Tag Archives: Hampstead Theatre

The Fellowship

The Fellowship

β˜…β˜…β˜…

Hampstead Theatre

The Fellowship

The Fellowship

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed – 28th June 2022

β˜…β˜…β˜…

 

“Williams brings nuance and care to a conversation that often feels impossible to even broach”

 

The Fellowship, directed by Paulette Randall, sees writer Roy Williams return to the conversation he began with his 2021 play, Death Of England: Delroy : What does it mean to be black and British? Does it mean something different today compared to, say, twenty, or fifty years ago? Has anything changed? Is change even possible?

Three generations of one family, all living in the UK, all struggling to place themselves within a society that has historically and repeatedly tried to reject and diminish them. The trouble with this line of inquiry is not that it’s not compelling or apposite, but that it’s just so big. So, what we end up with is a near-on three-hour play that rarely takes a breather, and struggles to conclude.

Having grown up in the same hard, harsh environment, with a mother (now ailing off-stage) who came to the UK in the Windrush generation, sisters Marcia and Dawn have responded in contrast. As Marcia says, β€œYou’re nothing but trauma, Dawn, you always have been. And I’ve always been a selfish cow.” In other words, Dawn remains an open wound, unable to heal from society’s repeated othering. Whereas Marcia has decided to take what she can, only looking out for herself. But neither have been able to truly break free.

So we look to the next generation, Dawn’s son Jermaine (Ethan Hazzard) who is in love with a white woman (Rosie Day), but unable to tell his family who consider her the enemy.

It’s an excellent structure for a discussion on racism, inherited trauma, and generational change. But Williams seems incapable of letting a thought hang in the air. Instead, every conversation is double as long as it should be, tracing and retracing what he said, what she said, what everyone did and when they did it. Three hours of yelling ends up sounding like white noise after a while, and though there are plenty of endearing relational minutiae (the sisters bumping boobs, or dancing to white pop music) latticed amongst the intensity, it’s all delivered at the same turbulent place; there’s rarely a minute to breathe.

Cherrelle Skeete and Suzette Llewellyn have an excellent rapport as sisters, which is all the more impressive given that Skeete has only been rehearsing this part for two weeks- Lucy Vandi had to suddenly withdraw due to ill health. In fact, despite occasional scenes holding the script, Skeete is arguably the strongest cast member, flitting between affection and intense rage with veristic ease.

Libby Watson’s design- Scandi sofas and table encircled by a futuristic LED halo, which glows blue or red in accordance with instructions for Alexa- serves as a clean, modern canvas for the chaotic storyline, and sits in clever contrast to the script’s subject, as old as time: Us and Them.

Williams brings nuance and care to a conversation that often feels impossible to even broach. The casting is clever and fun, and there are multiple moments where the audience finds themselves humming in endorsement. But ultimately it just doesn’t feel finished yet; the script needs a red pen and a harsh eye.

 

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Robert Day

 


The Fellowship

Hampstead Theatre until 23rd July

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
The Two Character Play | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | July 2021
Big Big Sky | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | August 2021
Night Mother | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | October 2021
The Forest | β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | February 2022
The Fever Syndrome | β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | April 2022
The Breach | β˜…β˜…β˜… | Hampstead Theatre | May 2022

 

Click here to see our most recent reviews

 

The Breach

The Breach

β˜…β˜…β˜…

Hampstead Theatre

The Breach

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed – 12th May 2022

β˜…β˜…β˜…

 

“The performances are uniformly magnificent: honest and brutal. Yet it stops just short of drawing us in emotionally”

 

Towards the end of Naomi Wallace’s β€œThe Breach”, the joint protagonist, Jude, is imagining a version of the past that didn’t happen, but could have. It takes a while to get there but the scene encapsulates both the power and impotence of hindsight. The characters wrestle with regret, bereavement and guilt, but more so with the question of whether that could have been avoided had they acted differently.

The play jumps between 1977 and 1991, initially as two very different worlds but gradually they overlap and the two separate decades bear witness to each other. Set against a completely bare stage there is little to differentiate the two ages. Different actors play the younger and older versions of the characters. Between the scenes a stark line of white light sweeps the stage, brushing them away like skittles to replace them with their counterparts.

We begin in the seventies, in small town America, a time of restlessness, turbulence, political scandal and a questioning of traditional authority (there are extensive, weighty articles in the programme notes depicting the profound effects on the American youth of the Vietnam War and β€˜Neoliberalism’ – although not touched upon at all in the script). Seventeen-year-old Jude (Shannon Tarbet) has taken it upon herself to protect her younger brother Acton (Stanley Morgan). They spend their days in the basement of their modest home creating their own world. Frayne (Charlie Beck) and Hoke (Alfie Jones) gate-crash this world – not so much friends of Acton but emotional racketeers. Conditions are laid and sacrifices must be made. Inevitably the bond between brother and sister is snapped in two. In hindsight, the love they shared that could have prevented this is the exact same love that caused it.

So, you cannot escape the actions of the past then. But can you learn from them? Tellingly there is no casting for the older Acton, but Jude (Jasmine Blackborow), Frayne (Douggie McMeekin) and Hoke (Tom Lewis) reconvene fourteen years later. As each snapshot of 1991 plays out onstage, more is revealed of the dangerous games the teenagers played, focusing on many issues – most notably sexual consent. A lot is said today about how it was a β€˜different time’, back then. But accountability (rightly or wrongly) has no limits. As these thirty-somethings examine their past, one wonders who the victims and who the culprits are. And are the intervening years of guilt and atonement enough or should further punishment be executed? This play, while never giving us a succinct answer, suggests we punish ourselves enough. There are no winners.

Sarah Frankcom’s sharp and efficient direction matches Wallace’s writing which is as penetrative as ever. The performances are uniformly magnificent: honest and brutal. Yet it stops just short of drawing us in emotionally. We don’t quite see the fragility, fear and loneliness that lies beneath the rough exterior. Which is a shame, and a surprise. Based partially on past experience, it seems that Wallace has poured a lot of her own heart into the writing; but ultimately it appeals more to the intellect than to our hearts.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

 


The Breach

Hampstead Theatre until 4th June

 

Recently reviewed at this venue:
Night Mother | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021
The Forest | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2022
The Fever Syndrome | β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2022

 

Click here to see our most recent reviews