A Dragon witch, a kitchen witch, and a grand witch walk into a Coven and try to summon a demon. To their surprise, and to mine, they are successful. From a cauldron filled with ribbons emerges Graham, the demon of banal evil. He attempts to seduce our young witches to free him from the cauldron and wreak havoc on the world. What kind of havoc? Well, spam emails, supermarket loyalty cards, and the people who aggressively hand out Fringe fliers at the Royal Mile (probably). Can our heroes withstand his honeyed promises? Can they protect the world from slightly irritating inconveniences?

The Coven is a study of the banal, a quaint little comedy about our mundane desires, fears, and irritations. Despite the initially absurd setting—a coven of suburban witches unable to find wolfsbane in the garden centre, and the man with devil horns in the living room—its main focus is our simple, petty thoughts. Graham doesn’t appeal to the witches’ greed or hubris but instead their most simple wants, the want of a friend, to make people happy, to be good at something. To combat Graham’s banal evil the Witches use banal good; pipe cleaner friendship bracelets and Shrek 2 save the day. This focus makes The Coven feel small, cosy, and deeply charming.

A semi-improvised element to the production process, a ‘that’s funny put it in’ approach

This atmosphere carries through from the script into the cast. There is an energy and vitality in the show, every member radiating it as they smile through their lines. The best example of this is Saul Bailey as Graham. The ‘bureaucratic hell’ trope is nothing new. From Good Omens to The Good Place to Disc World, demons dressed in suits with quotas and deadlines are as much a part of the popular consciousness as fire and brimstone. But Bailey’s charm and command of comic timing make even this well-worn character type fun and engaging.

However, The Coven’s relaxed tone is also one of its greatest issues. Whilst it is enjoyable to watch a cast clearly having fun, trying gags and overacting for comedic effect, it was often to the detriment of the show’s quality. Speaking with the crew after the performance I was told there was a semi-improvised element to the production process, a ‘that’s funny put it in’ approach. This free and loose rehearsal style clearly helped provide the energy of the production but also served to disrupt its pacing. The often self-indulgent and awkward individual gags left the rest of the cast unable to react effectively and killed the momentum of a scene.

This is a shame as The Coven’s structure is very clean. Each character gets their turn with the demon and there is a pleasing ebb and flow to the dialogue. Unfortunately, the resolution is obvious and unsatisfying. And, despite the character interactions being the best part of the script, they are often squeezed out by gags that seemed slightly undercooked.

With a simple premise, a small cast, a tight structure, and an overwhelming exuberance, The Coven is a deeply enjoyable show. However, as much fun as I had watching it, The Coven can never be exceptional. It is both conceptually and creatively limited. But it is still good, joyous, and fun; three things we all need a lot more of. It’s 50 minutes that won’t let you stop smiling and I had a wonderful time.

The Coven played at theSpace at Surgeons’ Hall at the Edinburgh Fringe between 21-27 August