★★★

“It is certainly a story that must be told”

The cruel irony of Timberlake Wertenbaker’s play “Little Brother”, adapted from the Guinean writer, Ibrahima Balde’s memoir, is that Ibrahima was initially denied a visa by the Home Office to visit the United Kingdom so he could attend the opening night. They were “not satisfied… that you intend to leave the UK at the end of your visit”. Fortunately, the decision has now been reversed, yet Wertenbaker poignantly inserted the statement of facts into the epilogue, neatly and affectingly rounding off the true-life story of the horrors of migration.

Ibrahima Balde’s story charts his journey across borders, deserts and seas from Guinea to mainland Europe on his quest to find his younger brother. In 2018, towards the end of his odyssey, he met writer and journalist Amets Arzallus Antia in the Basque country that borders France and Spain, and there the search for his brother turned into a ten-month search for the words that would convey his experiences. “My friend, life is not that easy to tell” Ibrahima said to Amets during their first encounter. Knowing that his tale is only one of countless others the world over makes it uneasy listening too.

This adaptation is a stark retelling of the facts. It avoids both sentimentality and lecturing. As a result, however, it lacks the emotional build up needed to fully bring home the horrors of the situation. It is only late in the day, when we feel that Ibrahima’s life is on the line, that we become fully invested in his plight. Only then does Blair Gyabaah (who plays Ibrahima – alongside a supporting cast of four who multi-role as the dozens of other characters) realise the dynamics and breadth of emotion needed to lift the account from narration into a drama. For the most part we are spoon fed the details in a journalistic fashion.

But what a journal it is. We get a fair bit of his background, growing up in a village in the West African country of Guinea, helping his father sell shoes at a street stall while dreaming of becoming a truck driver. Even from a young age, he always felt alone and far away from home, a state of mind heightened by the sudden death of his father. When his younger brother, Alhassane, disappears heading for Europe, Ibrahima leaves everything behind to try to find him and bring him back, risking his own life on his epic journey. We are shown the different customs, languages, landscapes and challenges. But each chapter is a stepping stone, and as we move on quickly to the next, we barely have time to get to know the other characters he meets along the way. The spectrum of life – the chasm between the best and the worst of humanity – gets flattened under the multitude of personalities that appear onstage, for sometimes just seconds at a time.

Gyabaah’s Ibrahima is the anchor; a modest performance, yet strong and holding up against the whirlwind of events. It seems at times that the actor is fighting Stella Powell-Jones’ directorial constraints as much as the cruel twists of fate his character endures, and we get the sense Gyabaah is aching to emote more. At the same time, though, we are left wondering if this is a deliberate ploy, to strip it of sensationalism, in a bid to convey how ubiquitous the struggles of migration are. This show doesn’t overwhelm us, but it does lift a veil to reveal the face of the seemingly nameless people we hear about in the news. In its own way “Little Brother” is a ‘must see’ show. It is certainly a story that must be told. In the closing moments, Ibrahima’s father appears as a ghost to tell him “Son, you must never think you’re the worst off… and you can never say, ‘I’m suffering more than anyone else’”. It takes a while to get there, but finally the heart and soul of the story achieves its poignancy. We learn second hand of the plight of his brother, but the strength of that blood bond that motivates Ibrahima throughout is delivered to us, first hand, with a powerful punch.

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob”

You can imagine exactly whereabouts in the United States Cob County (the fictional location for the musical comedy “Shucked”) would lie. Somewhere on the border of Arkansas and Oklahoma, where the corn is as high as an elephant’s eye, and the town-folk, dressed like raggedy scarecrows, can’t see beyond the wall of maize that shields the outside world. ‘People don’t leave Cob County’, we are told. Well, hey, if I found myself there, I’d never want to leave either judging by the sheer joy even just two hours in their company can give.

