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Posts Tagged ‘Faith Alabi’

The day after I’d hailed a golden age of new plays in my review of 2017, there I was in the Donmar seeing another impressive new play, the UK debut by American playwright Amy Herzog.

American paediatrician Zak and his wife Abby have moved to Paris for Zak’s important new research job. They’ve rented a garret in a Bohemian neighbourhood from a Senegalese couple, Alioune and Amina, who live downstairs. It’s difficult for Abby to work as she doesn’t speak French (and has given up her classes), but she is giving yoga lessons. She’s at best high maintenance, at worst neurotic and paranoid; a real handful. They are way behind with the rent, which is testing Zak’s friendship with Alioune, with whom he smokes (way too much) weed. Abby’s in daily phone contact with her widowed dad and pregnant sister back home. Just when you think Abby’s the real problem, the truth about Zak begins to unravel, and it’s all secrets and lies towards its tragic conclusion

I thought Zak and Abby were really well drawn characters and there’s a plausibility about both the relationship and the situation. The play continually surprises you, going down paths you weren’t expecting, just about keeping on the right side of melodrama. There’s palpable tension in Michael Longhurst’s masterly production, aided by Ben & Max Ringham’s soundscape, which gripped me for the whole 100 unbroken minutes. The realism and claustrophobia of Tom Scutt’s design adds much to what unfolds like a thriller.

I was very impressed by Imogen Poots’ stage debut last year in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and I was even more impressed by her characterisation of fragile, highly strung, vulnerable Abby. James Norton is hugely impressive too, a very edgy Zak, who changes from protective to controlling in a blink. Malachi Kirby and Faith Alibi provide fine support, communicating mostly in French (entirely in the final scene) but somehow comprehensible even if you don’t speak the language!

A great start to 2018, hopefully a continuation of the golden age.

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I saw this play about the treatment of gay people in Uganda at the end of a week when the Anglican church was again pandering to the homophobia of African Anglicans; beat that for good timing. I was very impressed by playwright Chris Urch’s first play Land of My Fathers. This second play more than fulfils that promise; it’s stunning.

The relationship between young doctor Sam and student Dembe is the heart of the play. The problem is they are in Uganda where homosexuality is illegal and vigilantes out those they think are gay and subsequently persecute, even kill, them and ostracise and torment their families. Dembe is from a religious family, close to his twin sister Wummie and elder brother Joe. Their father has recently died and Joe has become pastor of their church. Family friend Mama is like a surrogate mother who has always thought her daughter Naome and Dembe were intended for one another. Sam is from Northern Ireland but has a Ugandan mother, hence his move to Uganda to practice medicine in her homeland.

The outing and persecution of gays begins and this tests relationships and challenges loyalties to family, friends and religion. A family friend is outed and killed and Joe refuses to officiate at his funeral for fear of reprisals. It’s hard to differentiate between attitudes and actions determined by fear and those determined by genuine beliefs and it becomes a complex web of responses to the horrific circumstances these people find themselves in.

Simply staged by Ellen McDougall in the round, the intimacy brings extraordinary audience engagement; you often feel part of the debate, having to resist the temptation to respond yourself. This is largely due to six brilliantly passionate performances. When Sule Rimi as Joe is preaching, you are the congregation and its riveting. In Julian Moore-Cook’s Sam and Fiston Barek’s Dembe’s more intimate moments, the relationship is so believable you feel uncomfortably voyeuristic. Faith Omole has real sibling chemistry with her stage brothers, Faith Alabi is brilliantly convincing as largely mute Naome and Jo Martin has great presence and charisma as Mama. Three of the cast are new since its run in Manchester last April, but on their second performance you’d have thought they’d all been together for a long time. Wonderful performances.

A well written play on an important subject, impeccably staged and superbly performed. What else can you ask for? GO!

 

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