Category Archives: Scotland

The Scurvy Ridden Whale Men

Oran Mor, Glasgow
March 18-23 2019

Script: four-stars.png  Stagecraft: four-stars.png  Performance: four-stars.png

Walking into the Oran Mor venue, we saw the stage dressed as a humble room with laundry hung up to dry and a very comfortable looking chair. The Scurvy Ridden Whale Men by Steven Dick tells of a 19th century whaling disaster, a tale of tragedy and the loss of the crew of the Viewforth to the icy sea, starvation and scurvy. Mrs Humphrey (Janette Foggo) was a larger than life character in brown brogues who presided over the temporary hospital set up in her home to tend to the only two survivors She settled herself down to tell the grizzly tale with gusto and black – very black – humour.

First up is young Peter (Ronan Doyle), flying high on his own emotions. Mrs Humphry keeps trying to bring him down to earth and bring him to his senses, but those senses have been heightened by the tragedy of the boat that sank at sea. Her words of common sense contrast with his excited dialogue and increasing fixation with the need to find his bible, which has been misplaced. She tries to get him to focus on his need to be looked after, shows him his laundry which has been attended to. As she peels her vegetables, we see a darker side to her as she speaks about the loss of her own two boys, Robert and Donald, whose boat it was that had been lost at sea.

When the black storm that caused the tragedy was mentioned, the room dramatically darkened and a howling gale blew through the PA system. Captain Reid (Billy Mac) is depicted at the at the helm during the terrible storm that killed all but himself and the traumatised youngster. The contrast between the safe warm house and the terrible sea scape served to underline the tragedy that had befallen these characters. It was almost as if they were in different dimensions that were tearing them apart as things go from bad to worse. Captain Reid was increasingly riddled with guilt and young Peter was more and more obsessed with the need to find his bible, for that was his only means of salvation. He becomes more and more sure that Mrs Humphrey had taken it and had hidden it away.

He became further convinced that she had plotted from the outset to get the two fisherman to stay with her in her hospital and becomes more and more fervent in his insistence. Things come to head when Peter pulls a knife on her, a seemingly outrageous act, but one that brings about something of a reversal in the story and we start to suspect that his suspicions might have had some truth in them after all when she mutters that she was never trying to hurt anyone, what has she done? We were left wondering whether her act of kindness might have a different, darker motivation, perhaps something to do with the loss of her two sons? We just don’t know.

Daniel Donnolly


Ring Road

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Oran Mor, Glasgow
March 11-16 2019

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Cast within the natural limitations of the parameters of a PPP production, some plays often feel void of a certain something – characterization, drama, story even – but not Ring Road. This is a remarkable strike of the match, creating a somewhat quite brilliant flame as it deals with modern issues, & handles them with a sort of fluffy grittiness. Ring Road, by the way, is definitely not one for the school holidays!

“At first I thought you were a snooty cow…” Mark

The set is a hotel room – twin beds -, a consummate stage in which unfolds the key bedsheet of the play, a dangerous slice of extra-marital nookie to be conducted between in-laws. Enter Anita Vettesse, starring as Lisa in her own pencrafted play. Her brother-in-law, Mark, is brought to life with bouncing aplomb by Gavin Wright; while her husband, Paul, turns up only in timely & plot-stirring phone-call soliloquies.

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Despite their sordid swaggerings, Lisa & Mark are actually quite like-able characters, with their personal inter-plays & polish’d possessions of an excellent script really helping to raise this play up to be widely praised. There are several levels to the story, all of which are relevant. I especially enjoy’d Mark’s reminiscences of when there might or might not have been some kind of chemistry/sexual tension in the earlier encounters of their lives. That Lisa always shirks an answer shows the depth & talent of Anita Vitesse’s craft.

“We’re attracted to each other, & you’re the double of Paul.” Lisa

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All in all a wonderful offering from the Oran Mor, which as I said at the start carries on its shoulders just exactly what PPP is all about – top notch drama from a small cast, mixed with classy & contemporary writing!

