17 May and then transfers to the Byre Theatre on 28 & 29 May, tickets are available here.

REVIEW: RSNO: Jess Gillam & Shostakovich Eight featuring Anna Clyne’s ‘Glasslands’

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Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“Emotionally evocative, tense, and thrilling”

As someone who has never attended orchestra in my life, I was hesitant about taking up this review. I did not have to worry – as it turned out, Glasslands and Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 8 were incredibly accessible to those without knowledge of orchestra and took me to worlds I didn’t think possible through music alone.

The show opened with the wonderful Anna Clyne’s Glasslands, full of Irish myth and wonder. It was the first of many extremes of the night and set a fantastic tone for the Shostakovich symphony to come. As a big enthusiast of the fantasy genre (although mostly in books), I was enthralled by the myriad of mystical worlds Clyne brought us through with the help of conductor Jonathon Heyward and saxophonist Jess Gillam. The RSNO created such an atmosphere through the auditorium – each minute as thrilling as (if not more than) the last. A true story was created on stage, with the entire orchestra literally and figuratively on the same page. Behind each note played was deep passion and skill. The piece allowed Gillam to demonstrate her mastery over the instrument as she flew from the highs of a banshee’s (melodious) shrieks to the lows of a funeral march. It was challenging to take the eye off the wonderful interactions between the conductor and the soloist, who stole attention with the beautiful Glasslands piece. When Gillam played an encore after a thunderous applause, I knew that if the second piece were anything like the first, it would blow me away.

The beginning of Shostakovich’s piece was beautiful, in a gloomy and foreboding way. Ominous and slow, the tension built into the room until you could hear a pin drop. Between each section, in the silence, only then did people dare breathe and cough – other than that, the haunting melody spellbound the auditorium. I was enraptured, watching this group create art that you could feel in the air. The sense was that war was over, and it had been a victory, but the cost and the consequential new world were not easy. Some segments bordered on miserably victorious; others, a reluctant kind of cheerful. The whole orchestra created a wide range of experiences within the sixty-five-minute piece, conjuring up precipices and silences that could (and did!) take your breath away. At times, certain sections dragged on and yielded momentum, making the audience lose engagement.

However, each further section created a renewed sense of vitality within the concert. It was a masterful display of music, shifting from discordant to soft and silken in the blink of an eye. Each shift in music felt like a change in ideals, in philosophy: the military-esque drumming and crescendo created a character I didn’t think was possible to create. It’s little wonder this piece was banned for several years: the emotion that the RSNO brought out was physically embodied in their conductor, who evoked passion and strength in every movement. 

While it may be evident that I don’t know my musical terms, I did not need to be an expert to enjoy both performances thoroughly. It is strongly recommended to anyone who has not experienced orchestral music before (and, of course, to those who have). The complex pieces wove a complex, complete story with a dynamic sense of style and beauty, and each section had a hand in contributing to the tale being told. Across the auditorium, as the end of the piece grew solemn, the entire audience was gripped, and the thunderous round of applause at the end was most certainly deserved. 

REVIEW: Through The Shortbread Tin

Published on by Iona GoodallLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Thought-provoking poetic theatre interrogating Scottish history.

A single finger of shortbread hangs limply over the stage. You expect it to be torn down in righteous anger at the Scottish stereotyping that plagues art created about Scotland – but instead, our narrator cheekily helps himself to his own, dunked in tea, hidden behind a majestic (cardboard) stag.

Through the Shortbread Tin isn’t a show about the black and white – it’s an intricate cross-examination of the murky truths and deceptions behind not only James MacPherson’s 1766 poetic epic Ossian, but himself and the Scotland of now. While Ossian may have been a fabrication, one of the greatest deceits of literary history, its impact rang true for so many people. It helped kickstart a returned feeling of Scottishness that had been cowed into submission after Culloden and the suppression of Scottish culture – and doesn’t that mean so much more, even if it is a lie?

Writer and performer Martin O’Conner’s verse guide us through the blended timelines of himself, MacPherson, and Ossian with humour and power, absolutely nailing all the collective hang-ups held by both Scots and outsiders (“Scots are funny, but they’re just not happy”). His verse is cheeky, clever, and unexpected, deftly switching from Ossian quotations, history, and monologues, calling out issues like masculine emotional repression and feeling a lack of connection to your own culture and language. The different sections of the narrative are connected and underscored with a beautiful a capella Gaelic trio of Josie Duncan, Claire Frances MacNeil, and Mairi Morrison, whose lilting songs sound angelic and powerful by turns, along with an occasional sly bit of humour.

