C aurora, Church of Sacred Heart
Aug 20th – 21st, 23rd – 27th (15:15)

Dum Vita Est Spes Est

I have never been moved by theatre as much as by this August’s Fringe performance of ‘the Kids with Nae Hame’. The venue was up through grass market and it was called C araura; a venue in Church of Sacred Heart, it turned out to act as a kind of shelter for the in-depth play to come. The room had three sides of seats framing the stage, and was only thinly lined with two rows, this turned out to be absolutely perfect for the dark story to unfold with its deep roots in reality.

A sincerity was prevalent that I wasn’t expecting, with a story set out to involve us in the upside down world of Social care, with a story told by three young girls who were seated and were a surprise to see jump into action. The scene felt familiar, like something seen on T.V. or in a news report, and began with the very admirable ability of these young girls who seem able to cope with their abhorrent situations in the heart of this social care.

The venue in my head quickly became a haven and a thankfully safe spot to portray its very vivid and detailed description of what is a reality for these kids who have ‘…Nae Hame.’ Coming from a writer who had come up with this play from directly personal experience, giving proceedings a reality sharpened for theatrical usage. She intends to take it on tour.

More and more characters seemed to pour onto the stage, which was a pleasure in its kind of freedom though mostly everyone had very dark comments to make. Scenarios were told with accomplished acridity, with the start showing girls as a team holding themselves together in the throes of something that caused deep compassion, but these girls seemed to have a hold on their predicament, was this because it’s a story that has been long in its making and has given this world plenty, or too much, to be prepared for.

The conciseness had a very remarkable effect in a precision of character, rolling a story showing how far down in this world you can tumble. Portraying attitudes, sorry scenes and offering a vision of what felt like a helpless world, giving the resoundingly responsible 3 girls their loss of chances in this life.

Two characters came on after the first scene who were also so concisely dressed with wigs that put the growing play into place, their iconic Glaswegian appearance making in no mistake a reference to a helpless reality, drank vodka and cursed the kids. Who were denied access to the world by an incentive attitude from their staff of their hopeless predicament, even throwing them to chance and fate with uncaring coldness.

And then hope reprieved! One of the kids took to a lectern as Prime minister, and with the unmistakable hero (for these wizened yet vulnerable girls) in the shape of the head of social work, a character whose name they sang, a man who could over rule any decision made by the tired and uncaring staff that then had no power to berate this situation that we don’t often bother with.

With striding hope the outstanding new PM instructs this world with a stripping of sanctions against its all but innocent citizens. This scene gave up meaningful consolations to at least half of the problems that needlessly purvey in a system of ignorance and simple arrogance of a staff who themselves don’t seem to know better, and were only too happy to berate the lives in the stem of using it for control.

This immaculate play’s time was an hour brimming with a story whose tale was told, whose circumstance was heralded and whose solutions were in evidence with a bravado momentum of movement and beauty, tragedy and suggestions of the possibility of easy solutions that seem to be instead forever held in chains, with a theatre in the power of suggestion, confident and skilful writing and making a point of delivery to love and to hold. It had a great uniqueness to it and came up with ideas that I hadn’t come across in theatre before, thanks to them I think I get the point

Daniel Donnelly