Posts Tagged edinburgh festival fringe 2026

Jenny Gorelick on SORRY: Dating Apps and Apology Culture

July 14, 2026 at 11:56 am · Filed under Comedy, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Interviews ·Tagged , , , , , ,

Jenny Gorelick

Jenny Gorelick’s SORRY is one of those Fringe shows that arrives already vibrating with cultural voltage — a comedy about dating apps, apology culture, female shame, and the absurdity of modern romance that somehow manages to be both riotously funny and quietly devastating. Gorelick has turned her personal chaos into a kind of survival manual for the rest of us, drawing on experiences that range from the bleakly hilarious (“run it back?”) to the genuinely tragic (“my work crush got struck by lightning and died”).

SORRY isn’t just a show about dating — it’s about accountability, gendered guilt, the loneliness economy, and the stories women tell themselves to stay alive in a world that keeps demanding they apologise for existing. It’s sharp, self‑aware, and uncomfortably relatable. And, in true Fringe fashion, it’s also very, very funny.

1. Your show starts in the dating apps — that strange digital swamp where hope, delusion and red flags all blur together. What’s the moment on Hinge that made you think, “Right, this has to go in a show”?

Recently I got a like on Hinge from a man I had already dated. Who had already dumped me. It just said “run it back?” He is mentioned by name on the first page of my book about red flags. Like, page one. The Book of Red Flags. No. We will not be running it back.

2. You dated a man with “sorry mom” tattooed on his body who still couldn’t apologise. What did that relationship teach you about the apology gap — and about the men who think remorse is a personality trait?

Women will apologize for everything. We say sorry for saying sorry too much. And I’m sorry I said that about all women. But it seems like it would genuinely kill a man to apologize for one single thing. I’ve had men say “sorry you feel that way” — putting it right back on me!

But this relationship taught me something important: if I’m hurt, I can write about it. And it can be published in the New York Times. If you break my heart, it is the news!

3. SORRY digs into how women are conditioned to apologise for simply existing. When did you first realise you were saying sorry for things that weren’t your fault?

I’m still doing it. I feel sorry and guilty every single day of my life for every mistake I’ve ever made. I wish that weren’t true! And I think it goes all the way back to Eve. Women feel shame…biblically, because Eve is blamed for all of human sin. Even though all she did was have a healthy snack. It’s really not fair.

4. You’ve written about dating disasters for the New York Times and Cosmopolitan. What’s the story you still can’t believe happened — even though you lived it?

My work crush — a very sweet, cute, and tall guy I worked with — got struck by lightning and died. On a work trip. Which is the most tragic thing that has ever happened. He wasn’t doing what he loved. He was doing what he had to do — for health insurance. Because America. He never knew I had a crush on him. And now he never will.

Which is why you need to live out loud. You could be struck by lightning. And I mean that literally.

5. You made more money posting “tasteful thirst traps” on OnlyFans than writing your book. What did that reveal to you about the male loneliness economy — and the value men place on attention versus accountability?

What’s so interesting about “my guys” — which is what I lovingly call the men who pay money to see me in a bathing suit on OnlyFans — is that they could just go to a public pool. For free. I do worry about their finances. I don’t think it’s money they technically have, it is certainly not cash on hand, and if it weren’t going to me, it would be going to Polymarket. So honestly, I’d rather they spend their fake money on me than on sports betting. I’m a real girl. I need it more.

6. Your book The Book of Red Flags is basically a survival guide for modern romance. Which red flag do you think people ignore the most — even when it’s screaming in their face?

I hate to say it, but if it doesn’t feel like he likes you and you feel confused — he probably doesn’t like you. And if he’s being super attentive and communicative and complimentary? He still might not like you. That might just be love bombing. You have to wait a month to really know. It’s exhausting. I’m sorry.

7. You talk about confidence, shame, and the pressure on women to be endlessly likeable. What’s the moment in your life when you stopped performing likability and started performing honesty?

I’m afraid you’re overestimating me. I still need everyone to like me. One bad review might actually kill me, so let’s all just light a candle, charge our crystals (if you’re that kind of person), and pray for me.

8. Dating apps often feel like a sociological experiment. What did mapping America’s political divide through men‑with‑boats teach you about the country — and about dating?

