Written by Iain McClure

Directed by Kolbrún Björt Sigfúsdóttir

The lingering wills of lost children circle the peripherals of Iain McClure’s Childminder as the repression of memory and the invisible shackles which bind us play havoc with respected child psychiatrist Professor Joseph Croan, who carries with them a terribly troubled past in this richly complex piece of psychological theatre. 

But Joseph is trying to move past this and live a life: evidently successful, courting a remarkably clever young woman, and on a continually rising career. But the ground beneath these foundations seems to be unsteady, as the rotten earth and bones begin shifting. We discover that it’s not only Joseph’s life we’ll unearth more about but the transgressions committed on a global level throughout history.

Issues arise early as McClure’s narrative construction takes place over decades of time and space, shifting the narrative to and from Edinburgh and Manhattan through the mid-late nineties to the short-term future. Though intricately interconnected, this web of emotional and psychological significance of two principal threads of trauma – one from Croan’s childhood, and another case from his professional body as a child psychologist.

Initial ripples of something hidden aren’t laid with enough of a sturdy set-up. The resulting ‘exposure’ of Joseph’s past becomes muddied by the confusing nature of characters and past deeds. There’s tremendous emphasis and time spent in the middle scene set in Manhattan, though, where Joseph begins to grasp the prospect of a happy future. What follows is a firm echo of the disposition of colonialism, framed with Joseph’s relationship and ‘claim’ over Cindy, a Native American anthropologist celebrating her new PhD.

Playing a blinder is Mara Huf who throughout puts in a stellar performance as the initial detective, switching from the sterner and more authoritative to a far more intense and vulnerable, though by no means sentimental, with a nuanced and deeply relatable Cindy. The casting for Childminder is excellent, Cal MacAninch’s ego-centric lead Joseph is one we’re never sure whether we’re to be envious of, or to pity him. The pair form a strong chemistry which carries through to the climax, which while performed admirably, begins to lose its footing in coherence: ideas are strong, but the execution is faulty.

It’s all framed in Kenneth MacLeod’s adapting the set design, cut with neon trim and frequently allowing its ‘plain’ palette to become the source from Rob Willouby’s video projection to shift us in time and place, or to ramp up the traumatic infestations plaguing Joseph’s mind. Aiding these shifts is Michaella Fee transforming the stage into a ‘Disneyfied’ commodification of Cindy’s heritage, a themed restaurant which only serves an ‘authentic’ experience of the past, Kolbrún Björt Sigfúsdóttir’s direction plucks at the thread of the past in reminding Joseph that even in the proprietorial world of his attempted creation, that the deeds once committed are in no state to lay in the ground.

This is also where we encounter Ben Ewing’s Sam, a humorous waiter who touches just a little too close to the nerve to feel entirely of this world. But there’s something ‘off’ about him. Or it may just be the American hospitality industry. More so, Ewing has a more significant role in the production that channels a more distressing element of the brutality of past actions and attempts to conceal these. They’re a key part of the narrative, Ewing’s performances are as unnervingly authentic as they are gripping and fragile.

Challenging expectation and wielding physical and emotional violence with respect and nerve, where the spectres of guilt emanate through the production, the bookends sit at opposites: Childminder begins too vaguely, while its finale struggles to find structural coherence amidst its symbolism and commentary. McClure’s writing has a rigorous nature, and despite some audience’s discomforts or bizarre thoughts, Childminder is well within the realms of authentic violence and behaviour. Where it pushes past the linear and commonplace, there’s tremendous value in how daring it is, it just never quite captures it all tight enough.