It is said that on midwinter's eve the devil holds a ceilidh, and at midnight the past and present kiss. This is the moment when unsuspecting revellers might be snared by Old Nick himself. It's the sort of story that appears in folklore, but it's rubbish, isn't it? Or maybe it isn't.
When buttoned-up academic Prudencia Hart attends a conference in Kelso about border ballads, she hates it. Her academic colleagues see the signifiers clearly enough, but can't find the beauty nor the poetry in these ancient stories. Matters worsen when a snowstorm strands her and fellow folklorist Colin in a pub where an advertised folk night turns out to be a Katy Perry "karaoke nite". Prudencia stumbles off into the dark, determined to find a B&B. It is a decision that is the making of her.
On the night I go, the bar of the London Welsh Centre is hot as hell, but it's a great setting for David Greig and Wils Wilson's fizzing, irreverent National Theatre of Scotland production, which places the audience right in the thick of it. We even conjure snowstorms.
The narrative sometimes loses focus, but the evening has plenty of musical swagger and wild poetic heart, and develops an unexpected erotic charge as Prudencia dances with the devil and discovers her real self in car park. This beautifully performed piece both uses the ballad form and sends it up rotten, takes a cheeky but affectionate swipe at Rabbie Burns and Conor McPherson, and celebrates the folk tradition but also employs a Kylie Minogue classic to devastating emotional effect. It deserves to tour for eternity. I can't get it out of my mind.
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