If they own a boat, they’re Republican. If they don’t have their political affiliation listed on their profile, they’re Republican. And if they’re writing a fantasy novel in the style of Dune in their notes app — Libertarian.

9. You’ve turned personal chaos into comedy across stage, screen and print. What’s the line between oversharing and storytelling — and how do you know when you’ve crossed it?

Storytelling is oversharing. Some people are not going to like it (my younger brother). Some people are going to have to learn to be okay with it (my dad). And others are going to feel completely seen and heard (my fans). I’m doing it for them, but also for me. Am I crossing a line? Probably! But who gets to decide where the line is? My exes?!

I do feel terrible anytime anyone is upset with me — including the man with the ass tattoo who stood me up. But at the end of the day, he stood me up. And it is okay for me to turn that into art. That’s actually the best case scenario…maybe even better than if he’d actually shown up on the date.

10. At the heart of SORRY is the question of accountability. What do you hope audiences walk away reconsidering — about apologies, about dating, or about the stories we tell ourselves to survive modern romance?

I hope women leave feeling like they don’t need to be so hard on themselves. I hope men leave wanting to do better. And I hope everyone goes home and takes some amazing nudes for their grandchildren.

Jenny Gorelick: SORRY performs at Edinburgh Festival Fringe from 3rd – 30th August 2026. : Buy tickets here

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Daughter of Sweden: Cecilia Saverman on Reviving a Princess History Tried to Erase

July 12, 2026 at 7:21 am · Filed under Biographical, Drama, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, History, Interviews ·Tagged , , , , , , , ,

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Cecilia Saverman doesn’t ease you into Cecilia Vasa’s world — she drops you straight into the madness. Five years of research left her with a life so outrageous it barely feels real: piracy confrontations that make you laugh and wince in the same breath, scandals that rattled royal courts across an entire continent, and family letters so chaotic they read like a soap opera you shouldn’t enjoy but absolutely do.

What Saverman captures is the full, contradictory force of Cecilia Vasa herself — heroine, caring mother, sharp diplomat, messy party princess, egocentric daredevil, unstoppable climber of mountains and faller into pits who always gets back up. Cecilia Vasa lived in  the 16th century (born 1540). With director Judith Hollander, she throws the audience between comedy and tragedy, intimacy and grandness, hope and surrender, never letting the story settle into one tone for long.

And beneath all the spectacle sits something fiercer: a history that was actively deleted, now brought forward almost as an act of defiance. Saverman isn’t preaching. She’s reclaiming. She wants audiences to feel closer to their own past, to recognise how stories about women become political whether anyone intends them to or not.

This is Cecilia Vasa returned to the stage — vivid, volatile, and impossible to ignore.

1. What’s the single most shocking thing about Cecilia Vasa’s life that will make people gasp? – The fact that it’s actually happened and that we’ve not heard about her. An actual princess who became a pirate, exile, diplomat, and so on! Apart from that, her life just keeps getting crazier and more unfathomable for every step along the way, it’s hard to pick just one thing. The five year research was a never-ending rollercoaster. Maybe a certain window-climbing episode.

2. Which moment in the show makes you laugh and wince at the same time? – There is an episode where her brother confronts her about her piracy, and she has to admit to a lot of what she’s done, and it’s just crazy that it’s actually true. And when one of her lovers is locked up in a castle, and she’s barred from the city to keep her away from him, but she just sneaks into a boat and rows to him, in the middle of the night.

3. How far did you push the sex and scandal on stage, and why that exact level of explicitness? – The sex aspect is suggestive, but not explicit. The scandal, however, shook the entire continent – if the royal courts are to be trusted about these matters, that is. While the acts in and of themselves plants the seed for her struggle for freedom and sets her off on her path in life, I’m more interested in the consequence of the acts, rather than the acts themselves.

4. Did you ever fear the play would be banned or spark a diplomatic row? – Last time Cecilia Vasa was in the UK she was thrown out, so lets hope I have better luck with the Swedish-UK relations.

5. Is Cecilia a heroine, a mess, or gloriously both — and why should we care? – Yes, yes, and yes. On top of that – she is apparently also related to Boris Johnson. She is a heroine, a caring mother, a smart diplomat, a messy party princess, an egocentric daredevil, an unstoppable force who will climb any mountain, fall into every pit and always get up.

