LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“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.

LITTLE BROTHER

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 21st May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

OUTLYING ISLANDS | ★★★★ | February 2025

THE MAIDS | ★★★ | January 2025

NAPOLEON: UN PETIT PANTOMIME | ★★★★ | November 2024

EURYDICE | ★★ | October 2024

LAUGHING BOY | ★★★ | May 2024

THE LONELY LONDONERS | ★★★★ | March 2024

TWO ROUNDS | ★★★ | February 2024

THE BEAUTIFUL FUTURE IS COMING | ★★★★ | January 2024

OWNERS | ★★★½ | October 2023

INFAMOUS | ★★★★ | September 2023

Little Brother

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

The Wetsuitman begins as a farce. The three actors metatheatrically ponder who their characters are to be, settling on caricatures from a send up of a Nordic Noir. In this, The Wetsuitman begins as one thing we think we know, so long as you religiously watched The Killing a decade ago. But by the final scene 80 minutes later, we are a world away from a comforting murder mystery and are forced to face the stark, human consequences of the alienation of refugees across Europe.

This is a true and extraordinary story, translated to stage with some brave directorial choices. The four scenes are almost better understood as vignettes, and while occasionally confusing, telling a story this vast with just three actors and three orange chairs on an otherwise bare stage is certainly an achievement.

The play, written by Freek Mariën and translated by David McKay, borrows heavily from an article by journalist Anders Fjellberg, published in Norwegian paper Dagbladet. Reading that piece this morning, I recognised many of the lines from the stage. These verbatim quotes give the play heart, with idiosyncratic comments and unfiltered observations that can be profound, prejudiced and humourous in turn.

Each scene, from bumbling detectives on a Norwegian coastline, to a mourning family in Syria, has a significantly different theatrical direction (Trine Garrett). The piece lends itself to this patchwork style, with no single character serving as an anchor throughout. However, this sometimes meant I had to keep checking my notes and the cast list to keep up. For example, in the second scene, the cast switches between fourteen different talking heads, many of which are simply credited as ‘another salesperson’. It’s not a surprise that some of these are more distinct than others.

The tone changes again in the third scene which is set in the Calais Jungle refugee camp and for the only time in the piece, the actors are amplified with microphones. Only their voices are used to guide the audience through the Jungle, as Nikiforos Fintzos’ sound and Amy Daniel’s lighting throughout is kept minimal. Bringing out the microphones felt like an unnecessary and fussy addition; I half expected they would augment singing, or some other vocal effects that never came.

All stagey conventions and tech fall away by the final scene, which features excellent naturalistic acting from the cast of three – David Djemal, Eugenia Low and Youness Bouzinab. Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.

Throughout the piece, significance is given to the role of the press in homage to investigative journalists behind the The Wetsuitman article. It was journalists who managed to solve this missing persons case when the authorities in Norway, the Netherlands, France and the UK could not recognise a person who ‘officially was not even here’. This point is for the most part subtly made, as the play keeps journalists off-stage, with their interviewees and sources only portrayed. Only a couple of times does the writing lean towards a larger conspiracy of ‘threats’ hanging over characters who speak to the press. This feels like a detraction from otherwise fair criticism of the inadequacies and apathy within the official investigative forces.

The Wetsuitman is a piece that lends itself to reflection and concentration. Though it was hard to pick out all the details live, after going back to the source material I was struck by how much was faithfully packed into the play. It might not have needed all of this, but I am glad they tried.

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 WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 29th August 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Tim Morozzo

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Wetsuitman

The Wetsuitman

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