To emerge from a giant, sci-fi egg is a singular way to open a show, but Emma Lynne Harley’s Walking on Eggshells is not a piece that deals in half-measures. Pitching audiences into 75 minutes of autobiographical cabaret, stand-up, and pop-infused investigation, this performance explores Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) with a bracing lack of sentimentality.
Having developed this work over seven years with the backing of Creative Scotland, Siren Theatre Company and Scissor Kick have crafted a highly entertaining, illuminating production. Perhaps the passage of time has stolen a little of the show’s thunder (trauma will be the bedrock of many, many shows this Fringe), but its laser focus on a life lived in continual negotiation with C-PTSD still singles it out.
The Anatomy of Trauma
Indeed, even if modern audiences are more trauma-experienced, Harley and Director Becky Hope-Palmer find plenty of ways to make this highly personal theatrical journey feel vital. First, there’s an interrogation of being seen as a “burd”— with all its negative cultural weight. Harley deep-dives into the life-restraining reality of being a ‘burd’, whilst also subverting the idea through flights of absurd, but meaningful, bird-based physical comedy.
Throughout, there’s much to admire in the writing, each chapter in their life introduced with their age and the mantra, “and I know that love isn’t perfect”. It’s a statement ripe with meaning depending on its delivery. At times, it suggests a frustrating lack of progress, but steadily evolves into a statement of compassionate acceptance.
To emerge from a giant, sci-fi egg is a singular way to open a show, but Emma Lynne Harley’s Walking on Eggshells is not a piece that deals in half-measures.
Within each chapter, Harley’s storytelling is evocative; they move the audience effortlessly from the birdsong romance of the Botanic Gardens to the grim reality of an Easter Road flat. Within the unforgettable confines of a familiar IKEA sofa, they sketches the harrowing picture of escalating abuse with a quiet, devastating precision.
It’s through this sophisticated blend of theatricality and monologue that they creates a deeply sympathetic, flawed, and entirely human character, firmly rooted in the geography of Edinburgh: themselves.
Britney Spears as Neuroscientist
To balance the heavier emotional terrain, Harley introduces a quasi-scientific alter-ego. This persona functions like a 90s factual kids’ TV show presented by a neuroscientist alterate-dimension Britney Spears, providing a vehicle for denser exposition regarding brain chemistry as a “physiological time machine”. It is a wild, creative approach that applies ample comedic sugar to make the clinical realities of C-PTSD go down.
This is just one aspect of a show which unapologetically hybrid. Walking on Eggshells is a one-chick cabaret to say the least – and it comes with music!
Harley relies on the cultural imprint of pop music to chart worrying relationship dynamics, asking whether recording artists merely reflect a toxic reality or actively manufacture it. She suborns tracks like Spears’s Toxic and Charlotte Church’s ‘Crazy Girl’ to soundtrack their own history. Their cabaret credentials are sound; she carries a tune with clear intent and at one point complements the music with a PG-rated burlesque routine like nothing else you’ve ever seen.
Production and Pace
Alisa Kaylanova’s set design frames the action with an 80s gameshow aesthetic, complete with glittery entrance arch. Much as Harley’s colourful self-presentation, this is a statement of intent: the show might have heavy themes, but we’re going to face them with all the sparkly hope we can muster.
This is just one aspect of a show which unapologetically hybrid. Walking on Eggshells is a one-woman cabaret to say the least – and it comes with music!
Sound designer Laurie Black ensures the audio balance is crisp, whilst integrated live captioning ups the show’s unmistakably inclusive environment without sacrificing theatrical polish.
There’s no questioning the ambition of the show in these and every other respect; however, that does seem to have led to an over-indulgence in sung diversions that cause the narrative to stall. Trimming one or two would sharpen the focus considerably. It might also allow a little more exploration of the complex interplay between neurodiversity and mental health. Still, I thank Walking on Eggshells for introducing me to the concept of Post Traumatic Growth – a little science-based hope certainly helps underpin the show’s optimistic close.
It’s a finale delightfully lacking rose-tinted glasses, and all the more positive and believable for it. All in all, Walking on Eggshells stands as a celebratory recognition of female lived-experience, the awful, the wonderful, and the possible. This is a promising first iteration of a show uniquely positioned to grow with its creator as life continues to happen.
Featured Image: Walking On Eggshells, photo by Andy Catlin, graphic design by Gallusness
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