Trainspotting! The Musical Review: Choose Almost Anything Else

★☆☆☆☆

Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting is an iconic novel, while Danny Boyle’s film remains etched into Scottish cultural history. Trainspotting! The Musical takes that potent source material and transforms it into an embarrassing, incoherent and astonishingly misjudged production.

The famous “Choose Life” monologue has endured because of its urgency, wit and furious rejection of conventional aspiration. Here, it becomes a repetitive crutch. The production returns to it so frequently that the words are stripped of their power, turning something once electric into an increasingly exhausting refrain. Rather than developing its ideas or finding a contemporary perspective on them, the musical simply repeats familiar phrases and expects recognition to substitute for meaning.

The original score, co-written by Welsh and Steven McGuinness, is an incoherent pastiche of disco, jazz, house and rock. Each of these styles can be used to tell a compelling story, but here they are assembled without a clear musical or dramatic identity. Songs arrive relentlessly, often interrupting the narrative rather than advancing it. With around 25 numbers, the production feels bloated rather than ambitious, as though nobody involved was willing to identify what could be cut.

The familiar songs associated with the film offer occasional relief, although even these are handled with varying degrees of success. “Lust for Life” briefly injects the production with some much-needed energy, while “Perfect Day” is delivered in a painfully misjudged sequence that drains the song of its emotional complexity. By the time “Bitter Sweet Symphony” arrives for the finale, it feels less like a culmination than a desperate attempt to borrow an emotional response the production has failed to earn.

Richmond’s set initially appears promising. Narrow closes and shadowy passageways evoke a recognisable Edinburgh and, as someone from the city, I appreciated seeing elements of its character represented on stage. That early promise is quickly squandered. Set pieces are repeatedly revealed to be little more than video screens, creating an impression of convenience rather than imagination. The singers and band are also awkwardly concealed, depriving the production of the live energy that might have helped to enliven it.

Caroline Jay Ranger has an impressive body of work, particularly in adapting cult television and film properties for the stage, which makes the lack of control here all the more surprising. The production frequently looks unfinished. Songs end and performers remain stranded beneath the lights, transitions falter and cues appear uncertain. Scenes collapse rather than conclude, leaving repeated stretches of dead air where tension and momentum should be.

Most damagingly, the musical never discovers how to dramatise the desperation, violence and degradation at the heart of Trainspotting. Moments that should be horrifying or deeply affecting become awkward and emotionally hollow. Addiction is represented through noise, grotesquery and theatrical excess, but rarely with genuine insight. The result feels neither confrontational nor compassionate. It is simply crass.

Lewis Kidd gives a committed performance as Renton, although the writing offers him little opportunity to reveal the character’s intelligence, contradiction or complexity. Kieran Andrew fares considerably better as Spud and emerges as the production’s only genuine saving grace. His heightened performance occasionally approaches overstatement, but his sharp comic timing and staccato physicality create a character who feels distinctive, vulnerable and painfully human.

The remaining cast are given almost nothing with which to distinguish themselves. Their characters blur into one another, failing to advance the story, deepen its themes or establish meaningful identities of their own. This is less a reflection of the performers than of writing that consistently prioritises noise, spectacle and recognition over character development.

The decision to employ an almost entirely Scottish company brings welcome authenticity, and the performers’ commitment to the material is evident. Unfortunately, that commitment cannot overcome writing and direction this muddled. The production may be populated by Scottish voices, but this is not the version of Scotland anyone should want placed on the theatrical map.

Trainspotting has always been provocative, abrasive and unmistakably alive. This musical mistakes volume for rebellion, repetition for substance and ugliness for emotional truth. It fails to capture the novel’s savage humour, the film’s restless energy or the humanity beneath its characters’ self-destruction.

Choose life. Choose the book. Choose the film. Choose almost anything other than this absolute train wreck.