Damian Beeson Bullen


The Witch of Edmonton

The Witch of Edmonton at RCS.  Image © RCS - Robbie McFadzean (7).jpg

Royal Conservatoire of Scotland
March 6th–9th, 2019

Script: four-stars.png Stagecraft: five-stars Performance: five-stars    

The atmosphere in the Royal Conservatoire’s Chandler Studio Theatre was dark and murky as we took our seats, set up in a double row on three sides of the stage. The set itself added further intrigue as out of the smoky darkness arose two great hinged planks of wood suspended from the ceiling. There was just time for one more cough in the audience before we settled down to enjoy, at close range, the performance of The Witch of Edmonton, written in 1621 by William Rowley, Thomas Dekker and John Ford and based, it seems, on real life events that had happened earlier that year. This adaptation is by Mark Silverschatz.

We witness a town meeting in which all sorts of townsfolk take part – a real crowd scene, with the characters, both rich and poor, comfortably attired and seeming to be happy with their lot in life. Cheerful uproar ensues as plans for the further development of Edmonton are approved. But this blissful state does not last for long: with each subsequent town meeting and encounter the subjects become more and more disruptive and disingenuous as it becomes clear that everyone is really only thinking of themselves and nothing else, even to the extent of cold blooded murder.

The Witch of Edmonton at RCS.  Image © RCS - Robbie McFadzean (1).jpg

We start to see the true nature of the town when the haggard figure of a woman, Mother Sawyer, crawls on to the scene, totally distraught after being accused of witchcraft by the townsfolk. A terrible judgement that would reap terrible outcomes for all involved. Especially when a new character, a black dog called Tom leaps on stage, crouching behind the accused woman and offering her the revenge she so badly desires after her unfair treatment by the town. In order to reap this revenge, she makes a bargain with the devil, for that is the true identity of the dog.

Then follows a complicated intertwining web of subplots involving various characters; starting with love, bigamy and treachery, and progressing to murder and the way the devious mind can work to avoid being captured. At every turn, the devil dog Tom is always there, lurking and manipulating everything, unknown to the protagonists who cannot see very far beyond themselves; a source for great frustration and a genius opportunity for crowd participation.

The Witch of Edmonton at RCS.  Image © RCS - Robbie McFadzean (2).jpg

The play casts a spotlight upon human weakness, whether prompted by the devil or not. It does not shy away from grim and graphic confessions of sensuality, rape and cruelty. Love tries to hold out with a wistful dialogue between earth and heaven, but it is as if the world beneath them is shaking like a vision of hell. We are drawn into the tragedy, held together by fragments of speech between the many and the few. At one point, in mourning, they huddle cross legged in the freezing cold, only to be woken again by further grief.

The devil must be paid and leaves only tragedy in her wake; the ‘witch’ who seems no better off than when she started and a population that seems only good for servitude and slavery. The play grabs you by the proverbials and doesn’t let go until it is finished with you, a feeling enhanced by your proximity to the action. Strong stuff!

Daniel Donnolly


Coming Clean: Barbara

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Oran Mor, Glasgow
Mar 4-9, 2019

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‘Coming clean; Barbara’ is a solo piece written by the award winning writer Alma Cullen, this being the fifth in a series written for Oran Mor. Wendy Seager as Barbara takes us on an intense emotional journey, conjuring up a whole series of conversations as her story unfolds. The set, neat and professional with a desk and a hat stand combines with her smart blue jacket to give us an idea of her smart lifestyle and acquaintances. In sharp contrast to the emotional turmoil that is about to be revealed.

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The show opens with Barbara opening her heart to the audience, her voice full of emotion and despair. The momentum never flags as she recalls one dialogue after another, piecing together the catastrophe that has happened in her life. The lights would dim as she comes to the end of one section, only to immediately light up the solitary figure again as she recalls something else. Even the moments of silence afford no respite, just a moment for reflection before we are yet again reeled in. When she converses with her husband Andy, a senior policeman, and her son Gavin, she reflects on love, kisses, fondness, despair, reality. Things were good before they went very awry. She becomes sadder and sadder, focusing all her energy on events that seem to have become too much for anyone to bear. Events that, as a wife and mother she can only watch from the side-lines as life becomes surrounded by the law and the consequences of breaking it.

