A cast of four male refugee actors (and one female British caseworker) use theatre as their resistance, a platform to tell their lived experiences and make the audience think about the human beings behind the hysterical tabloid headlines – and answering the phones in takeaways.

The pizza shop setting is referenced wittily throughout, with scene titles written on the inside of empty pizza boxes, hats made of packaging and brief scenes where the cast take telephone orders and work pizza dough.

Although their stories of prison, abuse, interrogation, escape and fear – all told directly to the audience – are inevitably shocking and upsetting, the actors are adamant that they don’t want to be pitied. Comedy is a vital part of the work and prevents it from becoming too bogged down in anger and despair – the cast banter with each other and the audience with real humour, listing things to know about England (the weather is terrible, the food is good, English people prefer dogs and children to old people) but always with a dark, ironic edge.

Performances across the cast are excellent, with some really powerful moments: a scene showing the young men’s mothers, while comical on the surface, is poignantly reflective of the positive spin their sons feel duty-bound to put on their lives when speaking to their families. A monologue on the government of Afghanistan is particularly passionate and hard-hitting.

The piece does take a more uplifting turn towards the end, as the four young men imagine bright futures with careers, wives and children – children who, born in the UK, will have a very different life.

‘Pizza Shop Heroes’ is the real deal – it’s not an artistic response to the theme of migration, but powerful, thought-provoking theatre with a purpose.

Pizza Shop Heroes is at Home, Manchester on 4 and 5 October 2019 as part of Orbit Festival 2019. See Phosphoros Theatre Company website for more dates.

Queens of Sheba at Orbit Festival 2019.

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The opening has a solitary woman standing centre stage and is looking into an imaginary mirror. She wears a coloured African head scarf, blouse and leggings, both black. She gently touches her face as if to confirm she’s ok. Then slowly, she begins to sob. This is a window seldom open to wider society. An image seldom remarked upon. Most of us will agree that we all, to some degree, have body-issues; some obstacle we’re trying to overcome. However, when the issue you’re dealing with is something passed down genetically. One that can-not be changed. All of a sudden, your battle seems insurmountable.

Ryan Calais Cameron’s sharp stage adaptation based on the play written by Jessica L Hagan sees our cast traverse the modern life as experienced by today’s modern black women. Work. Dating. Clubbing. All standard fare, however, when we’re invited to view matters through their eyes. What seems innocent enough in the first instance turns out to have huge ramifications. The actors don’t so much play parts or characters in the traditional sense, instead the scenes are skilfully delivered through syncopated monologues, song and dance. This has the desired effect of hooking us in and exposing us to ‘the message’, without having to worry about character arcs and development.

Halfway through the act the cast provide a chronology of the many ages of the black women growing up: ages 1 to 3 girls are cheeky, fun loving; 6 to 8 they’re problematic; by 9 to 12 they’re sexualised. The fact that resonated with me most was that these individuals were/are forced to grow up too fast and denied the innocence of childhood – and that this neglect of one’s rite of passage is instigated by both parents and teachers.

Acapella numbers are delivered with pathos, sincerity and aplomb with references to female songstresses including, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, Diana Ross, Eta James and Tina Turner who paved the way for the current generation. Amongst this homage to female trail blazers, the cast address their conflicting emotions regarding the male objectification of women. In particular black male objectification of black women or misogynoir (the specific prejudice directed towards black women where race and gender both influence the bias). With reference to Hip Hop they proclaim in unison: “I’m in love with my abuser, he comes in many forms, I dance to his beat, I’m in love with his sound, he objectifies me – his lyrics tear me down – I’m in love with my abuser”. The audience contemplate the disconnect of being from and of something that dehumanises you while at the same time professing to protect you.

Humour is never far from this rendition and it excels when the all-female cast portray the pastiche of men they’ve encountered in their lives. Charlie is the first. He’s a white cockney wideboy who loves dating ‘exotic’ women. He is a walking bag of micro-aggressions, and never more than one faux pas away from a car crash waiting to happen, as he embarks on his date with one of the cast. This is quickly followed by a comedic display the like of which I’ve never seen executed so well – ever! Each (female) cast member takes a turn to portray a particular stereotype of the young urban black male ‘on the pull’ – it brings the house down. And of course, it resonates because they’ve been on the receiving end of this behaviour every Friday or Saturday night – ad infinitum.

Tonight’s performance calls out stereotypes, biases, and prejudices made every day whether at work or while out socialising – the piece highlights the age-old question asked of them upon meeting someone for the first time (even though you were born & bred or raised in the UK): “Where do you come from? I mean where do you really come from?” They reply: “I’m a mix of racism and sexism, they lay equally on my skin. Passed down unknowingly by my next of kin … ignoring the fact I’m God’s creation”.

Queens of Sheba is the beauty that comes when the authentic voice of the marginalised is given room to breathe – inhale the sisterhood. I for one can’t wait for their next offering.

Queens of Sheba is at Home, Manchester from 1-5 October 2019 as part of Orbit Festival 2019. Visit Omnibus Theatre website for full tour details.

Jamal Harewood presents Word + Post-show discussion

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The production starts audaciously with Jamal dressed head-to-toe in black. Dreads tied-back and black tape fashioned in an ‘x’ across his lips. He stands calmly on-stage, legs shoulder-width apart, arms clasped behind his back – then nothing. And then more nothing. The space falls silent. If there were a decibel sound below ‘near total silence’, then that’s where we’d be now. Still more nothing. Jamal stares at a fixed point in the distance and maintains this position just long enough to become slightly awkward but not long enough for it to be annoying. Eventually he points at an envelope, this is the most he’ll say all night – the Game Show begins.

This is audience participation par excellence. The envelope provides the instructions that drive the evenings proceedings and the proceedings are dominated and marshalled by the audience. Jamal plays the role of an assistant – think Debbie McGee to Paul Daniels’ magic act – often seen but never heard. We’re split into teams (Team Day and Team Night) and asked to compete in the first of three games, see if you can play along. The first is a ‘find the missing letters’ and guess the word round. We guess. We make mistakes. We make funny mistakes. Then eventually we get one right. For more points we select one of the words and are asked to define that word. This is cross-checked in a dictionary. And finally, for bonus points we’re asked to use the word in a rhyming couplet.

The second game plays out along similar lines, but this time we’re asked to guess what words have been said about Jamal behind his back. Immediately there’s an assumption that the word(s) must be negative. Pejorative.

The final game is Hangman, the game we all played as children only this time instead of letters on a flip chart, the guessed letters are written on Jamal’s bare chest. To win, either team needs to guess the letters, guess the word and agree to shout the word out loud together. So far, the mood’s been quite jovial and supportive but as the letter ‘G’ is called out and consumes two of the available slots ‘_ _ G G _’ the atmosphere darkens, as some audience members elect to leave.

Jamal’s interactive brand of theatre ‘creates communities’ that ‘focus on themes of identity and race…’. Here the focus was on words and how we use them. The dictionary definition of a word may often bear no relationship to its common usage in the real-world. And this is what makes this production interesting. Conceptually the idea of this show was a breath of fresh air, even if at times the execution was a little clumsy. This is invariably the risk one takes when you use volunteers.

The real kernel of this performance was the post-show discussion. This unscripted, unedited section, lasting longer than the actual show, saw real heart-felt exchanges between strangers. People spoke from personal perspectives and there appeared to be a real desire to connect. Issues touched upon included race and racism. Gender and sexuality. Can one use racist language and not be a racist; freedom of speech – how far should society go to limit ‘hate-speak’ and where does this right cross over and infringe one’s freedom of speech?

Upon entering a separate room, a significant proportion of the audience sat in a circle reminiscent of what I’d imagine an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting would look like. Jamal is nowhere to be seen. The more confident of the group begin to express themselves, by praising Jamal’s production. There’s a discussion about how close the audience came to actually using the ‘N’ word, just to win a competition. Then like collapsing dominos, members proclaimed that the ‘N’ word was reprehensible and that its use made you a racist. This was countered with oft used retort that the ‘N’ word was used quite fluidly and amicably in American rap culture. The nuances of language are indeed complex and it’s unsurprising that individuals struggle to know what the correct thing to say is.

The discussion of language and its impact had a far-reaching impact, triggering anecdotes from the participants that included witnessing racist situations and having the courage to challenge them; and society’s struggle with labels in relation to homosexuality and gender.

While no answers or solutions were garnered it was universally accepted that the evening had been well spent and that comfort zones had been nudged ever so slightly.

Jamal Harewood presents Word + Post-show discussion on 30 September and 1 October 2019 at Home, Manchester as part of Orbit Festival 2019.

Care from The PappyShow at the Orbit Festival.

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In an unusual twist, this character is played by a guest actor (different each night) who performs from the script unsighted, alongside a cast of three. It’s a clever way to map out the story, with the cast directing the newcomer as the performance progresses, bringing results that are improvised, naturalistic and often humorous.

It’s a fascinating exercise in theatre too – the scene in which the main character realises the plane is going to crash is repeated countless times to bring out different tones; his movements are lit, filmed and live streamed onto a screen with subtitles; he is hot seated with an endless stream of prompts (‘show me what you look like when you’re in love’).