6. Are there scenes that touch on coercion or questionable consent and how do you approach that? – No. Or, it depends in what sense. Most of the things she does is very questionable, and I guess the definition of piracy is that it’s non-consensual, and her whole life is a struggle to be able to control her own narrative, and there are rumours about her having a brothel, and there’s stealing and bad decisions going on, and forceful removal from several places, but nothing in the play that touch on coercion of a sexual nature. It’s been important to approach it in a mixture of drama and comedy. It can be extremely funny with someone trying to lure themself to advantages, but also very tragic.

7. Is there a line in the script which makes you blush when you say it out loud? – Not while playing…

8. How do you want audiences to feel about monarchy and power when they leave the theatre? – Difficult question. I want them to want to know more, because it’s our history, I guess. I want them to feel close to our common history. Cecilia Vasa is a princess, a pirate, a mother of seven – and also just a human being. I want them to be able to laugh about the messiness, but I also want them to feel outraged about how it’s been, and maybe see parallels to today. Why haven’t we gotten further? How can this still be going on? I’ve received several emails from people in the audience saying that they saw themselves and their family in this play, and that it both opened and healed wounds in them about power and dynamics.

9. Do you think that there is a feminist message here or about women’s ‘role’ in society then and now? – Yes. I think it’s impossible to tell a story about women today without it becoming political – in the same way I think that stories about lgbtq+ or about non-white people or about people whose bodies are outside the norm automatically becomes political – whether it’s the intention or not. I wrote this story because Cecilia Vasa fascinated me to my core, and I saw so much of my surroundings, including myself and my mother, and society in her. It has never been about sending a message, but it becomes a message because it is a story that has never been told. It’s been actively deleted – which is of course very political – so bringing it forward might in a sense be an act of defiance.

10. What’s the one historical fact you refused to change, no matter how tempting the drama? – Everything. It’s my interpretation of her life, but every fact is true. That’s the insane part.

11. How bawdy do the party scenes get, and how do you balance that with the darker fallout? – I love tossing myself and the audience between highs and lows. My brilliant director Judith Hollander has created an intense balance between comedy and tragedy, intimacy and grandness, hope and surrender. She has so much to fight for, and sometimes she’s just hilarious. During my research I read many letters between her and her siblings, and it was like a soap opera. I would laugh out loud, between the horrors that they put themselves and each others through.

12. Have you ever had hecklers or walkouts, and what did you do when it happened? – Not that I recall, but I’ve received angry emails from older men saying that they don’t believe this or that to be true, and also “that piece of prop is ugly”. Very sweet of them to take their time to let me know.

13. Would you ever stage a strictly adults‑only version — and what would you change? – Maybe adding some more in the Elizabeth-scene, haha! And the first scandal scene. And her encounter with the Spanish envoy Eraso, later on in her life. Very romantic, and got her thrown out of Sweden. But the show is only 60 min now, so not everything can be in it…

14. What single image from the production do you want to haunt people for days, and why that image? – You’ll have to come see the show! You’re in for a haunting treat!

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A Dark Line Upstairs: How a 1951 Disaster Speaks to 2021 Adulthood

July 11, 2026 at 11:37 am · Filed under Drama, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Interviews ·Tagged , , , , ,

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There’s a particular kind of artist who doesn’t treat catastrophe as a single event but as a texture — something that clings to the skin, shifts underfoot, and quietly rewrites the stories we tell about ourselves. In A Dark Line Upstairs, Matilde Vigna braids together two floods separated by seventy‑five years and a continent: the night the Polesine vanished under water, and the slow, private deluge of a woman packing up her life after a breakup. What emerges is not a neat metaphor but a restless conversation between past and present, between inherited trauma and contemporary drift, between the places we flee and the ones we pretend we’ve outgrown. It’s a debut that refuses the tidy arc, preferring instead the unstable ground where humour, grief, privilege, and generational doubt all mix together. We asked some questions…

