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

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★★★★

“A ricocheting trip through cabaret, musical, farce, drama, concert, pantomime, horror and fairground ride”

If you’re familiar with Emma Rice’s way of working, whether with Knee High or her current Wise Children company, you will know what to expect when you wander into one of her shows. And you won’t be disappointed with her take on Charles Perrault’s seventeenth century French folktale, ‘Bluebeard’. Apart from slicing up the title into two separate words – ”Blue Beard” – she has also spliced the slim story line, weaving it into a chaotic parable of her own, and throwing in seemingly unconnected subplots and bizarre characters. The beauty of Rice’s productions, though, is how each unruly element of her anarchic approach eventually has a point. Why, for example, is the bellowing Mother Superior of her convent sporting an unconvincing fake, blue beard? Is it just a tacky pun on the title? You need to wait for the strikingly resonant finale to find your answer.

Although it sometimes seems to take a while to get there, it is well worth the journey. A ricocheting trip through cabaret, musical, farce, drama, concert, pantomime, horror and fairground ride. Sometimes it feels like they are making it up on the spot, but we know that they left the improvisation behind in the rehearsal room, and that this is a precise evocation of a dark world where magic and danger lie side by side.

Most of the first act steers clear of the original story, barely dipping its toes into Perrault’s tale. We are in the convent, inhabited by the sisters of the Three F’s (Fearful, Fucked and Furious). Katy Owen, as the Mother Superior, starts to tell a story of a widow (Treasure, played by a sultry Patrycja Kujawska) and her two daughters, Trouble (Stephanie Hockley) and Lucky (Robyn Sinclair). The two girls, coated in years of unconditional love and recently fatherless, are being pushed out into the world to find their way. They soon discover that their cosseted sense of freedom and security is juicy game in a predatory male world. Which is where we find the charismatically menacing Blue Beard (Tristan Sturrock), a claret-clad magician who promptly saws Lucky in half before putting her back together again as his wife. The sleight of hand, illusory dissection is a portent of the grim reality that Blue Beards previous wives are locked away, in bloodied pieces in a secret room of his mansion. It is probably worth pointing out here that a quick read of the original story is advisable before coming to the show.

When Lucky discovers the dead bodies of Blue Beard’s former wives, she is determined not to join their ranks. Cue her sister and mother (in the original it was her brothers, but as this is a modern tale of the power of sisterhood, it is important to get the gender right). Meanwhile, a lost boy (Adam Minsky) is wandering around searching for his older sister (Mirabelle Gremaud). A confusing subtext. At first. But when you grasp the significance, it is hauntingly chilling.

Throughout the show the music simmers underneath and bubbles to the surface in a series of gorgeous melodies. Rooted in folk, Stu Barker’s compositions slot neatly into the narrative and allow the cast to show off their vocal and musical skills; Gremaud who acrobatically switches instruments while lithely sliding into and out of the main action. Never less than stirring, the solos and harmonies float above the acoustic accompaniment of piano, harp, guitar and percussion. Luscious moments juxtaposed against a brutal and bloody backdrop.

The climax is quite harrowing, delivered with undeniable passion, but perhaps spelt out in letters that are too bold. Yet there is no ignoring the urgent truth that it addresses – that of male coercive behaviour and violence towards women. When Katy Owen strips herself out of her Mother Superior habits, a heartrending reveal is discovered. Owen’s stark passion can take your breath away. We realise the fierce undercurrent of grief and loss that has been hidden beneath a haphazard musical drama that is full of laughs. A bewitching combination.

Tag Archives: Katy Owen

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA

★★★★

Barbican

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican

★★★★

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

THE BUDDHA OF SUBURBIA at the Barbican