January 19, 2023
The Vegan Scene in Singaporeby Randi / June 5, 2019Today is Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is at the Soho Theatre in London until June 8.
Nyla Levy’s sharp play Does My Bomb Look Big in This? wasn’t on my radar, at least not my tickets-months-in-advance-schedule-of-West-End-shows kind of radar, but thank god I learned about it before it was too late because it is one of the most compelling, important shows currently playing in London. That’s a huge accomplishment for a small 80-minute play in the tiny black-box-like attic of the Soho Theatre, where it feels like you’re in for a night of experimental dramatic work from your overeager drama major college friends. But there’s nothing amateur about Bomb or about its sensational writer, and I think Levy will remain an essential voice in theatre in the years to come.
Taking on double duty in her tour de force, Levy stars as 15-year-old Yasmin Sheikh, a girl living in Mitcham (South London), navigating high school bitches, and trying to get a hold of the life she knew as her world falls apart. I don’t know how old Levy is, but I fully believe her as a teenager, easily passing for the Muslim version of Lea Michele in the first season of Glee. After her home life shatters, Yasmin finds herself untethered, and the only thing offering her a hint of security is the stranger who found her online after Yasmin watched ISIS beheading videos a few too many times, but really only as a lark, she says. The stranger, a British woman who moved to Syria because the west is trash and ‘here we’re family’, thinks Yasmin should join her. The way these recruiters can so easily locate potential targets, and how well they tailor their enlistment practices to the targets, felt accurate and terrifying with its superficial breeziness. Since 15-year-olds are children and children make really stupid decisions, Yasmin spontaneously decides to follow the advice of the recruiter and flee to Syria, to become an ISIS bride, leaving the people who love her in a confused, wounded panic and leaving the country more susceptible to reactionary Islamaphobia.
Her best friend, Aisha (a bubbly Halema Hussain), tells us Yasmin’s story, from the beginning of this terrible time until the tragic, heartbreaking ending. A third actor, Eleanor Williams, is the only white one and plays the aforementioned high school bitches, the ISIS recruiter, and others. In one of the funniest parts, Eleanor breaks the fourth wall and asks if they can pause, because she feels like her mean girl character is too much of a one-dimensional stereotype. What about her problems, her insecurities and dreams? Sure, it’s an obvious joke to play on the irony of the white actor feeling typecast when it’s always the other way around, but the genuinely funny moment helps to break up some tension. And Levy’s script allows the story move in this sort of elastic frame that really works for it.
The flexible format of the play feels appropriate, with a youthful, fun vibe despite the subject matter. Comedy is rampant too, with Levy nailing both the current slang and street-speak of South London yoots (I mean I’m guessing) and teaching me a whole lot of new words. (Although I started getting annoyed at how many times they said ‘oh my days.”) The interplay between the three actresses as they shift in and out of various roles quickly, easily, and often humorously feels buoyant and fun, until it doesn’t: Levy’s final turn as Yasmin’s father is heartbreaking and feels like a vital message to the country. These kids, making life- and world-altering decisions when they are in no position to make such decisions, are being stupid, yes, but treating them without compassion or understanding achieves nothing.
Most people think this show is a direct response to the tragedy of Shamima Begum, the British girl who left the UK to join the Islamic State at 15 years old, and who tried unsuccessfully to return home this year in order to give birth. But, just as “Why We Build a Wall” in Hadestown was written years before Trumpism, Levy wrote this play years ago, not as a response to Begum’s tale but as a response to her own experience in the theatre world where she was only offered stereotypical roles for Muslims. Yet in both cases, the timeliness of the art being shown in this climate considerably enhances its meaning and import and helps it resonate in even more significant ways. I honestly did not expect this little show in this little attic to be so incredible, riveting, and painful (in a good way), but it is.
INFORMATION
Tickets are like £20 and considering how strong the play is, it’s probably one of the best values for money possible. It’s closing at the Soho Saturday, and while I am sure it will have a deservedly long life after this run, if you are able to go to the next 3 performances, you really truly must; “it’s bare important” (am I using that right?).
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HABIBI Take 2: The Band’s Visit at the Donmar
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is one of my all-times, The Band’s Visit.
