Dance music has seemed to have had a bit of renaissance (excuse the pun!) in the mainstream this summer …

With artists like Drake and Beyoncé coming out with dance albums, with the latter arguably becoming the soundtrack of the summer. Music and indeed dancing is made for community, and so made the perfect topic of discussion for the Bush Theatre’s Young Company play, ANTHEM!

Celebration of the richness of the community that lives in west London and broadly in the UK seems to be at the heart of the Bush Theatre’s aim and it has established its commitment to this community, particularly this year with productions like House of Ife and Red Pitch. ANTHEM is no different.

As soon as you enter the theatre, you are welcomed by DJ and Young Company member Jonny Khan spinning the tracks. Due to the pandemic, we have been so robbed of these communal gatherings, that in some ways I felt nostalgic watching the show. This idea of nostalgia fits in with the confessional style of monologues in this piece. I enjoyed ANTHEM’s exploration of what it means to be a young person today, growing up in a world where you are hyper-connected due to social media, but that connectivity also breeding isolation. Coral Wylie and Maryam Garad’s monologues on this topic were particularly moving.

Although ANTHEM’s costuming gave Hunger Games vibes, the cast definitely provided colour and vibrancy to the show. The use of movement and spoken word pieces accompanied by music varied the pace of the performance and buoyed the narrative forward. Jordan Haynes’ dance sequence to Whitney Houston’s ‘I Want to Dance With Somebody’ perfectly captured the essence of this. At times, however, I did wish there was more narrative structure, as I found it difficult to ascertain what exactly the piece wanted to say about music/dance and protest due to the disconnected monologues.

ANTHEM was performed at the Bush over carnival weekend and so Young Company member, Bashiie Baptiste’s balanced personal reflection on carnival felt very fitting, especially given the Bush’s location in west London. Baptiste’s piece colourfully explored the origins of carnival in riot and protest. This fit in with the show’s exploration of protest captured also very well in a scene with Coral Wylie and James Walsh, exploring the collective movement of bees to kill an invader. Although this scene was a bit lengthy, it enforced the importance of collective rather than individual action to enact change.

ANTHEM ends in a climax rather than a resolution, and the disruption of the five-act structure completely works in their favour and confirms what these young people have sought out to do: disrupt old ways of doing things in favour of creating their own path. The Young Company gathered together onstage and stomped and howedl as Sara Dawood delivered a political spoken word piece. Normally, I would find this sort of ending a bit overkill, but it completely fit the heart of this piece.

16-25-year-olds lives have felt (negatively) in focus over the last two years: school disrupted, social life disrupted, Black Lives Matter and the climate crisis. They have and we have every right to be angry with the world the older generation has left us with.

It felt really important to see these young and diverse theatre-makers scream and laugh and I loved how every Young Company member was given a moment to shine. Watching them perform, I was reminded of the purpose of young communities – for young artists to figure out their own style and voice creatively and also to play. If ANTHEM is any indication, this new generation of artists has a lot to say and knows exactly how to make us listen.

ANTHEM ran @ The Bush Theatre

Dipo Baruwa-Etti’s highly anticipated The Clinic opens with a picture-perfect portrait of a nuclear Black British middle-class family.

As the family gather to celebrate father Segun’s (Maynard Eziashi ) 60^th birthday, cracks begin to show as daughter Ore (Gloria Obianyo) delivers biting remarks to her policeman brother Bayo ( Simon Manyonda) and Labour MP sister-in-law, Amina (Mercy Ojelade ). Fair Play’s Monique Touko shows her deftness in navigating pace here, guiding the family’s overlapping conversations, resonant for anyone who has grown up in a large Nigerian family.

This window into the life of a Black British family feels particularly timely given the discussion of representation politics within the new Conservative cabinet, and characters lament over ‘the Kwartengs and the Badenochs’, examples of Black British middle-class individuals who internalise tools of oppression and weaponise them against their own community. Indeed, Black people being complicit in structures of whiteness feels topical and choosing to question that at an institution like the Almeida, is a bold choice from Baruwa-Etti. The generational divide between Ore and her Tory-voting parents, who try to be indulgent of their daughter’s interest in activism, can be felt as they continue to watch the rest of their world from their marbled kitchen island, sleekly designed by Paul Wills.

The play’s first half whizzes past and at times, it feels like the scene is hastily set to make room for Wunmi’s entrance into the family home, which the play does well to anticipate. Baruwa-Etti is a talent, and he clearly thinks not just about entertaining an audience but also about provoking conversations, as seen in his melding of politics with poetry – the line ‘I continue to labour when I should be conserving my energy’ sticks out.

Cue the entrance of Wunmi (Toyin Ayedun-Alase), an activist with suicidal thoughts whom, under the instruction of her mother, is invited by Ore into their home, the eponymous ‘Clinic’. The idea of Wunmi becoming housewife Tiwa’s (played brilliantly by Donna Berlin) ‘project’ is fascinating, and here there are flashes of brilliance as Baruwa-Etti explores the class divide between the two characters.

The play’s poster seeks to establish the relationship and parallels between Wunmi and Ore: both are burnt-out healers – Ore, a junior doctor and Wumni, a community organiser. You can feel the desperation of Wunmi as she begs Ore to help her end her life. The possibility of friction between the two women is potent but never feels realised. Wunmi’s entrance into Ore’s family home should feel like a massive disruption or at least cause the play to spin on its axis, but instead as an audience member, I felt confused by the play’s lack of direction.

The muddling plot is bolstered, however, by the performances of an assured and talented cast, particularly Gloria Obianyo’s Ore. When Obianyo enters each scene, she holds her exasperation in her body: rolling eyes, a long drag of her cigarette, the sluggish removal of her coat as if she doesn’t want to be there in the first place. She is tired – tired from working long hospital shifts, tired of her family’s indifference, tired of being part of a system that fails to help the most vulnerable. Much to her parents’ disdain, she continues to light up her cigarettes, the only thing in her life that she can control. Indeed, fire is a big theme in this play but despite this fact, the play does not burn uncontrollably the way you want it to. Instead, the whole production feels measured in the same way Ore lights up her cigarettes, controllable and predictable. For all its smoke, we actually don’t ever find the fire.

