When I was a kid, Statues meant a game where you had to freeze whenever the music stopped or someone looked at you. Ah, the halcyon days of innocence! Today, statues are just as likely to be a symbol of oppression or a monument to the unforgivable. Who can forget the statue of Saddam Hussein being toppled in 2003, or the division caused by chucking the statue of Edward Colston into Bristol harbour; or the efforts of the police to protect the statue of Winston Churchill during recent protests, and the debate over the future of the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College Oxford?

In 2017, Colhoun College, part of Yale University, changed its name to Grace Hopper College, in honour of the computer scientist, mathematician and Rear Admiral who had earned two doctorates from Yale. But there had been calls for the college to change its name since the 1960s, John C. Colhoun having been an outspoken supporter of slavery. Safe Space is Jamie Bogyo’s first play, and he based it on the real-life events that happened at Yale University in 2016/7, where he studied playwrighting. When you enter the auditorium at the Minerva Theatre you are immediately confronted by an imposing statue of Colhoun, suitably bespattered by bird droppings, and you just know he’s going to be a problematic presence.

However, there’s more to life at Yale than being concerned about its alumni’s provocative pasts. I had no idea that, along with all the other Ivy League universities, there is a long tradition of student a cappella singing; today there is even a National (and International) Championship of Collegiate A Cappella. Bogyo inserts a cappella moments into his plot to reflect the wider aspects of college life. There is also a subplot of rivalry between students to take control of influential student groups, with jealousy, false friendships and distrust rife. And there’s also that awkward uncertainty about accidentally saying the wrong thing or using the wrong word when it comes to matters of race or equality; come on, even the most proudly woke of us has been there.

So that’s at least three plots, each of which could sustain a full-length play. Unfortunately, Bogyo has concatenated them all together, with the result that none of them is examined in sufficient detail to create a cohesive and satisfying narrative. Questions, ideas, arguments evolve, but then go nowhere. For example, what damage was done to the statue, and who did it (we never find out, despite an extended scene where the students are waiting to be grilled by the principals). Act One ends on a very lightweight non sequitur that sends us into the interval deflated. One character has an unexpected panic attack, following which we spend a minute or two calming him down – but it is an event that has no bearing on anything that either precedes or follows it. Another truly chaotic and overly busy scene culminates with a fist being smashed through an artwork, but it goes nowhere.

The final scene uses a cappella in a highly unlikely attempt at a reconciliation and we’ve no idea whether the reconciliation is successful. The only issue that receives some kind of resolution is that a decision is made to rename the college – but it’s presented in a very underwhelming way, by disparate characters doomscrolling on their phones. Of course, leaving some issues unresolved is fine – real life is like that – but leaving virtually everything up in the air is annoying. Why did the couple who have sex act so unpleasantly to each other the next day? Why did one of the characters turn from being a supportive friend to a ruthless enemy on the flick of a coin? There’s too much going on and not enough sense being made.

Nevertheless, there’s much to enjoy in the performances and production as a whole. Khadija Raza’s set cleverly adapts to different student bedrooms – basic and luxurious, as well as the intimidating corridor outside the principal’s office and the quadrangle around the statue. The costumes are decently studenty and delightfully formal for the a cappella. Talking of which, the singing is beautiful; both Jamie Bogyo (Connor) and Ernest Kingsley Jr (Isaiah) have exquisitely delicate voices and their harmonies in that final scene – for all its dramatic faults and suspension of belief – are stunning.

All the performances are first rate; Ivan Oyik’s earnestly enthusiastic Omar is a very believable portrayal of a scholarship boy surprised at how well he has done. Bola Akeju almost has to act two characterisations – the friendly supportive Stacy of the opening scenes and the ruthlessly dismissive Stacy once she has achieved power. Céline Buckens is excellent as Connor’s unimpressed girlfriend Annabelle, amusingly checking her phone whilst he’s giving it his everything under the duvet. Jamie Bogyo’s Connor convinces as the kind of guy who simply assumes everything he says is right and that every decent person would always agree with him, and Ernest Kingsley Jr is superb in the most interesting role of Isaiah, the quiet, unassuming student who keeps his beliefs to himself until he is forced to assert his individuality.

It’s a real shame that, despite these excellent elements, the play itself lets the rest of the production down. It’s full of promise, but the end result just doesn’t hang together. So many questions, so few attempts at providing answers. It’s rather like a mass of jangling muscles that need some strong massaging in order to smooth them out and make them do the work they’re meant to. And it’s uncomfortable to be so critical of a writer’s first staged work because there’s obviously a very important and riveting play lurking just beneath the surface – but unfortunately, this isn’t it.

Two Disappointing for More!