Review – Small Island, Birmingham Rep, 2nd April 2026

Small Island cast

©Pamela Raith

Helen Edmundson’s adaptation of Andrea Levy’s highly regarded novel opened to great acclaim at London’s National Theatre in 2019; an extended run at the Olivier was planned for 2020 but that darned Covid pandemic had other ideas. However, a new touring production directed by Matthew Xia is underway, co-produced by the Birmingham Rep, Leeds Playhouse and Nottingham Playhouse in association with Actors Touring Company; and it’s no coincidence that these three major cities are hosting this production, as they each owe so much to the contribution made to society by the Windrush generation.

Hortense and Gilbert

©Pamela Raith

Never having read the book, nor seen the TV adaptation, nor seen the show in 2019, I had no preconceptions as to what was in store, only knowing that it’s 3 hours 20 minutes including an interval. If it’s that long, and it isn’t Shakespeare, it needs to be good to warrant so much material. Fortunately, Small Island most definitely is! Instantly captivating and engrossing, Edmundson takes Levy’s extraordinary characters, from both Jamaica and the UK, and guides us through their individual stories and how they eventually all combine in one ramshackle house in Earl’s Court.

Hortense and Miss Jewel

©Pamela Raith

Chekhov’s Three Sisters constantly lament about how life would be so much better if only they could get to Moscow. That feeling of missed opportunity and resentment of others in a more sophisticated setting is often found in drama, and I sensed it very clearly here. The Jamaican people wish for that better life in the mother country, England, where talented and skilled people will be welcomed and rewarded for their hard work with a good wage and a comfortable home. As we see the Windrush set sail for England at the end of the first Act, we know what they don’t know – that life in England will not be a bed of roses, and that the mother country will turn on them decades later. It’s a classic instance of dramatic irony.

Little Michael and Hortense

©Pamela Raith

Small Island is an immense story, spanning a period of fifteen years. We see the haughty young Hortense, removed from her home to live with a cruel uncle and aunt, but determined to achieve something in life. We meet the spirited Queenie, itching to leave dull Lincolnshire for the bright lights of London. There’s Bernard, the anxious, reserved and emotionally repressed bank clerk who will eventually marry Queenie; and there’s lovable, bumbling Gilbert, desperate to leave Jamaica on the Windrush to gain that guaranteed brighter future in England. Linking them all, whether they know it or not, is Hortense’s charismatic and mischievous cousin Michael, who blossoms from the cruel Jamaican household through boarding school, assertively into the RAF, eventually to emigrate to Canada.

Upstairs at Queenie's

©Pamela Raith

Edmundson’s glorious text, due at least in part to her productive discussions with Andrea Levy before her death, paints a series of totally believable episodic pictures, building up the characters, their influences and their experiences, into fully charged individuals, each with their own virtues and vices; culminating with Hortense and Gilbert living with Queenie and Bernard in London. Packed with emotion, some of the problems that the characters face make you catch your breath; no spoilers, but I’m sure Mrs Chrisparkle had to wipe away the odd moment of eye-moisture.

Bernard and Gilbert

©Pamela Raith

It’s also fearless in its portrayal of racism, in all its forms, causing a modern audience frequently to gasp in horror at some of the language and attitudes. Racism today – I’m guessing – has evolved into more covert and more institutionalised, perhaps less delivered in person but more savage online, to reflect our Internet age. But Small Island shows it tossed around unapologetically, almost ostentatiously and gleefully, and it’s truly horrifying to witness. There is a trigger warning about some of the language and content and, frankly, it’s worth taking seriously.

Queenie and Arthur

©Pamela Raith

Despite the gravity of its subject matter, the play is also incredibly funny, with plenty of genuinely laugh out loud moments, often in the face of appalling racism. The ghastly Bernard, to whom Queenie is regrettably married, is irredeemably racist; towards the end of the play, you think he’s going to repent for his error, when Gilbert boldly confronts him with why his prejudices are all wrong. He starts by replying I’m sorry… and what follows has the audience in hysterics; that’s just one example of the tremendous combination of text, performance and direction.

