When you’re in the gutter looking at the stars and a dog cocks its leg over your napper, you’d be forgiven for reaching for the bottle, a blade or the beads. A predicament in which the Flynn family find themselves when the woman who dressed and blessed them with care suddenly passes away.

How do you fill the void? How do you carry on? Questions at the heart of What Happens Now, one of many superb songs by Roddy Hart and Tommy Reilly, the music of which is popular and punchy, the lyrics witty and wise, and warm.

Qualities which extend to Douglas Maxwell’s sterling adaptation of Peter Mullan’s brilliant black comedy of the same name for the National Theatre of Scotland which contains some cracking one-liners such as: “Efter the bowels went, you’ve got to be realistic” about putting an elderly parent into a care home; and “Think yer a hard man cos yer a bus?” about man raging against the machine of a double-decker.

Best Wordpress Gallery Plugin

Credit to director Cora Bissett who has created a big show with a big heart which is deserving of a big audience. As is her excellent ensemble led by the feuding Flynn quartet of Dylan Wood as John, Reuben Joseph as Michael, Amy Conachan as Sheila and Robert Florence as Thomas. Dylan frenzied as he is fragile, Reuben bruised as he is bold, Amy a tenacious timebomb who explodes into life in the rollicking reprise of Ram It, Robert a wasp in a jam jar buzzing with dry humour.

As are Harry Ward as “Are you taking a tone?” Tanga; Martin Quinn as the baw-cradling Seamus; Louise McCarthy channelling her inner Isa as the bolshie barmaid Mrs Hanson; and Paul McCole as the increasingly inebriated Frank who delivers the see-you-next-Tuesday hit with full-throated relish. Surely a contender for the next Hampden anthem!

Each of the characters’ plotlines shoot off in multiple directions like a psychedelic spider’s web. Michael’s Ubuesque descent into the bowels of a pub cellar a particular standout. Likewise, Sheila’s acquaintanceship with the kick-ass Paper Girls. And Thomas putting his back into (and out) carrying his mother’s coffin. All of which take place under the shape-shifting sandstone tenements of Emily James’ striking set lit to perfection by Lizzie Powell.

Running at nigh on three hours, Orphans is epic in scale and ambition. But the pace is relentless, the energy is infectious and the ending is bathed in a beautiful sunrise of hope – reminding us that together we can weather the storm.

Peter Callaghan
Latest posts by Peter Callaghan (see all)