Tallulah Greive answers the phone with an apology and a laugh, dodging the chaos of rehearsals to find a quiet corner. ‘I’m really excited. I’ve been at the Lyceum once before, in my first-ever stage play, so it feels incredibly special to be coming back.’ For an actor who grew up in Leith, stepping into Masha’s black boots for The Seagull isn’t just a career milestone; it’s a homecoming.

The daughter of musicians, Greive insists she once swore she’d never follow in their footsteps. ‘My big teen rebellion was like, “I don’t want to be a musician”, which is so silly. Most people are like, “I wish my parents would stop trying to make me be a doctor”, and I was like, “no, I don’t want to be an artist”.’

Inevitably, the pull of the arts was too strong to ignore. Growing up, she spent weekends in Edinburgh’s youth theatres before landing her first screen role in CBBC’s Millie Inbetween. Her breakout turn came as Orla in Our Ladies (2019), a performance longlisted for a British Independent Film Award, and she’s since appeared in three seasons of BBC Three teen comedy Boarders. Now she’s circling back to the stage where it all began. For Greive, the camaraderie of live performance is unlike anything screen work can offer. ‘You just sort of come in, do your bit, and go home [on TV], whereas in theatre you’re together all the time, building yourselves as a company… there’s a real generosity with everyone’s time and energy.’

First staged in 1896, Chekhov’s The Seagull is a play about yearning: the weight of unspoken words, tangled love triangles and the exhaustion of existence. It’s tragic and hilarious, and that contradiction is baked into Masha, daughter of the estate’s steward. Dressed in black, snuff box in her pocket, her melodramatic flourishes are as cutting as they are comic. Greive connected with her immediately. ‘As soon as I read the Masha parts, I just felt really protective of her. She’s funny, intelligent, smart… she doesn’t deserve to be treated like she’s just sad.’ Greive points out that Masha’s character is relatable in her ferocity and grumpiness. ‘Sometimes, very depressed people can also be incredibly funny. I bet we were all funny to our parents when we were angry teenagers; she’s like that’.

Sharing the stage with theatrical heavyweights such as Caroline Quentin, Forbes Masson and John Bett, Greive insists everyone’s muddling through together. ‘So often in theatre, you watch other people and you’re like, “oh, they really know what they’re doing” and then they come off stage and say, “I don’t really know what I was doing out there.” It’s quite lovely to realise everyone’s figuring it out.’ Unlike her eternally emo character, she’s been keeping the cast buoyant. ‘I pitched the idea that we put some music on in the dressing rooms and now everyone has a little dance, just to end the day on a different note.’

Rehearsals are still in the early stages, but opening night looms and Greive is surprisingly nervous. ‘There’s a famous quote where the actress is on her way to the theatre and she’s like, “do I want to get hit by a bus right now?” and only just comes out on the side of no. That’s exactly how it feels,’ she says, laughing. Maybe she’s right to be nervous: according to Chekhov himself, ‘the stage is an area where it is impossible to walk without stumbling.’ We can’t wait to watch Greive prove him wrong.  

The Seagull, Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, Thursday 9 October–Saturday 1 November; read our interview with Caroline Quentin.