Tag Archives: Beth Burrows

SAFE HAVEN

★★½

Arcola Theatre

SAFE HAVEN

Arcola Theatre

★★½

“There are commendable performances across the cast”

They say those who ignore the past are condemned to repeat it; fortunately ‘Safe Haven’ revisits a recent chapter of history that still resonates today. Though the script doesn’t quite unlock the full force of the material, it’s an undeniably bold playwriting debut.

It’s the early 1990s and Saddam Hussein’s forces threaten the genocide of millions of Kurds. In London, two diplomats and a Kurdish refugee try desperately to convince the British government to intervene. Based on true events, it’s a stark reminder that extraordinary times demand extraordinary courage.

‘Safe Haven’ marks former British diplomat Chris Bowers’ playwriting debut, drawing on deep ties to Kurdistan and a sharp grasp of politics. He shows great wit and insight, using wry, throwaway lines to expose the uncanny irony of certain situations. Yet the script needs significant refinement to reach its full potential. Despite the huge built in stakes, the plot feels underdeveloped and oddly structured, dissipating tension rather than building it. For example, Act 1 wraps before introducing the crucial ‘safe haven’; the Act 1 climax lacks suspense; the will they survive cliffhanger is resolved rather unceremoniously. The characters, too, need fuller development. Though Bowers wisely distils the action into a few key lives – a tried and tested dramatic device – the central figures lack sufficient depth to carry the narrative. Catherine’s struggles – including her experiences of sexism – feel under explored, and the Kurdish siblings simply fade out. This is compounded by rather dense, technical language featuring long stretches of exposition and little ‘showing’ of the story. There are some strong ideas here but they need clearer articulation.

Mark Giesser’s direction offers some striking ideas. Catherine’s opening monologue, delivered straight to the audience, provides an immediate point of connection – though curiously this device isn’t revisited. The sharply divided set – half regimented office, half soil covered outdoors – is an intelligent visual metaphor for the play’s internal divisions. However, the use of space sometimes muddies rather than clarifies. During Najat and Zeyra’s perilous mountain ascent, for example, the actors move into the office area, desk and all, undercutting the scene’s realism. Entries and exits feature rather circuitous routes, when slipping behind the curtains could be a cleaner solution. The blocking, too, could use a little refinement; a few key beats are lost when actors turn their backs to the audience, obscuring crucial reactions.

Jida Akil’s design is one of the production’s real strengths. The split set – half office, half earth – is cleverly conceived, with soil evoking homeland and identity. The layered white curtains, suggesting snow capped mountains and doubling as an elegant projection surface, create striking visuals.

Libby Ward’s video design carries the production fluidly through time and place with cinematic flair. The interplay of images and text smartly echoes the relentless churn of news and bureaucracy, while the sparing use of colour gives some scenes a purposeful lift.
Ali Taie’s sound design is a real asset, its blend of music, ambient detail and sharp effects placing us right at the centre of the action.

Katherine Watt’s costume supervision draws sharp contrasts, setting vibrant Kurdish dress against the starch of Whitehall suits. Though a red scarf for Najat would better align with the text.

There are commendable performances across the cast, though the depth of characterisation varies somewhat, likely in part due to the script. Lisa Zahra offers the most fully realised performances, giving Zeyra a quiet resilience and Anne a warm forthrightness. Beth Burrows brings both determination and vulnerability to Catherine, navigating an impossible situation with clarity. Mazlum Gül makes Al Tikriti suitably sinister while Dlawer is impassioned if less subtly shaded. Stephen Cavanagh adds well judged comic relief as a prickly US General.

Bowers’ bold debut play ‘Safe Haven’ shines a light on a strikingly relevant chapter of history. Though beautifully designed, the script and delivery currently fall shy of fully revealing the human dimension.



SAFE HAVEN

Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 19th January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Ikin Yum


 

 

 

 

SAFE HAVEN

SAFE HAVEN

SAFE HAVEN

How to Build a Better Tulip

How to Build a Better Tulip

★★

Upstairs at the Gatehouse

HOW TO BUILD A BETTER TULIP at the Upstairs at the Gatehouse

★★

How to Build a Better Tulip

Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together

 

To set the theme for the evening, the song Tulips from Amsterdam provides the somewhat tongue-in-cheek auditorium entry music, followed by other songs evoking buttercups and roses. Perhaps there is no available pop song concerning petunias as that would have been the other relevant flowery reference for this amiable comedy written and directed by Mark R Giesser.

A minimalist drab-coloured set (Designer Mollie Cheek) predominantly represents a greenhouse at the University of South Holland (Lincolnshire) where plant genetics are being researched. Faded tulip designs on delft tiles give a hint of historic Dutchness. A broadsheet notice on the wall informs us that a monetary prize of ten thousand guilders should be awarded to any person who succeeds in the breeding of a perfect Black Tulip. And therein lies the basis of the plot, loosely based on Alexandre Dumas’s novel The Black Tulip, and making reference to the historical tulipomania of seventeenth century Holland.

Splashes of colour appear as university researcher Audrey Braddock (Jill Greenacre) in red corduroys and amanuensis Sheila Crouch (Bryony Tebbutt) with yellow bobblehat, frenetically enter. Tebbutt displays youthful exuberance in a deliberate and delightfully quirky manner. Greenacre’s speedy and breathy delivery means some dialogue is sadly lost in this opening scene. We are introduced to Braddock’s daughter Perci (Beth Burrows) whose latest boyfriend is petunia researcher Adrian Vanderpol (Christopher Killik) and then things turn strange. Alone in her room, Braddock begins to talk to a voice in her head – Carolus Hoofdorn (Richard Lynson) a seventeenth century Dutch tulip enthusiast. Vanderpol too communicates with the voice in his head – Cornelia Vanderpol (Tebbutt again). And when everyone appears on stage together, the two Dutch puritans are able to talk to each other too. Nice period costumes here (Giulia Scrimieri) for the historical Dutch, less convincing accents.

As it appears, Braddock and Vanderpol – driven by the two ghosts in their heads – are covertly endeavouring to create the elusive black tulip, espionage is undertaken, Perci is involved with the FBI and honey-research, Carolus sporadically breaks out into folksong, Cornelia inexplicably cannot abide the songs of Elvis, Vanderpol is arrested for environmental terrorism and tulip bulbs are identified as the next potential WMD. It’s all rather a muddle.

The character of Sergeant Ellsworth, managed stolidly enough by Lynson, sums up the difficulty of the play; he is given neither the insight of a probing detective nor the comedic possibilities of a bumbling village Plod. Only the performance by Beth Burrows holds the whole thing together. With energy and fine expression she appears to understand and believe in all the shenanigans and provides a central performance to savour.


Perci tells us at one point, “It all sounds more complicated than it needs to be” and I could almost hear the audience reply, “hear hear”.

 

Reviewed on 8th November 2022

by Phillip Money

Photography by Flavia Fraser-Cannon

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Forever Plaid | ★★★★ | June 2021

 

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