There can be few figures in Scottish history as difficult to bring to the stage as Robert Burns. Poet, radical, celebrity, serial womaniser and national icon, he remains a figure whose mythology is almost as powerful as the man himself. The Burns Project, now returning to the Royal Lyceum following a successful Fringe run and subsequent touring, sets itself the ambitious task of stripping away that mythology to present Burns as a complex human being. It succeeds in many respects, but ultimately falls short where it matters most.
Presented in the intimate surroundings of the Lyceum’s Henry Irving Room, the audience gathers around a large dining table while Burns moves through the space, his life unfolding chronologically from humble beginnings to his premature death. Live music, performed on mandolin and guitar by Ray Aggs on the evening I attended, provides a sympathetic accompaniment throughout. This is not a musical in any conventional sense, but the music adds warmth and atmosphere without ever overwhelming the storytelling. Aggs’ contribution is understated yet highly effective, creating an emotional thread that quietly binds the production together.
The production itself is clearly the work of a company that knows the material inside out. Director Cora Bissett brings a confident sense of pace and control to the immersive staging, ensuring that every movement around the table feels purposeful and every transition polished. Having toured extensively, the production has an ease and assurance that comes only through experience. James Clements delivers a confident, assured performance, comfortably carrying the audience through Burns’ life and poetry with clarity and conviction. The script is equally accomplished, providing a straightforward narrative that makes Burns’ life accessible without becoming overly academic.
The problem lies elsewhere.
History presents Burns as an almost irresistible force of personality, a man whose wit, charm and charisma attracted friends, lovers and admirers in extraordinary numbers. Whatever else one believes about Burns, he was clearly someone capable of captivating almost everyone he encountered. That extraordinary personal magnetism is the engine that drives so much of his remarkable life.
Here, however, that sense of irresistible charisma never quite materialises. The performance is accomplished and intelligent, but it rarely conveys the overwhelming force of personality that the script continually asks us to believe in. As a result, moments depicting Burns’ numerous romantic conquests can feel more awkward than persuasive. Rather than demonstrating the effortless charm that made him such an extraordinary figure, some of these encounters become faintly uncomfortable, asking the audience simply to accept Burns’ seductive power rather than allowing us to experience it for ourselves.
That is particularly evident during a comic musical sequence celebrating Burns’ prolific love life. Intended to be playful, it instead feels slightly forced, drawing attention to a dramatic weakness that perhaps would have been better left understated.
There is much to admire elsewhere. The table itself proves an ingenious theatrical device, concealing props and visual surprises that continually emerge throughout the evening. One particularly memorable sequence sees an apparently endless line of baby clothes drawn from a casserole dish while Burns recounts the astonishing number of children he fathered. It is simple, inventive theatre, humorous while simultaneously illustrating an important aspect of Burns’ life. Equally effective is the striking image of Burns presenting his own head upon a platter as he reflects upon his moral failings, an arresting visual metaphor that lingers long afterwards.
The recitation of To a Mouse is delivered with sensitivity, allowing Burns’ poetry to speak for itself without unnecessary embellishment.
The immersive staging, however, creates practical problems of its own. With audience members seated both around and outside the central table, sightlines are frequently compromised. As Burns circles the performance space, he is often obscured by those seated directly in front, leaving sections of the audience listening rather than watching. The elevated perimeter stools improve visibility but are noticeably uncomfortable over the course of the performance, a small but persistent distraction.
Technically, the production remains deliberately modest. The lighting serves its purpose without ever becoming a storytelling element in its own right, while the recorded voices that accompany Burns throughout occasionally feel like an economical substitute for additional performers. Without projections or stronger visual support, these off-stage voices sometimes lack the dramatic impact they appear designed to create.
Perhaps the production’s greatest limitation is that it rarely reveals anything genuinely surprising about Burns himself. Those already familiar with his life will encounter little that fundamentally alters their understanding of the man. Instead, the evening functions as a thoughtful and well-crafted retelling of a familiar story rather than a fresh reinterpretation.
Watching alongside a friend currently writing his own musical inspired by Burns inevitably prompted comparisons. It reinforced just how central Burns’ extraordinary charisma must be to any successful dramatisation. His poetry alone is not enough. His notorious romantic life is not enough. At the heart of the story must be a personality capable of overwhelming everyone around him.
The Burns Project is unquestionably intelligent theatre. It is inventive in places, thoughtfully written and expertly performed within its own chosen style. Yet for all its craftsmanship, I left admiring the production more than I admired Burns himself. A play about one of Scotland’s most magnetic personalities should leave the audience feeling that they have spent an evening in the company of an unforgettable man. Here, despite much to enjoy, that spark never quite catches fire.
Reviewer: Greg Holstead
Reviewed: 3rd July 2026
North West End UK Rating:
Running time – 1hr