FringeReview Scotland 2026
Game of Crones
A&E Comedy
Genre: Absurd Theatre, Comedy, Feminist Theatre
Venue: Traverse Theatre
Festival: FringeReview Scotland
Low Down
Two hander comedy drama focused on the journey to slay the beast that is the female midlife transition. Using fearless buffoonery protected by the armour plate of absurdity, Dooley and Edwards boldly go where no woman has ever gone before, to conquer the mystical “third age” that lies beyond the sixth decade, fearlessly tackling the battlefield that is today’s invisible societal wasteland.
Review
Long, long ago, in a far off land, before the advent of the ever-present threat of having your country invaded by a deranged, orange tinted man, A&E Comedy embarked on a journey to slay the beast that is the female midlife transition, through the fearless buffoonery evident in Enter The Dragons, followed shortly thereafter by Witch Hunt, which did exactly what it said on the tin.
But, with hot flushes continuing to, well, be hot and flushy, and with even more of their bits starting to droop, the duo have once more answered the call of destiny in Game of Crones, donning their armour of absurdity to boldly go where no woman has ever gone before, and conquer the mystical “third age” that lies beyond the sixth decade, confronting the battlefield that is today’s invisible societal wasteland.
And the stage at Traverse Theatre is, indeed, a veritable desert, adorned with just a couple of conveniently shiftable ethereal cloud like objects, around which our daring duo moved elegantly as they embarked upon a mission to defeat the evil Kronos, the Lord of Time, one whose demands will only be satisfied with sufficient flesh from the old and the sagging.
But all that Abigail Dooley and Emma Edwards (the tour de force behind this whimsical extravaganza) possess to defeat this dastardly devil is a tongue sharpener, the spectacles of destiny and a magical cloak of invisibility, recognisable to anyone as a shapeless M&S cardigan. A beige one.
Our journey begins with the remnants of Storm Dave rattling the theatre walls and an emergency email from the theatre management advising that more of Dooley and Edwards might be exposed than any gentile Edinburgh audience should be expected to cope with on a wintry Sunday evening.
What’s already a thick plot quickly thickens as we plunge full-on into a series of sketches exploring the challenges of ageing, and the concomitant battle to maintain some semblance of purpose, relevance, dignity and recognition as the birthdays click round with what appears to be increasing frequency.
The story centres on the “Protagonist” (heroine is so gender stereotypical, darlings), and the search for nirvana, a role in which both Dooley and Edwards feature. And when not so engaged, they take on a dizzying array of other characters, human and otherwise.
It’s full on from the get-go, especially visually as our eyes are immediately assailed by the riot of colour and texture in the seemingly never-ending array of costumes created by the very talented (and very busy) Jess Eaton, including the opening efforts that looked a bit like Wombles on steroids and a voluminous black creation for the mystic atop a mountain who bid our Protagonist weave a bridge from her own tears to ford the chasm they were now facing, an intriguing, piercing metaphor for the tenacity oft required to navigate life’s later stages.
Sketch rapidly followed sketch, with segues to allow time for some frantic back stage costume changing being delivered through complex audio visuals, eery voiceovers, scary music and sometimes all three. At times this made viewing exhausting, especially given the complexity of the narrative and the subtle (and very clever) use of similes, metaphors and extended allegories to get across the central theme of this piece – what it takes for the older woman to be seen, valued, and to reinvent themselves.
Like all sketch shows, some hit the bullseye, some the outer and some completely missed the target. But, with most in the first two categories and just a few in the third, the show struck a chord, although the natural reserve associated with an Edinburgh audience where the vast majority were slap bang in the centre of the cohort at which this material is aimed meant that polite tittering and applause greeted what less inhibited gatherings would probably have roared with approval at, particularly the very catchy “F*ck It” song, whose sublime lyrics really deserved a bit more recognition.
The natural chemistry between Dooley and Edwards was clear and played a major role in keeping things rolling along. Which they did, to a natural and amusing conclusion. Film and video content from Raphael Lambrakis-Haddad was first class, sound design by Tom Penn empathetic to the action unfolding on stage and Joe Fleming’s innovative set design ensured that the overall experience was both entertaining and enlightening.
There are 27 million adult women in the UK, a third of whom are dealing with the vicissitudes being thrown at them now they’ve tottered past their half century. That’s one heck of a potential audience base for a show that’s surreal, absurd and quite weird in places but uses clever, often satirical humour to get across its central tenet.
So, go on, “rage against the beige, focus on your joy span, not your life span”, to paraphrase Dooley and Edwards. And, if in doubt, just “f*ck it”.
