In this autobiographical one-woman show, Tamsin Shasha chronicles the story of her relationship with her son, as both discover hitherto hidden neurodiversity. Backed throughout by innovative use of digital projections, moving screens, and some beautifully serene pole dancing, it’s a surprising and original story, with turns and pivots you don’t see coming. The piece begins with a pithy text exchange between mother and son from two parts of the same house. Their relationship is wry and spiky, and sets the tone for the punk-inflected maternal rage song that follows. So far, so anarchic. 

But then we stray into more conversational storytelling territory. The tale swerves into a domestic drama, but doesn’t seem to find its focus: is it about digital addiction? Family relationships? Society’s relationship to neurodiversity? A woman’s sense of self as she grows older? Like a soap opera it skates around several plotlines. The feeling that we might be building towards some tense dramatic crux fades away. Autobiography is tricky; it wants to do too many things. Shasha’s story of self-realisation and reconciliation with her son is a lovely one, and she is awesome in the sections where she pole dances, but the tension isn’t cranked tightly enough to create any kind of satisfying drama. 

Forgive Me, Summerhall, until 31 August, 1.20pm; picture: Manja Williams.