1. Your play threads together two floods — one literal, one emotional. When did you realise that the 1951 Polesine disaster and a modern woman packing up her life belonged in the same breath?
The Covid pandemic forced me (us?) to reflect on loss. With all venues closed and all live performance forbidden, I felt like I lost everything. At the same time, this feeling seemed ridiculous in comparison both to those who lost someone, and to the fact of actually, physically losing everything — as I knew had happened to the people living in the area where I was born, 70 years ago.
(An area I ran away from as soon as I could — as I did from many other places — which sparked another reflection on roots: where am I really rooted? Is it possible to put down roots if you’ve forgotten your own? Etc., etc.)
Coming back to tragedy, talking to the wise people I’m proud to call friends made me realise that many things can fall under that category. Packing up your life in your 30s, after a break‑up, might feel like you’ve lost everything, and every step forward might feel like ten steps backwards. So why not place the two tragedies together, like two legs that advance one after the other… without a clear conclusion or moral, seeding questions and leaving them unanswered.
2. The press release describes the piece as “powerful, poetic, and sharply comic.” How do you find that balance between wry humour and the enormity of losing everything?
I think it’s a matter of touching a delicate object like a tragedy with respect — which to me means not indulging in the dark shades, but pairing them with some light strokes. It’s a light‑design concept: after looking at a light, the black feels darker.
I might add that one can find humour in anything. Of course there are things you can laugh about straight away (like our character who leaves her flat taking everything with her, even a dead houseplant) and other things that require more time (like tying your furniture to the wall with a rope or carrying the pigs upstairs. You might not laugh about that in your lifetime, but it can make audiences smile 75 years later).
3. The 1951 flood swallowed 70 square kilometres of the Polesine region overnight. What part of that historical catastrophe felt most resonant with the instability of contemporary adulthood?
I really don’t have an answer to this question. I feel there’s something there, but like in the play, the two are placed next to each other without resolving the matter. I have many thoughts (do I not want to put down roots because I fear being swept away by a catastrophe?) but no clear answers.
4. Moving house in 2021 becomes its own kind of micro‑catastrophe. What personal experience fed into that portrait of cardboard boxes, breakups, and rising mortgages?
I don’t know if this counts as a pro or a con, but my writing is never about me (I think my life is too little — but then that’s why we act in the end, isn’t it?). Rather, it’s a mosaic of stories I heard and glued together. A sort of cultural appropriation of my friends’ lives, as an account of “my generation.”
At first I thought our contemporary, bourgeois, first‑world little issues were in no way a tragedy — not when compared to real tragedies. But then everything can be a micro‑catastrophe (especially when it rains, right?) even when you compare it to something bigger. What changes is that you can laugh about it (or at least the audience can).
5. You talk about “coming to terms with chaos and the things we cannot control.” What chaos in your own life shaped this piece?
I guess the chaos is very much a generational insecurity — our inability to come to terms with the life and beliefs our parents had, for whom progress = wealth. How can we live by that same equation when it’s so clear now that our lifestyle means trampling on someone else’s life?
Chaos for me now also means coming to terms with my privilege. The woman in my show doesn’t want to buy furniture for her new flat because she has married the immaterial, while her parents push her to buy stuff. Alright, but… she owns a flat! (and a lot of stuff, as we know from her endless lists).
I guess what I want to convey is something along the lines of: our parents’ paradigm is not working, we cannot find a better one, maybe we should go back to our grandparents’ paradigm and start again (cooking bread in a common oven).
6. The sound design by Alessio Foglia turns the bare stage into a physical soundscape. What moment in the show relies most on sound to carry the emotional weight?
All the lines relative to the 1951 tragedy are accompanied by sound. It might seem simplistic, as it’s a 1:1 thing: the past always has a soundscape, the present never does. Somehow it felt impossible to relay the tragedy through acting, so we subcontracted all the emotional dirty work to sound.
I mean, as I say in the play: I’m Italian! …so the risk of melodrama was just around the corner (we’re far from that, still: better safe than sorry).
7. This is your playwriting debut, yet it’s already been nominated for Best New Italian Play at the Ubu Awards. What surprised you most about stepping into the role of playwright?
I think the main thing is that I cherish the responsibility of choosing which topics and which words the audience will listen to.
Then I realised I like to play with words, as if they were pieces in a giant jigsaw puzzle — the musicality, the rhythm, the repetitions… and the way in which, if words are put together in a certain way, the performer doesn’t need to add anything. (That’s the great lesson we all get from Shakespeare, I guess.)
Of course A Dark Line Upstairs is not perfect, but I’m quite sure magic happens in the cracks — when the play is not airtight, when the audience can connect the dots and place the last piece of the aforementioned jigsaw puzzle.
8. The piece moves between past and present seamlessly. How do you guide the audience through those shifts without losing them in the undertow?
The first trick is in the writing. When we’re in the past, the language is more lyrical, whereas in the “present day” moments the storytelling leans towards stand‑up comedy.
But mostly, it’s a sound/lighting thing. We had to shrink the whole production to its “Fringe size,” but the concept remains the same: the narration proceeds without halting, while the sound creeps in… and by the time the audience realises we’ve switched “world,” we’re deep inside it.
9. ZOO Venues is known for championing contemporary international performance. What made it the right home for your Edinburgh debut?
It has been a combination of factors. I was looking for a small room (some venues only have 40+ seats) whereas ZOO Playground 3 was just what I wished for my first time at the Fringe. And of course, being the first time (and preparing for the Fringe is quite an overwhelming experience) I wanted someone who would take me by the hand.
Furthermore, some of my friends had already performed there, so let’s say that beside its fame, ZOO Venues had some “close‑to‑heart” references… and please let me spend a word to thank them all for everything they’re doing for us!
10. You describe the story as “deeply Italian yet universally resonant.” What do you hope Fringe audiences — far from the Po River — carry out of the theatre with them?
The story touches many topics: our relationship with our roots (our family, the place we come from); whether we can decide to leave or not; what happens when we do (does it change whether it’s 1951 or 2021?); what we hold onto in order not to lose ourselves…
Even though audiences might not know where the Po River is, or which shape our local bread has, all these topics are quite relevant today, regardless of where any of us has been born and raised.
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Chained, Charged and Completely Exposed: Joseph N. Alberts on Padlocked!

