Written by Hannah McGregor

Directed by Debbie Hannah

Tickets: £18.50 (Con. available)

Scotland has a distinct culture of monsters and fiends: Redcaps and The Wulver. Beithir and the Boggle. Or even the fearsome Gorbal’s Vampire or Douglas Ross. But gradually, as we grow, we learn that the real monsters do not lurk beneath the black waters of a loch but often behind keyboards and ‘blue ticks’, and even in our homes. The blight of ignorance is a far more formidable weapon than any fangs or claws.

Ness, the debut piece from Hannah McGregor, co-presented with Aberdeen Performing Arts, in collaboration with Sanctuary Queer Arts, is a queer Scottish comedic-theatre piece which explores our traditions of identity, monsters, and some well-laced explorations of storytelling – one of our treasured talents.

For Em, a young queer Scot, the banks of Loch Ness (Gemma Patchett’s blown-up postcard advert for Scotland leaves little question) are the escape they need from their estranged mother and the world which fails to find a safe and accepting place for them. Armed with a dodgy radio, their logbook of hand-written stories and experiences, and a ratty tent, Em is doing fine by themselves. Well, they’re surviving. Just. But what they need, even if they don’t know it, is some guidance from Scotland’s most famous monster (though we don’t use that word anymore): Nessie. The pair form an adorable and strong connection and friendship as Nessie looks to aid Em who is looking to find a space for them in this world so determined to erase their existence. But Em (with a nudge from Nessie) begins to realise that there’s one reconciliation that needs to happen first. 

Touchingly, there are no real ‘monsters’ here other than the initial waves of unawareness from a concerned (occasionally ignorant) mother adapting to the truth of who their child is and slowly accepting them. Annie Grace performs admirably as Em’s mum, with a solid presence that evolves (as much as they can) throughout the show as a mother who struggles, initially outright rejecting, the idea of a non-binary child. Grace delivers an authentic role and a remarkable job of being unable to see the six-foot luminous green Nessie. And though the eventual turnabout in acceptance is a touch too briskly sentimental (there’s only so much you can do in fifty minutes).

How often is it that a fairytale or centuries-old (supposed) myth dismantles contemporary notions of gender identity with elegance, grace, and a couple of Dolly numbers? Nessie, it seems, is a moonlighter for the queer people of Scotland. These wayward souls who take to the highlands, searching for an answer or guidance may find something very different to their expectations slithering sashaying out of the loch…

A being of more sequin than scale, bold and beautiful, Craig Hunter’s Nessie brings pizzazz to the show. They have spectacular chemistry with Afton Moran’s Em, who exhibits terrific physical movement development as the Drag Queen Nessie encourages them to discover themselves more. Holding the stage confidently, Moran grows more fluid and dynamic in their movements as the character grows, gradually transitioning to a more humorous performance and away from the (intentionally) withdrawn younger Em. With the best visual gags and puns, Hunter is having a whale of a time as Nessie, with Hannan’s direction (with assistant direction from Emma Lynne-Harley) pushing us into the Summer-Panto vibes earlier than expected.

A Scottish fever dream in all the right ways, Ness’s gloriously camp embracement of its queer comedic nature makes it one of the more entertaining A Play, Pie, and Pint‘s Spring pieces, but one which has room to grow. There are elements of refinement in the script which could aid the pacing and character turnabouts, opening the conversations to wider avenues. But plenty of heart and commitment from the cast and creatives goes down swimmingly with a cheering audience battling each of their monsters, but from now on – hopefully not alone.

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