Original Music by Tim Sutton, Original Lyrics by Ninian Dunnett

Book by Ninian Dunnett, Michael Hoffman and Andy Paterson

Directed by Michael Hoffman

Review by Dominic Corr

Tickets from £15.00

As much of a love letter to the nation as it is two fingers rammed high to the sky, Restless Natives firmly grasps elements of community and playful rebellion with a tongue-in-cheek attitude. Trundling into the beloved Leith Theatre, a rebellious venue, Edinburgh audiences rolled up their sleeves, a smirk in their eyes, embracing the wolfman’s howl for an evening of jocular humour, and just a smidgen of hokum.

Adapted from the 1985 cult film, which speaks to a sizable chunk of contemporary counter-culture attitudes and humour, the hearty and punchy dose of Scots humour fuels this theatrical vehicle, with a firm injection of nostalgia and some (purposeful) Shortbread tin lyricism to tie it all together.

Disillusioned Edinburgh youths, Will and Ronnie, don clown and Wolfman masks whilst embarking on a surreal spree of robbing tourist buses in the Highlands to make quick cash and find a reason for living in the doldrums of everyday life —armed only with toy guns and a rebellious spirit. Tim Sutton and Ninian Dunnett’s musical retains the intentions of the original film while updating its themes for contemporary audiences. The result is a production that straddles eras, sometimes awkwardly, but always with meritorious intentions.

Cluttered, the production’s visuals are attempting to do much of the heavy-lifting for the absence of the sweeping majesty of the Highlands – something more noticeable for those more familiar with the film. Though true to form, the resourceful Becky Minto’s set design – dominated with road signs and pop-up foliage and other story markers – certainly leans into this sense of dislocation and ‘not belonging’. It becomes claustrophobic, a fitting visual representation for most of the characters, lost within familiar surroundings, but gradually dissociating from the norm. Colourful, playful, the lighting too manages to offer a sense of expanse and movement, from minor design inclusions such as road markers, to a more intensive use of colour for transitioning from location. It might lack the dynamism audiences may come to expect, but its attempts to fit these choices into the story are noted and often successfully implemented.

Particularly with director Michael Hoffman’s humour, injecting energy where it’s necessary, utilising ensemble numbers to turn the throttle to eleven and ramp up the bouncing comedic elements. It’s most noticeable in Sarah Galbraith’s reinvented role as Bender, now a Texas Ranger with a grudge sturdier than their barn-dance heels. Their partnership with legendary Scottish performer Alan McHugh often lifts scenes which run the risk of falling flat, the pair’s common grounds are frequent as their characters’ disagreements – their duets and comedic timing as a pair, though, are faultless.

Heartfelt, McHugh’s presence brings a needed versatility and balance to the show’s attempts to capture rebellion – bottle it alongside a sense of community. It’s there, flavourful and strong, and McHugh sets up many of the production’s more intense moments for the younger cast members to knock it out of the park. They all relish the challenge. Supported by live music and performances from familiar names like Caroline Deyga and Harry Ward, our unlikely gallus anti-heroes in Kyle Gardiner and Finlay McKillop may take the centre-stage and the poster, but it’s a certain tour guide, Margot, who captures the rawer elements of the show, and Scotland’s uniqueness in the world, gritty and hopeful, mournful and daring to strive for a better future. Even with the rest of the room laughing in your face.

Kirsty MacLaren’s leading performance, vocally, comedically, and dramatically, is the takeaway performance of the night, shared with Gardiner’s rise and fall as the cheeky Ronnie. Gardiner’s internalised aggression, bursting with a vitality and yearning for the modern-day highwayman. Initially introduced as Will’s love interest, MacLaren elevates each moment they are on-stage, and makes some of the meandering songs more coherent and memorable; often brought to instrumental life by the five-piece band, led by Hilary Brooks.

Mercifully, two steps away from heading down the route of an obvious Big Country Jukebox musical, Restless Natives’ cynical humour and political punches come over as more of a series of slides than a cohesive, singular production. But there’s plenty of mileage here – joyful but needing some tighter pacing and more consistency (even less) musical interludes. So, strap in folks, it might be a bumpy ride, but it’s more than worth the journey if you’re willing to hear the song and spirit of generations of Scotland come together, take the mask off, and take an enormous breath together to let out one roaring laugh at our own expense; a feel-great, and disobedient grand night out.

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