Young Michael, Gilbert, Philip

©Pamela Raith

Simon Kenny’s superb set shrinks the main acting area of the huge Birmingham Rep stage so effectively that you barely notice, with informative use of newsreel projection to separate the scenes, a first Act that moodily drifts in and out of all sorts of different locations, and a second Act firmly rooted in the inescapable stark comfortlessness of Queenie’s house – basic decent accommodation for her and a filthy decrepit garret for Gilbert and Hortense upstairs. Luke Bacchus’ striking musical motifs pepper the high emotional moments, always enhancing the production and never distracting.

Aunt Dorothy

©Pamela Raith

The cast are superb throughout. With some cast members playing two or three characters, the clarity of the storytelling is fantastic. Even the minor roles are outstanding. Paul Hawkyard’s portrayal of Bernard’s shellshocked father Arthur is both deeply moving and frequently comical, stealing every scene with his minutely observed gait and facial expressions. Marcia Mantack is a joy as the kindly Miss Jewel, always looking out for young Hortense’s best interests. Rosemary Boyle is hilarious as the sensationalist Mrs Ryder, desperate for some physicality in her life as she volunteers to feel the full blast of a Jamaican hurricane. Zoe Lambert’s beneficent Aunt Dorothy and nasty-minded Miss Todd are both brilliantly observed portrayals of outspoken and forthright women, albeit coming at life from very different angles.

Elwood

©Pamela Raith

Everal A Walsh gives us a horrifyingly strict Mr Philip and then surprises us with a delightfully mischievous cameo as Gilbert’s neighbour Kenneth. André Squire gives a bright and cheeky performance as Gilbert’s critical brother Elwood, Mara Allen a wickedly funny Celia, and there’s excellent further support from Toby Webster, Phil Yarrow and Jordan Laviniere.

Miss Jewel and Michael

©Pamela Raith

In the main roles, Rhys Stephenson is perfectly cast in his professional stage debut as the charismatic Michael; he has terrific stage presence, always gaining the audience’s confidence and approval, and, boy, does he know how to wear a suit – great work again from Simon Kenny’s costume design. Mark Arends excels in the difficult task of portraying Bernard, who develops from emotional weakling to tyrannical husband with total credibility. One could easily see how he could be played as a pantomime villain, but this is a very intelligent portrayal of a self-centred, emotionally blighted individual, to whom racism comes naturally and for whom arrogant reputation is equally important.

Gilbert and Bernard

©Pamela Raith

Daniel Ward gives an engagingly robust and heartwarming performance as the honourable, but frequently inept, Gilbert; always ready to lend a hand, to think the best of people, slow to ire, but when push comes to shove, he knows exactly the right thing to do. Bronté Barbé is excellent as always, as the optimistic but realistic Queenie, naturally decent to others but tragically aware of the limits that society imposes. And Anna Crichlow is outstanding as Hortense, a naturally refined person who’s learned everything from the school of hard knocks, and who’s not afraid of doing hard work to get what she wants, but she has high standards that she – and moreover Gilbert – must achieve.

Michael and Mrs Ryder

©Pamela Raith

Impressive storytelling, constantly engaging and engrossing; it was a delight to see how the audience reacted so vociferously at some key moments, which is an indication of just how involved everyone was with the story unfolding on the stage. Three hours twenty minutes? They fly by. An important and beautifully constructed play, given a first-rate production by Matthew Xia and uniformly superb performances. I can’t recommend it strongly enough. The tour continues at the Birmingham Rep until 18th April and then moves on to the Nottingham Playhouse from 28th April to 16th May. Don’t miss it!