For the early promise of The Clinic’s eerie horror elements – Matt Haskin’s crackling lights, a Peele-Esque brew that makes you forget all of your troubles, the menace does not follow through. Particularly as the play seeks to acknowledge the systems that grind Black people psychologically and physically, the most disappointing aspect of this production is its lack of tension and threat. The show attempts to pivot the external threat of a racist society on Black people, to the internal threat of Black people not supporting each other, but at times I was confused about who/what was in control, a concept that would have been quite interesting to unfurl and notably handled frustratingly well in Baruwa-Etti’s debut An unfinished man.

Although left unclear about the show’s overall commentary on activism and care in the Black community, one thing that is clear is Baruwa-Etti’s talent and he will continue to be a writer whose work I look out for in the future.

The Clinic runs until 1st October @ Almeida Theatre

Dael Orlandersmith’s Yellowman, is still daring in how it picks apart colourism in the Black community

The Pulitzer Prize-nominated Yellowman follows Alma, a dark-skinned Black woman and Eugene (Gene), a light skinned Black man who have grown up together during the 60s in South Carolina. Through tracking the growth of the relationship, Orlandersmith explores the intersection of race and gender in a way I have never seen before onstage.

Colourism can be defined as prejudice or discrimination against individuals with a dark skin tone, among the same ethnic or racial group, with those of a lighter skin tone receiving preferential treatment because of their proximity to whiteness. Choosing to zero in on the topic of colourism within the Black community rather than the larger societal issue of racism, shows Orlandersmith’s interest in creating dialogue internally within the Black community rather than externally. Indeed, this is shown refreshingly in the fact that there are no white characters in the play and whiteness is not referred to throughout.

In Alma’s opening monologue, Orlandersmith establishes the binary – darkness is linked to hard work and toil as they would work all day in the sun, whereas lightness is linked to leisure and softness. Nadine Higgin, as Alma beautifully embodies how dark-skinned Black women are not afforded softness. This is poignantly captured when Gene kisses her for the first time. Apprehensive, she raises her hands up in defence before accepting his tenderness, allowing her arms to fall around his shoulders. Earlier on, Alma’s painful retelling of her mother Odelia’s relationship with her father, explains this apprenhension, Alma knows that for dark-skinned women like her, there is a thin and ambiguous line between violence and desire.

Yellowman is beautifully written and for what is essentially a pair of monologues does not feel static under Diane Page’s direction. Higgin, a standout from this summer’s Legally Blonde the Musical, continues to shine here, finding an equal in Aaron Anthony, and their interplay is what makes this show so transfixing to watch. As Alma, Higgin is loud with her confusion and self-disgust, her body quaking with it, whilst Anthony’s Gene is restrained, allowing it to chew him up from the inside out until he tragically bites back at the end. As the only two characters on stage, they effortlessly morph into different characters with a subtle change of voice and posture. Through Orlandersmith’s choice of multi-rolling, both Gene and Alma are forced to embody parts of themselves that they hate.

Skin tone and features are not the only thing passed through the bloodline but also self-hatred. Families are mirrors and through their parents, Gene and Alma learn to hate themselves. Indeed, the title Yellowman is reminiscent of The Bogeyman, and Blackness is seen as something to be scared of; ‘his Jack o lantern’ face. Alma condemns her body from the outset, ‘’I don’t wanna be dark an big-make me pretty God-make me light and pretty!’. Here, Alma is reminiscent of Celie in The Color Purple – when the world and your own mother calls you ugly so many times, you’ll end up believing it. Orlandersmith’s repetitive concentration on the anatomy of the Black body: ‘nappy head’, ‘blue-black’, shows her awareness of how the world sees Black people, particurlaly Black women and how that has taught them how they should view themselves. This is also seen in the often-animalistic way darker skinned Black women are described, ‘panting like a dog’. 

As per Orlandersmith’s wishes, Niall McKeever’s set is naked, and this restraint is almost suffocating as you have no other choice but to focus on the two actors and their stories. This feeling is completed by Esther Kehinde Ajayi’s sound design, which almost aware of the heaviness of its topics, is unobtrusive, with sounds reverberating as the characters digest hard truths.

There is a psychological theory that patterns repeating themselves are opportunities for patterns to work themselves out, an opportunity for the cycle to break. The play’s ending, however, abruptly wrenches us from Alma and Gene’s world, and it is left ambiguous whether or not the cycle has been broken, a powerful move which allows the audience to dream about their own resoluton.

Written over twenty years, Dael Orlandersmith’s Yellowman, is still daring in how it picks apart colourism in the Black community, and the fact that it still feels so revolutionary, shows how much further we have to go in unravelling it.

Yellowman runs until 8th October @ Orange Tree Theatre

Sule Rimi is an actor who has extensive credits on stage and on screen …

Sule recently played Turnbo in Tinuke Craig’s critically acclaimed production of August Wilson’s Jitney at The Old Vic which also received a national tour. Other recent theatre acting credits include those for Nadia Fall’s production of Three Sisters in 2019), Donmar Warehouse (in Josie Rourke’s Measure for Measure and Lynette Linton’s Sweat, which also transferred to the West End, in 2018/19), the Old Vic (in Rachel Chavkin’s production of The American Clock and All My Sons, with many more under his belt.

Sule will now star in the National Theatre’s Blues for an Alabama Sky directed by Artistic Director of the Bush Theatre, Lynette Linton. Blues for an Alabama Sky is set in 1930, a year into the Depression and during the Harlem Renaissance, and follows four friends whose lives, passions and politics collide when a stranger from Alabama arrives. The play is written by African-American playwright Pearl Cleage and the cast includes Samira Wiley, making her UK stage debut, alongside Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo, Osy Ikhile and Giles Terera.

