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LITTLE BROTHER

★★★

Jermyn Street Theatre

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“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.

 



LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 21st May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

 


 

 

 

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

OUTLYING ISLANDS | ★★★★ | February 2025
THE MAIDS | ★★★ | January 2025
NAPOLEON: UN PETIT PANTOMIME | ★★★★ | November 2024
EURYDICE | ★★ | October 2024
LAUGHING BOY | ★★★ | May 2024
THE LONELY LONDONERS | ★★★★ | March 2024
TWO ROUNDS | ★★★ | February 2024
THE BEAUTIFUL FUTURE IS COMING | ★★★★ | January 2024
OWNERS | ★★★½ | October 2023
INFAMOUS | ★★★★ | September 2023

 

Little Brother

Little Brother

Little Brother

Sold

Sold

★★★★

VAULT Festival 2020

Sold

SOLD

Studio – The Vaults

Reviewed – 30th January 2020

★★★★

 

“a masterclass in storytelling with minimal set, proving the power of words”

 

It’s the first week of VAULT Festival, London’s ever-expanding arts event, and 2020 appears, so far, to be the year of powerful messages and thought-provoking performances. SOLD very much fits this bill. A hugely evocative piece of Black British theatre, it effectively portrays our human need and right for freedom.

SOLD tells the story of Mary Prince, a West Indies slave who went on to become a British autobiographer and abolitionist. Her tale was the first published account of a black woman’s life to hit the UK. Kuumba Nia Arts takes Prince’s story off the page and brings her to life in a vivid, raw fashion. Amantha Edmead becomes the courageous woman as well as the numerous white enslavers that Prince was passed between. The back breaking work, the lashings, the inhumane living conditions of Mary Prince’s life are depicted in graphic detail. Edmead is joined on stage by Angie Amra Anderson, fellow performer and drummer, where together they use traditional songs and rhythms of West Africa to intertwine and be at one with the action.

This is a masterclass in storytelling with minimal set, proving the power of words. Edmead is a pro at manipulating her body, face and voice to transition with ease between ten plus characters, all done with such precision that never once does it get wishy washy and confusing as to who she has morphed into – even in regularly fast scene changes. Edmead throws emotional punches that land right in your stomach, forcing you to not sit there impassive and apathetic.

Anderson’s drumming is an integral element of the performance. It’s a relic of Mary’s past, her heritage. The beat of the drum is like a call to arms from her ancestors, willing her to find strength to carry on. Anderson could so easily be detached from the action but director Euton Daley purposefully encompasses her into the story, creating a dialogue between the two women.

A simple metal frame that’s wrapped in rope and costume pieces (created by Nomi Everall) is the centrepiece and main component of the set, giving space for the story to dominate and take the spotlight. The most striking element of the set is the hanging noose that looms at the back of the stage, striking a blunt reminder of how ever present the threat of death was in the life of a slave.

Often slavery is remembered in an American context but SOLD unapologetically reminds us how big a role Britain played in the business of selling human flesh. Mary Prince was just one of the millions who endured the barbarism of the slave trade, but one of the few whose personal, detailed account of it has survived. This is an important story that needs to be passed down and passed around so that we remember. As is mentioned at the end of the show, this is a piece of history still very much a part of our present.

 

Reviewed by Phoebe Cole

 

VAULT Festival 2020

 

 

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