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Her lawyer, Mr Maxwell is almost her salvation, at times breaking through her grief, but ultimately failing because it seems limitless. The priest Eric is no comfort and drives her to go over and over the case by herself. We follow her conversation with Andy as she manages to talk to him in a clear voice and takes us in the imagination to the courthouse where he is convicted of a sexual offense and sentenced to 3 years in jail and a permanent sex offender licence. She falls apart; her voice growing high and urgent as she becomes more and more upset and breaks down before us, weeping on her knees. Barbara tries to hug Andy’s memory close, to remember the scent of him. But in the end her anger and despair only grow as she comes out with all the revelations of what happened and acknowledges the personal sacrifice she has been asked to make. Coming clean indeed. This is a wonderfully sweet, concerning, in-depth piece of writing and acting. Yet another reason to turn up at the Oran Mor on a Monday and sign on for an hour on the roller coaster of entertainment.

Daniel Donnolly


An Interview with Ishy Din

Ishy Din’s new play, Approaching Empty, is blowing into Scotland next week… The Mumble fancied a wee chat about it all!

Hello Ishy, so what’s your new play, Approaching Empty, about?
It’s about two lifelong friends and a business deal. Unsurprisingly, things don’t go well for them. It’s an examination of post-industrial northern towns, Asian communities and the male Asian experience. It’s part of a trilogy of plays I’m writing for Tamasha. The first was Snookered, which I wrote a few years ago about young Asian men who were born in this country. It felt like there was more to be explored within that community, so this is the second, which is about middle aged men who came to the UK when they were 12or 13 years old.

How did you come up with the idea?
The themes presented themselves coming out of Snookered; friendship, family, community.  I had the title, Approaching Empty, because when I was trying to keep the wolves from the door I did a bit of cabbing. The operator would ask us, “Where are you?” and, if you were nearly finished, you would say “I’m approaching empty”. I thought it was a great phrase.

How much of this play is fed by your cabbing experience?
I think it gives an authenticity to that world. It all unfolds in this dingy cab office somewhere up north. That, I knew really well. The coffee, the dartboard, the endless TV. Sitting around waiting for a job, Tuesday night, 1 o’clock in the morning in Middlesbrough, feeling the whole place is shut down.

It’s set at the time of Margaret Thatcher’s death. Why was that important?
I can trace a line back to the 1980s from today. When people say the phrase ‘working class’ the image that comes to mind is one of hobnail boots and flatcaps, but since the 1950s the working classes have been really multicultural. People came from all over the world to be part of the working classes. For the Asian community, our raison d’etre were the factories. Margaret Thatcher closed them down. For some people it was the opportunity they needed and they went off and became successful. But for many people, it was a devastating blow.  I think, in some ways, we haven’t recovered from that. We became isolated within our own communities. Over the years that’s grown because, especially up north, it feels like we’ve been left behind. You think “What about us?”

Do you think enough is done to bring working class and Asian communities into the theatre?
I think there’s a great will now to open up the types of stories being told and the different voices being heard. But I think we need to demystify theatre. If people don’t come to a theatre, it’s theatre’s obligation to go to the people. We need to get out more into social clubs, into community centres, into churches, and say “We tell stories, come and tell us yours” and within that we will find incredible writers and directors. The arts is a £70 billion industry. It’s Britain’s second biggest export. Why aren’t we saying “There are jobs here for you guys.” We’ve taken away one industry, why aren’t we encouraging another industry to pick up the slack. If you’re involved in creativity, it’s good for your confidence, good for your anxiety; it can lead to careers and all sorts of things. I think there’s a fear: “What happens in there? Will I fit? Am I allowed?” These sort of questions that people would ask before going to the theatre. If we can demystify it, people will be much more confident to come in.

