“The Beekeeper of Aleppo” – Nottingham Playhouse

Set in 2016, it is both upsetting and yet unsurprising that Christy Lefteri’s “The Beekeeper of Aleppo” continues to feel incredibly relevant in 2026, several Prime Ministers and a Brexit referendum later. The story of Syrian refugees Nuri (Adam Sina) and Afra (Farah Saffari), who arrive in England after fleeing war-torn Aleppo, is both moving and eye-opening. Often in the UK, thanks to narratives from the media and politicians, we tend to consider refugees as a group of people, whether that is as unfortunate victims or dangerous criminals, and forget to focus on individual stories. Adapted for the stage by Nesrin Alrefaai and Matthew Spangler, and directed by Anthony Almeida, “The Beekeeper of Aleppo” succeeds in placing characters at the centre of the story. There are necessary political undertones but they do not overwhelm – key Reform party members such as Nigel Farage and Jeremy Kyle are name-checked, but the political landscape in Britain is very different from that of ten years ago and therefore there is little focus put on it. As a result, the play is not too expository or heavy-handed, leaving it to the audience to make up their minds on what lessons they wish to take from the production.

The play opens with Nuri and Afra being housed in a B&B in England, having already made their journey from their dangerous homeland. Their journey is told via flashbacks, with interjecting scenes returning to the present as Nuri is subjected to questioning from the Home Office. This can take some stakes from the story, but it necessarily shifts the focus – the play isn’t about wondering whether or not Nuri and Afra survive the journey, it is more about the nature of their journey and what has happened to them. It makes the play more introspective and thoughtful, allowing us to question their pasts rather than ponder their future. The play uses captions that clearly state the year and the place, making the story easy to follow.

The key to this play is the relationship between Nuri and Afra, and thankfully Sina and Saffari have perfect chemistry throughout. Glimpses into their happy, hopeful lives in Syria offer heartwarming contrasts to their traumatised 2016 selves. Their quiet teasing of each other, and playful physical embraces, allow us to buy into their relationship early on. When they arrive in England, the characters are noticeably different, yet their strong relationship survives – in spite of their disagreements and arguments, their love for each other remains strong. It is this aspect that helps ground the play throughout, as the narrative flits between different time periods.

Nuri’s interrogation in England at the hands of the Home Office is particularly striking. There is a fear from the English that terrorists are posing as asylum seekers, and each refugee must be questioned to determine whether their story is true. It means Nuri being forced to relive the traumatic events of his journey, whilst Alia Lahlou’s immigration officer remains detached and distant, seemingly treating Nuri as a criminal. It remains a far cry from the current events in America regarding ICE, but it is shocking nonetheless. Elsewhere, the input from other aid workers feels overly familiar and disingenuous. They speak to Nuri and Afra as though they were children arriving at a holiday park. It reduces the Syrian couple to mere helpless victims, robbing them of some of their agency, not taking the time to understand exactly what they have been through.

There are some moments of comedy thanks to Joseph Long’s Moroccan Man, a fellow refugee who playfully refers to Nuri as ‘geezer’ throughout, whilst even moments of great unease and anxiety are sometimes punctuated by nervous laughs – the tension of Nuri and Afra hiding from Syrian rebels in their own house is broken as Nuri whispers to his wife “I need to fart”, and later a brief disagreement over a mobile phone helps to bring some light relief to the couple’s initial escape from Aleppo. It helps to lighten the mood without lightening the subject matter.

Not all of Nuri and Afra’s story initially makes sense – there is the inclusion of a character called Mohammed (Dona Atallah), who provides a glimpse of the effects of war on innocent children, whilst adding some additional intrigue to proceedings. The final reveal is fairly obvious and feels a little cliché, but doesn’t necessarily detract from the story too much. The decision to cast a female actor as Mohammed feels a little out of place, and Atallah’s delivery is a bit too forced at times, her dialogue too grown up for the child she is portraying, but with the final reveal, perhaps that is intentional. However, it is disconcerting enough that some of the scenes between Mohammed and Nuri don’t always work as well as they could.

Ruby Pugh’s set design sees furniture growing out of piles of rubble and sand, and used for different purposes at different times – an armchair stands in for a toilet, a bed stands in for a rubber dinghy. Tingying Dong’s soundscape helps to drive the story forward, and stands proud in scenes such as Nuri and Afra’s escape by boat, although the decision to include Nuri’s speech in this moment as a recorded voiceover is rather odd. Kane Husbands’ movement direction also helps to add to the intensity of the voyage across the sea, although later the repeated movement of Saffari falling to the floor whilst suffering at the hands of smuggler Fotakis (Aram Mardourian) is a bit too on-the-nose.

This production is keen to make clear that this is not a tale of an ‘average refugee’ – there is no such thing, and each refugee will have a different story and different views on their pasts. Mardourian also appears as Nadim, an Afghan refugee running from the Taliban because they dislike his music, whilst Princess Khumalo puts in an emotional performance as Somalian Angeliki, who has her child stolen from her and is now forced to live in a refugee camp in Athens.

Personally, as someone who is perhaps not as educated about the political situation in Syria as I should be, I would have liked a little more context given to the initial uprising that sparks this story, but it isn’t entirely necessary. This is a story about the people rather than the politics. It is moving and devastating. It makes us question our roles as Britons, and what we stand for. One cannot help but think that a production of this in the summer, when small boat crossings are likely to be headline news once more, would have been more impactful. But nonetheless, this is an important story and we should feel privileged that writers such as Lefteri are prepared to tell them.

Photos credit: Manuel Harlan.