Written and Performed by Michael Daviot

Directed by Michael Nardone

Review by Dominic Corr

Despite the preconceptions, Scottish Theatre is young. Very young. Hardly out of infancy, though it very much feels to be in its troublesome teenage years. And yet the wealth of history and culture already emanating from the nation’s catalogue of directors, writers, producers, creatives, and actors is extraordinary. Few hold a name in as high regard, though, as Duncan Macrae – born 1905- led a life which would shape the early foundations of Scotland’s theatrical heritage, but you might not hear it very often. Now, Michael Daviot’s newly written A Noble Clown commemorates Macrae and the stepping stones of Scottish Theatre, which we frequently tread without thinking of those who laid them.

As part of a weekend celebrating Scottish Theatre, performed at The Scottish Storytelling Centre, A Noble Clown is as much a piece of biographical storytelling as it is a whimsical, mummer production which spotlights Daviot front and centre – even more so than the numerous stories and anecdotes shared over Macrae’s life. This isn’t merely understanding a text, story, or history: Daviot becomes ethereal, bringing dimension to not only their time as Macrae but also capturing each of Macrae’s performances within the context of the production as the genre or writing demands it as the audience is guided through snippets of Let Wives Tak Tent, Gog and Magog, or An Inspector Calls.  

Morphing their performance to Pantomime’s giddiness or drama’s dourness, this slice of history, of breathing legacy, is a snapshot of one of the most crucial periods of Scotland’s theatrical history: where the shift from visiting companies and dreams of London began, slowly, to ebb and allow those within Scotland the chance to perform and create, professionally, in their home nation with the founding of the Citizens’ Theatre, the growth of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (with a nice nod to those small grassroots group who helped) and the transition from Macrae’s amateur life, to their professional – all done smoothly with agency in a mercurial performance.

Michael Nardone’s exceptional direction lifts Daviot’s passion and energy, weaving it through the pacing, which may otherwise have come over as static or formulaic, the concerns of A Noble Clown being a historical presentation quickly dispelled. What’s more, the potential for the show is also significantly manifested – almost as if Nardone and Daviot are proffering up to others’ look and see what could be done’, also in part thanks to Roddy Simpson’s lighting. The space of the Netherbow Theatre allows Daviot a playful use of props and costume changes, while the carousel of theatrical programmes and posters projected above the stage offer a frame of reference – initially without structure, but gradually, it becomes clear just how much thought has gone into their sequence. There’s something remarkably special here – historically and personally for those in the space sharing this ninety minutes detached from our own world.

Theatre is for everyone. But A Noble Clown has been crafted, lovingly and meticulously, as an actor’s piece. Directors should crave to work on it, and critics would be mad not to love it, but at its breast beats a heart which thumps for those on the stage. A Noble Clown is as much a tribute to Macrae as it is a reminder of the tour-de-force of Daviot’s performance – the ingenuity of acting and the artistry which goes alongside this. There’s no question whether this deserves a revival – the question is simply ‘when?’.

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