I rate this top of the stuff we saw in our several-day stay at the Edinburgh fringe at the end of August this year. A vigorous physical theatre piece with a large stage, an international cast of nine (speaking a range of nonsense languages) and a strong atmosphere which livened up the underlying bleakness of the plot.

The plot, derived from Gogol's short story, follows an unfortunate and timid factory worker in a worn-out overcoat, who invests his whole life into the effort to achieve a new coat for the winter, only to have it stolen. This version gives the story a Faustian twist: to win the coat, and possibly the girl, he sells his soul, and in his hour of triumph the sad payment comes due, the coat is taken from him, and though his ghost pursues his love eventually he is dragged back into the dark.

The set, part 20's factory and part Dickensian office, all gloom and smoke, had moving platforms, sharp changes of perspective and at one point a little stage-within-a-stage powered by a bicycle. The cast moved fluidly in the patterns of commuting crowds, formed (and populated the picture in) the hero's tiny bedsit,
broke at one point into what seemed like a Noh interlude, and occupied their dimly-lit desks to slave at meaningless but desperate bureaucracy involving formidable amounts of rubber-stamping.

The music was strong, and seemed to be provided entirely by one man - who started plaintively on the xylophone and kept popping up in various places on violin, drums, synthesizer and probably half a dozen other things I never noticed because I was too busy watching the smoke and mirrors.