In an opening sketch which could reasonably have been titled “The Thin Of It”, we meet a team of Downing Street press officers in crisis mode: the Prime Minister has once again gone off-script and ad-libbed something offensive to an unnamed section of society. On his third marriage, spouting Shakespeare and Churchill, sartorially challenged and unapologetically unapologetic (obviously, as they say in the movies, any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental), this PM’s PR folk banter back and forth and eventually spin out the kind of mealy-mouthed response Malcolm Tucker would have farted out in a minute while on his way to shout obscenities at a minister.
The witty, if overlong, pastiche at the start of Word-Play is indicative of Rabiah Hussain’s script which moves us from scene to scene around the UK, dancing around a subject which only comes into focus towards the latter half of this brief play. Through a series of skits and scenes - some more comedic, some more dramatic - the power of words used by and against the UK’s immigrant community is explored in a variety of settings.
The cast (Issam Al Ghussain, Kosar Ali, Simon Manyonda, Sirine Saba and Yusra Warsama) take on multiple roles as we go from a TfL induction mocking the “See It. Say It. Sorted” slogan to a Highgate dinner party, a flat in sunny Romford and beyond. In each place, a single word or phrase is held up to the light and closely examined. What is a potato? What is normal? Are things wonderful just because someone says they are?
In some cases, the point is sharply made but leaves us with only shallow insights; in some others, it is more casually arrived at but still with little in the way of payoff. Director Nimmo Ismail makes inspired use of the space, placing the Whitehall scenes in their own glass box. Even if the voices are occasionally muffled inside this sly physical dig at the “Westminster bubble”, the sense of disconnectedness from the audience is real.
On the flip side, in a possible attempt by Hussain to tick the cool kid boxes marked “meta”, “immersive” and “interactive”, three audience members are politely moved out of their seats and supplanted with actors who go on to discuss the play and venue they are in; it goes from being promising to feeling forced in less time than it takes to soft-boil an egg.
The final scenes pose the hardest questions. In the face of racist oppression, is it better to stand tall or act small? Can words hurt us as much as sticks and stones? And just how much is this government’s anti-radicalisation Prevent strategy brutalising the very people it wants to turn away from the allures of terrorist groups?
That words have power is a long-held truism that this production pushes home time and time again, albeit while showcasing some fine acting. Despite its short running time of 80 minutes and the hit-and-run nature of the sketches, the script rarely hits home with the resonance of, for example, Lenny Bruce’s skits on taboo words and concepts or George Carlin and his infamous “seven dirty words”. Hussain’s splatter gun approach to obvious societal evils makes some intriguing points but misses more than it hits, especially in the early parts of Word-Play.
Fifty years ago this week, the Rocky Horror Show made its first ever appearance in this same small space. It's unlikely that this work will have a similar longevity.
Word-Play continues at The Royal Court Theatre until 26 August.
Photo credit: Johan Persson
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