When Michael (Jonathan Livingstone) first arrived in the UK, fleeing war and tribal conflict in east Africa, it was snowing. He joked that he had come to a country so rich that it could afford an innovative form of air conditioning. He has discovered that despite all the UK’s wealth, many are poor. Michael lives in a hostel he must leave during the day. He is often so hungry that he will cross the road rather than pass a restaurant because the smell of cooking is too much to bear. People are sometimes kind to him, but their kindness can hurt.
The Young Vic has an international reputation for its main stage shows. What might be less obvious to the casual theatregoer, eager to see one of its garlanded performances, is the amount of work it does with young people and local communities. It recently became London’s first “theatre of sanctuary”, and this show – created by refugee writers in workshops with Deanna Rodger, Imogen Brodie and former Royal Court artistic director Ian Rickson, who also directs – reflects the UK back to us through fresh eyes. Yes, it’s a place of freedoms and civil liberties that the refugees often lack in their own countries, particularly if they are lesbian, gay or transgender, but is often grudging or misguided in the help it tries to offer. Those applying for refugee status find themselves forced to live in a constant state of uncertainty. It says something when you are grateful to have cancer, as gay, Jamaican-born Desmond (Gary Beadle) is, because during treatment he won’t be sent back.
This is a rough and ready production, and fragmentary, but its simple directness is effective and it has been made with real care. Rickson’s presence is evidence that this work is being taken seriously and is as valued as a show that might win an Olivier or Critics’ Circle award. It’s proper theatre, necessary not only because it tells untold stories, but because it tries to tell them as well as possible.
The first half is a verbatim piece in which the stories of Michael and Desmond are entwined with that of Mir (Manish Gandhi), whose family in Pakistan committed him to a mental hospital rather than accept his homosexuality. The second is a monologue, performed by Golda Rosheuvel and written by Tamara McFarlane. She is from Jamaica and even at 15 knew that her lesbian relationship had to be hidden at all costs: as a child she had witnessed the mob murder of a teenage neighbour for being gay. It’s a broken-hearted love story, too. Both halves are neatly acted and grippingly remind us that everyone has a view worth hearing; that stories about those different from us tell us plenty about ourselves.
- At the Young Vic, London, until 30 July. Box office: 020-7922 2922.