For me, the show felt slightly let down by Lu Kemp’s staging. The movement was so pared back it felt lacklustre and robotic at times, with the cast stuck in formation, waiting for their next cue to move again. There were good moments such as when we’re told Macpherson is in a bar as the toast of the literary world, when the trio of singers line up on bar stools, beers in hand, inviting us into his space; or the excellent interactions between O’Connor and Katherine King, an on-stage BSL interpreter who is as much a comedic sidekick as a translator – but on the whole, it lacked movement and motivation for such an expressive, wide-ranging script.

The other issue was that the show had come to its finale – only for there to be at least another 20 minutes of show. I loved the final emotional beat when O’Connor finally expresses his feelings to his granddad in Gaelic in his granddad’s native tongue – but it whimpers away after that, neither triumphant nor wistful. The story of Scotland, whether true or myth, needs to go out with a bang.

Through the Shortbread Tin is thought-provoking, constantly pulling the rug from under you, making you reexamine your relationship to both your own story and that of Scotland. I had never heard of Ossian before this show, and it’s a great show for people who haven’t heard of Ossian and want to interrogate why they haven’t. It doesn’t veer into nationalist jingoism, it doesn’t allow Scottish culture to be seen as lesser – it’s a carefully walked tightrope, finding something true in a muddle of mythology.

REVIEW: The Kelton Hill Fair

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

A once in a lifetime fair, and a once in a lifetime show representing Scotland’s finest creators.

From beginning to end I was blown away by Wonder Fools’ latest production, The Kelton Hill Fair. Written by Jack Nurse and Robbie Gordon, the play showcased the efforts of an incredible case and wonderful crew to bring together a story that is as unforgettable as it is unsettling. The story was created by a selection of young people from Dumfries and Galloway: their talent must be recognised within the production, and they – Holly Marie Chapman, Charlie McAdam, Emma Forsynth, Sara Thomson, and Eilidh Thomson – must be applauded for their impressive storytelling collaboration.

The play follows Flo (played by the brilliantly earnest Ava Hickey) as she runs from her foster mother after trouble with the police and a schoolteacher. Bereft and alone, she stumbles upon the Kelton Hill Fair: a fantastical fair that is only accessible one night in the year, filled with those that don’t belong. Just like her… or so it seems. She meets the wonderfully batty group – the apparent-feminist Lady Dixie, played fabulously by the superb Julie Wilson-Nimmo; the erratic but initially-charming Hare (Michael Dylan excelled within the role!), the loveable down-to-earth Lizzie (Laura Lovemore twice moved me to tears), and, of course, Robert Burns (the incredibly versatile Martin Donaghy). Cut through with startling, unnerving moments of reality for Flo, the group do their best to make Flo feel at home in the idiosyncrasies of fair life: all with a staggering amount of alcohol (in true Scottish style?). Sam Stopford, filling in for Perri Snowdon as Billy Marshall, stood in contrast to the initial levity of the other fair folk. Brooding, temperamental, and manipulative, the emotion Stopford displayed especially towards the end was an incredible display of skill. Both he and Hickey stunned the audience with the final few scenes of the play, giving some of the most heartfelt acting I’ve seen in a while. 

Bold and brilliant, I cannot forget the incredible work of the crew behind the scenes. In charge of set, Jenny Booth created the charming innovative hill, while the lighting by Benny Goodman and the music by VanIves accompanied the tone set by the acting and writing incredibly. With brave portrayals of some of Scotland’s most well-loved legends (Burns in particular, as perhaps the most famous Scot of all time, was given extraordinary, slimy depth), The Kelton Hill Fair accomplishes the ambitious motives of national storytelling and broadening local participation that the company set out with. The cast and crew have an astonishing ability to twist emotions: sympathy turns to horror and disgust; levity and comedy becomes tragic within moments. The audience laughed and gasped and fell dead silent all throughout the performance.

Walking away from the performance with tears in my eyes and a renewed feeling of Scottish… perhaps not pride, but identity… in my heart, I have only two regrets. The first is that I had not found the company sooner: I was spellbound the entire time and know they will only excel further from here. The second is that I had walked into the theatre quite fond of Burns’s poem ‘To A Mouse’ – and found myself leaving knowing that I would never read it the same way again. With a mix of poetry both old and new, wonderful songs and music, and a universal story of what it means to belong, be remembered, and have someone on your side, Wonder Fools’ next production is not to be missed. If you have the chance, I cannot recommend The Kelton Hill Fair highly enough. 

The Kelton Hill Fair runs at the Tron until the 29th March.