In an era when theatre is increasingly drawn towards formal experimentation, deconstruction and elaborate theatrical concepts, Gammelstad offers something refreshingly simple: a story, a group of actors, and an honest desire to tell that story well.

Inspired by the historic Swedish church town of Gammelstad, the play follows siblings Birgitta and Bror as they grow up within a difficult family environment and gradually discover another form of family through friendship and community. At its heart, the production is a story about trauma, identity and the possibility of finding protection and belonging beyond the circumstances into which we are born.

What makes the production particularly successful is the commitment of its performers. Every actor remains remarkably focused throughout, creating performances that are controlled without becoming restrained and emotionally charged without becoming excessive. The relationships between the characters feel carefully observed, allowing moments of conflict, tenderness and humour to emerge naturally.

There is a strong sense of tension running beneath the performances. Even when the characters are simply speaking to one another, there is often an awareness of everything that remains unsaid. This is particularly effective in the family scenes, where the audience can sense the psychological pressure surrounding the children without the production needing to constantly explain it.

The performances also demonstrate a strong understanding of theatrical restraint. Rather than attempting to make every moment dramatic, the actors allow the story to breathe. This makes the moments of greater emotional intensity considerably more powerful.

For a small-scale production, Gammelstad also demonstrates impressive control over its technical elements. The transitions between music, lighting and performance are remarkably tight, creating a continuous theatrical rhythm. The music in particular establishes a strong Scandinavian atmosphere, reinforcing the geographical and emotional identity of the story. It does not simply accompany the scenes; it helps create the world in which these characters live.

This attention to atmosphere reflects a clear directorial sensibility. There is a sense that the production has been shaped by a director with a strong aesthetic awareness and considerable theatrical experience. The visual and auditory elements are carefully integrated rather than competing with the actors, allowing the emotional core of the story to remain at the centre.

What I found most refreshing about Gammelstad is its refusal to overcomplicate itself. Contemporary theatre can sometimes become so concerned with form, fragmentation and the process of deconstructing narrative that the simple power of storytelling is forgotten. Gammelstad reminds us that there is still enormous value in a well-made play that trusts its characters, its performers and its audience.

This is precisely why the production works particularly well in an intimate theatre. The scale allows the audience to observe the actors closely and experience the emotional shifts almost directly. Nothing feels unnecessarily inflated. The drama remains human and immediate.

The ending is another particularly successful aspect. Rather than forcing a dramatic climax or providing an overly sentimental resolution, the production closes gently. It feels almost like the final page of a family story being carefully turned: not an attempt to erase everything that has happened, but a quiet acknowledgement that life continues. This softness gives the ending a sense of maturity and allows the story to come to rest naturally.

Gammelstad is ultimately a warm, sincere and beautifully focused piece of theatre. Its strength does not come from theatrical gimmicks, but from the quality of its writing, acting and direction. In a festival environment filled with productions competing through increasingly elaborate forms, there is something genuinely moving about encountering a play that simply believes in the power of people telling a story to one another.

It is a small-scale production with considerable theatrical heart—and a welcome reminder that sometimes, the most radical thing theatre can do is simply be honest.