Written & Directed by Eilidh Loan

Review by Dominic Corr

Traverse Theatre

We all know a Cathy.

For Eilidh Loan, it’s her granny. For you, it might be the same, and auntie, a neighbour. For me – Cathy is my mum. Right down to revulsions at the wrond Chinese (God forbid Maxims in Fife closes), and enough ciggies to take out a rhino.

Grief is a notoriously messy business, but writer and director Loan knows precisely how to wring theatrical gold from the wreckage of bereavement. Inspired by her own grandmother’s response to spousal loss, Cathy arrives at TravFest as a beautifully observed, caustic, and deeply life-affirming Scottish domestic drama. On the heels of casting announcement buzz, it was one of The Traverse Theatre’s most anticipated in the line-up. And it’s already proving to be one of the most successful.

At the heart of this emotional whirlwind sits a true titan of Scottish theatre, Elaine C. Smith, delivering an authentic central turn as the title character. Following the funeral of her beloved husband Tommy, the fierce Glaswegian matriarch finds herself stranded in a sea of sorrow, lashing out at her surviving family, though she isn’t alone in these crimes. Armed with razor-sharp comic timing, several hundred ciggies, a gallus demeanour, and a total lack of filter, Smith anchors the piece with dramatic weight—firing off hilarious, acerbic barbs at everything from television personalities to local takeaway orders.

Loan’s writing shines brightest in its authentic depiction of household friction. Cathy directs her sharp-tongued frustration at her grieving daughter Florence (Michele Gallagher), her well-meaning son-in-law Colin (Alan Orr), and her young, pregnant granddaughter Amy (Chloe Hodgson). The tense exchanges between mother and daughter over whose grief holds greater weight feel painfully real, striking a delicate balance between dark comedy and profound heartache. Entirely earnest, Gallagher’s presence, with Hodgson’s back-up, triggers generational trauma, and ebb and flow and those dynamics we’ve seen before (how often is it grannies and grand-kids versus the parents?). Both do a stunning job in capturing that banterish humour, but balance it with a genuine pathos throughout.

When Cathy wanders into the local charity shop where Amy works, the production finds its secret weapon in Sally Reid’s eccentric manager, Lizzie. Reid provides an irresistible, sunshine-infused counterweight to Cathy’s grim cynicism, acting as the unexpected catalyst that helps the stubborn widow navigate her despair. Clad in fairy-wings, or decked out in gemstones, Reid and Hodgson often share the best moments with Smith onstage; one Christmas in August sequence, complete with twinkles and garish colour, a stand-out.

Under Loan’s assured directorial hand, the ensemble manoeuvres through rapid-fire sitcom banter and devastating emotional revelations with effortless precision. While the script occasionally leans towards sentimentality in its pursuit of a big laugh, the overarching narrative maintains an authentic, bittersweet edge throughout. Kenny Miller’s clever, spatially constricted scenography reinforces the claustrophobia of a family under intense psychological strain; it’s messy, cluttered, but gives an additional realm of playfulness for the cast, even if it does occasionally lead to a few less smooth transitions.

Cathy stands out as a triumphant, tear-jerking highlight of the Fringe season. Combining hilarious cultural observations with a deeply moving exploration of loss, Eilidh Loan has crafted a rich, big-hearted piece of Scottish theatre that deserves a long life far beyond August; for Cathy, all the Cathys out there, and for all of us who have lost, known, or tolerate a Cathy.

---