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Festival Theatre, Edinburgh
This was an Edinburgh International Festival production rather than a Fringe show, and it brought together some serious creative weight: choreographer Crystal Pite, theatre-maker Simon McBurney, and the world-class Nederlands Dans Theater. Together they presented Figures in Extinction – a three-part exploration of loss, disconnection, and grief, all tied to our place in the climate crisis.
The piece is split into three acts:
[1.0] The List – a catalogue of animals and environments lost or vanishing.
[2.0] But Then You Come to the Humans – a stark look at our need for connection in an increasingly fragmented world.
[3.0] Requiem – a raw meditation on death, grief, and what we leave behind.
From the very start, The List was astonishing. Through breathtaking mimicry and movement, the dancers embodied the creatures being named. The opening sequence, with the near-extinct Ibex, set a tone that made me think: this is going to be exceptional. And it was. Each animal was beautifully portrayed, the transitions seamless, and the staging brought to life with striking projections and lighting by Tom Visser. The Handfish in particular was mesmerising – a blend of hand puppetry, light, and performance that made the audience hold its breath.
The second act shifted into the human sphere, cleverly opening with humour before diving into something far more unsettling. It forced us to look at how desperately we seek connection in this noisy, fractured world, and how easily that can mask a deeper loneliness. Crystal Pite’s choreography carried both sharp wit and emotional weight, pulling us along a journey that felt both personal and universal.
Then came Requiem. A heavy, unflinching reflection on death and grief. There was no sugar-coating, no theatrical safety net. Just an honest, often brutal representation of what it means to die and what it means for those left behind. It was profound, uncomfortable, and deeply moving – the kind of performance that leaves you quietly reflecting rather than clapping wildly.
Overall, Figures in Extinction was extraordinary – one of the most thoughtful and accomplished pieces I’ve seen at the Festival.
But now, a moan. Because despite the brilliance on stage, the experience was marred by some truly selfish behaviour in the audience.
If you’ve got a cold or hacking cough – stay at home. Nobody came to hear you spluttering through the performance. It’s inconsiderate and distracting.
Turn your phone off. They literally tell you this before the show starts. Yet three minutes before the end of the final act, the man sitting beside us received a loud, blaring call. After nearly two hours of extraordinary theatre, the spell was shattered by a ringtone. Unforgivable.
Don’t talk, sigh, or mutter your way through a performance. It’s selfish, it’s rude, and during a piece like this – which relies on silence and concentration – it’s especially disruptive.
Figures in Extinction deserved an audience that matched its calibre. Sadly, not everyone in the Festival Theatre lived up to that.
Even so, the production itself was unforgettable. A rare piece of theatre and dance that tackled enormous themes without compromise, and one I’ll be thinking about for a long time to come.