How important is it, then, to tour Approaching Empty around the UK and in the north in particular?
I think it’s really important, but touring on its own is not enough. We need to get the marketing right as well. People aren’t going to pick up brochures to see what’s on at the theatre if they have no inclination to go to the theatre. So we have to change how we market it – where do we go, who do we tell, how do we encourage them to come along and say “You’ll enjoy this, this will be something that you recognise.”

In a world where you can get entertainment ‘on demand’, what makes theatre special?
It’s amazing. You sit there together and you see this thing unfolding in front of you. There’s something beautiful about all those characters going through their journey’s right there in front of you. It’s different every night; it has a different energy. It’s a shared experience, so we laugh together, we gasp together and we leave together talking about what we just experienced.  Over the years Tamasha has done so much to encourage people to get involved with theatre. They’ve created work from East is East right up to Approaching Empty, and everything in between. It’s a truly great company.

Approaching Empty

by Ishy Din | Directed by Pooja Ghai

 Tron Theatre, Glasgow: 5 March;

Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh: 8 – 9 March.


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Oran Mor, Glasgow
February 28th-Mar 5th, 2019

Script: four-stars.png  Stagecraft: three-stars.png  Performance: four-stars.png

“Spuds” is the third show in Oran Mor’s 15th anniversary year, and one that had made a previous appearance at the venue in 2017. The charmingly simple, almost sketch like, set – red seat, window, desk – established the tone for what was to follow; a hilarious take on drug trafficking in a mini musical. The cast comprised Darren Brownlie, Richard Conlon, Dawn Sievewright with Gavin Whitworth accompanying the show, written and directed by Andy McGregor, on the piano.

The “hero” of the piece is one David MacGonigle, in a funk after the death of his wife, with his life collapsing about him. McGonigle accidentally discovers, in a mouldy chip, a new designer drug, Spuds. With theatrical extravagance, the story plays out, opera-like, in music and song. In one farce-like scene McGonigle finds solace in a bottle of Irn Bru which is held up like a revered trophy.

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The Glaswegian characters – neds, drug dealers, hard bitten gangsters – sang in their own thick accents while outrageously and hilariously debating the predicaments encountered by the accidental, and very successful, drug lord. The facts were laid bare – the world he was entering was one of vast conceit. But nothing could stop him as he could only think about making a lot of money. The cost of which was personal to him in the end.

This packed hour was a classically brilliant, vibrantly modern comedic take on the miseries of one man as he is taken high and low, too pumped to recognise the journey he was on. The play was filled to the brim with theatricality that had at one moment an entourage of twenty or more people queuing for those fries and at the finale singing in unison of a world that lacked safety and a future where no-one was safe. A piece of well worked theatre, expertly delivered.

Daniel Donnolly


All My Sons

L-R. Amy Kennedy, Ewan Donald, Daniel Cahil, Irene Macdougall, Barrie Hunter. Photo credit Tommy Ga-Ken Wan..jpg

Dundee Rep
19 February – 9 March, 2019

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Jemima Levick directs an accomplished cast in Miller’s tragic drama of the moral bankruptcy of post-war American paternalism. Miller’s moralising can be heavy-handed at times, especially for an audience cynical of authority. But beyond the clash of father and son, this production shows us a mother, paralysed by grief, desperately trying to mitigate the impact of a truth bursting to reveal itself on a family already lost to each other.

Joe Keller is the model of a self-made man. Everything he has, he has worked hard for. He had two sons. One son, Larry, went missing-in-action in the war and the other son Chris, an army veteran himself, is set to inherit the family business. Powerfully played by Barrie Hunter, Joe is the embodiment of American masculinity – hard-working, respected by his peers and self-assured. But he is concealing a secret. He made a mistake. During the war, pressured by the military hawks, he was responsible for allowing faulty aircraft parts to leave his factory. This led to the death of twenty-one airmen. At the government inquiry he knowingly let his business partner Steve take the rap for his failure. His partner went to prison, leaving Joe scot-free.


