The casting of this production also leaves much to be desired. The performances are to acting what Jemini were to melody. Most of the dialogue is reduced to lines being thrown about the stage (mostly at volume 7-10) with little direction or expertise. While the show has Eurovision references and gags peppered throughout the script from beginning to end, most land flat because they aren’t given the time or delivery for the audience to understand or react to.
At times, it’s difficult to tell if what is being said on stage was scripted or improvisation. Having the experienced Adèle Anderson drying on her first line and the rest of the cast staring blankly, not knowing what to do, set this uncertain, underprepared tone. While you might not be expecting performances akin to the National Theatre, these would be deemed lacking by even Edinburgh Fringe standards. There was a refreshing glimpse of truth from Charlotte East’s portrayal of best friend and playwright, Kat. East is the single performer in the production whose acting convinces. She finds some truth in the majority of her broad storyline, but as with the rest of the team, she seems to be wholly let down by William Spencer’s frantic direction and Blackburn’s superficial scripting.