Written by Walt McGough

Directed by Hannah Bradley Coall

Tickets from £15.00

Possession and manipulated identities, as a storytelling tool, are nothing new: spiritual or from beyond the stars. And though the science fiction element of this trope is seldom utilised on the stage, Walt McGough’s Chalk, currently being staged for its UK debut by the Edinburgh Graduate Theatre Group at the Assembly Roxy, takes the dystopian narrative and frames it into a two-hander in a refreshing twist with a genuinely engaging and playful script that, while struggling to capture the brutality and intensity of apocalyptic proportions, Chalk captivates attention with a genuine snapshot of a mother-daughter relationship, and humanity on the wider scale.

As one of the few (apparent) survivors of the end of the world decimated by a force which ravages all life on the earth, Maggie spends endless hours knitting, feasting on Pop-Tarts, fruitlessly tuning the radio, and reading a peculiar new age book. We realise Maggie isn’t alone. Her daughter Cora is still alive – returning with food in hand but a more insatiable appetite for a fight.

Spending most of the production confined to a small chalk circle, Maggie offers audiences the ‘hook’ of McGough’s story; as long as she remains within this protective circle, she is safe from the beings which eradicated life on earth. A being that now seems to be a little closer to home than Maggie would like. Making the most of a restrictive and claustrophobic set from Richard Spiers and Chris Allan, Chalk ignites with the gentle opening of a door – the first in a couple of genuine moments of apprehensive-laced dread which offer tantalising slices of fear on these long-dark nights. 

The command of silence (though Dug Campbell’s sound design becomes integral later) throughout the initial beats of the production is a superb choice, lingering just enough to communicate the stillness of the outside world. Tremendous props to Esther Gilvray’s performance as Maggie, who spends a lengthy portion of the production initially only reacting without dialogue. It’s a tightly thought out and carried performance – Gilvray’s more controlled sense of emotional maturity is more than a match for the being’s more juvenile craving and aggression.

They’re a perfect match with Rosella Elphinstone as Maggie’s daughter, Cora. Gilvray’s maternal heart, yet no-nonsense attitude, collides with the strive for independence and resentment from the real Cora making for a fascinating two-hander between the two. Elphinstone turns in a commendable performance in capturing Cora, the being inside Cora, and the amalgam of the two which blurs the lines and keeps the audience guessing; a thoroughly engaging performance that offers three distinct states of being while simultaneously carrying one physical form.

There’s a cany recognition of the shortcomings and areas of improvement from Bradley Croall’s direction, utilising the performer’s key strengths to push beyond any limitations they may have with scripting or intensity – particularly the incorporation of movement direction for Elphinstone, who occasionally struggles to impart the archaic intensity in their register, but effortlessly demonstrates the being’s resilience and abilities in twisting and clambering around the exposed scaffolding-bars of the set design, utilising some exceptionally impressive gymnastics and feats of physicality.

Where Elphinstone and Gilvray lean more into the terror and adrenaline of it all, Chalk excels towards the conclusion, as Elissa Webb and Jacob Henner’s lighting design slips more into supernatural and fear-inducing. Understandable direction choices are mercifully, never overplayed, even a touch under in moments. It lends itself to the pacing, though it could do with chopping ten minutes and rounding itself into the sixty-minute mark. 

Much of McGough’s Chalk cherry-picks the history of science-fiction and horror, making for a production that possesses some thrills and jumps but one which never captures the harrowing devastation of the end of the world. With commanding lead performances and creative uses of sound, movement, and tension, The Edinburgh Graduate Theatre Group and Bradley Croall’s direction acclimatise to this and focus the audience’s gaze not on the causes or revelations of the world outside – but the one inside. The lives of this mother and daughter, for all intents and purposes, this is their world: all they have left.