HIVE ****

Assembly Roxy (Venue 139) until 15 August

When conservationist and single mum Ria (Elin Doyle) is called to inspect a strange infestation taking hold at a construction site, she reluctantly brings along her quirky, restless teenager Salve (Emily Millwood). Their relationship is clearly complicated, but this slick gothic eco-thriller wastes little time on exposition, cutting instead to awkward site-manager Craig and his disconcerting inability to describe what he’s seen lurking in the rafters.

Set amongst the concrete slabs of a high-rise strapped with explosives, soon to be demolished to make way for expensive luxury apartments, Hive is a pacy two-hander laced with peril from the jump. Written by Ariella Como Stoian, the script veers between snappy dialogue and luminous poetry, with Will Hayman’s evocative lighting creating a real sense of the uncanny. Theatre company Mushmoss Collective offers a world that feels a lot like ours, but the storms are wilder and the dust is thicker.

As Ria and Salve climb through the floors of the abandoned building, the basement stage feels wobbly and precarious, as if we’re a dozen storeys high. A striking, clean set allows Doyle to conjure particularly stomach-churning vertigo as she clings to a metal step ladder.

There’s a lot of action – climbing, leaping, jumping, fire! – and sometimes the precise logistics get lost in the mix, but under Susie Macdonald’s direction, Doyle and Millwood carefully tease out the complexities of a parent-child relationship marked by grief. Both actors share the role of corporate drone Craig, a character who could stand to be more fleshed out by comparison.

But best of all, as with any true gothic tale, the precise nature of that mysterious infestation is left unseen. Sam Rothera and Zygmund de Somogyi’s gorgeous, unearthly compositions give us the vague shape of something, but the rest is up to our best, or worst, imaginations.

Katie Hawthorne

When It Rains ***

Greenside @ Nicolson Square (Venue 209) until 12 August

The rivers are poisoned, people are mysteriously disappearing, and the rain will make your skin burn. A gang of teenagers escape this collapsing world into the woods, and their own alternative society – until the fragile freedom they’ve established is shattered by three newcomers.

There’s a lot of Lord of the Flies (probably too much, truth be told) in Natasha Brotherdale Smith’s dystopian ensemble play. Set that aside, though, and there are plenty of strong, new ideas being dealt with here – among them the inexorable fallout from gradual ecological collapse, and young people’s responses to despair.

And When It Rains gets a powerfully physical performance from its young, 11-strong cast, who strut and shuffle across the stage in fluid, energetic choreography, delivering the show’s whipcrack dialogue with well-drilled confidence.

Individual deliveries are pretty variable, it has to be said, though the main roles are generally well-filled – gang leader Xander (individual actors’ names aren’t supplied), in particular, charts a convincing course from bullying arrogance to broken timidity. There’s a question of where Brotherdale Smith’s arresting set-up is going to take us – and her conclusion might leave you feeling a touch disappointed, though it hints at a possible sequel.

Nonetheless, for a powerful insight into young people’s well-founded concerns, When It Rains grapples with some memorable ideas.

David Kettle

Saturn Return ***

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) u ntil 13 August

This impressive Fringe debut by Pakistani-American performer Natalya Samee hinges on the astrological concept that great life changes occur as Saturn returns to the same point in the Zodiac as a person’s birth date – your late wenties being the first big shift.

Not that Samee believes any of that stuff – she is all about the data, while her mother is all about the vibes, shunning the 3D of everyday life for the 4D of (usually romantic) fate. Samee is a modern Muslim girl trying to balance her desires and aspirations with following the perfect life path as mandated by her culture and, more specifically, her parents.

Essentially, we are in overdone looking-for-love territory but Samee is such a sharp, funny writer and engaging, fluent performer, seamlessly switching from trad dad to Aussie girl pal, that she easily carries her audience with her as she satirises cultural traits (yeah, I know what a catamaran is – deal with it) and elicits both belly laughs and horrified gasps as she navigates her first interracial love with the “Radiohead white, Viking tall” man she calls Egg.

Fiona Shepherd

Siapa Yang Bawa Melayu Aku Pergi? (Who Took My Malay Away?) ***

Summerhall (Venue 26) until 13 August

What makes up an identity? Do we ascribe greater loyalty to certain aspects of ourselves—be it religion, ethnicity, or citizenship—over others? How can we preserve the parts of ourselves that are being lost to history?

Using his Muslim-Malay-Singaporean identity as a touchstone, Faizal Abdullah’s lecture-performance questions received narratives around the city-state’s past, and grapples with the future of his Malay heritage.

Throughout the hour, Faizal toggles between two personae: himself, and a Muslim Malay man named Awang, who waxes lyrical about the ancient Malay writing system of Jawi. As Faizal, he is a passionate, engaging teacher of Singapore, the way only the people who are true subject experts can do—with a love that is no less powerful for acknowledging Singapore’s complicated colonial past, and the inequalities that persist in its multi-ethnic society.

Through Awang, he gives full voice to the riches of his Malay heritage. While these two figures flow together more often than not, curious gaps do appear. Faizal acknowledges that only by being his own person on stage can he broach the topic of colonialism.

But what’s holding Awang back? Faizal is clearly and rightfully proud of his Malay identity, and sees it as continuous with other aspects of himself. It therefore becomes less clear as to why he needs to become Awang at all. Perhaps it speaks to the ongoing work required to make sense of our place in the world; to find comfort in our multitudes.

Deborah Chu

SAD ***

Summerhall (Venue 26), until 13 August

This genre-defying piece by composer and sound designer Quiet Boy (Gaz Tomlinson) and his partner Brigitte Aphrodite comes from a raw place of grief. The sudden loss of Tomlinson’s mother left him able to feel “nothing spiritual, no art, no magic”. Writing the music which is in this show gradually brought these back.

The couple then looked at research by neuroscientists about the potential healing properties of sound, music and SAD lamps, and collected the stories of others who had lost loved ones. The show’s immersive soundscape is largely abstract and often worldless, apart from snatches of recorded interviews. The gradual shift from darkness to light depicts grief as a season which will eventually give way, as winter does, to brighter times.

It feels deeply, intensely personal, but is also presented almost as therapy: Brigitte hands out tissues at the start and encourages us to express our emotions during the show.

Though the intention is generous, it’s not clear whether it could offer solace to others who are grieving. The journey into the dark is unique for everyone, and sometimes the most reassuring thing is to know that others have been there and survived.

Susan Mansfield

Edinburgh Festival Fringe Theatre Reviews: Hive | When It Rains | Saturn Return | Siapa Yang Bawa Melayu Aku Pergi? (Who Took My Malay Away?) | SAD