Regents Park Open Air Theatre is the perfect backdrop for this real gem of a musical. A score of catchy tunes; a Prairie-sized dose of charm and compassion; a wagonload of amazeballs song and dance and the corniest jokes you dare to imagine, all roll into town, via Broadway, to give us a night we’re going to remember for quite some time. Robert Horn’s book openly celebrates its own richly flavoured cheesiness by packing it full of puns and punchlines, while Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally’s country-tinged music and lyrics keeps the smile firmly on our faces with their mix of foot-tapping, bluesy reels and soul-stirring ballads. This formula really shouldn’t work. The story is preposterous, the final message unbelievably schmaltzy and some of the jokes as old as the American Outback; yet we are ‘shucked’ into loving it (a hasty qualification needed here – some of the one-liners are, in fact, surprisingly audacious and shockingly risqué, and would mercifully go over the heads of the younger members of the audience).

We are introduced to the Midwestern community by way of Storyteller One and Storyteller Two; Monique Ashe-Palmer and Steven Webb respectively – a joyous pair whose comic timing and flair keep the narrative in check with a rancher’s whip-cracking skill. At the heart of the story is Maizy (Sophie McShera) whose wedding vows to Beau (Ben Joyce) are interrupted by the corn crop suddenly and mysteriously dying. An unsolved mystery – which, in fact, is just a mystery – Webb tells us. Maizy dares to venture beyond the county limits in order to find a solution to the crop failure. She winds up in Tampa, an exaggerated, greeting-card-type metropolis where she meets grifter Gordy (Matthew Seadon-Young), a corn doctor (of course). Gordy is in debt to some not-so-gangsterish gangsters, and he sees in Maizy an opportunity to do some good ole shucking and shake off his creditors. Maizy, on the rebound from breaking off with Beau, is lovestruck, and the two of them head back to Cob County. What follows is a messy mix of misdirected romance, deception, and a full-on, heart-on-sleeve parable about the strength of community, family and belonging, and the triumph of good over bad.

To put it simply, the cast is outstanding. McShera’s Maizy has a real sense of the comedy but layers it with a steely tenderness that refuses to suffer fools. And a voice to match. Joyce’s literal-minded Beau is a delight, seeing the world in black and white but colouring it in with splashes of charisma and slapstick empathy. And a voice to match. His side kick and brother, Peanut – played by the terrific Keith Ramsay – has the burden of the corny jokes but he carries them all with an ease, delivering them with a deadpan hilarity. Meanwhile, Maizy’s cousin, the whisky-brewing, sassy Lulu is a tour de force of a performance in the hands of Georgina Onuorah. And a voice to match (have I said that?). In fact, Onuorah’s voice soars above all else. Seadon-Young is slick as oil as the slippery Gordy wishing he was better at being bad, though his performance couldn’t be better if he tried. Director Jack O’Brien brings out the best in all of them, including the ensemble – highlighting Sarah O’Gleby’s inventive choreography which occasionally verges on the acrobatic – and some perilous use of barrels and planks.

The music worms its way into our ears and takes root. At once familiar in its mix of pop, musical theatre, country and some serious balladeering; but unique enough to sound fresh and lyrically holding its own against the onslaught of wordplay in the book. From the rousing opening number ‘Corn’, through the obligatory ballads (mostly given to McShera); Seadon-Young’s bluesy ‘Bad’ and Onuorah’s showstopping ‘Independently Owned’, the numbers are a delight. This isn’t high art, but the spirit (and the corn) is sky high. An elephant’s eye wouldn’t come close. The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob. If it’s possible, this musical is tastier even. Sweeter, cheesier and packed with joy. One taste and you’ll be wanting to go back for more.

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“It is certainly a story that must be told”

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 21st May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Little Brother

Little Brother

Little Brother

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

★★★★★

“The fun factor is dolloped on as thick as melted butter on crispy corn on the cob”

SHUCKED

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Reviewed on 20th May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SHUCKED

SHUCKED

SHUCKED

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