It would be interesting to see how this fresh and unconventional format varies each night with its new cast member, but zooming in so closely on an individual does sometimes feel like a missed opportunity – there’s no sense of the disaster on a bigger scale, with newsflashes, rumours and online hysteria (as suggested by the show’s premise). Describing the work as ‘dance-filled’ is also a bit of a stretch – there is plenty of repeated movement, but nothing rhythmic or expressive.

Nonetheless, this is a refreshing, funny and thought-provoking take on the ‘post-truth age’ by a talented young company.

The Accident Did Not Take Place presented by YESYESNONO is at Home, Manchester on 27 and 28 September 2019 as part of the Orbit Festival 2019. Please note this show is not suitable for people under 16 years of age.

Review of Sh!t Theatre Drink Rum With Expats at Orbit Festival 2019.

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The stage is designed to look like a pub. A working pub. It’s adorned with Union Jacks and the backdrop has an imposing projection that shows an England football game, from, I believe, the 1970s. The theatre is teaming. Audience members leap in joyous merriment as they dance to Simply Red’s Fairground while being served drinks from the bar. During the infectious chorus the lyrics appear on screen – think Karaoke; during which maps appear – Malta, Libya, stills of migrants in make-shift boats battling against adverse weather conditions.

This is a political performance disguised as chaos or is it chaos disguised as political performance?

It’s clear that Rebecca and Louise are passionate about the political subject matter, their well-drilled and rehearsed delivery is infectious. But the message is hidden so deep in an outer narrative that I was always left wanting more. I have to put my cards on the table. I’m addicted to current affairs and I love documentaries. The less fuss the better.

This production wears its irreverence like a badge of honour, we’re constantly propelled like a fairground waltzer between Maltese translations of rude English words and drive to consume ever more ‘drink’. Yes, there are songs. Shanti songs. There are soliloquies and poems but all pale into insignificance when the real meat of the show is addressed – the corruption and migrant scandal that besets the Island of Malta

Periodically and with ever more detail we’re exposed to the plight of migrants off the coast of Malta. Deaths are either hushed up or floating vessels denied refuge. Ironically and simultaneously there are reports of ‘golden visa’ schemes – this is where the wealthy pay a fee in exchange for a fast-track Maltese naturalisation. With that comes an EU passport.

I’m not totally devoid of a sense of humour and as a result I found the interlude references to Oliver Reed a welcome relief. We’re informed that he passed away in the very same Valletta bar after consuming a marathon amount of alcohol. But even this comedic segway after a while feels like rubber-necking a motorway accident.

But while I was left wanting more, Rebecca and Louise were rewarded with a standing ovation, their brand of humour and politics clearly has a following that’s worth seeing at least once.

Sh!t Theatre Drink Rum With Expats is at Home, Manchester from 26-28 September 2019 as part of Orbit Festival. Please not there is an age recommendation of 16 plus for this production. This production contains distressing themes and images covering topics including migration & political assassination. There is a dog onstage. If you need more information before the show, please feel free to contact the company at shittheatre@gmail.com

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In an age when musical theatre seems more popular than ever, ‘We’ve Got Each Other’ is a brilliantly timed satire of the genre. It’s a witty, yet fond parody of the ubiquitous jukebox musical, full of references to odd conventions in the world of musical theatre: working class characters are always cockney, even in ‘Les Misérables’; villains wear head-to-toe black; heartfelt death-bed solos are commonplace. Bon Jovi fans be warned: this is not a tribute show featuring the band’s back catalogue – ‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ their signature hit which inspired the show’s title, is in fact the only song used (to great comic effect).

O’Donnell’s show is a clever twist on the usual comic parody format. Source material for these productions is normally Shakespeare or another well-known literary work, rather than a new musical, and it’s also very unusual to see this style of show performed by just one person – but O’Donnell makes it work.

Addressing the audience directly, he appears like a stand-up comedian, with a self-deprecating, deliberately awkward persona that immediately wins the audience over. He narrates and part-performs the cheesy, cliché-ridden plot with energy, bringing the love story of Tommy and Gina to half-life; whether putting on ridiculous accents, singing different parts of ‘Livin’ on a Prayer,’ bursting into dance routines or narrating full-scale numbers in perfect synchronisation with music and lighting cues, O’Donnell makes this a fun and hilarious experience that has the whole audience singing, clapping and dancing along as instructed. It’s among the most natural, non-threatening audience participation I’ve ever encountered.

As his darkly comical, existential monologue during the ‘interval’ blackout section makes clear, this show is a celebration of musicals as escapism. His alleged original vision – “the new Hamilton,” an epic West End production complete with full band, cast of 35 and choreography by Bruno Tonioli – would be nowhere near as enjoyable.

Please note, this production has an age recommendation of 12+ This show contains mild swearing, smoke and flashing lights.

We’ve got Each Other is at Home, Manchester on 19 and 20 September 2019 as part of Orbit Festival 2019.

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