Tag Archives: Ryan Joseph Stafford

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

OUR PUBLIC HOUSE

★★★½

Marylebone Theatre

OUR PUBLIC HOUSE

Marylebone Theatre

★★★½

“a captivating story with a real-life conclusion”

Our Public House, finishing its national tour this week at Marylebone Theatre, is very well worth catching as an unusual and highly engaging example of community inspired themes woven into a narrative drama by a professional writer and director.

Dash Arts under the artistic direction of Josephine Burton held speech writing workshops country-wide during which 700 pieces were written by ‘ordinary’ people with something to say. Speech writing workshops are very much part of how 20-year-old Dash Arts brings communities together. Here, writer Barney Norris has taken the workshops’ output to pull together a play with music that is both heartwarming and hard-hitting.

Sanjana, convincingly played by Bharti Patel, has lost her husband. She is trying to keep his late business – a local pub – going but is facing its closure. Her daughter Anika (Chaya Gupta) is developing her own career as a teacher and offers little support but has dropped in for half term. Most of the action is set in the pub – ‘The Albion’. In the background – for now – is a recent failed parliamentary election where so many ballot papers were spoiled that a new candidate – Mary – has been put forward and a new by-election is to be run. Meanwhile the pub regulars drop in for Sanjana’s warmth and support: Scott (Fergus O’Donnell) and Jo (Lauren Moakes). Soon they are joined by the new Labour candidate (played by Gabriella Leon) and her party worker Tom (Kit Esuruoso). They are keen to sit with their potential constituents and find out what matters to this community.

It’s all there and this is a cleverly woven piece – a coat of many colours. Mary is deaf (all dialogue is captioned and sign language is used extensively). Jo is out of jail, living on her mother’s sofa, and desperate to recover her child now in foster care despite her drink problem. Tom is suitably realistic about the value of listening to people’s concerns without the power to act. There are revelations, despair, fun and lots of love.

Surprisingly missing, as has been pointed out during the tour, are the influences created by the rise of the far right in these communities. But this could easily have been too much to assimilate. The second act brings onstage members of the non-professional community, presumably invited in from the workshops, to fill out the cast and deliver two ‘real’ speeches. Every performance celebrates different people and their different speeches. Last night one dwelt on the need to rehumanise society, the other on homelessness. There was an element of singing in these speeches with the pub visitors present joining.

What started as an evening where the creative process was potentially going to be of most interest, ended as a captivating story with a real-life conclusion. There was neither soap nor sentimentality here and the voices, if difficult to listen to, rang true.



OUR PUBLIC HOUSE

Marylebone Theatre

Reviewed on 1st July 2026

by Louise Sibley

Photography by Pamela Raith


 

 

 

 

OUR PUBLIC HOUSE

OUR PUBLIC HOUSE

OUR PUBLIC HOUSE