Theatre review: Dead Dad Dog

John McKay's short play Dead Dad Dog was a hit in Edinburgh in 1988, leading to a quick London transfer to the Royal Court. Liz Carruthers' revival at the Finborough was meant to be the opener in a double bill, as McKay has written a present-day sequel, but due to cast illness the latter has had to be cancelled, leaving us with just the original, a slight supernatural comedy in which 22-year-old Alec (Angus Miller) is preparing for a big day: An interview for an apprenticeship as a BBC Scotland producer, followed by a hot date. But his preparations are interrupted by the arrival of his father Willie (Liam Brennan,) who died 12 years earlier. The ghost has been sent back from heaven for a short while to spend time with his son - he didn't request the visit and doesn't know why he was granted it. Alec is saddled with a ghost who to all intents and purposes seems alive - everyone can see him, and he'll need feeding.

More importantly, he can't hide him away: If they get more than a few feet apart, Alex experiences a painful electric shock. He has to bring Willie along to his interview and his date, with hilar... well, with consequences anyway.

Alex Marker's design, which plasters the walls with angry political posters, suggests this will be more of a satire of the times than it turns out to be. It certainly has the setup for it - Alec feels left behind by all his friends moving to London, because Thatcher's Britain has left Scotland feeling even more neglected than the rest of the country and jobs are scarce. But if proof were needed that McKay doesn't want to go too deeply into this, Willie admitting he was so aspirational he voted Conservative is a throwaway gag rather than anything explored. Instead the play's more interested in puncturing some of the pretensions and snobbishness of the eighties - the glossy surface rather than the underbelly - as seen by the bemused ghost from the seventies.

And there's nothing wrong with offering that lighter touch, except we're now more than three times further from this play's 1985 setting than Willie is from his 1973 frame of reference, so the culture clash comedy doesn't land any more than the very specific 1970s Scottish celebrity references do. Brennan and Miller spark off each other well and throw genuine energy and affection into the setpieces, but it's not enough to make this feel like anything other than the pilot for an unproduced '80s sitcom. Maybe the continuation of the story would have explained why it was relevant to bring this play back now, but sadly that puzzle piece remains missing, and Dead Dad Dog feels more out of place in 2023 London than a seventies dad in 1985 Edinburgh.

Dead Dad Dog by John McKay is booking until the 28th of October at the Finborough Theatre.

Running time: 1 hour 10 minutes straight through.

Photo credit: Lidia Crisafulli.