Written by Shireen Mula

Directed by Rebecca Atkinson-Lord

Review by Dominic Corr

Traverse Theatre

A new piece of writing reminds audiences in Edinburgh the sheer talent and brilliance outside of the country’s central ideology. Adapted by Shireen Mula from Sarah Moss’s novel, Night Waking is a psychological excavation of motherhood, history, and the fragile line between exhaustion and madness. At its centre is Anna, an academic uprooted to a remote Hebridean island with her husband Giles and their two children. While Giles busies himself with puffin counts, Anna is left to wrestle with sleepless nights, a toddler who refuses to rest, and an older child whose curiosity leads to the discovery of a buried infant. From there, the play spirals into a fractured narrative of past and present, where letters, testimonies, and memory collide.

First and foremost: Nicola Jo Cully’s performance is the production’s beating heart, a strained heart, which doesn’t pull punches. As Anna, she is utterly convincing: brittle, sardonic, and painfully human. But the feat lies in her ability to embody every other character as well: Giles, the children, the islanders, even voices from the past. With a shift of posture or a flicker of tone, she conjures entire personalities, often within the same breath. It’s a performance of remarkable stamina and nuance, one that captures both the humour and horror of Anna’s unravelling mind.

The script itself refuses to hold the audience’s hand. This is theatre that trusts us to piece together fragments. Scenes repeat with subtle variations, their meaning only becoming clear once more context is revealed. Letters from the 19th century interlace with Anna’s present-day struggles, creating a kaleidoscopic texture that mirrors her fractured consciousness. It’s a daring choice, and one that pays off in atmosphere and depth, though it demands close attention. The refusal to spoon-feed is refreshing, particularly in a theatrical landscape that often prioritises clarity over complexity.

Yet the production is not without its challenges. At two acts, the piece feels stretched. The first half builds a taut, eerie atmosphere, but lingers too long at a lengthy first act, circling points already made. A tighter revision of the script could sharpen its impact, ensuring the tension doesn’t dissipate. The length risks dulling the edge of what is otherwise a sharp and unsettling exploration of parenthood, isolation, and history’s ghosts.

Visually, the production is striking. Hugo Dodsworth’s set unfolds gradually, revealing new layers as Anna’s psyche fractures further. What begins as a sparse domestic space becomes something more fluid and uncannier, a stage that seems to shift under our feet. Projections are used with intelligence, sometimes evoking the island’s rugged beauty, sometimes intruding with disorienting force. At their best, they heighten the sense of Anna’s dislocation; at their weakest, they risk distraction. Still, the interplay of light, sound, and image creates a world that feels both claustrophobic and expansive, mirroring the paradox of island life.

The final moments are particularly resonant. After so much fragmentation, the production draws us back to the Highlands and Islands, grounding the story in its landscape. It’s a reminder that this is not just Anna’s private nightmare but a tale rooted in place, in the harsh realities of survival and the weight of history. The landscape itself becomes a character, its silence and remoteness pressing down on Anna as much as her sleepless nights.

For its length, Night Waking is a piece of theatre that lingers. It captures the exhaustion of parenthood with unflinching honesty, while weaving in historical echoes that broaden its scope. Nicola Jo Cully’s metamorphic performance is a heartbreaking tour de force of physical and emotional dexterity which covers the weaker elements of the scripting which; when it lands, it lands with force.

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