There’s something horribly ironic about watching this brilliant play as Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood threatens indefinite leave to remain. A different politician with a bob is in charge of terrorising migrants for I Dream of Theresa May at Tara Theatre, an electric black comedy about queer Indian immigrants living, loving and in once case possibly losing their minds under the UK’s hostile environment. Jokes about how different it would be with a brown person in charge of the Home Office were met with despairing hoots.
It’s the early 2010s and Nikhil (Taraash Mehrotra) is delighting in London’s gay scene, hooking up with a different man every night and introducing his bisexual best friend Jyoti (Tanya Katyal) to his favourite haunts (G-A-Y, rip, being the ideal starter bar before Dalston Superstore or Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club is a perfectly observed piece of London queer culture). The besties bonded back home in India when Nikhil’s parents disowned him for coming out, and lawyer Jyoti has followed Nikhil to London where he’s following his PhD with a research job attempting to cure cancer (no pressure).
When the pair left their home country, homosexuality was briefly legal. But in December 2013 the Supreme Court of India votes overturns the judgement on Section 377 (the homophobic law introduced under British Colonial rule). Jyoti is desperate to return home and fight as soon as she finishes her own PhD, but Nikhil sees nothing left for him in India. Instead, he becomes increasingly obsessed with getting indefinite leave to remain.
With Theresa May’s campaign of hostility in full sway, Nikhil’s dreams are haunted by ‘go home’ vans and dawn immigration raids. Eventually, either through sleep deprivation, a nervous breakdown, or magical realism, Madame Home Secretary herself (Amy Allen) appears in a big blue jacket and statement necklace. She promises Nikhil she can ritually haze him through her 10-step guide to Becoming British — and coach him on the nonsensical questions from the Life in the UK Test to boot.
As only Nikhil (and the audience) can actually see and hear Theresa May, this received pronunciation apparition drives a wedge between him and Jyoti. They drift further apart when she meets cute doctor Noor (Nusrath Tapadar) a second generation Pakistani Muslim woman who is creeped out by Nikhil’s growing conservatism and his insistence he’s one of the ‘good ones’ who doesn’t skive around on benefits. Jyoti meanwhile is tempted to stay in the UK with Noor, but the looming Brexit vote highlights fractures between those born European and the Commonwealth citizens living in the UK who have a vote but would prefer a visa.
Writer Vivek Nityananda’s script fizzes along with no filler, a tight 100 minute show (no interval) that vaults from the highs of queer camaraderie and shots on the dancefloor to the lows when Nikhil calls home to leave faux cheery voicemails for his estranged mother. Set and costume designer Erin Guan’s frames the compact set with Brutalist steps for the protagonist and his ghostly advisor to ascend, while dangling props come into play at key moments.
Katyal and Tapadar assume uncanny smiling white face masks to role play insufferable British characters who keep Anglicising Nikhil’s name in racist microaggressions. A giant screen is used to great sinister effect by video designer Gillian Tan, with Allen’s May glitching with her real-life counterpart as she exerts her hostile demands over Nikhil.
There’s honestly not a weak link in this hilarious and heart-breaking production. Katyal is a stand-out in an already fantastic cast, her comic timing and hurt micro-expressions will have you laughing one moment and choking up the next. I Dream of Theresa May cuts to the rotten heart of modern Britain. It might give you nightmares, but then so does watching the news.
I Dream of Theresa May at the Tara Theatre until 29 November, taratheatre.com
