Written by Douglas Maxwell
Directed by Jemima Levick
Review by Dominic Corr
Off-leash, Panto-pal and Rivercity mainstay Jordan Young continues the tremendous run of success which Jemima Levick’s outing season as Artistic Director of the Tron Theatre, in Douglas Maxwell’s Man’s Best Friend – a thrilling whirlwind through the mental forests of wit, tension, and deep emotional excavation that leaves some firm teeth-marks on its audience, and plenty of resonance in its bark.
Sometimes, all you need is a good long walk. Maybe it’s the middle of the night, or first thing in the morning. Exercise, fresh air, and if you’re lucky, a hairy companion. What initially seems to be an offbeat monologue about Ronnie and his pack of neighbourhood mutts quickly evolves into an intricate psychological journey, equal parts dark comedy and profound human confession. Beneath its stripped-back premise lies a rich, atmospheric production with chilling resonance and unexpected poignancy. Oh, and a few laughs for good measure.
The spirit of this one-man show is Young, who delivers an astoundingly layered performance that commands the stage from the first second to the fluttering levels of colour and shade, to the final blackout. With Maxwell’s writing as his springboard, Young captures a masterful balance between biting humour and simmering dread. His ease with storytelling—witty, sharply timed, and often disarmingly sincere—makes every shift in tone feel nuanced and gripping. At one moment, he’s dryly recounting the quirks of suburban life; the next, he’s plunging into darker, more disorienting territory, his voice cracking just enough to betray the crumbling facade of his character’s calm, the subtleties in facial performance swaying with each flickering emotion. It’s a performance that feels both lived-in and electrifying, emotive but never overwrought.
Though minimalist on the surface, Grant Anderson’s lighting operates as a powerful narrative force. Refined transitions are used to punctuate memories and altered perceptions, guiding the audience through the fractured landscape of the protagonist’s mental state. A single amber spotlight tightens in moments of introspection, while stark, cold washes suggest disconnection and emotional desolation. All ebbing into a tranquil, healing green which offers breathing space. At times, the stage is bathed in eerie monochromes, evoking a liminal space between dream and reality. Every cue feels precise, with near-surgical timing that heightens suspense and reveals deeper layers of psychological gradation.
It’s all heightened by Becky Minto’s design; stripped back but razor-sharp in its focus. A near spiral with backdrop, evoking those dens we created in the woods, Young clambers and runs and uses their form to play with levels on Minto’s stage with a few of Ross Collins’ illustrated canines to add additional playfulness and dimension. With no elaborate sets or ensemble, the success of Man’s Best Friend lies in the collision of language, performance, and atmosphere, and here, each element coalesces beautifully. The story’s surrealist edges are counterbalanced by the raw authenticity of Young’s delivery and the subtle, intelligent production choices. Levick deserves praise for her deft touch—knowing when to let silence linger, when to tighten the pace, and how to let the tension swell without bursting too soon. The result is a show that feels somehow intimate and explosive all at once.
Utilising old, timeless tricks, this new dog of a play is far from playing fetch with its audience – instead guiding them through a creatively intimate story of memory, grief, isolation, and the fragile scaffolding we erect to keep ourselves upright. Man’s Best Friend joins Maxwell’s key pieces in how humble, commonplace the subject matter may be. It’s eerie, funny, and—by its conclusion—devastating. It may not contain world-ending danger or revelations, but it focuses on one man’s world, which has already ended – and it takes a couple of our four-legged friends, and their own volition, to make it out of the woods. A story which is no doubt familiar to thousands, if not millions.
A Deep Emotional Excavation
Man’s Best Friend runs at The Tron Theatre until July 12th. Then touring Scotland
Running time – Eighty minutes without interval.
Photo credit – Mihaela Bodlovic
Review by Dominic Corr (contact@corrblimey.uk)
Lead editor of Corr Blimey and a freelance critic for Scottish publications, Dominic has written for and contributed to several established and respected publications such as BBC Radio Scotland, The Scotsman, The List, The Skinny, Edinburgh Festival Magazine, The Reviews Hub, In Their Own League, and The Wee Review. As of 2023, he is a member of the Critic’s Award for Theatre Scotland (CATS) and a member of the UK Film Critics.
