Sue Wilson, Metro

The starting point for this lively, absorbing multi-dimensional two-hander is that strange, hallucinatory world between waking and sleep, as experienced by a child who’s afraid of the dark.

Using a fluid, precisely synchronised blend of dance, movement, mime, narrative and dialogue, Sinéad Rushe and Camille Litalien explore outward from here to touch on the primal origins of nursery rhymes and fairly tales, and on the real-life terrors or anxieties that our minds — throughout our lives — translate into various kinds of bogeymen.

Barring one or two slightly over-extended dance passages, it’s a meticulously crafted piece, displaying a rigorous thoroughness in conception, structure and execution that’s all too rare on the Fringe. Its darker moods are disarmingly offset with flashes of quizzical humour, as Rushe and Litalien step momentarily or partially out of character, while shadowy, deftly modulated lighting and an atmospheric score wrap up an impressive theatrical package.