Rabbie Burns often feels like an elusive character - sinusoidally ephemeral, not with respect to content, but in prominence. You think you’ll get a better sense of him next time around. But if the last decade is anything to go by, turning up the frequency merely turns up the translucency but at the expense of ambiguity. Despite multiple versions of this man, the more you try to delineate the one and true Burns, the more frustratingly opaque he becomes.

Burn by Alan Cumming is a one-man tour-de-force; a packet of energy to burn the surface of the facade in the hope of laying bare the man below. Whether it succeeds depends entirely on the knowledge and relationship you have with Burns as you take your seat.

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