Co-created and Performed by Louis Abbott, Louis McCraw, Kim Grant, Jo Mango & Solareye

Directed by Liam Hurley

Review by Marina Funcasta

Assembly Roxy: Tickets

For such an early morning show, it’s safe to say that Liam Hurley and Jo Mango’s devised piece does not hold back. Packing an emotional punch, Claire Halleran’s bohemian set design does not even begin to imply the solemnity of the following hour and a half. Exhibiting an arrangement of guitars, drums, electronic keyboards and violins, the stage is bloating with instruments, making the already intimate Assembly Hall feel even more so.

Performed directly by us, Hurley and Mango devise a play entirely edified by music. Told in a non-linear structure, the perspectives of four characters are narrated through diverging song styles, instruments, and performers. This is where the play’s genius resides. Personifying each story with such care, Mango and Hurley ensure that they vocalise each perspective with earnestness and nuance. Although it is mostly Mango’s character Jane who stands out in their childish innocence, made particularly poignant by the tragedy of the play’s larger content, it is nevertheless the case that every character comes across as fully fleshed out and, ultimately, real.

This would make sense, given that the project took four years to fully develop; “Distant Voices: Coming Home” used verbatim language and experiences from prisons within Scotland, working alongside universities in Edinburgh, Glasgow, West Scotland and Vox Luminus. The Distant Voices Community also provided information on the play’s content. Working collectively to bring to life the very real but very repressed conditions for ex-prisoners, the intention behind Giant on the Bridge was never really questioned.

The role of music, however, is where this play supersedes the tragedy of its subject matter. Finding solace in songwriting, Louis Abbott emerges as our narrator, who explains the role of creativity in prisons in a more objective tone to the other ‘characters’. The show itself was written on the back of Vox sessions conducted by our performers with prison inmates, which not only emphasises the weight of each lyric but also calls attention to how such joyful melodies are able to even emanate from such sombre beginnings. To be sure, there is a large variety of music, from hip-hop to folk.

My personal favourite lay at the play’s structural heart: Mango’s embodiment of June is not only convincing physically but how she uses her body to tell the story of the Giant is particularly evocative. Solareye also does a remarkable job characterising D, who prepares for his imminent release from prison. Using rap, there are very interesting moments where men’s mental health is explored in subtle ways.

However, these moments never fail to drag the story away from its spider web; it retains its unity almost magnetically. Indeed, such a well-structured, well-told, and well-intended story assumes a necessary audience. It’s definitely not one to miss.

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