Expectations are high this year for collaborative, multi-media theatre company Analogue, following the awards-drenched success of their 2007 show Mile End. Their follow up effort Beachy Head has been two years in the making and uses similar techniques – video projections, audio recordings and a devised script – to bring their story to life. This year’s show revolves around the notorious suicide spot Beachy Head and looks at the ripple effects of fictional Stephen Mitchell’s final plunge off these infamous cliffs. But whilst there are some occasionally inventive visuals here, the show’s emotional impact has been dwarfed by this company’s technological preoccupations, resulting in a confused and slightly self-indulgent production.

One significant problem is the script, which has been written by three separate company members and feels like it’s being dragged in conflicting directions. The play’s emotional heart centres on widow Amy (a measured if not particularly explosive performance from Emma Jowett), yet the plot is more concerned with amateur filmmakers Joe and Matt, who have accidentally captured Stephen’s final moments on camera. This coincidence draws these three characters together, with the unscrupulous film directors enlisting Amy’s help to construct a documentary about Stephen’s life and death. So far so good, but rather than unpicking Stephen’s steady descent into depression, the script hones in on the ethical dilemmas posed by this documentary. It feels like a moot point and as we zoom in on Matt and Joe’s moral conundrum, the show’s focus blurs and the more interesting and important characters, Stephen and his widow, fade into the background.

This company’s desire to display their technological range has only further disrupted the script’s shaky sense of purpose. Increasingly, continuity and realism are subverted in the name of innovation. So, whilst it might be visually effective to film the widow picking through Stephen’s final belongings, it is hard to believe this woman would really let such an intimate moment be captured on camera. Similarly, whilst it is striking to hear the pathologist explain Stephen’s final moments to his grieving widow, would a professional really leave such a sensitive message on someone’s voicemail? Obviously a collaborative piece should be granted liberal artistic license, but moments like this jolt one outside the show’s reality and make it increasingly hard to trust where this company is taking us.

There are nevertheless some startling images here, especially near the beginning, when the show’s focus feels stronger and spookier. There is a particularly frightening moment early on, when widow Amy returns home for the first time following Stephen’s death. On-stage, we watch Amy switch on a lamp, with the same action simultaneously projected on a large screen backstage. Suddenly, on-screen, Stephen’s body flickers in and out of shot, as the widow’s memories gradually close in on her. It is a clever trick and manages to find a sophisticated, dual purpose for the on-stage screens, rather than using them as background decoration, which is so often the default mode in multi-media shows.

It would’ve been great to see the company develop more similarly complex moments, but quantity starts to overtake quality with these technical embellishments. Almost every scene contains some technological twist and after a while their impact deadens, as the purpose behind them becomes increasingly tricky to identify. There is so much potential here, as well as what looks like an exceptionally healthy Edinburgh budget, yet I left feeling more than a little short-changed.

17.25 till 30 August 2009