We caught up with Sule ahead of Blues for an Alabama Sky’s run…

Introduce yourself …

My name is Sule.

Please share a word or sentence which best describes your life right now.

“Living the dream“.

Blues for an Alabama Sky features some of your former collaborators – you worked with director Lynette Linton, Hazel Holder (dialect coach), Osy Ikhile on Sweat, as well as Ronke in Three Sisters. What has it been like collaborating with these creatives again?

Like I said am living the dream. Working in such a competitive industry is kind of a privilege but when you get to work with people that you know, admire, respect and love on a regular basis is beyond a bonus. Super excited to be sharing a stage with King Giles for the first time (which we’ve been trying to make happen for a few years now) and Samira is the icing on this incredibly rich and layered cake.

The show is set during the Harlem Renaissance, a time often looked at as a time of great cultural revival and expression within the Black community and there has been a lot of discussion recently on how Black British theatre is going through a renaissance in itself. How does it feel being a Black actor at this moment?

I’ve seen some incredible black plays this year. Red Pitch, For Black Boys, House of Ife to name but a few. It’s satisfying to see our stories being told with regularity and on the biggest stages whether it be locally or regionally.

You play Sam in Blues for an Alabama Sky. Tell us more about your character.

He’s a doctor that burns the candle at both ends. If he’s not delivering babies at Harlem hospital he’s either at Guy’s and Angel’s or with them partying it up on the relentless Harlem party scene. He plays as hard as he works and he’s very good at both.

You were recently in Jitney at The Old Vic, another play by an African American playwright, what do you think British audiences can take away from Blues for an Alabama Sky?

So much but mainly I think people will be inspired to pursue their dreams (especially when they seem least likely to be fulfilled) and grab the opportunity to realise them when they can because once you do you never know how long it will last or if it will ever be possible to achieve again.

When taking on a project, what do you look for as an actor? What immediately draws you to a text?

As an actor, I look for a challenge. Something out of my comfort zone. Otherwise I just get the feeling that I’m on stage playing myself. That’s how I learn my trade.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU …

• A book you have to have in your collection? To Kill A Mocking Bird
• A film / TV show that you can watch/have watched repeatedly? The Soprano’s
• The first stage production you saw and what it meant to you (play, dance or concert)? Hamlet (meant I got a day off school)
• What’s made you sad, mad, and glad this week? The Queen’s funeral, Energy prices, Tech (not necessarily in that order).

Blues for an Alabama Sky @National Theatre From 21 September to 5 November book tickets here.

Jade Hackett is a performer, actor and choreographer …

As a choreographer/movement director, Jade has worked on Hex at the National Theatre, Get up Stand Up! at the Lyric,  White Noise and more; As a performer, her work includes Nine Night at Trafalgar Studios, A Monster Calls on UK tour and Pied Piper at the Barbican She performed as a dancer at London 2012 Olympics Opening Ceremony and Baku 2015 Closing Games, and was the Artistic Director of hip-hop theatre production The Duke Joint at Sadler’s Wells and The Place. 

Talawa, the UK’s leading Black theatre company, is now heading on tour with the outdoor production The Tide. Co-created with award-winning writer Ryan Calais Cameron (For Black Boys Who Have Committed Suicide When the Hue Gets Too Heavy). The Tide is a multi-disciplinary production incorporating live music, dance and theatre to explore the experiences of new arrivals in the UK as they navigate a new land.

We talked to Jade ahead of the show’s UK tour…

Please introduce yourself …

My name is Jade Hackett, I’m Black British of Caribbean descent and I’m a Choreographer and Movement Director.

Please share a word or sentence which best describes your life right now.

Striving for a life like the Bees!

The Tide is exclusively designed to be performed outside, when choreographing, did you have to take into account any specific measures for performing outside?

When creating outdoor work there are things that will naturally need to be taken into account. Without the four walls of a room to insulate sound, this was the major thing that needed to be taken into consideration. Cutting down lots of live spoken text and putting it all in the music helps the words to travel further. Making the narrator a drummer equally allows for sound to push out to audiences.

Costume was equally factored within the overall piece. Making sure the footwear can withstand the harder floor surfaces and less restrictive clothing to allow for easy movement. Most of the set design also had to be minimal and reinforced with either carpentry or weights to Anker things to the floor for more stability on potentially uneven grounds.

The Tide was initially performed pre-pandemic in 2019 and again in 2022, have you adapted the piece in any way to reflect the contemporary climate?

Since the last time we performed the show, there have been a lot of social and political shifts in the world. What’s interesting about The Tide is that every time we have put the show on, it invites us to re-evaluate the piece and answer questions about how the change in climate should now affect the piece. With the pandemic, the Palestinian and Ukrainian wars, Black Lives Matter movement and most recently the Rwandan Deportation and Brexit (in respect of the British response to immigration), there were lots of new things and chapters to discuss in the remounting of the show this time around.

The Tide is a combination of dance and poetry. When developing this piece with writer Ryan Calais Cameron, how did you go from conceptualising to realising the show?

Conversations were key in the creation of this piece. In this iteration of the show, the cast is also so varied. With their nationalities being from Jamaica, Uganda, Ethiopia, England, Poland, Palestine and Germany, the conversations around the topic of immigration were vast but most importantly, all came from a place of understanding. Ryan’s observations and words were able to beautifully illustrate the movement that I was creating in the room and Musical and Sound producer Michael was able to integrate this with a beautiful score to accompany it.

You have an impressive list of choreographer/movement director credits, when working on a show, where do you pull movement inspiration from? Who/ what would you say are the key influences on your choreography?

