Billed as a dark comedy, NON HUMAN ANIMAL is heavy on the dark. In terms of comedy, it is of the laugh-so-you-don’t-cry variety – but sometimes that’s all life can be. Kat Woods’ masterclass in writing and Emily Tracey’s stunning performance collide to create real theatre magic in this affecting exploration of grief and the failings of the prison system.
NON HUMAN ANIMAL has a profoundly and impressively confessional tone, no doubt due to the inspiration that genius writer Kat Woods has pulled from her own experience of her father’s murder and the aftermath of this devastating event. We follow Róisín as she dulls her emotions through doomscrolling, mini mars bars, and endless rewatches of Gilmore Girls. But her mum’s health is worsening and so the onus of contact with the victim support services falls on her, whether she likes it or not. And her dad’s killer wants to meet her. She also has her own ill health – physical and mental – to contend with, and when she is referred to a personal trainer who is part of the local prison’s rehabilitation programme (and a killer in his own right, no less), her own open wounds from her grief are wrenched open once more.
As I’ve already mentioned, Woods’ writing is striking – stark and bleak one moment, and laugh-out-loud observational comedy the next. Her use of metaphor is unusual, and all the more impactful for its occasional disjointedness. Above all, Woods has a question, or rather, a Russian doll of increasingly tightly tangled questions. Why can’t Róisín cope? Why can’t she get the medical help that she needs from the NHS? Why does the justice system prioritise the rehabilitation needs of perpetrators over providing victims and families with resources to heal? Why is Róisín so angry about that; doesn’t she want the man who killed her father to get support? And if not, does that make her a bad person? There are no easy answers to be found here, as Woods makes us sit through the rawest moments of Róisín’s life, with an unrelenting intensity that can sometimes teeter on the edge of the uncomfortable.
Tracey’s performance is astounding. She inhabited Róisín so completely that I was surprised to learn that she wasn’t in fact the writer of this autobiographically-inspired one woman show. Her subtle physicality and mannerisms, intense and flexible emotionality, and deadpan delivery worked seamlessly with the script to allow us to get to know the grieving AuDHDer that stood before us, and to really root for her to get the help for which she is crying out. She doesn’t miss a trick in the delivery of this wordy, poetic, blunt, harsh, funny script, and has the audience firmly onside throughout the hour.
This play is heavier than I anticipated. And that’s okay – it’s heavy because it’s important. NON HUMAN ANIMAL is a truly artistic and provocative insight into the rippling impacts of the justice system on the lives of victims.
Drink recommendation: A large glass of ice cold water – it’ll help you ground yourself.
You can catch NON HUMAN ANIMAL at Billiard Room at Gilded Balloon Teviot from 5-31 August (not 11, 18, 25) at 16:00 (60 mins). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Online Box Office.











