July 4, 2026 at 2:14 pm · Filed under Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Interviews, LGBT+interest, Theatre ·Tagged , , , , , ,

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Some Fringe shows toy with constraint; Padlocked! builds an entire world out of it. The premise is disarmingly simple — one man, one bedroom, one set of chains — but what unfolds is a sharp, funny, unexpectedly revealing hour of theatre. At the centre of it all is Joseph N. Alberts, the actor playing Guy, who spends the entire performance padlocked in place. No shifting, no pacing, no physical escape. Every interruption, every rising panic, every emotional crack has to be played from a single fixed position, which somehow makes the chaos around him feel even more intimate.

 

  1. The entire play traps Guy in one physical position — chained, padlocked, unable to escape. What did you discover about the character by being literally stuck in place?
What I loved finding out about this character was how his occasionally waspish sense of humour ended up being a defence for quite a vulnerable core. He has some longstanding things about himself that he has never come to terms with. Being stuck in the one place means that he can’t escape from confronting those issues, or at least someone telling him some home truths, so how he deals with that is very interesting to play. He can still very much go on a journey of character even though he is not actually moving.
  1. The show blends kink with everyday life in a way that’s funny but also revealing. What part of Guy’s real‑world responsibilities felt most relatable to you?
I think the amount of (metaphorical) plate spinning and how we effectively act differently according to the different people around us in our lives, which is very much in the play, has really struck me. I’m sure all of us have things with family, work, neighbours and, dare I say it, potential lovers that we have to deal with, but luckily they might be spread over a week rather than within one hour in one afternoon.
  1. There’s a vulnerability in being restrained that goes beyond comedy. How did you approach that emotional layer without losing the humour?
I think realising the humour (of situation, and of Guy’s reactions and cynical comments) and the emotion are all wrapped as different facets of the same character. Keeping it emotionally honest, but also witty.
  1. The interruptions Guy faces — family, work, neighbours, even Alexa — are relentless. Which moment of escalating chaos is your favourite to perform?
There is a sequence where Guy needs to obtain a password to open a document for a work colleague he is on the phone to, and he realises he very much can’t get hold of it in the usual way… I think that is my favourite to perform.
  1. The press release hints that the story draws from real experiences. How much of Guy’s panic, desire, or denial feels personally familiar?
Luckily not the panic! The hopefulness of meeting one’s beau on Grindr and the increasing realisation that things may not work out as envisaged does feel very familiar. As is the case for wanting certain areas of your life not to overlap with other areas of your life.
  1. Fabio is alluring but elusive. What do you think Guy is really looking for in him — fantasy, escape, validation, or something else entirely?
I think Guy is ultimately looking for someone with an understanding of who he is and what his sexual desires are (wanting someone else to take control for a bit), but the fact that Fabio is so sexy is a definite bonus! The situation Guy is hoping for is its own escape, I’d say.
  1. The show is sex‑positive but also life‑negative, as the press release puts it. How do you balance those two tones on stage?
I would say our approach is to be unapologetic about the adult parts of the show and the amount of flesh on display for Guy’s kink, but also to find an honesty about the difficulties of life that come into the story, with relatively few people Guy feels he can be honest to.
  1. What’s the biggest challenge of performing a role where the comedy depends on timing, physical restriction, and rising tension?
It’s a blend of several things. Keeping the pace up, but keeping the contrasts between how he talks to the different people in his life. And making sure those one-sided phone conversations sound realistic in their timing. For some reason, remembering what to say between the conversations is proving harder than remembering the conversations themselves!
  1. If audiences come in expecting pure farce, what deeper truth do you hope they walk away with?
Perhaps the deeper truth that the chains may be metaphoric as well as literal. Or maybe that we all have different areas of our personalities, with triumphs and frustrations. Maybe being honest about personal things – or even kinks – might be the way ahead.
  1. And finally — what’s the part of Guy you’re most protective of, the thing you hope audiences really understand about him?
I love the realisation that he can change, even within an hour in his own bedroom. Despite his cynicism, he remains optimistic for as long as he can. I hope that audiences will find the way I portray the character engaging, even though he definitely has his flaws. He is wittier than I am, but I think he has a reason for that wit.
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Get Ready for Summerhall’s 2026 Fringe: 72 Unique Performances