In 2017, I saw a preview of a little Broadway musical based on a little Israeli movie I remembered seeing years and years prior, and for the five years since that night I have rarely gone a day without thinking about how beautiful it was. That’s a long time and a lot of thinking about beauty! No ragrets! For its London premiere at the Donmar, I was hella nervous (this city and its antisemitism, wooof) but need not have been. It was treated with respect, there were no uninformed idiots protesting outside (I had some nightmares), and while it didn’t have all the superb magic of the Broadway run, it was still wonderfully done with still plenty of magic.
Read: Habibi Part 1 (The Broadway review)
The Band’s Visit is the small show that could, a slice of boring life in the Israeli desert where its inhabitants live the same day in and out, waiting for something to change but nothing ever changes, which many people across the world can surely identify with. One day, though, something different happens: a touring Egyptian military band mistakenly arrives in their little one-camel town, having mistaken this town of Bet Hatikva (made up for this show) with their intended destination Petah Tikvah (real place!). Those pesky b’s and p’s! Forced to stay overnight until the next bus, the musicians are put up at various locals’ homes, and relationships are almost-forged, as much as people can connect in almost one evening. Which, as it turns out, is enough to remind us of the importance of human connection.
The beauty of the show that I thought so much about, well, first of all it was mainly the music. This sounds like a nothing story on paper, sure, but David Yazbeck’s music is what brings it alive. With a mix of klezmer, Arabic music, orchestral concertos, all kinds of traditional, lovely sounds from the Middle East, it’s so well considered, so gorgeous and moving, with each melody and lyric serving a purpose, as the best in musical theatre should. This is a show that was clearly edited and discussed to make it the best version of itself it could be, which is probably a good part of why it struck me so deep (so rarely the case!). But also, back up, it’s NOT a nothing story. Itamar Moses (who never got his chance as hosting SNL as the Tony-contender book writers that season were obviously meant to) wrote a subtle, nuanced book that, without you aware in the moment, reminds us of the splendor in everyday life, in interpersonal relationships, in simply humans connecting with other humans. It’s so little and so much all at once, the most important thing in the world presented without a fuss. And the magic of it all is heightened by the fact that we only get a glimpse into each set of characters, each grouping of local Israeli with the Arab musicians they’re hosting. We don’t get full stories or neat conclusions, just glimpses, which makes it all even more relatable, realistic, and touching.
This London production gets bonus points for showing this town what proper representation in a cast can look like: there are actual Israels, Arabs, Jews, Muslims, playing these parts, so it feels authentic and not like, as happens so often here, caricatures. It’s a breath of fresh air to hear stories from the people they’d be about. Everyone is great, but so far into the run they don’t have the same magic connection to the music that the Broadway cast had. Mira Mesika plays Dina, the central character, as much as there is one in a true ensemble piece. Her stage presence and strong singing voice guide the show. Her “Omar Sharif” is gorgeous and when she belted the higher notes it. was. EVERYTHING. The heightened sense of desperation she revealed in her Dina really worked for her interpretation, and her dependable singing was a lovely contrast to Broadway’s Katrina Lenk, although she lacked what made Katrina’s performance so special – that strange mystical physical presence that Katrina used to almost dance through the show, heightening the sense of exoticism and magic.
It’s just different takes, for the most part, and not lack of talent. But I did find myself wishing for the Broadway takes. Our Tewfiq was authoritative and respectable, great especially at the end, but not heartbreaking to the extent Tony Shalhoub was with his adorableness and his sadness. But that’s why Tony is such a big star, that special extra something. Our Haled was fun and very good, but he and the director, I guess, didn’t notice the thing that made Haled on Broadway so effective with just one song that he won a Tony for it: Ari’el Stachel was doing exactly what the song was about – he was melting it. He was actually acting the lyrics: “it’s not about the conversation, the words are like your lips are reaching out to kiss the ears.” When I first saw him on Broadway, I was entranced because it was this otherworldly smooth legato energy coming directly into my ears like a nonstop beam melting the world away. That’s how he won a Tony for singing one song. This Haled was good but was singing the song, not doing the song. It was lovely and fun but wasn’t an act of revolution.
But again these are all tiny tiny differences between the productions, and this one is still fantastic, really served by the tiny stage and intimate theatre. Oh also I think Peter Polyinalltheshows’s iteration of the father character and his song “The Beat of Your Heart” were phenom, excellent stuff. The only slight slight almost a disappointment but of course not really but just a little, is the finale – the Telephone Guy’s song “Answer Me”. This is one of my favorite songs of all time and it lacked a bit of vocal heft here, the strength of the longing and the emotional expression that made Adam Kantor and then the whole cast together leave the audience in tears, feeling their loneliness but all together. It was a stunning theatrical moment that here is lovely and still heart-rending but not heart-breaking in its gloriousness. STILL, I say STILL, this is a wonderful production with a lot of heart and joy and love and I wish I could see it a dozen more times. I’m so glad this beautiful brave little toaster made it here.
INFORMATION
The musical is 100 minutes no intermission, which is…hard! Seriously folks, if you want to call your theatre-making accessible, 100 minutes no intermission is the MAX WE GO. Get over yourself.
The Donmar audience at my show was one of the worst I’ve ever seen! Maybe 2 masks, but we’re used to that by now. No, the horror came from the behavior. People all around talking, not whispering, literally the whole time. People next to us dancing in their seats (when? there are no dance songs!) and making out, it was really just so annoying and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re to blame for any bits of disappointment I felt. Also the man next to me who AFTER THE SECOND SONG, said to his friend “oh I guess this is a musical”. WAS THAT NECESSARY.
ALSO, unforch, the shows that encourage you to film the curtain call and maybe the finale, moves that we thought would placate the filmers, have instead led to people thinking they can film EVERY show’s finale and curtain call, which you can’t! People! You are here! Live! Experience the live theatre, why must you film everything? jfc put your gd phones away!
Speaking of jfc and gd, the Donmar cancelled the first preview of this run because of the Queen’s death which was…like…a month before the scheduled first preview. They said it pushed the rehearsal/tech process back a day. Which I guess is understandable, but if you have a sold out show, or heavily sold, and then you cancel one, shouldn’t you add in another show? So that people who are suddenly out of tickets – especially since they are likely the people most eager to see the show – can actually see it? I know too many fellow first-preview-ticket-holders who were only able to scrounge up like a terrible back of theatre seat in December. Add a f-ing performance if you cancel the first one, guys! What else could be fair? I’m still very angry even though I was not very affected, it’s the principle of the thing.
Wow this little info section made me really f-ing angry and hateful towards my fellow man, guess I have to see the show again and remember that they aren’t all monsters. But then the audience will prob be monsters, and then I’d be stuck in a vicious cycle! Just be better people!
“The Scottsboro Boys” in the West End: As Important to See As Ever, And As Great
Apologies if this is inappropriate when discussing such a serious show, but “The Scottsboro Boys” is like an off-the-rails Stefon sketch (but heavy-hearted). “It has everything: racism, rape, abusive prison guards, an Uncle Sam cracker, blackface, suicide, jokes about New Yorkers, Jew money, quitter minstrels…” “Quitter minstrels?” “It’s that thing of when black actors putting on a horribly racist minstrel show refuse to play along with the white ringleader any longer when the truth becomes too much to bear.”
“The Scottsboro Boys” really does present all of this and much more, in a gut-wrenching, unnerving portrayal of the heart-breaking true story. Actually, it doesn’t have one of the above-listed items: rape. “The Scottsboro Boys” tells the true and depressing story about 9 young black men and boys who were falsely accused of rape in 1931, by two white “Alabama ladies” who were trying to get out of being caught themselves for sneaking onto a train. In our modern society (which is pretty much the same on this issue as it has been throughout history because nothing has improved, really), it’s hard to latch on to the subject of women lying about sexual assault, since that happens only maybe 0.03% of the time yet is argued to be the case 100% of the time.
But the case of the Scottsboro Boys was one of those few times when it was indeed made up, when the allegations were completely and totally false, and it was easy to figure out that the entire years-long, hard-fought battle was a product of the south’s fostered racism. Alabama, where the boys were arrested and imprisoned for so many years, had a regime of punishing black people for no reason and it didn’t want to give up. And no matter how hard the north, the non-corrupt members of the judiciary, and even the Supreme Court wanted to change this regime, the south would not could not would never back down willingly from its tyranny.
Sounds like a perfect idea for a musical, right? Well it is. There’s a stupid stereotype about Broadway musicals out there, that they are pretty much live Disney princess movies where everything is happy and the music comes from people breaking into song due to happiness. People who think this way have probably not seen a musical in a theatre in the past 40 years or so. The majority of great musicals tell complicated stories. The format enhances storytelling of all sorts because, as no one could deny, music has the ability to convey all kinds of emotions and thoughts better than merely speaking can. “The Scottsboro Boys” works as a musical because we think it shouldn’t. The creative team (including music by Kander & Ebb) took this awful, depressing story of our actual history and made a musical version one would never expect: a minstrel show. In this manner, the story becomes even more grotesque and upsetting. The framing device, of a group of black actors telling this tale with high-stepping songs and big smiles (at least in the beginning), lets the audience see even more clearly how disgusting not just this story but all of America’s racist history (and present) is. Some of the songs done in the minstrel fashion are supposed to make you smile and then make you shudder in horror at the fact that you just smiled.
