Review: THE PURISTS, Kiln Theatre

“This ain’t NWA, it’s NW6.” The pre-show warm up rapper unironically proclaims down a booming mic. What a line. So astonishingly genius and cringeworthy that you have to grovel and respect it. I might get it tattooed. Whilst most other theatres are decking the halls, the Kiln (ensconced in NW6!) is swerving stateside for the holiday season in Dan McCabe’s The Purists.

Two of New York’s seemingly polarised subcultures face off - in one corner of the sidewalk stoop it’s the Broadway groucho Gerry, in the other corner it’s the aging rappers Bugz and Lamont. They are two sides of the same coin: the former drunk on the sweet nostalgia of Golden Age Musicals, the latter on the blossoming 1990’s rap scene. All three are relics from their formerly isolated worlds, clinging onto rose tinted memories of the past and shaking their fists at the new kids on the block. Their only common ground? "Hard Knock Life - Annie" by way of Jay-Z.

From there things meander in a Seinfeld sort of way about everything and nothing. Bugz is questioning his homosexuality, unthinkable in a hyper masculine world of hip hop. Lamot rails against the commercialisation of hip hop as black art. McCabe too cleanly atomizes ideas into digestible chunks for the characters to feel organic, especially when he can’t succinctly tie them together.

Things are supposed to culminate in Nancy, Gerry’s preppy wide eyed musicals protégé. She has penned a rap infused feminist musical about Amelia Earhart that could be a swipe at everything from Hamilton to Six. Cultural appropriation of a black genre or rejuvenating an art form toxified by hyper-testosterone bravado? The twist: she’s no joke, an impromptu rap battle reveals a seriously talented freestyler, despite her cloying peppiness.

Newly anointed artistic director of the Kiln, Amit Sharma directs, reliant on the thrust of the ideas underpinning the conversation to carry the production, less the onstage drama which pootles along with the pace of a Summer saunter.

The endless urban hum echoes behind them. I can’t think why this is the right time of year for this. Nor why The Purists belongs in London when it is so culturally tied to a New York-specific melting pot. But there’s enough endearing charm to compensate for it. Hats off to a sparky rag-tag ensemble cast playing up each cartoonish caricature.

The Purists plays at the Kiln until 21 December

Photo Credits: Marc Brenner

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