As we wait in the lobby of the TSB Bank Arena, Beautiful Burnout sounds like a rave.  Thumping techno music drowns out conversations and creates a real sense of excitement.  The audience is seated on three sides of a raised stage that looks like a boxing ring without the ropes.  Pre-fight/pre-play anticipation and hype are well achieved – it feels like you have arrived at an event.  

The warm up is delivered by referee Steve George (Eddie Kay).  He paces about the ring talking about his role to ensure the integrity of the fight and protect the boxers without fear or favour.  The significance of his monologue will only be revealed right at the end of the show. 

The ref is followed by busy Scottish mum Carlotta Burns (Blythe Duff).  Her son Cameron (Kevin Guthrie), who she unloads from the dryer that has risen up from below the stage, has just taken up boxing.  Her light hearted comments about how much more food Cameron is eating and laundry he’s generating belie concern. 

Each of these monologues is delivered in exactly three minutes, mirroring the length of a boxing round.  The countdown is shown on screens that cover the wall at the rear of the stage.  The mosaic of screens shows the beautiful video design by Ian William Galloway, featuring star bursts, slow motion boxing sequences and crackles of electricity, amongst other things.  It’s a brilliant backdrop to the play, especially as the set is sparse.

Next, the lights go up on the gym of Bobby Burgess (Ewan Stewart).  He’s in the business of turning frogs into princes.  Bobby has one hot prospect in the form of Ajay Chopra (Taqi Nazeer).  A gentle giant type, Ainsley Binnie (Stuart Martin), and a manic, ill disciplined joker, Neil Neill (also played by Kay), are his training companions.  He also trains a tough but damaged girl, Dina Massie (Vicki Manderson), who refuses to pursue women’s boxing.  Cameron arrives and is also identified by Bobby as a natural boxer.  

The story then proceeds to follow Burgess working to turn Ajay, Neil and Cameron pro, and their ruthless training regime. There are multiple extended sequences of training to thumping techno music of Underworld.  Burgess demands absolute discipline and obedience.  When Ajay asserts himself, he is cut from the gym and Burgess’ management.  This sets him up to fight against one of his former training mates.

I’m a fairly recently converted boxing fan, so I was pretty excited to see a play that promised to explore the heart of boxing culture, capturing the sport’s physical intensity yet also revealing the stories of the fighters.  This is what the best and most memorable boxers (and their support crews) do: they combine physical skill with personal mythology to create a character.  Legendary examples include Muhammed Ali, Iron Mike Tyson, George Foreman and more recently Manny Pacquiao and the Klitschko brothers.  Boxing promoters, managers and the fighters themselves realised a long time ago that without the human drama people tend to lose interest, despite the physical skill of the fighter.

This is where Beautiful Burnout suffers for me.  Although it is visually impressive, beautifully choreographed and the physical performances of the actors are brilliant, there is simply not enough plot or character development to truly hook you into the story.  Sadly, brilliant design and excellent performances will not make up for these things.  

There’s a twist in the story of most of the characters by the end of the play, but I did not have enough emotionally invested in any of them to be really moved.  

Additionally, the two fighters who ultimately face off against each other are fundamentally physically mismatched.  Although a large part of the point seems to be that the fight should never have been allowed to take place, and that nearly all the characters are culpable for the disastrous consequences, the extreme height (and I imagine weight) disparity stretches credibility.  

The play also lacks the surprise element that is so fundamental to what makes watching boxing thrilling.  It’s the moment when one boxer breaks through his opponent’s careful defences, lands the punch that snaps his head back and makes you suck in your breath as you wait to see if he’s out.  Beautiful Burnout, whilst it recognises that moment fails to deliver the knockout punch.

Ultimately, Beautiful Burnout for me was a visual spectacle without much depth. 

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Techno music rattles your eardrums and bright lights dazzle your eyes as you enter the TSB Arena which has been arranged so that the audience is seated on three sides of a boxing ring without ropes. On the back wall are artfully arranged television screens that occasionally show us fractured shots of close-ups of punches, starry skies, domestic scenes, and the glitz and glamour of the boxing world.

The music creates an adrenalin-fuelled tension that is released when the five young aspiring boxers, or as their dictatorial trainer calls them “bloody silly testosteroned teenagers,” start their work-outs, which are choreographed and performed, as are the bouts, with the skill, elegance, and speed of superbly fit athletes.

These work-outs and the stylised boxing fights (at times in slow-motion, at times freeze-framed and performed on a revolving ring) are the highlights of the show, which ranges in style from brief scenes that are almost a documentary about boxing facts and techniques to human dramas about the reasons for being a boxer and the rigorous discipline it imposes on personal lives.

The five aspirants, four men and a feisty young woman are guided, bullied, and disciplined into being amateur boxers with the possibility of turning professional if “God” (the trainer) thinks they are good enough and they adhere to his very strict regime.

The story lines are clichéd: the cocksure boxer who knows better than his trainer, the youngster dreaming of fame and fortune, and the young woman seeking revenge. The most interesting character is a long-suffering mother, who is played with a fine ironic humour by Blythe Duff, as she washes her son’s sweaty clothing and stares into her sanctuary (her refrigerator) realising that if he turns professional the people with the money will demand something in return: blood.

American playwright David Belasco once said that ‘boxing is show-business with blood.’ While there is no blood in Beautiful Burnout there is show-business aplenty: slick plotting and characterization, a “surprise” ending, pulsating music and flashing lights. What lifts it above the ordinary are the brilliantly performed “dance” routines.

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer