Tag Archives: Sam Mitchell

KING JAMES

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Hampstead Theatre

KING JAMES at Hampstead Theatre

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“a pitch perfect dissection of male friendship, that tender bond painted in violent strokes”

The saying (almost) goes, of all the unimportant things, sport is the most important.

One reason: sport is the lingua franca of male friendship, all those off-the-shelf metaphors and handy comparisons to fill in for intractable thoughts. Those ups, downs, bruises and heartbreaks. Computers talk in code, men channel life through the fluctuating fortunes of the team they follow.

In King James, we track Matt and Shawn on that journey.

First up, we’re in La Cave du Vin in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and Shawn is here to do a deal for Matt’s precious tickets for the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball team, the Cavs. This is 2004, the rookie season of local hero LeBron James and, even now, these cagey strangers sense he’s going to be an all-time great.

And he’s theirs.

What the two men don’t know yet is that they’re going to be yoked together serving in the court of King James for the next 12 years (we time-jump to 2010, 2014 and 2016) and their friendship will reflect the comings and goings of the basketball star.

The goings (as LeBron sensationally quits for Miami Heat) are a betrayal and a trauma; the comings (when he returns to end half a century of Cavs failure) are a time of euphoria. Unless you judge a man’s worth not by his impact but by his loyalty.

Loyalty is everything to Matt. He is fragile, hangdog out of choice, riding a mostly luckless life. He has aspirations but they don’t take him far. He’s over reliant on his careless privilege and indulgent parents.

Shawn is sharper round the edges, more purposeful, but that doesn’t mean he is destined to carve out prosperity. Shawn heads to New York and LA to pursue a writing career (mirroring the playwright’s own life). Meanwhile, in between moments of good fortune, Matt tends his parents’ dusty bric-a-brac shop.

Matt is white, and Shawn black, which doesn’t matter much until Matt lets slip what Shawn perceives as a slur.

In this delicate, conventional two-hander, the chemistry is bro-code standard – funny, deluded and nerdy. (LeBron better than Jordan? Discuss.)

The story marks out tiny gradations of disappointment, how life is a study in the futility and necessity of connection. Tension underpins everything – who’s winning, who’s losing. Under Alice Hamilton’s direction, Sam Mitchell (Matt) and Enyi Okoronkwo (Shawn) – both excellent – capture the tone and rhythm of the script with such elan, every exchange feels like a hand-wrapped gift.

Arguing over the origin of the word β€œfan”:

Matt: No, it’s for β€œfan” – like electric fan or something.

Shawn: Why would that be the case?

Matt: I dunno! Because we’re cool?

Award-winning playwright Rajiv Joseph is a Cleveland native and this one’s from the heart. His razor-sharp vignettes – slangy and real – are held together with the scar tissue of a veteran sports fan, full of pangs, longing, and the most dreaded thing of all – hope.

King James is a pitch perfect dissection of male friendship, that tender bond painted in violent strokes. Joseph captures these moments in all their delightful and infuriating folly and significance.

You don’t need to know basketball to love King James. You just need to know a man’s essential sorrow.

Treat yourself to a court-side seat.


KING JAMES at Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 21st November 2024

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Mark Douet

 

 


 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN | β˜…β˜… | July 2024
THE DIVINE MRS S | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2024
DOUBLE FEATURE | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2024
ROCK ‘N’ ROLL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2023
ANTHROPOLOGY | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2023
STUMPED | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2023
LINCK & MÜLHAHN | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2023
THE ART OF ILLUSION | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
SONS OF THE PROPHET | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2022
BLACKOUT SONGS | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2022

KING JAMES

KING JAMES

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MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE

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Queen’s Theatre

MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE at the Queen’s Theatre

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“pertinent and important, and a visually strong reimagining of an iconic and powerful story”

When Hanif Kureishi’s romantic comedy-drama film was released in 1985 it was swiftly hailed as being a mirror to society at the time, casting a sharp eye on London life in the height of the Thatcher years. It almost had too much to say, but the central focus – of the romance between Omar, a young Pakistani living in London, and street punk, neo-fascist Johnny – still managed to shine through. Kureishi’s adaptation for the stage holds onto that perspective while simplifying the surrounding complexities of race, class, and economic and social upheaval that defined the era.

We are definitely in 80s territory, with bursts of the Pet Shop Boys music linking the scenes, and misogyny and racism vying for supremacy against the cold, concrete backdrop of Grace Smart’s inspired set. The burgeoning romance from across the divide is echoed by Ben Cracknell’s lighting, throwing neon splashes of colour and hope against the bleak reality. This is a dog-eat-dog world in which a modern day, same-sex β€˜Romeo and Juliet’ attempt to defy the odds.

Omar (Lucca Chadwick-Patel) is a young British-Pakistani saddled with an alcoholic, disillusioned father (Gordon Warnecke) until brash, β€˜loadsamoney’ Uncle Nasser (Kammy Darweish) sets him to work managing his run-down laundrette. In a scuffle with a group of National Front lads, Omar spots old school chum Johnny (Sam Mitchell) who is adrift and hopelessly uncommitted to his Fascist tendencies. They join forces to add the eponymous adjective to the laundrette. The means are dubious, illegal and overflowing with compromise, yet amidst the subterfuge a passionate romance blossoms.

 

 

Despite Kureishi’s rich command of dialogue and monologue, Nicole Behan’s production removes a lot of the plausibility. And despite a strong cast, the collective performance removes most of the poignancy. An overall hesitancy to the acting dampens the dynamics and often strips the lines of feeling. There are exceptions, however, particularly in the second act, when Chadwick-Patel and Mitchell grab their chance to let their talents flicker as Omar confronts Johnny about his fascist past. A beautiful moment that concentrates the pathos, but we wish it could be more evenly distributed throughout the whole play.

Likewise, the inherent comedy is hovering in the wings, not quite brave enough to step onto the stage and announce itself in all its justified glory. As a result, the contrasting danger that underscores the narrative is weakened and it is sometimes difficult to differentiate the two. Johnny’s National Front sidekicks, while intentionally ridiculous, come across as boyish caricatures.

The play depicts an era, but sadly some of the issues are still with us, albeit in different forms in our age of social media. The production captures the essence of its time while still managing to feel contemporary. And the finale is uplifting, with a feel-good factor that pre-empts the progress society has made over the last four decades. That we still have some way to go is skilfully brought out in this production. However it can be argued that the show, too, has still some way to go to fulfil its promise.

It is pertinent and important, and a visually strong reimagining of an iconic and powerful story. The production values are high, but ultimately the stakes are low.


MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE at the Queen’s Theatre

Reviewed on 29th February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Ellie Kurttz

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WILKO | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2024
THE WITCHFINDER’S SISTER | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021

MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE

MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page