Chris (Daniel Cahill), Joe’s idealistic son, has invited Ann (Amy Kennedy), his missing brother’s sweetheart, back to the family home. He intends to ask her to marry him. However, Ann is also the daughter of Joe’s jailed business partner. Ann’s arrival sparks a series of explosive revelations that will not end well.

At the centre of the action is Kate Keller, Joe’s wife and Chris’s mother. Irene MacDougall gives an outstanding performance as the matriarch of the group. At times wrapped in grief, at others trying to take charge of a situation spiralling out of her control.

L-R. Irene Macdougall as Kate Keller, Amy Kennedy as Anne Deever, Daniel Cahil as Chris Keller. Photo credit Tommy Ga-Ken Wan..jpg

Alex Lowde’s design is stark and restrained. The back-yard of the Kellers, where all the action takes place, is a sterile space surrounded by dead trees, even in August it seems. Atmospheric, almost ambient sounds by David Paul Jones deepen the feeling of sterility and mournfulness that pervades the production. The oppressive atmosphere builds with the approaching climax: as Chris and Joe confront each other once Joe’s truth breaks out, the storm that’s been rumbling off-stage breaks into a torrential downpour, cooling the August heat that’s been brewing in the Keller’s garden.

Dundee Rep’s production of All My Sons, like most of Miller’s theatre is never light drama, but it’s like the Ancient Greek tragedies that it nods towards – a cathartic experience that goes with you, long after you walk away, satisfied and a little wiser.

Mark Mackenzie


Berkhoff’s Woman

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The Tron
February 21-23, 2019

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There seemed to be a sense of magic in the air as I arrived the Tron Theatre at Glasgow Cross. I had come to see Linda Marlowe present “Berkhoff’s Women”, celebrating some of the magnificent woman in the early works of Steven Berkhoff, a show which she herself premiered at the Edinburgh Festival 20 years ago, and which came from her own association and friendship with the playwright himself. To be honest, I hadn’t come across the piece before and didn’t quite know what to expect from the evening’s performance. That, coupled with a personal liking for this venue, served to heighten my senses. From the moment when Marlowe, dressed in a trim sexy black dress, launched herself with shocking intensity into the first role, the whole audience was hooked.

A large square of red material served to further grab our attention as she folded and unfolded it, adding yet more depth and significance to every profound and poetic utterance. Attention which never faltered as she wove together the extracts from the playwright’s work, in a continuous stream of honesty, passion, certainty, absurdity. She embraced each character fully and with gusto, holding a torch to the sensibilities of the playwright and his work.

Nothing was held back; strong shocking language expressing and emphasizing strong emotions. Her bond with the audience built steadily as the performance reached its climax. Charged with ironies and terrible conundrums, her voice filled with the words and gestures of her performance caught your very heart sometimes without mercy as she cajoled, then shimmering forth with the look and the message of love to the depth of understanding as a woman who was delivering lines written by a man.

There was a Q&A session after the performance and Marlowe shared some of her feelings about performing this piece again after 20 years, and perhaps a slight nervousness at such an undertaking. Things had, she agreed, changed in that 20 years, both personally and in society. That’s why it is perhaps important to revisit such a work, to process the changes.

Quite simply, Linda Marlow shone in this performance, a single performer portraying a complex cast of characters telling forceful yet sensual stories; universal truths. Her own persona, inspired, sensual and honest, seems to perfectly typify the strong women she depicts here, Berkoff’s women. All in all, one is left with a swelling sense of love for each other, told in poetic tales of devotion and dedication from a strong (yet universal) female point of view.