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Oklahoma! Festival Theatre, Chichester, 27th July 2019

There’s a bright golden haze on the medder, sang Curly, all by himself, at the very beginning of Oklahoma! on its first night at the St James Theatre on Broadway in 1943, and its audience was gripped. It was the first time a big musical had opened with a lone voice rather than a group number; the first time Rodgers and Hammerstein had collaborated; and the first time that a “dream ballet” sequence showed us the secret fears of a lead character. You can only imagine the excitement of that first night crowd. In Britain, at that time immersed in the Second World War, we had to wait until 1947 to see it for ourselves, but I am sure it was worth the wait.

It was also the first time that the book of a musical and its songs were fully integrated so that the music progressed our understandings of the characters. That was a development that had started with Show Boat; maybe recession and/or war kick start the creative spirit and encourage writers and composers to devise a work to bring us out of the gloom and into a happier place. Certainly those early audiences for Oklahoma! would have had their troubles, on both sides of the pond. You can envisage the theatregoers at the St James, the rows filled with uniformed servicemen either on leave or preparing for war, clinging on to a vestige of normality before being transported to who knows where for who knows what. There’s a revealing and rather heart-warming story mentioned in the programme, where the writer John Hersey told Richard Rodgers that “on a gritty battlefield in Sicily, a GI had awakened one morning and poured some cold water in his helmet to shave. Suddenly he began singing “Oh, what a beautiful morning” […] There was a fair amount of irony in his singing and his pals laughed”. To be honest, if I had been that GI, I would have done the same.

So there’s a number of reasons why Oklahoma! (you have to include the !, otherwise it’s just a state) isn’t going away yet. A handsome young suitor courts a pretty young girl, but she’s made promises to another guy, so the two men are rivals; that’s a story as old as the hills. Surrounding them are the good influences of a kindly aunt, a pragmatic judge/lawmaker, a best friend who cain’t say no and the well-meaning but rather hopeless young chap who’s in love with her. In the background, we’re in early 1900’s Native American country, with its diverse ethnic spread, racial tensions, and itinerant immigrants; social division is everywhere – even the Farmer and the Cowman aren’t necessarily friends – and instead of churning butter, Aunt Eller is first seen cleaning her gun, setting the tone for the whole show. Will has just come back from Kansas City, where he saw astounding modern advancements, the like of which couldn’t be imagined in underdeveloped Oklahoma. Nevertheless, those hopeful aspirations are palpable; keep moving forwards and maybe soon they’ll also be part of that great United States of America. Work hard and be lucky; slack and you lack. You’re doing fine, Oklahoma.

Apart from the still relevant and contemporary nature of the story, it has a fantastic score without a duff note or a weak lyric, and some colourful, sparky, memorable characters creating a fine balance of comedy and pathos. Jeremy Sams’ new production takes all the show’s ingredients and creates a high impact treat, both visually and musically, which never shies away from the darker side of what’s going on, and there are a couple of moments where you shrink back in your seat in horror….

Robert Jones’ set and Mark Henderson’s lighting intertwine throughout the evening to make that golden haze, that Curly sings about in the first moments, a reality; enhanced by Brigitte Reiffenstuel’s costumes. Light brown jackets and waistcoats, together with golden bales of wheat and tan saddles, all add to that colour scheme, whilst the backdrop and ceiling are bathed in blue to create a strong sunshiny feel. By contrast, Jud’s black dungarees and Ali Karim’s lurid green jacket and red trousers demonstrate that they’re outsiders.

When I first saw Oklahoma! on stage, at the Palace Theatre back in 1980, I remember being thoroughly bored by the dream ballet sequence, regarding it as an antiquated construct that had no place in contemporary theatre. What an arrogant little brat I must have been. The (relatively) recent national tour production had the benefit of being choreographed by Drew McOnie, whose star has continued to rise, and transformed what could otherwise be a dull interlude into a fantastic set piece, incorporating other routines from the rest of the show. And in this new production, choreographer Matt Cole has also risen to the challenge of the dream ballet, working with the lighting and costume design to create a vivid fantasy nightmare for Laurey, that contrasts the romance of being pushed by Curly on a garden swing, and the white dresses of a perfect wedding day, with the black and red of Parisian strumpets doing scandalous Fosse-type routines reflecting Jud’s predilection for postcard porn. At the end there’s a fight where Jud floors Curly and kicks him into a pit surrounded by flames. No one falls asleep during this dream ballet, I assure you.

