The Playwrights – Jim Brown, Carolyn Lincoln, John Lamb, Brian Lincoln, Hilary Spiers, Elaine Campbell, and Rhona McAdam

Directed by Liz Hare

Tickets £10 – email: jamesellison@blueyonder.co.uk.

There’s less of a grim, grinning, ghoulish haunt to this evening’s event than it first appears as the residents of Leith, living and deceased, come together to pry open the pages of history in an ambitious and marvellously well-executed series of short stories stitched together into one terrifically communal, and detailed evening.

Following on from a successful trial reading of the production at the Leith Festival earlier in the year, which whetted plenty of appetite for more, the Ghosts of North Leith have been conjured from the hallowed earth for three evenings thanks to the tremendously thorough and dedicated efforts of the Citadel Arts Group production, staged at the very church close-by the cemetery where many of the names we hear this evening still rest.

It seems Halloween has one final reprise before the year is out, as the opulent and spacious Parish Church echoes with Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, accompanied by four seemingly uninvited guests from the church rafters, lit up in recitation of spoken word, offering an insight into the superstitious and spectral nature of tonight’s delights. And what a delight it proves to be. Reverberating around, the command of the space is immediate from the likes of Mark Kydd, and the investment and dedication from the group are noted before the show even truly manifests itself with an array of information, as each of the seven tales we hear have been researched, scoured, and transformed into short-plays.

But there’s more here than fact. Indeed, where some of the accounts have been clouded, fiction presents itself in a tasteful and occasionally thrilling manner from some of the seven playwrights. Descending from on high to mingle with the living, the four spectres performed by Kydd, Chelsea Grace, Deborah Whyte, and Grant MacIver arrive at the main space in time to spot a new addition to their ranks – a new ghost, a confused young man, one with a penchant for words and humanity: poet and journalist Robert Nicoll.

Sporting the true ego of a poet and journalist, penned into the heart of all seven stories and the overarching narrative, the tale of Robert Nicoll, played by Fraser Allan Hogg, is used as the ink which binds all the stories this evening – a spirit guide of sorts for the audience as we traverse time, place, and circumstance. During their all-too-short life, Nicoll was widely outspoken about the conditions and treatment of the working-class and destitute – and evidently finds a sense of ‘unfinished business’ with the sorry state of affairs the contemporary world finds itself. Our ghost host seems a touch lost however, perplexed as to why he should hear all these tales, and ventures through the avenues of history to find out what connects all of these tales outside of their final resting place.

Offered a parting remark to begin with the most recent death, that of twelve-year-old Matilda Molesworth, and to work backwards to the Jacobite heroine Lady Anne Mackintosh, Nicoll (and the audience) encounter each of the spirits in a remarkably Dickensian fashion. A strong and dependable lead, Allan Hogg conveys equal curiosity as the crowd, the small moments of nudging and winking to the crowd a nice departure from the occasional heavy-monologue or historical-laden narrative. A true uniting force, performed with much mirth and bloom, Allan Hoog sets the foundations for what is to be an enriching and captivating show.

The truth to the productions’ only grievances is to the overarching nature of seven playwrights sharing one overarching tale – which means that the core theme, which presents itself most powerfully by Whyte’s closing remarks on how women and the destitute have long been the punching bag of the influential and wealthy, isn’t as clear in each of the tales as they ought. But individually, this doesn’t detract from any of the storytelling – nor does it infringe overtly on the enjoyment of the experience. If anything, the excellent direction from Liz Hare forms a remarkably cohesive and easy-to-follow story which ensures a tightly orchestrated production for all involved.

Hare’s direction ensures snappy and articulate lighting and sound design to coincide with the changes in tone, including some very well-structured (and quick-paced) flips from time periods utilising soft sepia tints to aid in the quick changes. It makes for a strikingly effective sense of visual storytelling, greatly aided by the venue’s immense pale walls, allowing Simpson the ability to be both elegant in design, but occasionally fearful and dipping into the spooky nature of it all.

Bathed in sophisticated purple or sickly lime, the entire cast pulls out the stops to flit between roles – leading and ensemble. There are no definitive performances which perform to loftier standards than others – the entire cast sits on an equal level in terms of calibre. They carry each story well, adapting to all the writers’ tastes and techniques – be they supernatural, historical, comedic or dramatic. But they all have moments to flourish individually, such as Whyte’s powerful closing monologue, MacIver’s stoic and harrowing role of Peter Millar, and the tragic loss of so many young children.

Kydd carries a lengthier tale of Rev Dr David Johnson, which leads into a wonderfully comedic romp with Grace and MacIver led by Kydd’s narration and pious nature. The concluding autobiographical come historical-adventure of Lady Anne Mackintosh (Colonel Anne) with a bawdy scene-grabbing performance from Grace, that sits easily as the story which could flourish into its own one-act production, carried by the team of four in raucous glee, with enough of a canny and snide slice of social reform and eyebrow-raising from Grace and Whyte to lead us into the closing remarks.

With a resoundingly resonated performance of the Peoples Anthem there is much to say from all seven playwrights Jim Brown, Carolyn Lincoln, John Lamb, Brian Lincoln, Hilary Spiers, Elaine Campbell, and Rhona McAdam, which is as true for the departed as it is the living. Painfully so. A collective of short plays, etched from names on the graves of many who may perhaps have been eradicated from memory, Ghosts of North Leith is a cohesive and binding production of community – insuring the survival of what we have and the reclamation of what was potentially lost. For as wonderfully entertaining, sharp, and well-researched as the show is – Hare and the team also provide a profoundly earnest and touching production which is as valuable as it is engaging.