Tag Archives: Priyanga Burford

A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

★★★

Minerva Theatre

A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

Minerva Theatre

★★★

“Ambitious and undoubtedly well-intentioned”

Wartime heroes are often reduced to a handful of facts: names, missions, acts of courage and sometimes the date of their death. Stephanie Street’s a small and quiet light attempts to look beyond those headlines, bringing the extraordinary life of Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan, the first female radio operator sent undercover into occupied France by Britain’s Special Operations Executive, into intimate focus. Betrayed and captured in Paris in 1943, Noor faces interrogation and almost certain death.

The play moves between the interrogation room and memories of Noor’s childhood, young adulthood in Paris and her wartime service, gradually revealing a quiet, determined and courageous woman. Yet it only brushes the surface of a life that offers considerably more dramatic material. The dialogue is often overly explicit, while the production rarely generates the energy or passion needed to make Noor’s story feel truly urgent. For all that is at stake, there are times when it is difficult not to wonder: what is the point of it all?

At its heart, a small and quiet light should be a compelling story of courage and sacrifice, but the play remains frustratingly straightforward. Noor’s mixed Indian and American heritage is referenced, although it is unclear what significance the play intends it to have. Her father leaving the family to return to India when she was 13 and the fact that she had a fiancé before the war are also mentioned but barely explored. These details could have added greater depth to the story and it is frustrating that these glimpses are not explored further.

The decision to use an all-female cast is laudable, but its execution creates another barrier. Elin Schofield’s direction does not always provide enough clarity between the multiple roles, and we often have to wait for dialogue to establish who a character is and sometimes even whether they are male or female. Costume, physicality and vocal characterisation do not always do enough to distinguish the roles. This becomes particularly disappointing in a potentially poignant sequence towards the end, when it is not immediately clear what gender a group of people is meant to be, or even whether we have encountered them before.

A similar issue occurs in the first flashback, when Noor’s age is unclear. When the action flashes back to 1926, the same actress and costume are used and, although we understand that Noor is meant to be a child, the physical and vocal characterisation do little to establish that she is 12. It is a strange choice given that Kiah Arya is listed as Young Noor, although confusingly only appears as young Noor towards the end.

Priyanga Burford carries the production as Noor, bringing warmth and a quiet determination to a demanding role that takes her through decades of Noor’s life. Caoilfhionn Dunne is excellent as Vogt, Noor’s interrogator. Their interrogation, stretching from day one through to day 44, develops an unexpected arc of mutual respect, weariness and something approaching friendship. Dunne brings a subtle complexity to the relationship, making their increasingly personal exchanges among the production’s strongest material.

Anna Yates’ set and costume design is relatively simple. A raised platform surrounds a lower square well with a metal grid floor, which works particularly effectively as the interrogation room and prison but is adapted for other locations too. Piano stools, reflecting Noor’s love of music, create additional seating areas while concealing props. Costumes are generally appropriate to the period, although Noor’s much-talked-about blue suit for the wartime escapades is worn throughout, making that particular plot point feel rather pointless.

Ultimately, a small and quiet light is a disappointing production of a story that deserves to be more compelling. Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan’s life is extraordinary, but the play too often tells us why we should find it extraordinary rather than allowing us to experience that through the drama itself. Ambitious and undoubtedly well-intentioned, a small and quiet light leaves the frustrating feeling that there is a far more powerful play about Noor waiting to be made.



A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

Minerva Theatre

Reviewed on 27th August 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Marc Brenner


 

 

 

 

A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

A SMALL AND QUIET LIGHT

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE

★★★★

Duke of York’s Theatre

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE at the Duke of York’s Theatre

★★★★

“The performances are superb. Matt Smith, as Dr. Thomas, owns the stage.”


Before Henrik Ibsen even became a playwright, he was well known for his controversial, anti-establishment opinions. His early works, and poetry, revealed his rebellious nature as he challenged convention and criticised society. His dramatic works cut deeper into the darker side, holding up a mirror to human nature and its inherent hypocrisies. Inevitably he was met with divided opinion. “An Enemy of the People” was no exception, and Thomas Ostermeier’s modern adaptation (translated by Duncan MacMillan) looks set to be equally divisive.

