Presented by Cutty Sark Theatre

Review by Esme Hallworth

Turret at Gilded Balloon Teviot

A cacophonic hymn beats into the air of the Turret Theatre cum small Scottish town village hall, enter three women enter adorned in veils and wedding dresses. This is no happy ceremony, but a ritual union of three friends keeping vigil of the first storm of winter in the hopes (and fears) of encountering a mysterious man with “eyes like sea glass”, the elusive “Kelpie”; a figure rumoured to source women of the village a husband by sending them into the river. They strike the cloth against the table to keep his spirit at bay whilst tentatively drawing him near to access his powers. Where the future thrums with uncertainty for these girls, it is a mythical horseman that provides the closest thing to the promise of a fairy-tale ending.

This is not your typical girl’s night. Eilidh, fiercely embodied by Niamh Cos, wants no fuss, the tradition must be honoured. Maura (Isla Rose Perkins), does not comply and sees herself as the voice of reason through this impossible fiction of a folklore. Then there’s Kirsty (Emma Comfort), seemingly naïve and loyal but with her own troubling reason for honouring the tradition. Finally, Blythe (Greer Montgomery), absent for the initial gathering and said to be out in the storm, who is a horror fanatic and foil to the frenzy, dreaming of a life outside the bounds of the small town. Blythe and Maura being mutually wide-eyed, share an alliance which transcends friendship with stolen moments played out through episodic flashbacks generating an irresistible chemistry. The pair fantasise about a life together, of a cottage which would always smell of pine instead of the harsh wreak of social expectation. However, when Blythe finally appears from the storm to join the group, chaos ensues and Maura’s sturdy sense of reason is jolted.

Tensions raise with the storm and the heated discussion exposes more to reckon with than folklore alone. Beneath the myth and mystery, the girls wrestle with the trappings of tradition. They must choose between blazing their own uncertain trail or being anchored to the spot by society’s expectations. Ultimately, to sink or swim. Exploring these pressures, the script largely swerves cliché, as narrative layers peel away to reveal intentions for honouring the tradition that ring truer and deeper than hopeful wedding bells. Though the drama’s climax does tiptoe on sensational and searing screams do affront the senses, the bubbling mania is generally carefully and cleverly constructed. With a fierce cast and a clear vision, Eve Miller’s queer folkloric tale is coming-of-age in its confrontation of childlike idealism, haunting its premise and enchanting in its delivery.

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