May 8, 2026 at 6:49 am · Filed under Drama, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026 ·Tagged , , , , ,

Person with curly hair looking surprised while watching a screen.
Clockwise from top left: The Subplot: A hyperfixation on the Titan submersible (Credit: Nicholas Robertson), Sauna Theatre, Turn Your Fucking Phones Off (Credit: Christa Holka), The Distance (Credit: Ryan Howard), Kismet (قسمت) by Shaparak Khorsandi (Credit: Haiminh Le), ROLEPLAY (Credit: Gracie Steindl) THE PLOT (Credit: theatregoose), & AroundD the WorlD in 80 ToyS (Credit: Johanna Austin)

On sale now — a festival that arrives sweating, shimmering and absolutely unafraid.

Summerhall has dropped the last 30 titles of its 2026 Fringe programme, and the headline is almost too on‑the‑nose: the UK’s first purpose‑built theatre sauna will take over the back courtyard in August. An 80‑seat heat chamber built for performance — not wellness influencers — and programmed with Aufguss masters, theatre, literature, music and the sort of oddball happenings that only Summerhall would dare to stage. It’s the kind of idea that sounds like a joke until you realise they’ve actually built it.

The announcement folds these sauna happenings into a wider programme that now totals 72 shows, with half of them created by international artists. The tone is unmistakably Summerhall: bold, political, mischievous, and occasionally unhinged in the best possible way.

Kismet (قسمت) — Shaparak Khorsandi

Khorsandi brings a work‑in‑progress staging of her debut play, drawn from the real history of her Iranian family after the 1979 Revolution. The piece grows out of her novel Nina’s Not Okay and features live music by Jean Delkhaste (Smiling Beth). It’s billed as personal, diasporic and musically alive — a shift from stand‑up into something more theatrical and emotionally rooted.

Turn Your Fucking Phones Off — Hannah Maxwell

Maxwell returns after Nan, Me & Barbara Pravi and BABYFLEAREINDEERBAG, this time with an autobiographical dive into digital toxicity, misinformation and the way our devices quietly rewire us. With dramaturgy from Ursula Martinez and Rachel Mars, it promises to be playful, self‑aware and prickly in all the right places.

ROLEPLAY — Francesca Moody Productions & Global Creatures

A new NSFW one‑woman show from Hannah Reilly (The Deb), directed by Paige Rattray (Fangirls). It tackles sex, feminism‑as‑brand, and the performance of womanhood in the algorithmic age. Given the producers (Fleabag, Baby Reindeer; Moulin Rouge! The Musical), expect polish, bite and a certain theatrical swagger.

ArounD the WorlD in 80 ToyS — Thaddeus McWhinnie Phillips

Phillips — a Fringe legend with a taste for cinematic magic — returns with a Méliès‑inspired blend of micro‑cinema, illusion and puppetry. The show is described as a “haunting and touching homage to the movies,” which fits his long‑standing interest in borderlands, travel and the mechanics of storytelling.