Depending on what I’m choreographing for and why I’m making the art is what source I would draw from. For example, if I’m making a piece centred around social or political issues, aside from reading the facts in books and legal documents, I will also speak to people, to community members or those that are disproportionately affected. It’s the best source of information to be inspired by as the books can’t translate the feeling of the time period outside of the facts. If the piece carries a more self-portraiture-based theme, then I’ll usually start with myself. Asking someone else to question me and get to the root of the theme that I will need to execute the piece. Peeling back the layers to uncover whatever my real internal struggle or joy might be.

One of my all-time key influencers for my work is my Grandmother. I’m blessed to still have her around and all of the historical stories that make up who I am and my heritage and what connects me to the Caribbean are through her. She is the key to my passion.

What’s the most iconic choreographic moment in history for you?

Hex – The Musical at the National Theatre. Having Artistic Director Rufus Norris see my work and deem it fitting for such a large-scale production has been humbling.

You were also a choreographer on the Old Vic’s This is What The Journey Does, which also focuses on migration. Why are you motivated to explore this theme in your art?

I guess the topic of immigration continuously finds me. Lol. To be honest, I rarely take on a project that doesn’t serve me creatively. Whether it’s the subject, or the team involved, I like to work in intensely creative and challenging environments. I’ve been blessed with both projects and fortunate enough to have the perfect atmosphere and minds to work creatively on these pieces of work.

In your short film, Why Do I Love Us So Much, made in response to the murder of George Floyd, you use dance and movement as a form of protest, and you have also referred to yourself as a ‘dance activist’, can you talk more about your artistic practice? 

I have felt strongly for a long time now that I wanted to always use my voice to bring awareness, provoke thought and effect change. It’s why dance activism seems so fitting for my artistic practice. I love creating work around members of the black diaspora. Protest does not just look like marching, albeit things that are very necessary for change to occur. I also enjoy creating art around black joy too. Making art that doesn’t sustain the negative monolith image of us in media and film is important.

Why do you think dance is a particularly powerful medium through which to explore Black stories and histories?

Dance is an integral part of black culture. We use movement to connect to everything. Our ancestors, each other and to heal. With the rise of social media forums like Instagram and TikTok with most dancing black creatives being the leading content creators, black movement is undoubtedly a powerful force for connection. It, therefore, feels only right that black stories are illustrated with one of the most powerful languages on the earth. Dance.

The Tide is touring across the UK, how do you hope different audiences respond to the work?

I hope that the living immigrants residing in England feel heard and are given a voice through the piece. Navigation of this country when you are not indigenously from here can feel hard at times and through the piece, I’d want them to know that they are not alone. Likewise, I’d like all British citizens watching the piece to look at their communities with a more accepting heart. Embrace your neighbours. People are people irrespective of what passport document they hold.

Aside from The Tide, do you have any upcoming projects that you are excited about?

Re-mounting of Hex at the National, Associate Choreographer of Sylvia at the Old Vic and a new project with Sadlers Wells Theatre, launching 2025.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU …

• A book you have to have in your collection? I’m currently reading Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson. A Black British writer exploring real love stories based in London. It really feels like I’m represented in this novel and love the way that man talks about love. It’s spiritual.
• A song/album that defines the soundtrack of your life to date? This feels like such a loaded question. All music connects with me. I’d have to say though, that currently, the album Who is Jill Scott by Jill Scott is making so much more sense to me with the life experiences that I’m in.
• A film / TV show that you can watch/have watched repeatedly? Film – Another loaded question! There are so many. The Color Purple, Terminator 2, Brown Sugar, Love and Basketball, Apocalypto etc … the list is endless. Guilty pleasure though. Dirty Dancing. “Nobody puts baby in the corner!” lol. TV – Queen Sugar. A brilliant show about family, black people owning land, love, healing and growth, activism, laughter, tears and all the other brilliant emotions in between.
• The first stage production you saw and what it meant to you (play, dance or concert)?  Play – it wasn’t my viewed first production, but The Brother Size at the Young Vic will always stay with me. Aside from a brilliantly written script, the staging of it was incredible. Superphysical, super creative and as a result, kept me engaged the whole way through. Dance – Alvin Ailey’s Revelations always comes to mind. Something shifted inside me after watching that organism move as one breath. Beautiful. Also, The Pied Piper by Boy Blue Entertainment. An East London production by two of the leading East London artists in the heart of East London’s Stratford Theatre Royal. An East London extravaganza. My home town. Concert – My earliest memory of a concert was watching Michael Jackson – History Tour. One of the most Iconic concerts I’ve ever seen.
• What’s made you sad, mad, and glad this week?  A bereavement of a friend recently. Sadness is followed by anger (or madness) at the cause of their transitioning which is soon followed by the fondness for the memories you hold of them. Glad that at one wonderful point in time, our paths crossed. The process of grief is so powerful and can take a person through a range of different emotions, all within a week.

The Tide is Talwa’s first show ever designed for exclusively outdoor settings and is touring from July-September 2022 at festivals across the UK.

Dipo Baruwa-Etti’s new play The Clinic received its World premiere this week at The Almeida Theatre.

Dipo Baruwa-Etti is a filmmaker, playwright, and poet. As writer-director, his short films include award-winning The Last Days, a BFI Network/BBC and starring Adjoa Andoh (Bridgerton) and Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn (Small Axe, Lovers Rock). He also has original projects in development with Blueprint Pictures and Duck Soup Films. His plays include The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars (Theatre Royal Stratford East), An unfinished man (The Yard Theatre), Half-Empty Glasses (Paines Plough) and The Clinic (Almeida Theatre) published by Faber & Faber. As a poet, he has been published in The Good Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Amaryllis, and had his work showcased nationwide as part of End Hunger UK’s touring exhibition on food insecurity.

The Clinic follows Wumni who is tired of the fight. When her world collapses, she turns to Ore for help. Ore resolves to save Wunmi, providing sanctuary in her parents’ home – a family of charity workers, therapists and politicians, dedicated to serving their community. Wunmi’s presence soon disrupts familiar patterns – cracks start to widen and bad blood thickens. As these pillars of society crumble, Wunmi wonders whether she’s walked into a refuge or a trap?
 
We caught up with Dipo ahead of The Clinic’s world premiere…

Please introduce yourself …

I’m Dipo Baruwa-Etti. Playwright, filmmaker, poet. My plays include The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars (Stratford East), An unfinished man (The Yard Theatre), Half-Empty Glasses (Paines Plough) and The Clinic, which is coming up at the Almeida.

Please share a word or sentence which best describes your life right now …

Lots of (exciting) planning.

The Clinic was written whilst you were on the Channel 4 Playwrights scheme, what was the process like developing and working on this piece?

I’d spoken to the Almeida about an idea I was interested in exploring so, once the attachment began, I started researching The Clinic. Then, when lockdown started and An unfinished man was postponed, I started writing it. We did a couple of workshops, one in 2020 and one in 2021, and in between then it was really just lots of redrafting and researching – as characters, plot, and tone evolved. It was a fun but difficult process, mostly because it’s my most ambitious play, in form (despite being my most structurally traditional play) and also in the ideas being explored.

The Clinic focuses on a Black middle-class family, why do you think it is important to talk about the intersection of race and class within the Black community?

I think it’s important because we live in a society that largely still sees Black people as a monolith. The Black middle class wasn’t something I thought about until I started working and came across so many people who existed within that group, which meant I was seeing even more shades of Blackness. It was interesting to see how a certain upbringing can create a stark difference in identity and experience. When generating ideas, I usually begin with the question ‘what do I want the Black community to talk more about?’ this was a topic that stayed on my mind, alongside many other things, as it’s a growing population.

Your play An unfinished man was on at the Yard Theatre earlier this year and discussed mental health and particularly its stigma for Black men. The Clinic similarly talks about mental health – why do you think theatre is a good vehicle for discussing these topics?

I think theatre is a good medium for these topics, because you’re able to experiment with form and language in different ways, allowing difficult themes to be explored in manners that aren’t so didactic. It’s also great as you have performers in the same space as the audience, which can often create more direct impact. It can allow everyone to feel the moment as a collective, hopefully reducing the potential heaviness on one person – which could be the case, watching something in isolation at home.

Whilst writing The Clinic, did you do any research into past or recent social and cultural movements/ figures to inform the character of Wunmi?

As I started writing it in 2020, there was a greater spotlight on the work Black activists were doing, which was definitely a factor in my research. Particularly the different ways people fight and belief systems about the journey to equity. Alongside that, most of my reading was around austerity, government policies, and how that’s impacting Black lives. For The Clinic I was focused on 21 st century movements, but I started writing my play Half-Empty Glasses the following year, so my research for that (more equally focused on the past and present) definitely fed into the process anyway.

The Clinic, like your play The Sun, The Moon and the Stars, is very lyrical – what draws you to this form of writing?

When I first started writing plays, I read an essay by Suzan-Lori Parks where she encouraged playing with language. Once I started doing that, I found it really fun and liberating to challenge conventions, especially when it comes to dialogue and poetry in playwriting. One of the beauties of theatre to me is finding ways to experiment – whether in language, form, etc. while still bringing emotional truth and realism. Theatre isn’t reality, so why not do whatever I want?

Are there any writers that have inspired your way of writing?

As mentioned, Suzan-Lori Parks definitely. Also debbie tucker green, in terms of playing with language and its precision. Tennessee Williams with his poetry and imagery. August Wilson, Lorraine Hansberry with their depiction of various shades of Blackness and family. There are so many playwrights I find inspiring, though they might not have inspired my way of writing necessarily.

You write across TV, Film, Theatre and poetry – do you think writing across different mediums has developed you as a writer/creative?

I think my voice and process are different for each of these mediums, despite having some thematic parallels across them, so I learn from each of them. If I were to simplify it: TV has allowed me to think more about commercialism, which isn’t always a bad thing; film, about imagery, subtext and the unspoken; theatre about playing with form, the importance of language, and considering audience impact; poetry about emotion and precision. There are more within each of these and they overlap, but it’s definitely helped me develop creatively, as I have different strengths in each.

You have had a prolific year – a short film, 3 shows on this year, and that’s the stuff that we know about! With all these projects, how have you been celebrating/ are you finding a way to celebrate?

I get asked this a lot and, to be honest, I don’t really celebrate my achievements. I might buy something that I’ve wanted for a while, but that’s also not a very long list! I think that’s because, as much as I love making work, I do view it as my job. I’ve had so many non-writing jobs and didn’t really celebrate when a good thing happened, so it’s probably an extension of that. And there’s something culturally, in always looking ahead to the next thing. Maybe I should find time to celebrate more!

When working on a new project, where do you usually source inspiration from?

I usually start with the question: ‘what do I want Black people to talk more about?‘ Then I think about genres I’m interested in that could bring that question to life in an entertaining way, characters that would be most dynamic in that space, and the questions about the theme that I want to leave people with. That, combined with inspiration from overheard conversations or situations I know people have been in (whether personally or through stories) is normally enough to get me writing.

Given the turbulent few years that we’ve had, discussing the physical and emotional effects of activism on marginalised bodies feels particularly resonate, what do you hope audiences take away from the show?

I hope people take mostly questions away – around activism and what it means to give yourself to a cause, how to hold loved ones accountable, and what it looks like to be Black and successful by society’s standards. As the Black middle-class population continues to grow, there are more complex questions about power, assimilation, and politics. I also hope that, like I try to get across with all my work, audiences see that in spite of hardships there can be hope and change – even if only on a personal scale.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU …

• A book you have to have in your collection?  Salvage the Bones – Jesmyn Ward
• A song / album that defines the soundtrack of your life to date? Could never choose one.
• A film / TV show that you can watch/have watched repeatedly? Mad Men
• The first stage production you saw and what it meant to you (play, dance or concert)? Chicago, when America Ferrera (star of Ugly Betty) was in it in 2011. It didn’t blow me away or really get me into theatre, as I didn’t next go to the theatre till 2015, but it did make me realise how important marketing is to get audiences through the doors.
• What’s made you sad, mad, and glad this week? Sad: Rising cost of living, but that’s a recurring one. Mad: Same thing. Glad: Being in rehearsals for The Clinic and seeing it come to life.

The Clinic runs until Saturday 1st October @ the Almeida Theatre. You can find more info book here.

Mo Korede is a playwright and the Artistic Director of Imagiphoria Studios which concentrates on character explorations and psychological realism.

Korede is a playwright and the Artistic Director of Imagiphoria Studios which concentrates on character explorations and psychological realism and has written and worked on shows in various capacities at Imagiphoria including directing and starring in shows like Aso, Look at Your Palm and more.

His latest production, Message in the Clay River is a thrilling play reimagining a story from West African mythology telling the tale of love and identity in an innovative and compelling way, utilising Greek theatre techniques. It follows 3 of the Orishas (Obatala, Osun and Esu) All sent down to earth by Olorun (God) with the purpose to shape the world we live in. However, that comes with a burden that all three have to individually carry but at what point does that weight get too heavy?

We talked to Mo ahead of Message in the Clay River’s return and the Camden Fringe…

Please introduce yourself …

Hi I’m Mo Korede, I’m a Nigerian, London-born theatre maker, poet and artistic director

A word or sentence that best describes your life right now.

Don’t let anyone measure how high your ceiling can be

So how are you feeling ahead of Message in The Clay River’s run at Camden Fringe Festival?

It’s a mixture I’m excited but I’m nervous. But I think that’s a good thing. It’s the first time I’ve written and not directed a piece of my work, it was also been a part of our performance for Peckham fringe and I know that the show is going to be even better than what people saw before.

Yes, Message in the Clay was first performed at Theatre Peckham, have you adapted any elements for its performance at the Camden Fringe?

Yes a similar length performance, with a new face. As we introduce Ayetobi as our Shango and we’ve added a fair bit more movement to the piece. I feel like the cast and show itself were amazing in Peckham so if it’s not broken don’t fix it. However, what I do love about theatre is that it’s organic and what one audience feels may not be the same as another.

The story takes place during the Ife festival and follows three of the Orishas; Obatala, Osun, and Esu – could you explain the importance of the festival and the Orishas in Yoruba mythology?

So when creating the show I needed another lens other than the greek theatre. An African lens. Hence the Ife festival. A fair part of the show is based on the tales of these deities but I also added i little bit of creative licence. Ife isn’t the only kingdom or place the orishas were worshipped they span throughout the Yoruba kingdom in Nigeria. But as explained, the three focal orishas represented in the show, as well as the others are the ones I felt truly conveyed the narrative I was trying to evoke which is the search for love and acceptance. Unlike the other deities and myths in the Yoruba mythology God (Olorun) always existed so this is something I found interesting and is a throughline throughout the show.

The main characters are Yoruba Orishas, did you do any research or were you quite familiar with West African mythology?

Yes, I did loads of research. I’m also lucky to have a father and mother who have a lot of answers to my never-ending questions. Granted my research at times was ‘which of these gods do I like the most’-which proved hard I decided to follow the narrative based on how the world was created according to the Yorubas.

Through writing this piece, did you learn anything about your own heritage in the process?

Loads, I can’t even count. But I feel like I learn a lot with everything I write as my practice (and the work which imagiphoria studios make) is to bridge the understanding in society. So every play or story has a perspective or a side that I had no true depth and understanding of.

The show incorporates Greek theatre techniques but with a Black/West African story, what was behind this artistic decision?

When I grew up I loved greek and roman mythology but I found it hard to watch greek theatre. I found the stories compelling and the language beautiful but at times I found it quite unrelatable and repetitive. There are only so many times I can watch a story about Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. So with this, as I said my parents are quite proud Nigerians so whenever I would speak about the other gods they would bring up Yoruba gods and as I got older I wanted to know more about them. And then one day I just thought, why not create a show that compels the audience with language, narrates with a chorus and oracles but is rooted in south American and West African mythology?

Although Message in the Clay River is set in the mythical past, what parallels (if any) does the story have with the present day?

The show is about love. And all kinds of love. We have requited unrequited, supernatural, romantic, sibling love. And I feel in that it felt like the quest for that love or to give it or to feel worthy of it is a parallel that we can all relate to.

You are the Artistic Director of Imagiphoria Studios which makes work based on ‘psychological realism’ and ‘perspective theatre’, could you explain what these terms mean and how Message in the Clay River fits in with them?

It’s all just a fancy way of saying I love people’s minds and don’t believe in heroes or villains. I believe and want to make work that shows all sides of the narrative and a character, and then it’s up to the audience to pick who they relate to or live or root for. My goal is that they understand the other side more ideally. With this show, I’m bringing a new side of myology to audiences.

Before we did this show I did a survey to see if anyone could name African gods and most people named Egyptian gods; so portraying West African gods were important, as well as the link we have with South America. And then with the storyline, not everyone is what they seem or look to be.

Your mission statement with Imagiphora Studios is to make work to help people understand each other better, what then do you hope audiences take away from this work in particular?

New knowledge, and some insight on West Africans, South Americans and the Yorubas. A laugh and a few tears.

This show is a work-in-progress, how do you hope this work develops in the future?

Initially, I planned for this show and the actual full show to have over 15 characters, with a larger set with bigger costumes and all the bells and whistles. But we decided that we wanted to take our time with it. Get interest in the show, build on things that need to be fixed and grow as an ensemble. But hopefully, the next step is getting commissioned somewhere that would be lovely.

GETTING TO KNOW YOU …

• A book you have to have in your collection? 1984, Cat On A Hot Tin Roof and all The Game Of Thrones books.

• A song/album that defines the soundtrack of your life to date? The pandemic experience live – Tobe Nwigwe and Endless– Frank Ocean

• A film / TV show that you can watch/have watched repeatedly? Game of Thrones, The Pursuit Of Happiness and Lion King.

