Watching the National Theatre of Scotland's Wall of Death is a cross between riding an old fashioned wooden rollercoaster and peering down from inside the dome of St Paul's Cathedral. It's not for folks of a nervous disposition. I thought I was going to watch someone else risk their neck but spent the performance worrying about my own. Usually, we trust performers not to bore us. In this show, we trust them not to lose control and decapitate us.
Wall of Death makes you feel like more than a passive spectator. You smell it, in the petrol and hear it, in the deafening roar of vintage motorcycle on creaking plank. You feel fear in remote regions of your brain stem. This family challenge our idea of what art is. Ken Fox, the patriarch who leads the motorcycle stunt troupe, illustrated the contradiction better than any critic when he described himself as a "public performer, but not a theatre goer." Try to see it at Glasgow's SECC, or in Aberdeen.