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There is nothing ‘expendable’ in this powerful and forensic take on challenging topics.Summary
Rating
Good
“It’s good to peel,” declares matriarch Zara Sharif (Avita Jay) as she gathers her children in her kitchen at the end of this play. It’s an appropriate metaphor, because peeling back the layers is exactly what writer Emteaz Hussain does so brilliantly in this complex, challenging and rewarding production.
Set in 2011 amidst revelations of sexual exploitation in Northern towns that brought accusations of grooming gangs and apathy from authorities, Zara’s kitchen (an amazingly hyper-realistic set by designer Natasha Jenkins) forms the central point from which family and friends come and go as the drama unfolds slowly and meticulously. It is truly a kitchen sink drama finding its feet in the modern world.
This kitchen is not just a pretty detail. It is core to the plot—although to say why would spoil it. Along with numerous metaphors for food (which represents sharing, community and support), Hussain’s deft script peels back the layers of its plot piece by piece. This is not just a device to keep the audience’s attention (which it does successfully in a very well-paced 90 minutes). It also challenges us to face our own prejudices: as each small detail is revealed, we are constantly being forced to make assumptions without knowing all the facts. There’s a lot to take in, but given that these types of voices are rarely, if ever, heard, it’s refreshing to hear what they have to say. On reflection, it’s hard to consider which devices or sub-plots you could take out without unravelling the narrative.
That fact that the main story never feels bogged down in detail is largely due to the cast, who mostly carry off heavy subjects of racism, misogyny and child abuse with nuanced and multi-toned performances. Of particular note, Lena Kaur binds this production together. Playing Zara’s older sister Yasmin, her performance is full of believable warmth, honesty and curiosity. This is fortuitous, since she is the lens through which the story emerges: she enters early on, totally ignorant of past and present events (though with some dramas of her own at home). My only difficulty was that I wanted the writer to peel back even more layers. I felt that we were only scratching the surface of the emotions behind these tales.
As Zara, Jay is equally convincing, but she has a slightly more troubling arc. Her sudden transition from neuroticism to motherly calm at the end jarred somewhat. Daughter Sofia, who gets swept up in the excitement of an online retaliation against islamophobia, is given a wonderful, youthful energy by Humera Syed, while Maya Bartley O’Dea plays local ally Jade in an understated but faultless performance. It is important that these women’s voices are heard, which is perhaps why the only male character (except from those in phone calls, texts and stories) struggles to really find his voice. Raheel (played by Gurjeet Singh) faces his own personal horror with a somewhat slow, stiff interpretation that only goes some way to demonstrate the true terror he must have been feeling.
Expendable is an ambitious and thought-provoking piece of theatre, tackling complex issues in a layered narrative that refuses to simplify or sanitise the difficult conversations it brings to the fore. The play’s willingness to confront uncomfortable truths, and its focus on rarely-heard voices, ensures its timeliness and relevance. Though not without some difficulties, Expendable opens up important dialogues about family, community, loyalty and prejudice that will be challenging for some—and that’s precisely why it’s so important.
Executive producer: Steven Atkinson
Written by: Emteaz Hussain
Directed by: Esther Richardson
Expendable plays at the Royal Court Theatre until 21st December. Further information and booking are available here.
