There is no shortage of ambition in Edinburgh Rep’s latest production, an affectionate parody of Jane Austen’s youthful novella Love and Friendship, adapted and directed by Oliver Giggins. Packed with heightened Regency melodrama, broad physical comedy and moments of gleeful absurdity, the production showcases a company with obvious talent and infectious enthusiasm, even if the material itself doesn’t always provide the strongest framework for that talent to flourish.
Rather than adapting one of Austen’s familiar novels, the production draws on one of her earliest works, written when she was still a teenager. The story follows the young Marianne persuading her Aunt Laura to reveal the astonishing tale of her youth, a tale involving doomed romances, improbable revelations of parentage, robbery, dramatic deaths, habitual fainting, starving parents, and enough reckless romantic decision-making to make even Austen’s later heroines blush. It is deliberately outrageous, poking affectionate fun at the conventions of sentimental fiction while revealing flashes of the wit that would later define Austen’s mature novels.
The production is staged in the intimate subterranean studio beneath St Augustine’s, a compact black box venue that suits this style of Fringe theatre particularly well. On this occasion the audience filled around half the room, creating an informal atmosphere that complemented the company’s shoestring aesthetic. While modest in scale, the venue provides ample technical capability, allowing the performances and the writing to remain firmly centre stage.
Giggins’ script is packed with imaginative ideas and an obvious affection for Austen’s playful satire and literary absurdity. In many ways it recalls the spirit of Ostentatious, delighting in the quirks of classic literature while inviting audiences to laugh both with it and at it. Performed by a committed ensemble including Natalie Beller, Pedro Branco, Helen Bunker, Beth Eltringham, Kathryn Marpe and Kyle Paton, the cast embrace the heightened style with complete conviction. Their performances are energetic, polished and clearly well rehearsed, demonstrating a company that enjoys working together and isn’t afraid to throw itself wholeheartedly into even the most eccentric material.
There are moments when everything clicks beautifully. One particularly memorable sequence, recounting the death of the protagonists’ parents against a soundtrack of roaring lions, revving chainsaws and blood-curdling screams, embraces its surrealism with complete confidence and earns some of the evening’s biggest laughs.
The performances themselves are never the issue. The difficulty lies in the structure of the material.
For much of the first half, the audience appeared to spend as much time trying to understand the context of individual scenes as enjoying where they were leading. The production often feels like a succession of comic sketches linked by theme rather than by narrative. While there are plenty of witty ideas scattered throughout, they are not always given sufficient momentum to build naturally upon one another.
Absurd comedy works best when its own internal logic is firmly established. The stranger the world becomes, the clearer its rules need to be. Here, a little more signposting would have helped enormously. Earlier callbacks, recurring motifs or carefully planted comic Easter eggs could have reassured the audience that everything was moving towards a larger destination. Being a parody of Austen’s wonderfully anarchic juvenile writing is one thing, establishing the internal logic of that parody is another.
Interestingly, the production grows noticeably stronger during its second half, when a clearer narrative thread begins to emerge. Suddenly the individual set pieces have something to attach themselves to, and the comedy lands with greater confidence because the audience has a framework through which to view it. The material itself has not fundamentally changed, but its organisation has, making the latter stages considerably more satisfying than the opening.
After the curtain call, the company spoke enthusiastically about its future plans, announcing an intention to stage a new production every month alongside six shows at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe, including three Adult Horrible Histories. It is a remarkably ambitious programme that speaks volumes about the enthusiasm and commitment driving this young company. Whether such a demanding schedule proves sustainable creatively, financially and physically remains to be seen, but on the evidence of tonight there is certainly enough talent within Edinburgh Rep to make them a company worth watching. If they can combine that enthusiasm with the stronger comic architecture hinted at here, they could have a very exciting future ahead.
One night only – prior to Edinburgh Fringe run
Reviewer: Greg Holstead
Reviewed: 28th June 2026
North West End UK Rating:
Running time – 1hr