Tag Archives: Pleasance

CHAMPIONS

★★★★

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

CHAMPIONS

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

★★★★

“cinematic, poignant, visually stunning, and deeply affecting”

We enter a large theatre space and take our seats. The stage is set as a living room: a single lounge chair, a rug, a vintage tube television, a retro stereo system, and an antique Victrola phonograph are the objects that define this memory space. Three walls form a trapezoidal domicile. A live projection appears on one wall, showing the performer, Andreas Constantinou, backstage, preparing for the performance.

The show begins. The house lights fade. The projection now shows Constantinou walking towards the stage. He enters the space and approaches a microphone positioned just outside the constructed room. The house lights fade.

Constantinou begins to speak of reflection, of his eighth performance of this work, judgment, critique, and the saturation of content during the festival. He expresses a desire not to compete, but simply to witness and reflect. Superscript subtitles appear: This is a personal story—yet the projection of these words also tells us that this story is public, transpersonal, and, in many ways, everyone’s story. Created in 2019, the performance was shaped—and later reborn—out of profound grief: the loss of one parent who died alone during the COVID-19 pandemic, followed five months later by the death of the other from a terminal illness.

Champions is a work of exposure and vulnerability. It seeks to uncover what lies beneath: fraught parental relationships, a father’s homophobia, and the experience of masculinity within a heteronormative world.

This is less a piece of traditional theatre than it is a work of significant performance art. A figure sits, reflects, witnesses, and emotionally records. At the same time, a series of memories, symbolic videos, audio recordings, and lighting sequences unfold across the three surrounding walls, the television, the Victrola, and the stereo.

Champions is cinematic, poignant, visually stunning, and deeply affecting. The domestic setting transforms into an art installation—a visual performance space that explores our most intimate emotional truths. It does exactly what it sets out to do: offering a raw, unfiltered portrait of identity, acceptance, and healing. It achieves this strikingly and beautifully, with an unclothed soloist performer, accompanied by lighting, sound, and projection that act as the kinetic corps de ballet of the piece.

We witness Constantinou’s journey through loss and reconciliation with his father. But perhaps more than that, we are invited to see a broader truth—one that reflects the experience of many queer artists who have struggled, wrestled, and ultimately triumphed over similar forms of pain.

We might have expected as much from the very beginning of this work, or even upon reading its listing in the Fringe guide. HimHerAndIt Productions tells us everything we need to know in the name alone. It is neither Him, nor Her, nor And, nor It. The poetry arrives when HIM, HER, AND, and IT collide—ontologically—in a way that creates a new language. It speaks to us from the spaces between these identities, the liminal zones of phenomenological experience.

Champions asks us:

What have you championed in your life?

What have you accepted?

What have you healed?

And most importantly:

What does it mean to be a champion of your own story?



CHAMPIONS

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Reviewed on 6th August 2025 at Pentland Theatre at Pleasance at EICC

by Louis Kavouras

Photography by Christoffer Brekne

 

 

 

 

 

CHAMPIONS

CHAMPIONS

CHAMPIONS

SANTI & NAZ

★★★★

Soho Theatre

SANTI & NAZ

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“Innocence and playfulness mingle with a satire that bites when we least expect it”

Guleraana Mir’s beautifully constructed short play, “Santi and Naz”, is a deceptively innocent and poetic account of an enduring friendship between two young women who grew up in pre-partition India. They are living in an unnamed village, soon to be split in two by new borders that sliced through the lives of millions of unsettled people. The blood spilled still stains the ground decades later. The play, however, avoids making any political commentary on the consequences of (and widespread opposition to) partition. Instead, it zooms in on the very personal effects. And by looking at the world through childish eyes, it becomes more emotively powerful.

Nehru’s (in)famous ‘Tryst with Destiny’ address opens the play, his crackling voiceover heralding the ‘stroke of the midnight hour’. As his words fall and fracture onto a darkened stage, Santi (Aiyana Bartlett) is writing a letter, destined never to be delivered, to childhood friend Naz (Farah Ashraf). The intimacy is ingrained in her memories. Laura Howard’s evocative lighting shifts to warmer shades and we find Santi and Naz years earlier, playing games, dancing, teasing and swooning over the local heartthrob. It is a coming-of-age story whose lightness belies the darkness lurking beneath. Over time that darkness spreads like a shadow between them – a representation of the cultural changes that force them apart. The performances are undeniably strong throughout: Bartlett’s vulnerable and romantic Santi seeking shelter in books and writing, while Ashraf’s more defiant Naz seeks to defy the arranged marriage that threatens her dreams of happiness.

Mir’s script (co-written with afshan d’souza-lodhi) has a natural flow, accentuated by the gorgeous chemistry between the two performers. Innocence and playfulness mingle with a satire that bites when we least expect it. Occasionally the writing confuses, and we are unsure whether there is a sexual undertone to their friendship; but we never doubt the resilience and indestructible strength of their connection. A connection that remains even when separated. Bartlett and Ashraf evocatively present a personal tragedy that mirrors the political one. It skirts around it at times and occasionally overlooks its Western audience, but ultimately it does shine a light on an often-misunderstood period of history.

It is, unfortunately, a universal story. Santi is Sikh and Naz is Muslim; a fact that is neither here nor there for them. Until the British withdrawal. The pair interject their dialogue with uncannily accurate impersonations of the key figures – such as Gandhi and Mountbatten – the latter especially whose actions and decisions affected the lives of those he had little connection with or knowledge about. The weight of the events ‘forces the air from our lungs’ as Naz points out. ‘I no longer know where my people are’.

Poignantly, we come full cycle for the play’s conclusion. Separated on the stage by a wedge of black light, the two characters are back where they started. Looking back, they are both yearning for the other. A friendship divided, a culture split apart, and a country thrown into two opposing sides. The line is drawn. But we are pulled back into the deeply personal: two people who refuse to see their differences. A heartfelt tale of innocence and experience that earns, and deserves, our undivided attention.

 

SANTI & NAZ

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd January 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Paul Blakemore

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

BALL & BOE – FOR FOURTEEN NIGHTS ONLY | ★★★★ | December 2024
GINGER JOHNSON BLOWS OFF! | ★★★ | September 2024
COLIN HOULT: COLIN | ★★★★ | September 2024
VITAMIN D | ★★★★ | September 2024
THE DAO OF UNREPRESENTATIVE BRITISH CHINESE EXPERIENCE | ★★★★ | June 2024
BABY DINOSAUR | ★★★ | June 2024
JAZZ EMU | ★★★★★ | June 2024
BLIZZARD | ★★★★ | May 2024
BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS | ★★★★ | April 2024
SPENCER JONES: MAKING FRIENDS | ★★★★ | April 2024
DON’T. MAKE. TEA. | ★★★★★ | March 2024
PUDDLES PITY PARTY | ★★ | March 2024

SANTI & NAZ

SANTI & NAZ

SANTI & NAZ