★★★

“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.

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

★★★★★

“its scale is epic, almost biblical”

Apparently, “The Mongol Khan” is a milestone for Mongolian theatre. It marks the first time that a play has been exported outside of the country. To say that it is an eye opener is an understatement. For one, Mongolia itself is still a bit of a closed book to most Londoners, let alone what it has to offer culturally. Written in the late nineties by national playwright Lkhagvasuren Bavuu, “The Mongol Khan” packs in millennia of tradition into three thousand lines of verse. On completion, Bavuu stated that ‘when I die, I will look back and appreciate this play as the zenith of my literary career’. In this respect, his friend and acclaimed director Hero Bataar has done him proud with his revival after the writer’s passing in 2019.

A soft rain falls onto a crowded St Martin’s Lane outside the London Coliseum. But up close, the showers part in an almost celestial way. Silk clad horsemen stand on ceremony while strikingly dressed performers wander through the crowds. A sense of occasion hangs in the air. The UK is the first port of call as the show sweeps into the Western World, having been banned from Inner Mongolia – a province of China – by the Beijing authorities.

Hero Bataar describes it as a ‘tragedy drama’. In my mind that is a modest account. Yes, it is tragic and dramatic, but its scale is epic, almost biblical. Yet throughout, its execution is microscopic and meticulous in its detail. A seventy strong ensemble complement the seven core players. It is essentially a dance piece. But also a kind of spoken-word opera. Translated by John Man and adapted for the London stage by Timberlake Wertenbaker, it is presented in its native language with surtitles. The text is rhythmic and metered, like a libretto waiting for the skilled hand of a master composer. Here, though, the music, composed by Birvaa Myagmar and Odbayar Battogtokh, underscores the pauses, the movement, the very breath and lifeblood of the heightened emotions.

“The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times”

The play is set two thousand years ago in central Asia at the beginning of the Hunnic Empire. Loosely based on Genghis Kahn, it follows the fictional Archug Kahn (Erdenebileg Ganbold) and his two wives – Tsetser, the Queen (Uranchimeg Urtnasan) and Gerel, the Queen Consort (Dulguun Odkhuu). Both women bear sons at the same time. Whilst Khan accepts Gerel’s son as his own, doubts hang over his paternity of the Queen’s son – their relationship has not been physical for quite some time. His trusted chancellor, Egereg (Bold-Erdene Sugar) is revealed to be the true father but he tries, unsuccessfully, to convince the Khan otherwise. The Khan avoids doubt and chooses Gerel’s son to be his heir. Desperate to secure his own son’s position as the future Khan, Egereg plots to secretly switch the babies and corrupt the royal bloodline. What ensues is a story of betrayals, struggles, battles, deceit, sacrifice, and above all vengeance. With a body count that might even make Shakespeare take stock, bloodstains (figurative and literal) colour most of the action, words, thoughts and motives.

Central to the production is the visual impact. The creative team is too vast to single any one out, and the collaboration probably stretches way beyond the programme notes anyway. Bold Ochirjantsan’s costumes are the result of a two-year alliance with historians, archaeologists, artists and craftsmen. Consequently, we are immersed in centuries of the Hunnic world and dazzled by the jaw-dropping array and spectacle. A panoramic window to the Mongol spirit, thrown open wider still to reveal its culture in the choreography. But throw all intellectual aspirations aside and just marvel in the spectacle. The aesthetics merge as one – dance, movement, music, poetry, sound and light; and art in all its glory. Backstage must be mayhem. But that is not our concern; the magic happens onstage. The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times – you refocus your eyes to see things you couldn’t see initially.

The lead performers are outstanding – particularly Urtnasan as the Queen whose maternal instincts gut wrenchingly vie with regal loyalty. Ganbold’s sonorous authority holds court as the Khan, battered by deception, mutiny and dissatisfaction. This is a burning production – passionate and thirsty – where the choreography is metaphor and symbolism carving through it like a sabre, gouging out its fateful finale. It simply must be seen. If you don’t want to listen to me, just prick up your ears and hear the thunderous applause coming from the Coliseum.

“The Mongol Khan” is a spectacular event. An extravaganza where Shakespeare meets Verdi. The curtain went up late. “We apologise for the delay” came the announcement, “this is due to unprecedented queues at the box office”. May these queues continue. We get the feeling they will, and you’ll do well to secure your place in them.

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“It is certainly a story that must be told”

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 21st May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

Little Brother

Little Brother

Little Brother

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

★★★★★

“its scale is epic, almost biblical”

“The vast playing space is multi-layered, almost like an optical illusion at times”

THE MONGOL KHAN at the London Coliseum

Reviewed on 20th November 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Katja Ogrin

More shows reviewed by Jonathan:

The Mongol Khan

The Mongol Khan

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