Dorfman Archives - The Real Chrisparkle

In our eternal quest for the best in theatre, Mrs Chrisparkle and I sneaked a couple of treat nights away in London to see all three shows currently playing at the National Theatre. We started off with the show for which I had the least expectations – but which turned out to be a seat of your pants emotional thrill-ride from start to finish – Phil Porter’s stage adaptation of Hamed Amiri’s 2020 book The Boy with Two Hearts. A co-production with the Wales Millennium Centre, it was first seen on stage in October 2021, and now, a year later, it is playing at the National Theatre’s Dorfman Theatre to spread its message of love to brand new audiences.

A true story, Hussein, Hamed and Hessam Amiri, together with their parents Mohammed and Fariba, lived as best they could in Herat, Afghanistan, under the Taliban rule. A normal family, but as if it wasn’t bad enough living under the Taliban, they have another significant problem – oldest son Hussein is born with a rare heart condition that can only be treated by specialist surgeons in either the UK or America. After Fariba makes a speech demanding freedom for Afghan women, she becomes the target of death threats from the Taliban and the family has no choice but to escape to save their lives.

What follows is two-and-a-quarter hours of anxiety-fuelled, nail biting excitement as we desperately hope the family can make their way through Europe, at the mercy of traffickers and thieves, but also sometimes assisted by genuinely kind people. Spoiler alert – but it’s not that much of a surprise really – they do make it to the UK. But what is the hope for Hussein and his heart, and can the NHS work its wonders and give him a life?

This beautiful adaptation takes this both horrific and delightful story and tells it with such lucidity and animation that it is a joy to watch from start to finish. In many ways, it’s a production like none other I’ve ever seen. For example, inventive use of projected surtitles throughout the play not only makes you aware of the continuous changing from English into Farsi and other languages, it also breathes life into your imagination to see aeroplanes taking off, or a road of busy traffic – you have to see it to appreciate it, but I’ve never seen titling used so eloquently.

Singer Elaha Soroor joins the actors on stage to provide a moody, atmospheric soundtrack of Iranian/Afghan music; this, combined with Hayley Grindle’s versatile set, Amy Mae’s evocative lighting and Amit Sharma’s creative and sensitive direction, makes for a true visual and aural feast. The writing is clear, pacey, and with a perfect balance between the humour of warm family life and the atrocity of the real world just outside; and I really liked the way the play ended up in the here and now with the brothers writing their book about their experiences.

The five actors who play the various members of the family, but also the many strangers and familiar faces they meet on their way, work as a stunning ensemble. They move seamlessly from their main character to another by a simple change of a hat or the donning of a jacket. They also drive the story forward by occasionally breaking into what I can only describe as drama-school music and movement sequences. I mention it, because whenever I have seen it done before it always looks artificial and – I don’t know, is there a polite word for wanky? But here it really works and gives the dramatic tension an extra dimension.

Each of the five actors brings immense warmth and understanding to their role. Houda Echouafni is brilliant as Fariba, constantly caring for her family, always alert to danger, always the first with both a comforting word or a disciplinary ticking-off. Dana Haqjoo, also, is superb as the father Mohammed; a natural authority, an indulgent smile, a brave planner of escapes, the ultimate in resourcefulness. Ahmad Sakhi plays Hussein; as the oldest boy he too has an authority over his brothers and conveys Hussein’s essential seriousness, an inevitability of balancing childhood fun with a life-threatening health condition. Farshid Rokey as Hamed and Shamail Ali as Hessam have the joint challenge of portraying children (Hamed is ten and Hessam is seven when the play starts) who have adulthood thrust upon them too early in life. They are all 100% convincing in their roles.

At the beginning of the interval Mrs C turned to me and said if Hussein doesn’t make it to the end, I’m going to have a bloody good cry. No spoilers again, but there’s no question this is a thoroughly emotional experience; fast paced, with the fear of disaster around every corner, and an exploration of the love within a family and by strangers outside the family. And it’s supported by a hugely creative and vigorous production with fantastic performances throughout. If you think refugee is a dirty word, this just might make you think again. It’s what theatre is all about.

Production photos by Jorge Lizalde

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

We didn’t see David Eldridge’s Beginning, the first of his trilogy of love and relationships, that premiered at the National Theatre in 2017. Whether this put us at a disadvantage for seeing Middle, the second in the trilogy, I don’t know. Presumably there’ll be an End too, but that’s a post for a different day.

Middle is a two-hander set in a modern luxury kitchen diner. Maggie and Gary have been together for sixteen years now; he works hard in a job he hates but has a great income, which allowed them to buy this six-bedroomed home. She also works hard at a job that is a disappointment to her. They have a daughter, Annabelle, whom he indulges and she disciplines, which is a cause of conflict. When he’s not at work, he’s having a few drinks at the pub, or watching West Ham. She’s very lonely, and he hasn’t got a clue. And the play starts with Maggie telling Gary that she doesn’t love him anymore.

It’s the middle of the night (middle again) and she can’t sleep. Apparently, she hasn’t slept properly in ages. She gets up to make a cup of warm milk. He, realising she’s up, gets up to nip to the loo and then comes downstairs to see if she’s ok. They’re very concerned not to disturb Annabelle. A hundred or so minutes later, their life together has been thoroughly explored, secrets revealed, and dreams shattered.

Despite some moments of humour – and some of them are shockingly funny – this comes across as an extremely sad play. Neither of them has the remotest wish to hurt the other, but they do. And there appears to be nothing that either of them can do to save the situation. It feels bleak and hopeless. And even though there is a resolution of sorts at the end – well, I didn’t believe anything was going to change. The writing, and Polly Findlay’s direction, are intense, moody and dark. The bitterness of their situation creates a stark contrast to the modern comfort that surrounds them. Annabelle’s playbox particularly stands out as a symbol of the brightness and happiness that should be present, but is only a façade.

Claire Rushbrook is excellent as Maggie, a brooding, discontented presence who’s more sad than angry, trying to explain her position to her husband who gave up listening long ago. She drifts uncertainly from room to room, unable to focus on the future or the present, and resentful of much of the past. Gary is normally played by Daniel Ryan, but for our performance his understudy Mark Middleton took the role; I don’t know how much notice he had, but it’s a huge part – Gary is never off stage – and he did a terrific job. He played Gary as a rather whiny chap of few needs and simple pleasures; taking his wife for granted but genuinely wanting to put things right when his failures have been exposed.

Maggie maintains throughout that the first five years of their relationship was great; they had fun, they were successful, they did everything they wanted, and life was perfect together. Therefore I found it hard to believe that when she does her big confession to Gary about her disappointment in not getting her dream job, and her resentment against the friend who did, that she hadn’t told him that before. They had a great relationship. She would have told him. He would have empathised and supported her. This doesn’t feel believable to me.

Mrs Chrisparkle, on the other hand, didn’t believe that the character of Gary, with everything we know about him, could hold down for so many years the city job that brings in big bucks. She can’t see how he would have cut the mustard over that time. My other slight problem with the play is that I could never quite get a grasp of its purpose. It’s a slice of life, certainly, and depicts the kind of relationship problems that could beset anyone in the middle period of their lives together. But I’m not sure how it sheds light for others. I found it a very negative experience, very downbeat, and (dare I say it) self-indulgently sad. Happy to accept that I’m probably in the minority here. Middle continues at the Dorfman until 18^th June.