The show is difficult to get through at times, but it’s so worth it. We’ve heard endless awful stories coming out of this time period, but this one really hits you and hurts, due to how familiar and close we get with the characters. The talent on that stage is impressive, and nearly half the actors come from the original Broadway cast. I did not know this going in, because I am a Broadway snob and I assumed that if people I should know were over here, then I’d know it. I am a fool. A fool! The two main minstrels, Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo, are played by Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon. BOTH from the original Broadway cast, BOTH were nominated for featured actor Tony awards. I mean. I just had a momentary slip I guess. I was almost surprised to realize that McClendon was playing Mr. Tambo because his accent was sooo weird, so off-putting. I blamed it on the difficulty I’ve seen too much over here, of British actors butchering an American accent, then taken 4 steps further to make it Southern and comical. But he’s American. I guess it just works for the character but I wanted him to stop! The other original cast member was one of my faves – James T. Lane (who is from Philly and is my new friend), who does double duty as one of the boys and as one of the accusers, along with English actor Dex Lee. Even the White Man (or the Interlocutor), sort of running the minstrel show, is played by Julian Glover. Like, huge British actor that some people in the audience came specifically to see. I had no idea.
The main character is Haywood Patterson, a deep, illiterate, and pessimistic young man who based his life on always telling the truth, an ironic commitment here when telling the truth begets further punishment. While he’s sadly not portrayed by (the awesome and superb) Joshua Henry, the original Broadway cast member who was nominated for a Tony, he’s played by Brandon Victor Dixon, who originated the role off-Broadway and who is actually the one on the recording. (Side note: the off-Broadway company got a recording, so it wasn’t deemed necessary for the Broadway production. But now the London cast is getting a recording! Meaning, it’s pretty much the same people now because of Dixon in the lead again…conclusion, poor Joshua Henry.) Dixon was in “Motown: The Musical” last year and was nominated for “The Color Purple” back with ‘Tasia so he’s prettayyyy great. I just don’t know how I missed all this coming in.
We watch Haywood become a natural leader of this group of strangers, who eventually become more like brothers. We watch as one of the other boys teaches Haywood how to read and write. (This scene could have been more touching, but it was written extremely oddly – mostly about boobs and which letters look like them (spoiler: all of them?). It was very out of place.) Haywood is the character you most connect with and feel for, as his vow to uphold truth backfires in this corrupt judicial system, as he loses the chance to see his mother one last time, as he becomes the last one in prison.
I didn’t really just spoil it, saying that the others eventually get out of prison. There’s no happy ending, and it still takes many, many years before the youngest are first freed. As we learn in a sort of epilogue, freedom doesn’t do much, as their lives have already been destroyed. Most take their own lives, actively or passively letting themselves wither away instead of dealing with the world that knowingly did this to them. Haywood, who could have gotten paroled if he lied and admitted the crime, would never abandon his morals and instead died in jail. Yeah it’s a terrible damn story but it’s important to see. At times I actually had flashes of the thought “damn, I wish courts today paid half as much attention to sexual assault cases.” But the court didn’t give a damn about the supposed victims, or they would have actually listened to them when they recanted their false accusations. They just wanted to punish black people. That’s seriously what happened, and not that long ago either. It’s terrifying, and sad, and somehow the musical context enhances its poignancy. At the end, we learn from a movie-style written credit that the governor of Alabama officially pardoned the boys in 2013. Because the musical called attention to his state’s shitty history, not to pardon all the thousands of innocent black people who were and are victimized in similar ways. At least this story, when told in this very effective fashion, can elucidate the struggle that is still occurring. In that way, it’s a must-see.
