Small Island
Based on Andrea levy’s novel, Small Island, the stage adaptation by Helen Edmundson, currently playing at Nottingham Playhouse, explores the experiences of the Windrush generation with both honesty and humanity. Moving between Jamaica and post-war London, and following the intertwined lives of Hortense, Gilbert, Queenie and Bernard, this play does not shy away from the harsh realities of racism and social inequality, yet manages to do it with warmth, humour and emotional depth.
On a relatively bare, wooden stage, a black and white digital projection takes front and centre stage, setting the time, 1939, and place, Jamaica. This screen showing a British news report is used throughout Act 1, punctuating each transition in time, and bringing a stark realism to the sweeping narrative, grounding it in the real history of wartime Britain and the Windrush generation.
Of the four main characters, it is a young Hortense that we are first introduced to. Anna Crichlow is absolutely incredible in this role, portraying young innocence with the same level of panache as her older, more reserved self. The use of lighting (Ciaran Cunningham) allows Hortense to almost step out of time and directly speak to us, breaking the fourth wall and forming an unbreakable bind with us, the audience as we feel like her confidants in her journey from childhood. Crichlow plays older Hortense with a quiet dignity as she grapples to come to terms with disappointment and broken dreams
The music composed by Luke Bacchus, and sound, designed by Adrienne Quartly, underscores each emotion wonderfully, building atmosphere while never distracting, from the narrative as it unfolded. Coupled with the lighting, these technical elements really draw out a sense of place and time – I am wowed by the beige cloths becoming texturised as dawn, dusk, twilight and storm, rippling like watercolours. It’s transportative and evocative.
It is in 1941, 2 years later, that we are introduced to Queenie (Bronte Barbe), another of our protagonists. Leaving Jamaica behind, we find Queenie in the Blitz, staying with her wonderfully exuberant, over-the-top British aunt. Zoe Lambert brings such warmth, delight and laughter to this role. I just loved how exaggerated this character is, but also how stereotypically British! Queenie, unlike Hortense, is warmer, more open and much less reserved, however, we soon see that both women are trapped by their respective societies and the weight of expectation. Like Hortense, Queenie also speaks directly to the audience, solidifying our relationship with her.
Bernard (Mark Arends) is not a good match for Queenie – this is immediately apparent. A bit of a bumbler, it comes as a real shock to see the ineffectual Bernard become a representative of a prejudiced society. Through Bernard, the play reminds us that unthinking ignorance isn’t an excuse for hatred. In one of the most memorable scenes in the play, Gilbert (Daniel Ward) asks “you wan’ know what your white skin make you, man? […] White. No better, no worse than me – just white.” Arends nuanced performance captures Bernard’s character progression (or regression) brilliantly. Bernard is not a villain, and is not presented as such – it’s a very tight line to tread, and Arends does it with finesse.
Gilbert is perhaps the character who has the fullest understanding of both small islands. Playing this part, Ward is a force – every time he is on the stage, he doesn’t just perform Gilbert, he inhabits him. He has absolute ownership of the space, living and breathing the character so naturally that you can’t imagine anyone else in that part.
One of the most poignant portrayals though is Arthur’s (Paul Hawkyard) depiction of a WWI soldier suffering with shell shock. Hawkyard is utterly incredible – every shuffle, every facial tick, spoke volumes. It is heart-wrenching to watch the Blitz’s impact on a man already broken by war. The sweet and tender moments, the moment with the daffodils for example, will remain with me for always. Such a sweet soul, Arthur is the beating heart of Act One for me, drawing out the audience’s warmth and protective instincts.
This play has a very strong message about equality – as relevant today as it was 22 years ago when the book was first published. With the subject matter in mind, one of the things I am not prepared is the humour. It is pitch-perfect with laugh-out-loud moments and quiet reflective wit. I even nearly spit out my drink with just pure, unexpected delight. The humour does not take away from the seriousness of the message – it adds to it. The audience is not only united in laughter, we are also one in our gasps of shock at the devastation on the stage, and at the casually flung around words of hatred (please take note of the trigger warnings and be prepared for strong, racist language). Act Two in particular doesn’t shy away from hard truths.
The play is long – three hours twenty, including interval – so budget for parking! I’ll admit, that the stretch up to the interval, though fast-paced, did have us waiting for reprieve. But it was so worth it. The stage’s spinning reveal (set design by Simon Kenny) at the end of Act One was unexpected and powerful—Hortense and Queenie, miles apart, yet sharing space, mirroring the distance between their hopes and their realities.
It’s ultimately a play about relationships, the human condition, and the brutality of war, with every actor, lead or ensemble, contributing something special to the narrative. The audience care deeply for these characters, and that’s a testament to the actors who pour their hearts into these roles.
This is ultimately one of the most powerful pieces of theatre I’ve ever seen and it will stay with me. It is, at its heart, a story about hope, resilience and the complicated nature of “home.” Its relevance remains strikingly clear today.
Small Island is playing at Nottingham Playhouse until Saturday 16 May.
