В Эдинбурге состоялась премьера драмы о травме и невозможности простить

Non-Human Animal Gilded Balloon, Edinburgh Festival Fringe Could life be more overwhelming than Róisín’s? As you listen to her story, you begin to wonder when everything went wrong in the first place. With her father murdered years ago and her mother now seriously unwell, apparently suffering from dementia, it seems as though one difficulty has simply piled on top of another. It is a story of how difficult life can become when one trauma is followed by another. The reality of the world offers no relief. Even with GP appointments, it is difficult to tell whether the doctors are always listening. Eventually, Róisín manages to get one thing she needs from them: a referral to a personal trainer (PT) through the NHS. Outings to the gym in pursuit of weight loss are, alongside visits to the care home where her mother lives, among the few things that draw her outside the four walls she likes to hide within. Mostly keeping herself locked away, she finds comfort in consuming mini Mars bars and binge-watching Gilmore Girls, retreating into its loving family and reassuring world where everything eventually works out. An altar-like display of the series sits in the background, surrounded by stills from the show, revealing just how devoted she is to this fictional world. Social media presents her with a stream of seemingly perfect lives and impossible ideals. There is something deeply sad in the way Róisín keeps looking outward for evidence of how badly her own life has gone. She cannot seem to let go of the past, while everyone around her, including PT Scott, appears to be moving forward. Released from prison after serving time for murder, Scott is an uncomfortable choice of companion, one that says much about Róisín’s tendency to place herself in situations that bring her trauma uncomfortably close. As they become more acquainted, Scott suggests that accepting an opportunity to meet her father’s murderer - and perhaps forgiving him - could help her move forward. Not ready to consider it, Róisín becomes deeply upset. Her reaction makes it increasingly clear why she remains trapped in a world where things go wrong. Emily Tracey embodies anxiety and depression with great intensity, making her portrayal compelling to watch. Róisín is far from a conventional heroine, yet Tracey’s performance, alongside Kate Woods’ witty writing, keeps the audience immersed in this dark story. It is as entertaining and amusing as it is uncomfortable, with sarcasm woven throughout to bring moments of lightness. There is no happy ending, nor any hint that things will necessarily change for the better for Róisín. Instead, the audience is left with questions. Is forgiveness really the only way to move forward and escape our own misery? And what happens when we are simply not ready to forgive? Does that make you a non-human animal? This review of Non-Human Animal by Kat Woods, an Enniskillen-born playwright, was written by Julia Braun Raven for our sister title, The Herald, based in Scotland.