Lifeline review: an urgent story lost in its own complexity

★★★☆☆

There is something undeniably compelling at the heart of Lifeline. A musical rooted in antimicrobial resistance, inspired by the legacy of Alexander Fleming, and framed through two love stories decades apart should feel urgent, human and deeply resonant. As a doctor currently working in the NHS, and someone who trained in Edinburgh, this is a story that feels unusually close to home. That perhaps makes its lack of focus all the more frustrating.

The narrative moves between 1950s Scotland and present day Edinburgh, linking Fleming’s discovery of penicillin with a modern hospital story in which a resident doctor is forced to confront the reality of multidrug resistant infection. It is a strong conceptual foundation, but the problem is not the idea, it is the refusal to commit to it. Too many strands compete for attention. Historical reflection, contemporary medical drama, romantic arcs in both timelines, ethical dilemmas, and broader commentary on antibiotic resistance all fight for space. Rather than deepening the story, this density fragments it. Emotional beats arrive before they have been earned, and the central patient story never fully anchors the piece. A more confident version of Lifeline would do less. Remove one entire storyline and the show would immediately gain clarity, allowing its strongest ideas to land with weight. As it stands, it feels crowded, unfocused and occasionally frustrating.

Character work is similarly uneven. A particularly forceful paediatrician, whose emotional investment in helping her friend begins to blur professional boundaries, becomes more distracting than compelling. There is a clear ethical tension here, but the show stops short of interrogating it. It is a situation in which she should ethically remove herself, and the reluctance to confront that leaves the character feeling tonally adrift. Where Lifeline does cut through is in its performances. The standout is Amalia Voureka, played by Kelly Glyptis, whose razor sharp comic timing, poise and instinctive sense of control consistently lift the piece. It is unmistakably scene stealing, but crucially it feels necessary. When the show becomes crowded or uncertain, her performance brings clarity, precision and focus. Every appearance is deliberate and quietly commanding.

The inclusion of real NHS workers, scientists and healthcare professionals in the chorus is a bold and generous idea. It speaks to the show’s sincerity and its desire to honour real voices. Yet in execution, it feels only partially integrated. What should be a powerful theatrical device instead occasionally tips into something closer to a showcase, pulling focus rather than strengthening it. Musically, the score moves between lightness and sincerity, drawing on Scottish folk influences alongside more traditional musical theatre sounds. There are moments of charm, but like the narrative, it rarely settles long enough to fully resonate.

Lifeline is driven by an important message. Antimicrobial resistance is a global crisis, and translating that into musical theatre is both ambitious and admirable. But ambition alone is not enough. Without focus, even the most vital story risks losing its impact. There is a compelling show within Lifeline. It simply needs the confidence to strip back, trust its core, and let its strongest ideas speak.