MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE at the Queen’s Theatre

★★★

“pertinent and important, and a visually strong reimagining of an iconic and powerful story”

When Hanif Kureishi’s romantic comedy-drama film was released in 1985 it was swiftly hailed as being a mirror to society at the time, casting a sharp eye on London life in the height of the Thatcher years. It almost had too much to say, but the central focus – of the romance between Omar, a young Pakistani living in London, and street punk, neo-fascist Johnny – still managed to shine through. Kureishi’s adaptation for the stage holds onto that perspective while simplifying the surrounding complexities of race, class, and economic and social upheaval that defined the era.

We are definitely in 80s territory, with bursts of the Pet Shop Boys music linking the scenes, and misogyny and racism vying for supremacy against the cold, concrete backdrop of Grace Smart’s inspired set. The burgeoning romance from across the divide is echoed by Ben Cracknell’s lighting, throwing neon splashes of colour and hope against the bleak reality. This is a dog-eat-dog world in which a modern day, same-sex ‘Romeo and Juliet’ attempt to defy the odds.

Omar (Lucca Chadwick-Patel) is a young British-Pakistani saddled with an alcoholic, disillusioned father (Gordon Warnecke) until brash, ‘loadsamoney’ Uncle Nasser (Kammy Darweish) sets him to work managing his run-down laundrette. In a scuffle with a group of National Front lads, Omar spots old school chum Johnny (Sam Mitchell) who is adrift and hopelessly uncommitted to his Fascist tendencies. They join forces to add the eponymous adjective to the laundrette. The means are dubious, illegal and overflowing with compromise, yet amidst the subterfuge a passionate romance blossoms.

Despite Kureishi’s rich command of dialogue and monologue, Nicole Behan’s production removes a lot of the plausibility. And despite a strong cast, the collective performance removes most of the poignancy. An overall hesitancy to the acting dampens the dynamics and often strips the lines of feeling. There are exceptions, however, particularly in the second act, when Chadwick-Patel and Mitchell grab their chance to let their talents flicker as Omar confronts Johnny about his fascist past. A beautiful moment that concentrates the pathos, but we wish it could be more evenly distributed throughout the whole play.

Likewise, the inherent comedy is hovering in the wings, not quite brave enough to step onto the stage and announce itself in all its justified glory. As a result, the contrasting danger that underscores the narrative is weakened and it is sometimes difficult to differentiate the two. Johnny’s National Front sidekicks, while intentionally ridiculous, come across as boyish caricatures.

The play depicts an era, but sadly some of the issues are still with us, albeit in different forms in our age of social media. The production captures the essence of its time while still managing to feel contemporary. And the finale is uplifting, with a feel-good factor that pre-empts the progress society has made over the last four decades. That we still have some way to go is skilfully brought out in this production. However it can be argued that the show, too, has still some way to go to fulfil its promise.

It is pertinent and important, and a visually strong reimagining of an iconic and powerful story. The production values are high, but ultimately the stakes are low.