Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

★★★★

Barbican

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican

★★★★

“a high-spirited, multi-coloured and absolutely joyous interpretation”

Written thirty years ago and set half a century ago, Hanif Kureishi’s “The Buddha of Suburbia” still contains a lot that is still true about Britain today. In Emma Rice’s adaptation (co-adapted by Kureishi) the reality is expressed through comedy and, like all the best fables, the seriousness of the message hits hardest when delivered in kid gloves. A ‘rite of passage’ story, it is part fairy tale and part social realism. Directed by Rice, too, it has slightly less of the creative chaos that is usually on offer, resulting in a beautifully slick production; but is still packed with magic, joy and the anarchic fun that has become her trademark.

If there is any doubt about the setting (though Rachana Jadhav’s authentic set design and Vicki Mortimer’s period costume should instantly quell them), the protagonist, anti-hero and narrator – Karim – immediately sets us straight. It is the eve of Thatcher’s rise to power and Karim introduces himself to the audience with an assured swagger that belies someone still trying to find their feet. Dee Ahluwalia, as Karim, mirrors those qualities with an ease and stage presence that belie his experience. A lithe figure, he guides us on his journey with a clarity of storytelling that casts out any need to be familiar with the original novel.

He whisks us back further to 1976 and into the bosom of his extended, mixed-race family. Karim is desperate to escape suburbia, although by the looks of things there is plenty going on in his neck of the woods. Sex is available on tap, it seems, but I guess he’s looking for something deeper. Cue his headlong dive into the world of theatre, for which the words ‘frying pan’ and ‘fire’ come to mind. Beneath the social commentary, it is the characterisation that brings the show to rich, colourful life. With some multi-rolling and swift doubling up, the impressive ensemble cast portray a host of exuberant, eccentric personalities whom we grow to love despite – or because of – their flaws. All of them are caricatures, but all have a striking individuality.

Karim’s father Haroon (the acrobatic Ankur Bahl) is a Muslim from Bombay who has turned to Buddhist teachings as a means to seduce the hippy housewives of Southeast London. Katy Owen plays the hard-done-by wife. Owen reappears as aspiring actress Eleanor, hilariously pretentious, upper-middle class but wanting to ‘get down’ with the common people. We meet Matthew Pyke, the theatre director from Hell. A lot of fun is had during the rehearsal scenes which are a master class in parody. The shagging and the shenanigans, mainly expressed through slap-and-tickle use of bananas and melons, start to get a bit limp through repetition. Thankfully, though, the acute character observations hit home more than the party-popper punchlines. Karim has escaped his roots, but his yearning to retrace his steps brings us full circle. Meanwhile, childhood friend and nymphomaniac, Jamila, has been married off to arranged husband Changez (Simon Rivers in brilliant self-deprecating form); while Karim’s first crush, Charlie (a tongue in cheek Tommy Belshaw), has achieved rock star success and made the move to LA… and tragedy. Uncle Anwar and Aunt Jeeta are still getting by at the grocery stall, until Anwar pops his clogs and Jeeta finds a new lease of life (Rina Fatania gives a star performance in a flourish of irreverent self-parody and comic timing).

It is all pinned together with a pulsing soundtrack that takes in the Bee Gees, T. Rex, The Velvet Underground, Bill Withers and Joni Mitchell – among many others. A perfect mixtape that could have been whisked out of a Ford Capri’s cassette player. But beneath the party atmosphere, the darker undercurrents start to slip through – especially in the second act. Racism and violence crescendo from their background drone to become an explicit comment in the narrative. It is evocatively staged, but somehow the reality of its menace doesn’t quite break out of the party mood. Perhaps because all too quickly the show plunges back into celebratory mode with a hastily assembled, feel-good finale.

“Buddha of Suburbia” is a collaboration with the Royal Shakespeare Company, but it seems that Emma Rice has been calling the shots. It is a high-spirited, multi-coloured and absolutely joyous interpretation, that Kureishi is obviously proud of. The Rice magic still sparkles and dazzles, and we leave the theatre with a bounce in our step and a 120bpm inner rhythm coaxing us to raise our arms and punch the air. A terrific night at the theatre.


THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican

Reviewed on 30th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Tanner

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

KISS ME, KATE | ★★★★ | June 2024
LAY DOWN YOUR BURDENS | ★★★ | November 2023

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

 

BARCELONA

★★★★

Duke of York’s Theatre

BARCELONA at the Duke of York’s Theatre

★★★★

“The performances are exceptionally strong. Collins is impressive as the loose cannon, unpredictable and unsure of herself.”

Two characters, a world apart, are thrown together in Bess Wohl’s play, “Barcelona”. The cultural divide is as gaping as you can get but our first glimpse of them sees them in an intimate, tongue-wrapping clinch, awkwardly fumbling in the semi-darkness of a plain apartment in Barcelona. As they break away from each other, she is far from tongue tied. Everything is ‘cute’. She has clearly had too much to drink, whereas he has had too much to think about. This is preceded by a burst of ill-fitting, dramatic music which is at odds with the tone of the opening scene. Yet we soon discover the inconsistency is deliberate as Wohl’s clever writing unfolds.

It is a deceptive piece. Seemingly shallow but concealing some dark waters beneath its surface. A surface riddled with metaphors and dramatic ironies once you get the knack of spotting them. Irene (Lily Collins) is an American, washed up in the Spanish city in an extended bachelorette party. Manuel (Álvaro Morte) has come from Madrid to stay in the apartment for reasons that become clear later. It turns out she was the one who picked him up in the bar – a kind of dare almost. Things have gone a bit further than she may have intended, but for now she is more than willing to go with the flow.

We start out not really caring. What is the attraction? Why have they come together? The initial carnal fumbling is sexless, and the reactionless chemistry leaves us cold. She is intensely irritating. He is incessantly irritated. After a particularly leaden faux pas, Irene exclaims ‘I hope I didn’t ruin the ambience’. For a moment we wonder where the ambience is that she is referring to. Yet – as the layers are chipped away, revelations appear bit by bit. Like that game in which another square reveals more of the picture. The more we cotton on, the more we engage. They are no longer caricatures but complex characters; a lack of motive or intention now replaced by twisted backstories that inspire sympathy.

The performances are exceptionally strong. Collins is impressive as the loose cannon, unpredictable and unsure of herself. Her innate paranoia and mistrust run deeper than the Rioja that she is knocking back. Clueless on the outside but clued up enough to sense that something is amiss. Morte gives a startlingly solid performance. Possessing a European no-nonsense savoir faire he appears carefree yet, when left alone for brief moments, his expressions betray a sinister danger. They are both their own wrecking balls and we wait for the self-destruction.

However, neither can quite hide the excesses of the text that, even at a slim ninety minutes, carry a little too much excess weight, while the dialogue could do with a quick work out. Manuel has less to say but perversely he says so much more, which is where Wohl’s writing works wonders as the larger arguments appear out of the subtle magic of small talk. There is a gorgeous moment when Manuel picks apart Irene’s declaration of being ‘proud to be an American’. In a dismissive and heartfelt swoop, Manuel issues a polemic that covers a landscape of imperialism, displacement, ancestry even touching on genocide. The politics that seep into the arguments manage to sit perfectly with the personal; while references to the al-Qaeda terrorist attack in Madrid take on a harrowing emotional quality.

Lynette Linton’s tight direction moves the action neatly from its long night’s journey into day, the passage of time wonderfully evoked by Jai Morjaria’s lighting and haunting use of shadows. As daybreak creeps through the side window, self-knowledge (for Irene at least) dawns with the realisation that maybe she knows nothing. A Socratic paradox that represents a kind of umbrella under which the characters try to shelter from their own conundrums. Outside the apartment window is Barcelona’s famous Basílica de la Sagrada Família. Building began in 1882, but it is still unfinished. It is a fitting metaphor. The play, ultimately, suffers from a lack of resolution. It feels like an episode of a much greater story. An utterly enticing instalment, nonetheless. Another paradox. By curtain call, we feel like we’ve had enough. Yet we are left wanting more.

 


BARCELONA at the Duke of York’s Theatre

Reviewed on 29th October 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE | ★★★★ | February 2024
BACKSTAIRS BILLY | ★★★★ | November 2023
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING | ★★★★ | February 2023

BARCELONA

BARCELONA

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page