Sounds like a perfect idea for a musical, right? Well it is. There’s a stupid stereotype about Broadway musicals out there, that they are pretty much live Disney princess movies where everything is happy and the music comes from people breaking into song due to happiness. People who think this way have probably not seen a musical in a theatre in the past 40 years or so. The majority of great musicals tell complicated stories. The format enhances storytelling of all sorts because, as no one could deny, music has the ability to convey all kinds of emotions and thoughts better than merely speaking can. “The Scottsboro Boys” works as a musical because we think it shouldn’t. The creative team (including music by Kander & Ebb) took this awful, depressing story of our actual history and made a musical version one would never expect: a minstrel show. In this manner, the story becomes even more grotesque and upsetting. The framing device, of a group of black actors telling this tale with high-stepping songs and big smiles (at least in the beginning), lets the audience see even more clearly how disgusting not just this story but all of America’s racist history (and present) is. Some of the songs done in the minstrel fashion are supposed to make you smile and then make you shudder in horror at the fact that you just smiled.
The show is difficult to get through at times, but it’s so worth it. We’ve heard endless awful stories coming out of this time period, but this one really hits you and hurts, due to how familiar and close we get with the characters. The talent on that stage is impressive, and nearly half the actors come from the original Broadway cast. I did not know this going in, because I am a Broadway snob and I assumed that if people I should know were over here, then I’d know it. I am a fool. A fool! The two main minstrels, Mr. Bones and Mr. Tambo, are played by Colman Domingo and Forrest McClendon. BOTH from the original Broadway cast, BOTH were nominated for featured actor Tony awards. I mean. I just had a momentary slip I guess. I was almost surprised to realize that McClendon was playing Mr. Tambo because his accent was sooo weird, so off-putting. I blamed it on the difficulty I’ve seen too much over here, of British actors butchering an American accent, then taken 4 steps further to make it Southern and comical. But he’s American. I guess it just works for the character but I wanted him to stop! The other original cast member was one of my faves – James T. Lane (who is from Philly and is my new friend), who does double duty as one of the boys and as one of the accusers, along with English actor Dex Lee. Even the White Man (or the Interlocutor), sort of running the minstrel show, is played by Julian Glover. Like, huge British actor that some people in the audience came specifically to see. I had no idea.
The main character is Haywood Patterson, a deep, illiterate, and pessimistic young man who based his life on always telling the truth, an ironic commitment here when telling the truth begets further punishment. While he’s sadly not portrayed by (the awesome and superb) Joshua Henry, the original Broadway cast member who was nominated for a Tony, he’s played by Brandon Victor Dixon, who originated the role off-Broadway and who is actually the one on the recording. (Side note: the off-Broadway company got a recording, so it wasn’t deemed necessary for the Broadway production. But now the London cast is getting a recording! Meaning, it’s pretty much the same people now because of Dixon in the lead again…conclusion, poor Joshua Henry.) Dixon was in “Motown: The Musical” last year and was nominated for “The Color Purple” back with ‘Tasia so he’s prettayyyy great. I just don’t know how I missed all this coming in.
We watch Haywood become a natural leader of this group of strangers, who eventually become more like brothers. We watch as one of the other boys teaches Haywood how to read and write. (This scene could have been more touching, but it was written extremely oddly – mostly about boobs and which letters look like them (spoiler: all of them?). It was very out of place.) Haywood is the character you most connect with and feel for, as his vow to uphold truth backfires in this corrupt judicial system, as he loses the chance to see his mother one last time, as he becomes the last one in prison.
I didn’t really just spoil it, saying that the others eventually get out of prison. There’s no happy ending, and it still takes many, many years before the youngest are first freed. As we learn in a sort of epilogue, freedom doesn’t do much, as their lives have already been destroyed. Most take their own lives, actively or passively letting themselves wither away instead of dealing with the world that knowingly did this to them. Haywood, who could have gotten paroled if he lied and admitted the crime, would never abandon his morals and instead died in jail. Yeah it’s a terrible damn story but it’s important to see. At times I actually had flashes of the thought “damn, I wish courts today paid half as much attention to sexual assault cases.” But the court didn’t give a damn about the supposed victims, or they would have actually listened to them when they recanted their false accusations. They just wanted to punish black people. That’s seriously what happened, and not that long ago either. It’s terrifying, and sad, and somehow the musical context enhances its poignancy. At the end, we learn from a movie-style written credit that the governor of Alabama officially pardoned the boys in 2013. Because the musical called attention to his state’s shitty history, not to pardon all the thousands of innocent black people who were and are victimized in similar ways. At least this story, when told in this very effective fashion, can elucidate the struggle that is still occurring. In that way, it’s a must-see.