Co-adapted by Florian Borchmeyer, the play’s structure is also two-sided; the interval acting as a sharp watershed between two very different landscapes, even though it overlooks the same, indeterminate, Middle England spa town. It opens with a song. The main players comprise a shaky, indie-folk-rock band, the initial conversations breaking away from the music then weirdly segueing into Bowie’s ‘Changes’. It is difficult to determine whether this subplot has a purpose, or whether it is a surreal contrivance, but it soon gets forgotten anyway. The music is definitely not their day job.

Dr. Thomas Stockmann is the chief medical officer at the town’s spa baths. He has discovered that the spa’s water is contaminated. Wanting to do all he can to alert the citizens he enrols newspaper hacks Hovstad and Billing to run the story in order to prevent the town being poisoned – possibly to death. He faces opposition in the shape of his brother Peter, the town mayor who sees the closure of the baths as the death knell to the town. There is tension too between Thomas and his wife Katharina, the local upstanding yet radical schoolteacher.

The dialogue bounces along breezily, occasionally bogged down with the earnestness of late-night-student-digs debates. Yet the writing recognises this pitfall and manages to pre-empt the charges and poke fun at itself. “You sound like an undergraduate” quips Thomas to Hovstad. The blackboard walls of Jan Pappelbaum’s set are strewn with pseudo-scholarly slogans, which are eventually whitewashed over – figurately and literally. The arguments that are dished up, however, are chillingly pertinent and so close to the bone that there isn’t enough skin left to make crawl.

 

 

The performances are superb. Matt Smith, as Dr. Thomas, owns the stage. A lone wolf howling at the moon, his single-mindedness streaked with a naivety and good intentions, while Jessica Brown Findlay’s Katharina stands by him, despite being constantly at the end of her tether. Shubham Saraf, as journalist Hovstad, feeds Thomas’ fervour, encouraging his crusade like Lady Macbeth. Is he after the truth, though, or just a good story? His own quest for the truth dissolves in the saliva from the Judas kiss he plants on Thomas. Fellow journo Billing is ultimately equally disloyal – Zachary Hart giving an outstanding performance as the comic foil. There is much humour too in Paul Hilton’s mayor, Peter. As smooth and slippery as an eel his words drip from his angular grimace. The naked face of capitalism and pragmatism that is all too familiar on our front pages. Katharina’s father, Morten Kill, is an imposing figure in Nigel Lindsay’s hands. Bizarrely an Alsatian dog is also in his hands, presumably a metaphor for the dark, shady, business-minded aspects of Kill’s character beneath the leftist veneer. The dog is too friendly and well behaved to pull it off, however. Conflicts of interest also plague Aslaksen, the newspaper’s publisher. Priyanga Burford brilliantly swings from devout, self-serving pragmatism to obsequious cowardice in a glorious deadpan and often funny performance.

The second act is a completely different beast. Much snappier and forceful, it is full to the brim with contemporary, post-Brexit, post-Covid references and up-to-the-minute echoes of modernist realpolitik. It rips down the fourth wall completely, inviting the audience into a ‘Question Time’ scenario. It is obvious there are some plants in the audience, but the effect is immediate and chilling. The real coup is Matt Smith’s tirade at the podium. Brilliantly and convincingly delivered. Smith is flawlessly believable, earning his ovation, whether one agrees with him or not.

A paint splattered transition leads us into the final, short act. The journey there has been almost as messy as the stage now is (I pity the backstage crew) but it has been swaggering, anarchic and fearless. And we are rewarded with an unexpected hook. In the course of the last two hours is has been difficult to decide whether Thomas is an enemy of the people or an enemy to himself. A final twist – a mere meeting of eyes – will help you decide.


AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE at the Duke of York’s Theatre

Reviewed on 21st February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

BACKSTAIRS BILLY | ★★★★ | November 2023
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING | ★★★★ | February 2023

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE

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