Daniel Donnolly


The Dark Carnival


Tramway, Glasgow
Feb 9-Mar 2, 2019

Script: two-stars.png Stagecraft: four-stars.png Performance: three-stars.png     

The Tramway is one of coolest theatrical venues – a hanger of a space, which retains an excellent sense of intimacy. I was looking forward to watching The Dark Carnival there, a co-production between The Citizens Theatre & the Dundee Rep. It certainly looks fantastic, & sounds completely amazing thanks to the ethereal voice of band-leader Biff Smith. But substance-wise there’s a major flaw.

Writer Matthew Lenton chose to put most of the script into not very good verse, in fact towards the end he admitted through the mouth of one of his characters it was doggerel. So you have a bunch of talented actors chained by having to deliver weak verse, completely restraining their ability to perform. Natalie McCleary, an angel, did employ her lines with a certain rhapsodic quality – I suspect she’s a poet herself – but the others, like I said, were unfortunately held captive by this still-born script. Apart from when we heard ‘Lazarus’ rhyming with ‘hazardous’ – that was quite clever.

So what is the Dark Carnival – well imagine the recent marvellous animated Coco film about the colourful afterlife of the Mexicans. Well, this is a bit like that, but a bit less lively, a lot more morose & a tad more burlesque. The idea is we are all Necropolitans in the waiting room for Dis, our Sibyl being the chief narrator, Elicia Daly. The set is absolutely marvellous, with coffins stack’d higgledy-piggledy, around which the extensive band led by Biff Smith is draped. Above them all is a graveyard, detached & lucidly lit, in which the action of ‘The Still Living’ takes places, with some interaction with those downstairs.

At the final count, it just wasn’t that interesting, like a paddling pool for those who cannot handle a complex narrative. The Dark Carnival was definitely NOT Virgil, nor Dante, taking our psyches to the Underworld! As an immersive experience, however, it was actually quite good; a work of aesthetic beauty, while the addictive, scruffy-puppy music hit like a well-timed xanax to help push the 1 hour & 40 minutes to the finish.

Damian Beeson Bullen


A Respectable Widow Takes to Vulgarity

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A Play, a Pie and a Pint
Oran Mor, Glasgow
February 18-23, 2019

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Glorious colours lit up the stage as we arrived at the Venue in the Oran Mor; it all looked very plush. This was the second production in Oran Mor’s celebration season, a welcome return of Douglas Maxwell’s hilarious one-act play, A Respectable Widow takes to Vulgarity, last seen here in 2013 and just as funny the second time around.

The two characters couldn’t have been more different – the well dressed, middle class Annabelle Love (Anne Kidd) and her endearing, if uncouth, counterpart, Jim Dick (Craig McLean). From the moment when the hapless Jim opens his mouth and utters his first swear word, the whole room was shaking with laughter at the sheer incongruousness of the conversation. Easy and effective comedy, and yet also an effective tool for the writer to examine the polar opposition of their lives.

A warmth grows between the pair as Jim’s guttural language reveals his origins and his outlook on life, and the widow strives to emulate him, in turn revealing truths about herself and her late husband’s origins. She finds the foul language somehow liberating and increasingly throws caution to the winds as she tells the young man her intimate secrets and discusses the meaning of the words being uttered, much to his astonishment – his face was a picture! But perhaps the point was that intimacy could grow between this unlikely pair of human beings even though there might at first seem to be no connection between them.

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Make no mistake, the swear words made you blush, and yet the audience loved it and lapped it up. Annabelle Love (a dream of a name!) used them as an inquiry into life, pushing against its boundaries, finding a new freedom. Alongside her was the perfect protagonist who was able to explain relevance of the words as he also insisted upon using them. Their conversation became an insight into reality.

And as they screamed out expletives to the world, so their stories unfolded and their bonding grew. Annabelle expressing her hurt at the loss of her husband and Jim also reflecting on missing his dear father. There was something touching in the way the language brought them together to express their inner feelings, perhaps for the first time. Their moments of silence brought the room to a perfect hush.

You come away from this play feeling deeply moved and with a new interest in brushing away the barriers that separate us so that we can recognise our common humanity. Enthralling.

Daniel Donnolly