What does it mean to be a young woman in our world? And what if that young woman was, in fact, a monster? For the 25 year old at the centre of Succubus, getting older means discovering she is developing not only physically, but also a hunger that cannot be satiated. She must navigate her newfound appetite for men, figure out what kind of monster she wants to be, and find others who might understand her. What follows is a bloody, funny, and poignant exploration of female desire, maturity, sexuality, and the shame attached to it.
Written and performed by award-winning burlesque artist Georgina Collins, Succubus is a dark horror-comedy that uses its supernatural premise to explore very real anxieties around growing up and becoming comfortable in your own body.
Collins is phenomenal in this role. As the only performer on stage, she creates an entire cast of characters without changing costume, relying instead on different accents, facial expressions, physicality, mannerisms, and the occasional voice over. Watching her move seamlessly between characters and essentially hold conversations with herself is one of the show’s most impressive elements.
She is particularly expressive, making the central character’s progression from shy and uncertain young woman to someone increasingly confident and comfortable with herself completely believable. Her quick, on stage costume changes reinforce this transition beautifully, as she begins with glasses and a pink cardigan, before evolving into a confident woman in a little black dress and red lipstick.
The comedy and horror are equally balanced. Collins delivers a hilarious one liner, then moves to a disturbing or emotional beat the next, selling it easily. This show makes it easy to become invested in a young woman who is, after all, a serial killer who eats men.
Succubus is Collins’ playwriting debut and is produced by Halfway Productions, a UK based company supporting new and emerging writers. Directed by Grainne Robson, a Nottingham based theatre maker specialising in new writing and comedy, the production makes a small-scale show feel expansive. The staging is deliberately economical, with just a few boxes rearranged occasionally to create different positioning and locations, while fake blood, (terrifyingly realistic) raw meat, and occasionally bloodied mannequin limbs provide all the gore required.
The lighting and sound design deserve special praise. Though used sparingly throughout the show, they are extremely effective when the horror kicks in. Blackouts, screams, unsettling sound effects, and sudden flashes of red transform the atmosphere during the kill scenes, before the lights come back up to reveal Collins (and the front row) covered in blood. The choice to avoid using background music really works in the show’s favour, allowing the spoken performance to really shine.
Beneath the gore and comedy, Succubus offers a thoughtful metaphor for puberty and maturation. The central character’s struggle to accept her nature, including attempts to suppress her appetite through damaging “dieting” evokes the ways young women can be taught to distrust their bodies and feel ashamed of their desires.
The show also takes aim at medical misogyny, sexual shame, diet culture, and the hostile rhetoric surrounding women online, including the influence of incel and far-right communities on young men’s attitudes towards women. Yet, it never allows these themes to overwhelm the entertainment. There is still room for absurdity, fourth-wall breaking, female-monster romance, and inevitable heartbreak.
Most importantly, Succubus makes its monster deeply human. You find yourself rooting for her, hoping she will find safety and acceptance among people who understand her for who she is. A poignant play about female desire and what it is to be a “monster” of a young woman, Succubus is gory, hilarious, clever, and at times tender. Collins’ performance is exceptional, the technical work is spectacular, and the production makes remarkably effective use of its limited resources.
The standing ovation was entirely deserved.
Succubus runs at Underbelly Dexter, Bristo Square, from 5-16 August 2026 at 4:15pm. For fans of horror-comedy, feminist theatre, and stories about monstrous women, this is one to sink your teeth into.
Theatre Scotland 
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