THE PLOT — theatregoose

Emma Howlett’s company (Aether; Sisters Three; Her Green Hell) premieres a new play about the Gunpowder Plot. Expect reinvention, rebellion and a fascination with how stories get told and retold. theatregoose have built a reputation for atmospheric, tightly directed work; this looks like a continuation of that streak.

The Sauna Theatre Programme

The sauna itself is a collaboration between director James Grieve and designer Lucy Osborne, the duo behind Paines Plough’s Roundabout. They’re launching their new venture — Sauna Sessions Arts Club — on the very ground where Roundabout first stood in 2014.

Inside the heat:

  • Morning raves
  • Mysteries of the Picts
  • Nick Cassenbaum’s Bubble Schmeisis (Remixed)
  • International Aufguss Masters
  • Literary salons, music, storytelling

The idea is simple: heat heightens the senses, strips away distraction and creates a communal intensity. Summerhall leans into that with characteristic mischief.

Other Notables from the Final 30

The Subplot: A hyperfixation on the Titan submersible — Sophie Smyth

A UK premiere from Australia, blending neurodivergent perspective, obsession and the strange cultural afterlife of the Titan disaster.

The Distance — Ben Norris

Part play, part extreme workout. Norris — former GB athlete and Archers actor — uses sweat, endurance and ambition as theatrical material. Produced by a team with credits including SIX and The Choir of Man.

Women of Will — Siofra Dromgoole

A new play inspired by Tina Packer’s seminal work on Shakespeare’s heroines, starring Ella Louden and Nigel Gore. A pub‑based celebration of female characters and the actors who’ve embodied them.

Thermodrama — Lovecock Productions

A comic‑tragic look at wellness culture, set in Peckham Pulse Leisure Centre. A satire of self‑improvement that recognises how easily it curdles into cruelty.

BULL / FIGHT — Mythography & Macrobert Arts Centre

A Scottish co‑production exploring the death and legacy of Federico García Lorca during the Spanish Civil War.

Bunny! — Craig Manson

A darkly comic hybrid of cabaret, live art and musical theatre about a starlet‑serial‑killer. Manson’s Instagram‑based arts‑sector satire bleeds into the stage work.

Nesting — Trolley Problem

A multidisciplinary piece about assisted dying, neurodegenerative illness and the ethics of care.

Boogie on the Bones — withintheatre

A musical political play set in Soviet‑era Moscow, adapted from Yurii Korotkov’s novel. Youth culture vs repression, told through jazz and underground dance.

We Had Fun — Emmeline Hartley & Jack Mullings

A dark comedy about consent, directed by Carrie‑Anne Ingrouille (SIX). Described as an “un‑romantic” look at the grey zones of sexual politics.

Homecumming — Magalie Rouillard‑Bazinet

A solo piece about losing one’s orgasm — and oneself — blending humour, mental health, shame and sexuality.

Man or Bear — Katie Hurley & Sarah Hehir

A fast, physical, intergenerational play inspired by the viral “man or bear” question. Directed by Ursula Martinez.

Baby Everything — Lee Minora

A helter‑skelter interrogation of digital‑age anxiety, ricocheting between clowning, storytelling and fantasy.

Good With Faces — Oisín Kearney & Gina Donnelly

A taut mother–social worker thriller about power, care and the state.

Horrorshow — Chronic Insanity

Gig‑theatre with a live 00s‑indie band, exploring class, nostalgia and who culture is really for.

TOAST — Jude Green

A pitch‑black comedy about class divides, “Proper Jobs,” and the economics of starving for your art.

Sitting (In Silence) — Terracotta Productions

A tragi‑comedy about mental health, grief and suicide loss, rooted in lived experience.

The Trials of Magnus Coffinkey — Give or Take Productions

A dark fairytale using storytelling to navigate trauma.

Magic Lantern Anthology — The Drolly Theater

A family‑friendly blend of puppetry, science and light, creating “future folklore” and revived myths.

All details above are drawn directly from the uploaded Summerhall press release.

Closing Note

Summerhall’s 2026 programme — 72 shows plus 9 in the Sauna Theatre — runs 6–31 August, with tickets on sale now It’s a festival built on heat, risk, and the pleasure of artists who refuse to play safe.

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