At Sundown

Charging eight pounds for a 45-minute lunchtime show is a bold move for young actors at the Fringe. It needs to be backed by vitality, skillful execution and an unceasing flow of fresh ideas. At Sundown fails almost completely in all of these areas.

Questionable value for money is just one of the play’s many problems. At Sundown begins with a vaguely interesting exploration of the minds of dementia sufferers, using a disjointed mixing of the imagery of young and old. But ten minutes in, the show is effectively over, having settled into constantly regurgitating the first few minutes' material with only the slightest of variations.

One deadpan explanation of the science behind Alzheimer’s becomes several, none of them of any real interest, while the same is true of the elements of physical theatre. The first time stories of dementia are told during a jaunty dance number it is worthy of attention, but by the fifth, everything is stuck in a tedious faux retro groove.

The inspiration eventually dries up completely, reaching the nadir in a sequence in which the characters blurt out adverbs while acting out the corresponding emotion: laughing while saying “laughing” in a way that wouldn’t be out of place in an after-school drama club.

Even after a tame opening flurry, this performance never threatens to step up a gear. Bereft of ideas, watching At Sundown peter out slowly is a poor way to spend lunchtime in Edinburgh. Sit down with a sandwich and choose something better.