The fantastic fire-ography continues in the second half, when the usually happy, primary-coloured rousing title song turns from a celebration of everything that’s good about life into a torch-wielding, white supremacist lynch mob, about to go hunting for Jud. With those few, terrifying, staring seconds at the end of the song, they create a sinister, violent air; and, sure enough, Curly kills Jud (sorry for the spoiler), maybe accidentally, maybe not. Judge Andrew dispenses justice quickly and pragmatically in favour of Curly, and you take a step back from the scene and realise that this is a complete stitch-up against Jud. There’s a guilty red stain on the medder…

It’s vital for a successful production of Oklahoma! that the two young lovers are performed by likeable actors; and Hyoie O’Grady as Curly and Amara Okereke as Laurey are not merely likeable, they’re totally adorable. As far as I can see both have had only limited experience on stage to now (although both are graduates of the Les Miserables cast change challenge) but they are superb. Mr O’Grady boasts a fine line in slightly vulnerable brashness; he’s the kind of guy all the men in the audience want to be, and all the women in the audience (and some of the men) wish their men were. Ms Okereke gives a beautiful and intelligent performance as the confused Laurey, reflecting the simplicity of the character’s life till now, her rightly judged self-esteem and her fears for the future. Both are natural exponents of the art of musical theatre, Ms Okereke in particular filling the vast Festival Theatre with her spectacularly emotional and rich voice. Two young actors who are definitely on the One To Watch list!

Josie Lawrence, whom we last saw in the brilliant Edmond de Bergerac in Northampton earlier this year, brings all her warmth and comic timing to the role of Aunt Eller; her on-stage chemistry with Curly and, particularly, Laurey, works beautifully as she acts as a kind of Pandarus between the two. She also has a delightful glint in her eye as she takes her place in the thick of all the dancing cowboys; it’s no surprise that she turns up in Laurey’s dream ballet as the brothel Madame. There’s another excellent partnership between Isaac Gryn as Will and Bronté Barbé as Ado Annie; he, fresh-faced and willing, if a trifle thick and she, wide-eyed, openly semi-promiscuous and easily influenced. Miss Barbé has a growing reputation as one of our new stars of musical theatre, and Mr Gryn is another new find who is already sensational at fronting a big dance number.

There’s a tour de force from the terrific Emmanuel Kojo as Jud, portraying him not as the grotesque pantomime ogre that he is sometimes played, but as a realistic, believable man – a loner, a victim of circumstance, but with plans and ambitions that are as valid as anyone else’s. His chilling scene with Hyoie O’Grady for Pore Jud is Daid, where Curly tries to sing Jud into taking his own life with the rope, plays to Mr Kojo’s strengths as he remains assertively immune to Curly’s suggestions, purely concentrating on his own wants from life. There are also great comedy turns from Emily Langham as the cackling Gertie Cummings and Scott Karim as the exotic wide boy Ali Hakim, expensively extricating himself from an unwanted marriage in a beautifully funny auction scene. And there’s a fantastically talented supporting ensemble in great voice, who bring Matt Cole’s stunning choreography to life.

There are those who maintain that musical theatre is an inferior form of the art and that it can achieve nothing more than moderate light entertainment. To those people, I say Phooey! Oklahoma! is proof that you can reflect and convey the full range of emotions of human existence and still come out singing People will say we’re in love. That takes some skill indeed. This is a fantastic production that went down a storm in the theatre; if it doesn’t transfer, I’ll eat my cowhide.