• The first stage production you saw and what it meant to you (play, dance or concert)? Shrek at my secondary school. My two older brothers played Shrek and donkey and that’s when I decided I wanted to act and make theatre.

• What’s made you sad, mad, and glad this week? Sad-Couldn’t be at rehearsals this week. Mad- I got locked out of my room. Glad-The show is this Sunday and were sold out

You can watch Message in the Clay River, Camden Fringe in @ The Cockpit Theatre on the 7th( 8pm) & 9th (9pm) of August

To buy tickets visit Camden Fringe

Jitney is the first of August Wilson’s American Century Cycle.

Ten plays set in the Hill District of Pittsburgh where he grew up, with each story taking place in a different decade.

Set in 1977, in a time long before Uber, the story follows a community of Black men who run a jitney, unlicensed taxis which gave the Black community a way of getting around the city. Ironically for a show about a car service, the pace is slow as the text is very dialogue heavy. Instead, Wilson localises the drama within the jitney office, exploring the public and private moments the men share. Alex Lowde’s set explores this public/private divide as it is slightly tilted, reminiscent of a TV set, with projections of maps of Pittsburgh projected onto the set and the bodies of the performers, as an audience member this gave the allusion that we were peering into history.

Under Craig’s direction, the density of the dialogue is deftly moved through and Craig does a marvellous job of making the play less static, incorporating movement sequences, and encouraging the physicality of her cast. This was seen most impressively with Wil Johnson’s Becker who when explaining how his hopes and dreams for his son have been dashed, eviscerates himself onstage, beating himself and falling to the ground. Johnson, a standout in Talawa’s Running with Lions continues to shine in this production, morally firm as the father to his son Booster and father of the jitney office.

The dialogue does indeed shine in two-hander scenes notably when Becker and Booster meet for the first time in 25 years after Booster (played by understudy Blair Gyabaah) murdered his white girlfriend who accused him of raping her. Gyabaah did a commendable job, leaning into the slightly infantile nature of Booster who has spent most of his adult life in prison. Here, Wilson’s skill as a writer is exhibited as both sides of the argument are presented without judgement, allowing for the audience to unpick its complexities.

With Craig’s interpretation of the text, each cast member has been given an opportunity to shine: Solomon Israel’s Youngblood and Sule Rimi’s Turnbo in both their individual and joint scenes, are magnetic, Tony Marshall captures the attention with his ‘golden ladder’ story and Aymer, Koleosho and Ejimofor’s insertions in scenes, provide a welcome change in tone. Through his characters, it is great to see this range and variety of Black men onstage. Lowde’s gorgeous costuming also allows for further distinguishing between the men, who wear flares, turtle necks and leather.

Written in the late 70s after the Vietnam War, elements of the play do feel of its time, specifically the lack of development of the only Black woman in the show, Rena. Played by seven methods of killing kylie jenner’s Leanne Henlon, we don’t find out much about her aside from a relationship with Youngblood and her son, Jesse. Henlon, however, does a beautiful job of giving her character a firm place in this world, and the last scene with Youngblood is as tender as it is comical.

The themes of the play do stretch out beyond its time period, with topics like gentrification being widely important to our world now, even though its threat does feel too wrapped up neatly here. Similarly as commented on with Jeremy O.Harris’ ‘Daddy’, seeing these Black American stories told with equal parts warmth and bite, does make me yearn for stories that look at racism and gentrification through a Black British lens rather than at a distance. This, however, is the first time in two decades that Wilson’s work has been put on a London stage, which is worthy of recognition in itself and Craig’s production is certainly a worthy tribute to a writer often considered as the father of Black American theatre.

Jitney ran 09 Jun–09 Jul 2022 @ The Old Vic Theatre

I have to admit, when I heard that there would be a revival of Legally Blonde the Musical, I wasn’t that fussed.

I hadn’t watched the film (I know) and didn’t really feel compelled to watch a film with a blonde lead. That was until I saw the poster with Courtney Bowman as Elle Woods with blonde braids and a hot pink dress. I gasped seeing the poster and so I dutifully played the part and wore pink to watch the show on the bank holiday weekend.

Made famous by the 2001 film of the same name with Reese Witherspoon, Legally Blonde the Musical follows Elle Woods on her journey applying to Harvard Law school in an attempt to impress and win over her college boyfriend, Warner played by Alistair Toovey.

The casting also means conversations about her not fitting in go past the superficial of her being blonde and assumed to be stupid. This is captured powerfully when Michael Ahomka-Lindsay performs ‘Chip on Your Shoulder’. As someone who went to a predominantly white institution, this resonated with me.

Jean Chan’s costuming did the job of conveying Elle’s difference to the Harvard cohort – she is bold and in your face in her pink numbers whilst they are all in beige reminiscent of outfits from the Hunger Games. It seems that there has been an effort for this production’s message about inclusivity to not just be at face value. The diversity onstage can also be seen backstage with Spring Awakening’s Tony Gayle as sound designer and Cassiopeia Berkeley-Agyepong as dramaturg.

Staged in Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, the venue had echoes of the ancient origins of theatre, but that was the only thing classic or traditional about this production. Under SIX the Musical’s Lucy Moss, the show receives a Gen-Z makeover and is populated with TikTok references, dances and costumes inspired by Rihanna’s Savage Fenty line.

Bowman, who I had the pleasure of watching performing in SIX as Anne Boleyn shines here and her comedic timing is second to none, notably captured in the number ‘Serious’. It is, however, her generosity as a lead performer that merits discussion here. In an interview, Bowman discusses her role in Legally as part of her “empowerment era” and this seems to extend outside of herself but also to her fellow cast members who she encourages by allowing moments for them to shine, and it was beautiful to see these interactions between her cast. It is also a testament to her star power that she is able to pull the gaze back to her.

