Tag Archives: Tingying Dong

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

THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO

★★★★★

UK Tour

THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO

Richmond Theatre

★★★★★

“amidst the devastation, Almeida allows moments of tenderness and humour to emerge”

In Anthony Almeida’s powerful stage adaptation of The Beekeeper of Aleppo, the audience is invited into the profoundly moving story of Nuri (Adam Sina) and Afra (Farah Saffari). Based on the acclaimed novel by Christy Lefteri and adapted for the stage by Nesrin Alrefaai and Matthew Spangler, this Nottingham Playhouse production tells a story that refuses to be forgotten – one rooted in the devastating reality of the Syrian war and the refugee crisis it created.

We first meet Nuri in Aleppo, shortly before the outbreak of war forces millions to flee their homes. A master beekeeper, he works alongside his cousin Mustafa (Joseph Long), whose family has kept bees for three generations and runs a shop known for the sweetest honey. Under Almeida’s direction, the production immerses us in Syria through evocative storytelling, traditional songs, and a sand-swept set by Ruby Pugh that evokes both war-torn streets and refugee camps.

The narrative unfolds in a deliberately non-linear way. While the play opens in the sterile isolation of a UK refugee centre – confronting the bureaucracy faced by those seeking asylum – it soon moves between past and present. Through fragments of memory, we witness how Nuri and Afra were forced to leave their home and the perilous journey that carried them across borders.

The play grips the audience from the beginning, placing a quiet weight in the chest that mirrors the emotional burden carried by its characters. Yet amidst the devastation, Almeida allows moments of tenderness and humour to emerge.

Afra has lost her sight – a physical manifestation of an internal shutdown brought on by trauma. We see Nuri desperately trying to find medical help for her, only to encounter the slow machinery of bureaucracy and the barriers faced by refugees navigating an unfamiliar system. As the narrative unfolds, the full scale of their tragedy gradually emerges. This is a painful story to witness: a story of losing everything built over years, of grief, and of learning how to live with memories that refuse to fade.

“We lost our bees. Let’s see if we can save our children.”

We hear stories of the unimaginable, including the haunting image of Nuri’s nephew among bodies in a river. And yet, even after such loss, survival demands that they keep moving. We follow their journey – from Syria to Istanbul and Athens – in the desperate hope of reaching England, where Mustafa is already trying to rebuild a life and return to beekeeping.

Adam Sina delivers a remarkable performance, portraying Nuri with quiet vulnerability and emotional depth. Haunted by trauma, he repeatedly speaks of his son, yet for much of the play we are left uncertain about the child’s fate. This lingering absence, closely tied to Nuri’s PTSD, creates a quiet but devastating tension throughout the production.

The ensemble – including Joseph Long, Aram Mardourian, Alia Lahlou, Princess Khumalo, Dona Atallah, and others – bring impressive versatility to the stage, shifting seamlessly between roles, accents, and locations. With Almeida’s thoughtful direction and Kane Husbands’ striking movement choreography, scenes transition fluidly between the painful present and fragments of memory.

As someone from Greece, watching parts of this journey unfold on stage felt strikingly familiar. The portrayal of tense encounters, crowded squares where refugees wait for the next uncertain step, and the ways in which their vulnerability can be exploited reflects a reality many in the region have witnessed first hand.

Ultimately, The Beekeeper of Aleppo is not only a story about displacement. It is about memory, survival, and the fragile threads that keep people moving forward when everything else has been lost. It leaves you devastated but full of humanity. It makes you see, but also wonder.

And as the play quietly reminds us: wherever there are bees, there is life.



THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO

Richmond Theatre

Reviewed on 10th March 2026

by Nasia Ntalla

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO

THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO

THE BEEKEEPER OF ALEPPO