“Omar Bynon is charismatic and charming as Ismail”
The play follows Ismail throughout the summer of 2005 revelling in his excitement to become the youngest batsman ever to play for the first XI cricket team at his elite public school. However, things don’t quite go to plan when a new coach takes over who seems to take an immediate dislike to Ismail. Whilst the significance of 2005 may be immediately apparent to England cricket fans, what may be less immediately obvious is that this was also the year of the 7/7 bombings, a turning point in the way Muslims and south-Asian people were seen and treated in the UK. Setting the play over this summer provides a unique backdrop for exploring racism in the sport.
Duck’s run at the Arcola Theatre is timely. It aligns with this year’s Ashes, held in the UK just as they were in 2005. More poignantly, opening night coincided with the release of a much-anticipated report into institutional racism in cricket – precipitated by former Yorkshire cricket player Azeem Rafiq’s allegations against the club and whose emotional testimony at a select committee hearing in 2021 made national headlines. Parts of the script almost directly reference this testimony, particularly related to arguments often made by those using racial slurs that it’s just ‘banter’.
Despite this heavy subject matter, the writing is peppered with humour throughout. Duck’s writer, maatin, focuses on Muslim storytelling and says much of the play is based on his own experiences. The script feels authentic to both the worlds Ismail occupies, that of public-school boys and his Indian family at home, and astutely captures the vernacular used in the two.
Omar Bynon is charismatic and charming as Ismail, bringing the audience in from the off with a toss of the ball into the crowd with a decent amount of spin, deftly instructed by movement director Hamza Ali. It’s an energetic performance, requiring Bynon to play not just Ismail but his father, best friend and the new cricket team coach, as well as voicing two commentators that act as a Greek chorus. Bynon’s only respite comes towards the end when real people voice the impact the 7/7 bombings had on their lives – a powerful interlude that drives the plays message home.
The set and costume design (Maariyah Sharjil) are beautifully presented. A central patch of astroturf, complete with wicket, bat, and red test ball, act as an anchor for the set, whilst either side hanging drapes are backdrops for bespoke, illustrated projections which transport the action from the cricket pavilion to the duck pond. On one side, the script is projected for accessibility. This also helps to distinguish between the characters the lead flips between where this is not always clear.
Despite being overtly a play about cricket, you don’t need to know much about the sport to enjoy this play. Yes, there are plenty of ‘in’ jokes about models of cricket bats, former players, and commentators to keep cricket fans chuckling throughout. But at its heart, Duck is a coming-of-age tale of the adolescent realisation that the safe and simple world you think you know is not all it appears. Not all figures of authority will look out for your best interests. Biases mean that pure talent is not always appreciated. As affectingly put by Ismail, cricket may be a team sport but really, it’s just you and the bowler out there.
On a muggy Monday night, we descended into the bowels of the former paint factory. Steep rakes on either side of the stage, coupled with the stage floor being covered in a rough textured sand paper, evoked a gladiatorial event. People fanned themselves with programmes, murmuring about the warmth. And then the play began. From the first scene, where a pregnant woman remains still and strained, against a busy motif of a London train, Possession had the audience in the palm of its hand.
Possession is a mutli-generational collection of moments, which come together to tell the story of a life, and a country. It is at once personal and political, both a call to arms, and a quiet tragedy.
We follow Hope (Diany Samba-Bandza), who is both protagonist and narrator. Hope is born at Victoria station to Kasambayi (Sarah Amankwah) newly arrived from the Democratic Republic of Congo. Hope’s path later crosses with Alice Young (Dorothea Myer-Bennett), a foreign correspondent who is struggling to juggle her work and being a new mother. Into this contemporary world is weaved the story of Alice Seeley-Harris (also played by Myer-Bennett), a Victorian missionary’s wife in King Leopold’s Congo. Across London and the DRC this story unfurls itself, not relying on linear narrative, but following theme and character, to build a complex and rich portrait of these women.
Sasha Hails’ script is brave and confident. It sweeps across generations and characters, knitting together a past and a present, with hopes for the future. There are moments where it could feel weighed down with exposition, there is a lot of discussion about the cobalt mines in modern day DRC and the atrocities that are associated with them. But it doesn’t. The script is informative and impactful, without slipping into preachiness.
The spirit and passion of the play is let loose through Oscar Pearce’s direction and Sarah Beaton’s design. Every inch of the space is used and there is an incredible sense of movement while also allowing for moments of pause and reflection. Photographs are projected onto flowing jagged sheets which hang at the back of the stage. These are a combination of the photographs that the real Alice Seeley-Harris took, and present-day photos of the characters. The whole effect enhances the tangle of time which the play explores.
It is a tight, strong ensemble of five. Nedum Okonyia shows an impressive range, traversing ages, eras and nationalities with equal energy and poise. Milo Twomey shines as a conflicted Victorian missionary as well as bringing depth to Alice’s journalist lover who is essentially a sounding board for her inner conflict.
However, it is the three women who really steal the show. Samba-Bandza is warm and bubbly, which sets the tone for the whole piece. Myer-Bennett straddles the two generations, bringing to life the age-old question of a mother’s place and allows the audience the chance to empathise, if not necessarily sympathise with her characters. But the real star is Sarah Amankwah. We watch as Kasambayi, a quiet, proud and incredibly private woman, is empowered and emboldened to tell her story, and to grow beyond the horrors of her past. Amankwah brings a stillness to the frenetic movement of the play, and an undertone of quiet wisdom and grief.
Possession is a tapestry of memories, an informative and fascinating story, and a beautiful character study.
