The ghosts of lost children are circling in Iain McClure’s new play, which puts eminent child psychiatrist Joseph’s own emotional baggage in the spotlight to be analysed and offloaded before the ultimate purging takes place.

When we first meet Joseph in late 1990s Edinburgh, an as yet unexplained police incident is being laid to rest as Joseph prepares to flit to America.

Next time we see Joseph, he’s in a restaurant with Cindy, his Native American bride half his age, and has twice been a very special guest on Oprah.

With a baby of his own on the way, Joseph makes an ill fated prodigal’s return to Edinburgh, where, holed up in a state of art apartment that used to be his hospital office, old demons come calling in unexpected ways.

Kolbrún Björt Sigfúsdóttir’s production brings all this to life in slow burning fashion on Kenneth MacLeod’s compact one room set occupied by Cal MacAninch’s Joseph. There is an inherent creepiness to MacAninch’s portrayal of this man on the edge, with Mara Huf’s Cindy getting back to her roots, while Ben Ewing brings Joseph’s former patient, Sam, to life as if he stepped out of a horror film.

With shades of Sam Shepard’s early works in some of the play’s extremities, McClure’s at times overloaded script looks like it has the makings of a prime time TV mini series, where its more supernatural leanings could be seen in moody close up.

The play’s preoccupation with dead children and how their presence lingers at times recalls that of J.M. Barrie. Where Barrie’s infants were never allowed to grow up due to physical illness, McClure’s offspring are in a limbo caused by less visible but even more damaging wounds. It is Joseph, however, who is revealed as the ultimate lost boy, unable to move on from the childhood scars that shaped him.

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