Written and Performed by Becca Robin Dunn and Claire Macallister

Directed by Olivia Millar‑Ross

Review by Dominic Corr

Theatre has a healing ability. Honest theatre can open up the truth. Impactful, and worthwhile theatre pries open history which, deliberately or through ignorance, leaves gaps in the lives and accomplishments of women. Albeit temporarily. It attributes more than a footnote to women who have been distorted out of the narratives, places them with autonomy at the centre of the stage, rather than the base of a page. Rarely is it better demonstrated, than with some of Scotland’s production companies, teams, and creatives like HISSYFIT Theatre, and the vital Scissor Kick with their new production, Jackals.

It shares the (mostly) true accounts of Emma Eckstein, author, analyst, colleague, and patient to two men’s hubris; Sigmund Freud, and Wilhelm Fliess, two names you’ll have no issues finding in the history books. Some stories carry the weight of history, and Jackal embraces that burden with a fierce theatrical curiosity. Written and performed by Becca Robin Dunn and Claire Macallister, the production revisits the concerning ‘treatment’ case of Emma Eckstein, one of Sigmund Freud’s earliest and most catastrophically mishandled patients. With direction by Olivia Millar‑Ross, the production steps into the murky intersection of medical arrogance, misogyny and the birth of psychoanalysis, offering a contemporary retelling that is as unsettling as it is intriguing through a mixture of comedy, physical storytelling, and performance.

Emma, played by Dunn, is perfectly captured as an artistical license of the young Viennese woman who sought medical help for severe menstrual pain and related symptoms. Instead of receiving care, she becomes the subject of Freud’s experimental theories, including his now‑infamous belief that her suffering stemmed from hysteria and supposed “self‑abuse”. Dunn, a sensational performer, evidenced in their recent turns with Bard in the Botanics, holds the stage in a powerful, assured sense of control – but allows the fracturing of the reality of it all to weigh on Emma in a genuine, but never condescending manner. Macallister takes on the mantle of the many miscarriages and arrogances of Freud, presenting him not as a towering intellectual figure but as a fledgling doctor/lad desperate to prove himself, even at the expense of his patient’s wellbeing. The play charts the increasingly fraught dynamic between the two, blending historical fact with imagined dialogue to explore how Emma’s voice was silenced, distorted and ultimately sacrificed to the myth of male genius.

What gives the production its bite is its willingness to confront the grotesque absurdity of the situation. The conversations between Emma and Freud oscillate between earnest attempts at understanding and chilling displays of authority, creating a tension that simmers throughout the 90‑minute runtime; though in truth, it is also the production’s kink in the around. Their performances are committed and textured, grounding the play’s more abstract moments in emotional truth – while the movement offers a contrast and much needed energy. Never has a mini-rave sequence come across with such a welcome jolt of distortion and life.

The staging, housed in Summerhall’s TechCube, leans into minimalism. The sparse set becomes a psychological chamber rather than a literal consulting room, allowing the focus to remain on the performers. While Niroshini Thambar’s sound may be used sparingly but effectively, creating an atmosphere that feels both clinical and claustrophobic. This stripped‑back approach suits the material, though it occasionally leaves the production craving a stronger visual or tonal shift to break up the density of the dialogue.

And density is where the cracks begin to show. The script’s commitment to conversation as its primary engine is admirable, but the sheer volume of talk risks flattening the dramatic arc. The endless back‑and‑forth may reflect the monotony of therapy sessions (or conversing with any man about their hobbies), yet it dilutes the tension feeling repetitive, even static. There is a compelling story at the core, one that deserves excavation, but the pacing sometimes obscures its impact. Moments of emotional revelation are present, though they occasionally struggle to breathe beneath the weight of the text.

Still, the production succeeds in reclaiming Emma Eckstein from the footnotes of psychoanalytic history. Dunn’s portrayal highlights her intelligence, ambition and resilience, refusing to let her be defined solely by Freud’s failures. Macallister’s Freud is equally nuanced, a man shaped by insecurity and ego rather than villainy, which makes his actions all the more disturbing. Their dynamic forms the backbone of the piece, and it is here that Jackals finds its strongest footing.

This is a piece that provokes reflection, rewards patience and demonstrates the power of performance, and a soupcon of humour, can illuminate the darker corners of medical and cultural history – and draw out the women which history has so cruelly attempted to leave behind in the in the shadows of ‘great’ men. Unsettling truths, this often-compelling examination of a woman whose story has long been overshadowed, Jackals has a deserving life ahead of it. It’s writing honours Emma Eckstein, and millions of others, with seriousness and care, even if the structure falters.

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