Hell is downstream of the rapids and crags of the Keldo Water, a small stream opening up to the North Sea in a town named Monimaskit on the East Coast of Scotland. As local Church of Scotland Minister Gideon Mack succumbs to its cold embrace, we are dragged on a whirlwind trip through Mack’s life – a ‘justified sinner’ who despite his position, is in fact an agnostic.

Matthew Zajac’s ambitious stage adaptation of James Roberton’s curriculum-read book about the changing place of faith in Scotland jumps leaps and bounds in time with charm, and a commanding central performance from Kevin Lennon holds you for its 135 minute runtime. Even if it dances around a complex and nuanced plot at times, it remains a deeply enjoyable theatrical experience throughout.

Originating in both a 1691 text called The Secret Commonwealth: of Elves, Fauns and Fairies, by Reverend Robert Kirk, and Scots poet and novelist James Hogg’s 1824 Confessions of a Justified Sinner. The story explores a trifold relationship between Scotland and faith. One taking place in the time of the Gael in the Highlands and Lowlands in different manifestations, one across the late 20th century against a backdrop of global warfare, and one in the present that explores a decline in faith. Kirk’s contentious text finds its way into the life of Gideon Mack, and his father who was the parish Minister during the Cold War, and shows other ways of believing that challenge both of their systems of thought.

As Gideon and his father interact with Christianity’s changing form in civil life, we also see their personal lives unwound by the complications, dramas, and trivialities that come with being human. This crescendos in the intertwined scenes where Gideon finds himself face-to-face with the Devil in a crag far beyond the ominous ‘Black Jaws’, a rock formation nearby the fictional Monimaskit from which nobody has returned – until now.

Gideon’s conversation with the Devil flits in between the moments from his life; childhood frustrations and abuse from his strict Father, falling for English student Jenny while studying in Edinburgh, settling back in Monimaskit as Minister, running marathons for charity, and later, a revelation of his sins. Jenny convinces Gideon that even despite his agnosticism, they can make good of the community-focused, fulfilling work that a Church career offers, but as Gideon’s turbulent personal life and difficult upbringing come at loggerheads with their goals, it becomes clear that a crisis of faith is beginning to emerge from all sides.

For a non-linear adaptation from the audience’s perspective, the story suffers in its strange erstwhile commitment to linearity in the storytelling – seeing Gideon’s life from childhood to death comes across as cliched at its lowest points, and unsatisfying at its best. Zajac’s adaptation lingers heavily on some moments in Gideon’s life and brushes over others. It suffers from being an adaptation of a work that itself relied heavily on other texts to explore its themes. The dialogue often ends up explaining rather than exposing, and later the presentation of the story falls into the classic trap of telling-not-showing.

It’s a mighty challenge to transfer a text this symbol-heavy and well-researched onto the stage, and this adaptation is a solid crack at trying to cover the breadth of themes on offer. It’s such an immense effort to explain everything that’s happening to Gideon, and at times even despite the exposition-heavy approach we are left a little in the lurch. Gideon drinks regularly from a tincture that is consistently referenced but never explained, and some of the emotive decisions of the characters feel bereft of context – we never learn why Gideon decided to start a life with Jenny, a woman he doesn’t seem to particularly like or have any solid feelings for.

Despite the adaptation’s flaws, the performances are compelling enough to guide you through a man’s difficult life and crisis of faith. Kevin Lennon’s leading role as Gideon is marked by an intense range – he plays Gideon as child, teenager, rebellious student, troubled agnostic priest, and lastly, as beguiled believer. Lennon has an immense presence that is felt through intense emotional scenes, moments of physical theatre that captivate, and light touches of comedy throughout. As he originates the role on stage, he defines it with poise and candour.

Molly Innes shines in her dual role as Gideon’s reclusive and sidelined Mother Agnes, then latterly as local teacher and historian Catherine Craigie. The fact that these roles are so different and yet Innes manages to reveal so much about their characters with limited lines is a magnificent feat. Catherine’s character roots us back in the story’s origins, as the town’s ancient Standing Stones become an obsession for a grieving Gideon, and even though she is introduced late, we are provided a chance to connect with Scotland’s origins of faith in a way that feels both refreshing and moving.

It should be mentioned too that Zajac himself appears in the dual role of Devil and Gideon’s Father. The fact that the two have a similar place in Gideon’s life thankfully does not detract from the difference in performance across the characters. Zajac has a magnetic performing style that drags your eyes toward him every time he appears on stage, even when he’s simply providing stand-in dog sound effects. His Devil is delightfully entertaining yet also alarming. His performance as the Father provides an unforgettable monologue about America’s global cultural dominance that is tinged with newfound nuance in its performance in 2025.

The stage is graced with beautiful production design including the looming standing stone at the back of the stage, and mobile set which entrances as it is rearranged to be church parapit, Devil’s lair, Gideon’s home, or scenes from around the town of Monimaskit. Aidan O’Rourke’s highly commendable soundscape brings an essence of rural Scotland that grounds the piece in its music, complimented by a scintillating, enveloping world of noises that fuel some amazing story moments.

As deep as it is broad, this story deserved a quality adaptation, and Zajac’s version does deliver, even if the end result struggles at time to compete with everything it is trying to say or do. Bold, captivating, and nuanced, you are carried down this whiplash-inducing crisis of faith through this pretty well-polished version for the stage.

Recommended Drink: If whatever is in that Devil’s tincture can heal wounds, you should be drinking it. I paired this with a Haze Halo Alcohol Free IPA from local brewery 71 Brewing.

The first tour of The Testament of Gideon Mack concludes with a final performance this evening at Dundee Rep Theatre. Keep up with DogStar Theatre Online for future showings.

Image Credit: Paul Campbell