Written and Performed by Skye Loneragan

Directed by Stewart Ennis

Review by Dominic Corr

It’s a running gag: one of our less-than-acceptable skills could be classed as an Olympic-level skill. Whether it’s in worrying, biscuit-finding, or locating shortcuts. Now, imagine a world where emotional endurance has been elevated to that level of discipline, and your cramped kitchen floor serves as the training arena. These are the kind of innovative pieces being created, and the specific kind of shows that break the mould we find ourselves trapped within.

Slipping into the Assembly Roxy’s intimate space, audiences are introduced to the eccentric realm of Kitchen Dancer, Skye Loneragan’s production that imagines a brand-new Olympic category: Coping Strategies and running as part of Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival. As a registered competitor representing Scotland, they must navigate a chaotic domestic ecosystem filled with remote-working spouses, vulnerable (and demanding…) elderly parents, a frayed relationship with their daughter, and a documentary crew arriving well ahead of schedule. This delightfully quirky premise anchors the show in a wellspring of standout humour, where sharp physical comedy and inventive choreography merge to capture the frantic rhythm of a woman on the verge of a breakdown. Loneragan’s central performance embraces a fearless vulnerability, slipping effortlessly between pratfalls and playful, uninhibited routines that transform household stress into captivating theatrical spectacle. Even when sharing space with a ‘co-star’ who threatens to steal the show with some brilliant comedic timing.

Yet, for all its comedic buoyancy and striking physical vocabulary, the production stumbles under the weight of its ambition. The narrative adopts a decidedly chaotic approach that, while fitting for the production’s themes and tones, and steadied somewhat by Stewart Ennis’ direction, tosses a multitude of intriguing concepts – including an ambiguous online cancellation and looming familial crises – onto the stage without fully exploring these. Because the piece resists a more traditional, tension-building story arc, its extended runtime begins to feel repetitive in its movements. The relentless barrage of gags and theatrical riffs are always welcome, with Loneragan proving themselves a fierce performer across the range of emotion, but the pacing is prone to sluggish stretches where the initial charm.

Creatively, the script frequently reminds us of the stifling, claustrophobic constraints of the tiny apartment, and with limited staging, this staging itself manifests that confinement thanks to a shopped-up rug and some folding furniture, leaving the immersive illusion accessible. It’s all reinforced by the simple lighting changes, and sound design, with some ingenius movement from Loneragan which does more than enough of the narrative exposition, without having to reinforce with vocal queues.

Kitchen Dancer possesses the feet of a genuinely captivating theatrical experiment, buoyed by fierce commitment and moments of authentic emotional resonance. If its sprawling, episodic structure were reined in to a tighter narrative focus, the stakes would punch with far greater force. As it stands, the production offers a charmingly erratic workout in emotional survival—one that leaves you smiling at its eccentricities while wishing the routine had been trimmed down to its strongest core.

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