Unlike musicals, such as The Color Purple and Dreamgirls which have their standout numbers, Legally Blonde does fall short here but there certainly wasn’t any shortage of standout performances. Kitted head to toe in orange, Nadine Higgin produces a flawless performance as Paulette. I still get shivers recalling her solo number ‘Ireland’ and watching how she captivated the whole audience. What an incredible career she has ahead of her! Ahomka-Lindsay was effortless in the role of Emmett and was so deliberately understated it allowed for Bowman’s Elle Woods to shine. The ensemble was also very strong with standouts like Billy Nevers and Vanessa Fisher’s Vivienne. Both actors were understudies for Elle and Emmett which made me wish that I could watch the show again to see them in these roles.

I adored this production so much and particularly what it was celebrating. The discussion on representation particularly in terms of seeing yourself represented onstage/onscreen can feel a bit tick boxy with shows capitalising on this desire as a marketing ploy. With Legally Blonde, however, this gesture felt sincere, and I haven’t felt that included within a musical world before. This was also reflected in the audience which was one of the most diverse musical theatre audiences I have been part of for ages. All in all, this revival of Legally Blonde the Musical was a triumph and I wait patiently for its West End transfer or the cast recording (preferably both!).

Legally Blonde The Musical runs @ Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre Until 2nd July

Launching Bush Theatres 50^th birthday season…

Beru Tessema’s debut play, House of Ife, seems to encapsulate all that the Bush has come to stand for – placing stories from unheard communities front and centre. The importance of this as an achievement should not be dulled and this is the first time that I have seen an East African (Ethiopian family), being portrayed onstage and I am glad to see diversity in Black stories being told.

House of Ife follows a family in the throes of grieving the death of their eldest son and brother, Ife. The pace is lightning fast as we meet the siblings, Aida, Tsion and Yosi for the first time as they all discuss the funeral and prepare the house to receive guests.

Although I found the initial pace of the show disorientating, it did set the scene for the family dynamic – the intent behind the words of each family member struggling to be heard, moments of vulnerability/intimacy missed over the clamour of voices. Kane Husbands’ movement direction brought this to life, as the siblings would often circle and move around each other whilst speaking. Tessema captures the voice of his community distinctively and there were pockets of relatable moments for anyone who was raised in a diasporic household – the difficulty of making international calls, hoarding parents, and relatives commenting on your appearance.

Jude Akuwudike’s slippery Solomon chastises his children for not knowing how to speak Amharic and this lack of knowledge extends to the children’s lack of familiarity with the ritual of mourning in Ethiopia. Immediately we see this clash when the siblings play and dance to Dizzee Rascal and are interrupted by their mother Meron (played compellingly by Sarah Priddy). Although I felt like the depth of her monologue was abruptly early, it was interesting to hear her exploration of the Ethiopian custom of grieving, which was bolstered by the movement scene where she and Aida wail and beat their chest. Thus, the maxim that everybody grieves differently is explored confidently in this play, both through the different family members and also the different cultures (Ethiopian and British) they are wrestling with.

The Ethiopian church ladies who come to mourn Ife are public with their grief and Duramaney Kamara’s sound design fills the stage with their prayers and wailing. Yosi (played by Michael Workeye) points out the performance of this grief is made by the same church ladies who would walk past Ife when they saw him begging on the road.

Frankie Bradshaw’s gorgeous set design frames this play’s exploration of the public and private ways to grieve with the audience sitting in traverse, voyeurs into the family’s most intimate moments.

How Ife died is never directly referred to but it is clear that he has battled with drug addiction and experienced homelessness. Tessema’s writing handles these topics sensitively and its shadowy mentioning by the family shows the debilitating effect of addiction and its ripple effect on the rest of the family. As Ife’s twin Aida, played by Karla-Simone Spence, takes his death the hardest, the silence around his death and addiction is perhaps what spurs her to immortalise him in how she remembers him. The artist in the family, like the painting she paints of Ife, she mourns colourfully and in big strokes, her grief erupting out of her body. At points, Spence’s performance felt overacted, conscious of the audience she was performing to which took away from the depth of her character’s grief.

There was also an added disconnect in seeing her volatility played in every scene and then seeing her family members’ reactions who were at best, unaware, or at worse, indifferent. Perhaps as a twin myself, I am projecting, but it would have been good to see Aida’s waves of grief so that by the time she finally explodes in the climax, the despair of the moment lands fully rather than feeling expected.

Recently nominated for an Offie for Best Newcomer, Workeye shines in a role which seems almost written for him. With a soft snigger or a perfectly timed ‘sorry mummy’, Workeye earns the audience’s attention in whatever scene he’s in. A good foot taller than the rest of his family, it is a testament to his physicality that he convincingly comes across as the youngest in the family – head lolling about, practically bouncing into every scene. He plays the comic relief until the penultimate scene and although I feel his moment of seriousness is left quite late when it does come, it is powerful as he matter-of-factly lists off to Aida, the pain that Ife caused the family which she did not witness.

The personal is political and the civil war described in Addis is going on in the internal world of the family which we see at the height of their fighting. Citing Miller as an inspiration in terms of writing a family drama, Tessema employs weather as a tool here, as events take place during a London heatwave. However, rather than being a constant pressure cooker of emotion, the play has one major flare up at the end.

The final argument is overwhelmed with loose threads – accusations of child abuse, sexuality and the issue of property all feel tagged on at the end and without any substantial Easter egging prior, it does feel like it comes out of nowhere. Lynette Linton’s directing, however, shows its strength and daring within this fight scene, Linton choreographs vignettes for the audience – Tsion (played by a grounded Yohanna Ephrem) and Yosi having a conversation in the corner, Meron’s disbelief whilst Solomon and Aida are in a stand-off. 

As a debut, House of Ife is as striking as it is ambitious, and congratulations must go to the Bush Theatre for championing a writer who clearly has an exciting career ahead of him.

House Of Ife runs until 11th June @ Bush Theatre book tickets here