Real Babies Don't Cry

In this odd little drama by Stewart Permutt, Sally is looking to fill a gap after the death of her husband and the departure of her grown-up son to the other side of the world.

Despite a chaste romance with a much younger man and a busy schedule of adult education classes, she still feels like something's missing – something physically small, but symbolically huge.

Enter Jeanette, a “reborn” artist who creates lifelike dolls to order and encourages her customers to name them, buy them presents and take them out in prams.

Anyone who saw My Fake Baby on Channel 4 a few years back will be familiar with this super-creepy industry, the reality of which is sadder and stranger than fiction.

It might seem like fertile ground for a black comedy, especially given the grotesque appearance of the dolls and the bizarre jargon associated with them, but Permutt fails to take his idea anywhere, writing himself into a cul-de-sac and barely touching on the delusional, relationship-straining behaviour these dead-eyed little creations can inspire.

A version of this review first appeared in The Herald