Tag Archives: Irfan Shamji

“Sons of the Prophet” at the Hampstead Theatre

There is a Christmas tree in Stephen Karam’s play, which makes it seasonal in a way, but this smart, dark comedy is good all year round. The challenging humour is combined with deep emotions. And in a show that’s all about suffering, the treatment is remarkably light. What’s special is Karam’s distinctive voice. The writing – evidently respected in director Bijan Sheibani’s faultless production – is a unique joy.

The play follows a bad year for Joseph, a fantastic role for Irfan Shamji, who is tremendous. Joseph’s father has died in a freakish accident, his uncle is ill, and his own health is a worry. So much pain… so how come so much of the play is funny? Karam depicts a Maronite family in rural Pennsylvania (reflecting his own background), stressing their averageness. While problems could overwhelm (they touch on the subjects of religion, immigration and health care), humour rises above every issue. Shamji is the foundation for the play; his dead-pan responses to a whole lot of rubbish he hears hit home every time.

Jack Holden as Timothy in Sons of the Prophet credit Marc Brenner
Jack Holden

Joseph isn’t alone. The play provides him with a wonderfully written sassy sibling (a role Eric Sirakian excels in). Their relationship is, simply, beautiful. They squabble as much as support each other, working through worries and grief together. But Joseph does have to put up with a quartet of characters, superbly characterised and performed, who pain him. Vin, the young man responsible for his father’s death, needs help with the apology a court is making him write! Raphael Akuwudike makes the character a figure of sympathy and endearing awkwardness. Closer to home are a prejudiced uncle (Raad Rawi) and an arrogant journalist (Jack Holden). Both excellent performances steer clear of caricature. Best of all is Joseph’s boss, a “wealthy, deranged” New Yorker publisher who is also grieving… and funny with it. The latter is a role that the excellent Juliet Cowan makes her own, taking us to the heart of Karam’s humour.

Juliet-Cowan-&-Raad-Rawi-in-Sons-of-the-Prophet_credit-Marc-Brenner
Juliet Cowan and Raad Rawi

All the characters say things they really shouldn’t. Frequently selfish, crass and embarrassing, it’s not a surprise they are funny. But note, while Karam’s satire is sharp – Joseph doesn’t suffers fools gladly even if he does suffer – there’s no toe-curling here. Cowan spouts her character’s nonsense particularly well. But, as with the other roles, there are snatches of wisdom, too. And there’s little malice. Above all, everyone’s pain is real. Suffering turns out to be a leveller. Karam may keep us laughing at unexpected moments, but his play has real soul.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking Joseph is a stoic – his frustration is palpable. The play’s title nods to Khalil Gibran, a distant relation of the family that makes Gloria sniff a book deal! But Joseph thinks Gibran is too easy. While the play has scenes with projected titles as in Gibran’s The Prophet, I suspect the Philosopher Poet is a tad declamatory a teacher for Karam’s taste. The reversal of pain to joy and the dictum “all is well” don’t convince. Given what’s going on, why should they? And yet Sons of the Prophet suggests that with honesty and warmth it is possible that we might “hurt less”. I’ll take it.

Until 14 January 2023

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

“One for Sorrow” at the Royal Court

If you’ve ever used #opendoor in the charitable spirit of helping a stranger, then Cordelia Lynn’s new play presents a challenge. Using the scenario of a terrorist attack, with one middle-class family trying to be of use, Lynn hosts a struggle between generations and exposes tensions in our society with a degree of honesty that’s as uncomfortable and insightful as it is funny.

Emma and Bill are the baby boomers who open their home to John, who is in need of safety for the night. But the invitation to stay is issued by their daughters. And it doesn’t take long for suspicions about John’s backpack to foul the atmosphere. How quickly did you wonder why he wouldn’t take off his coat?

Emma and Bill were idealistic… sorry, are idealistic… but “realistic, too, now”. All that liberal angst and first-world privilege makes these great roles for Sarah Woodward – truly commanding – and Neil Dudgeon, whose emasculation is the stuff of Daily Mail nightmares. Full of fear, then guilt about that fear, they fall over themselves to accommodate, and stand their ground. Lynn mines the couple’s parenting methods with chilling skill.

Their two bundles of joy are Imogen and Chloe, played with aplomb by Pearl Chanda and Kitty Archer, straight from Millennial casting. “We’re not girls, we’re women,” they cry – instantly and in unison. Correct, of course, but parroted? Their naivety comes close to incredible, and Lynn treads a fine line in making them believable. Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Younger audiences might feel that it’s the parents who are caricatures. Wherever your sympathies, lie Lynn plays with them to perfection.

Irfan Shamji
Irfan Shamji

There is a stumble, with the role of the family’s caller, who inspects… but doesn’t bear much inspection himself. Capably performed by Irfan Shamji, it’s clear an effort has been made to make John more than a device, but he is a still too much of a foil (an uncomfortable irony for the noble intentions here). But this is small blip in an outstanding script, and director James Macdonald does a superb job throughout, injecting considerable tension that adds a charge to the comedy.

The delicious satire would be enough to recommend the play, but Lynn has loftier aims. Chanda’s character comes to dominate after the interval, and her performance goes from strength to strength. Ideas take over as One For Sorrow becomes more intense, increasingly bizarre and didactic. The potential relationship between Imogen and John forms a kind of test for cultures. Think A Passage to India with overtones of Adam and Eve! It makes the literal incomprehension between them – magpies come into it and it’s too brilliant to spoil – ultimately bleak. The suggestion that our comfortable homes and lives may be not just vulnerable, but actually the catalyst for danger, is a stretch. But the writing is of such consistent quality that it deserves the utmost respect.

Until 11 August 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson