THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

The Wetsuitman begins as a farce. The three actors metatheatrically ponder who their characters are to be, settling on caricatures from a send up of a Nordic Noir. In this, The Wetsuitman begins as one thing we think we know, so long as you religiously watched The Killing a decade ago. But by the final scene 80 minutes later, we are a world away from a comforting murder mystery and are forced to face the stark, human consequences of the alienation of refugees across Europe.

This is a true and extraordinary story, translated to stage with some brave directorial choices. The four scenes are almost better understood as vignettes, and while occasionally confusing, telling a story this vast with just three actors and three orange chairs on an otherwise bare stage is certainly an achievement.

The play, written by Freek Mariën and translated by David McKay, borrows heavily from an article by journalist Anders Fjellberg, published in Norwegian paper Dagbladet. Reading that piece this morning, I recognised many of the lines from the stage. These verbatim quotes give the play heart, with idiosyncratic comments and unfiltered observations that can be profound, prejudiced and humourous in turn.

Each scene, from bumbling detectives on a Norwegian coastline, to a mourning family in Syria, has a significantly different theatrical direction (Trine Garrett). The piece lends itself to this patchwork style, with no single character serving as an anchor throughout. However, this sometimes meant I had to keep checking my notes and the cast list to keep up. For example, in the second scene, the cast switches between fourteen different talking heads, many of which are simply credited as ‘another salesperson’. It’s not a surprise that some of these are more distinct than others.

The tone changes again in the third scene which is set in the Calais Jungle refugee camp and for the only time in the piece, the actors are amplified with microphones. Only their voices are used to guide the audience through the Jungle, as Nikiforos Fintzos’ sound and Amy Daniel’s lighting throughout is kept minimal. Bringing out the microphones felt like an unnecessary and fussy addition; I half expected they would augment singing, or some other vocal effects that never came.

All stagey conventions and tech fall away by the final scene, which features excellent naturalistic acting from the cast of three – David Djemal, Eugenia Low and Youness Bouzinab. Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.

Throughout the piece, significance is given to the role of the press in homage to investigative journalists behind the The Wetsuitman article. It was journalists who managed to solve this missing persons case when the authorities in Norway, the Netherlands, France and the UK could not recognise a person who ‘officially was not even here’. This point is for the most part subtly made, as the play keeps journalists off-stage, with their interviewees and sources only portrayed. Only a couple of times does the writing lean towards a larger conspiracy of ‘threats’ hanging over characters who speak to the press. This feels like a detraction from otherwise fair criticism of the inadequacies and apathy within the official investigative forces.

The Wetsuitman is a piece that lends itself to reflection and concentration. Though it was hard to pick out all the details live, after going back to the source material I was struck by how much was faithfully packed into the play. It might not have needed all of this, but I am glad they tried.

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 29th August 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Tim Morozzo

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Union | ★★★ | July 2023

Duck | ★★★★ | June 2023

Possession | ★★★★★ | June 2023

Under The Black Rock | ★★★ | March 2023

The Mistake | ★★★★ | January 2023

The Poltergeist | ★★½ | October 2022

The Apology | ★★★★ | September 2022

L’Incoronazione Di Poppea | ★★★★ | July 2022

Rainer | ★★★★★ | October 2021

The Game Of Love And Chance | ★★★★ | July 2021

The Wetsuitman

Click here to read all our latest reviews

★★★★

“Sepy Baghaei’s unique take on identity is both refreshing and convincing”

Dark, grave and full of tension, Citizen is about the struggle for identity and the question of heritage many immigrants face. Focusing on Iranian families, it sheds light onto the reality of being a refugee, whether this be the endless waiting or the difficulty of dealing with a traumatised parent.

The play is largely fragmented, with the single scenes slowly adding up to create a greater picture, a collage of experiences. Despite this, the focus always returns to its two main narratives. In heart-wrenching monologues the actors tell the real stories of Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe and Behrouz Boochani, both Iranian, and both victims of unfounded detainment. In these moments, when politics is condensed into a mother missing her daughter and a man struggling with lack of food, the play is at its most haunting. In its quest for understanding, the fragments circle around the concept of citizenship, trying to get a little bit closer each time around. Although this offers a large number of possible approaches, at times, the collage effect appears to be exhausted for a moment. Especially when the bleak reality of the journalists’ fates is contrasted with idealised childhood scenes, the shifts lack conviction. Citizen’s strength is certainly the weighty, the thoughtful and the quiet and this is also where the actors, including Nalân Burgess and David Djemal, are at their best.

Nevertheless, director Sepy Baghaei’s unique take on identity is both refreshing and convincing. In an ironic moment of self-depreciation, the play undermines all attempts to define citizenship by proclaiming the recipe for “a Persian” in the style of a TV cooking show. These moments of humour allow for a quick relief from the otherwise intense piece but are never too distracting from the serious message the play has.

A small, refurbished church, The Space is a perfect venue for a play as intimate and moving as Citizen. While the high ceiling and darkened walls allow for play with the three-dimensional, the room is compact enough to establish a close rapport between actor and observer. Despite the plain set design, an inspired use of lights helps to transport the audience. Throughout the play, simple but endlessly melancholic Persian singing fills the space, the music connecting us more to the unknown than any facts could. In the end, the room and the remains of the play are left for the audience to explore, consciously not drawing a line between the end of the show and the beginning of reality.

While it has a clear political message, Citizen is certainly also a very rewarding play just in itself. With its minimalistic design and close connection to reality, it manages to raise our awareness to what goes on around us and ultimately, calls for humanity.

“If you have no sympathy for human pain
The name of human you cannot retain.” (by Persian poet Saadi)

Reviewed by Laura Thorn

Photography by Sepy Baghaei

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 29th August 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Tim Morozzo

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Wetsuitman

The Wetsuitman

Citizen

The Space

Reviewed – 25th April 2018

★★★★

“Sepy Baghaei’s unique take on identity is both refreshing and convincing”

While it has a clear political message, Citizen is certainly also a very rewarding play just in itself. With its minimalistic design and close connection to reality, it manages to raise our awareness to what goes on around us and ultimately, calls for humanity.

“If you have no sympathy for human pain The name of human you cannot retain.” (by Persian poet Saadi)

Reviewed by Laura Thorn

Photography by Sepy Baghaei

Citizen

The Space until 5th May

Related

Previously at the venue

“If you have no sympathy for human pain
The name of human you cannot retain.” (by Persian poet Saadi)