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The Beekeeper of Aleppo (Susan Elkin reviews)

The Beekeeper of Aleppo

Christy Lefteri, adapted by Nesrin Alrefani & Matthew Spangler

Directed by Anthony Almeida (original director Miranda Cromwell)

Richmond Theatre and touring

Star rating: 3.5

I first saw this Nottingham Playhouse Production three years ago on its home turf. Now touring, with a cast of eight which includes some actors from the original show, it has changed a little but remains powerfully moving.

Based on Christy Lefteri’s bestselling 2019 novel, the play explores the experience of migration to Britian from terrifying places of conflict – specifically Syria in the case of the titular beekeeper, Nuri (Adam Sina). As well as migration itself we are led to think about loss, marriage, parenting, guilt and friendship among other things. “Where there are bees there is life and hope” Nuri’s cousin and fellow beekeeper observes as bees emerge as a metaphor for what we all want:  a harmonious, peaceful, collaborative way of living together.

Nuri, gradually afflicted by PTSD, which everyone can see except him, is sensitively portrayed. Adam Sina gives him loving warmth and tremendous decency all of which gradually crumbles into despair until something happens to change that. And Farah Saffari, is pretty strong as his damaged (blinded by trauma), troubled wife, Afra, although – possibly because of the acoustic of Richmond Theatre –  she isn’t always audible from Row G. There is delightful work, too from Joseph Long as gentle, wise cousin Mustafa and the Moroccan man in a south coast hostel desperately, and hilariously, trying to adopt British ways. Otherwise this is very much an ensemble piece, sometimes using physical theatre, in which the other five actors show a lot of versatility.

Ruby Pugh’s ingenious set presents a sort of rocky promontory with an inset door, window, trap door, bed and armchair, against which all the action is played. And there are a lot of scenes in this play, ranging right across Europe and shifting back and forwards in time but the storytelling is commendably clear. Video projection by Zsolt Balogh and Palma Studio adds a lot of atmospheric and colourful detail and the captions to indicate location are a sensible idea. The sound design is neat too ranging as it does from bombs to seagulls and, of course, bees.

It ends on a note of forward-looking optimism because, naturally, there are bees so there is hope.

Marin Alsop conducts Scheherazade

Philharmonia

Marin Alsop

Cello: Ailsa Weilerstein

Royal Festival Hall

12 March, 2026

 

The first half of this concert presented an imaginative, all-Mexican pairing. It’s a treat to hear an orchestra of this calibre having beautifully balanced fun with the rich rhythmic pulsating of Arturo Marquez’s Danzon no 2. It is, of course, a fusion of Mexican popular music with classical ideas and this compelling account of it included splendid tuba work, bows-down pizzicato and a suitably understated violin solo (Sergey Ostrovsky) The energetic cross-rhythms made it quite hard to sit still and listen.

Thence to a completely different sound world and response to Mexico. Gabriela Ortiz’s Cello Concerto “Dzonot” is a reflection on Mexico’s natural underwater network and an expression of concern for the environment as well as a celebration of its beauty. This was the London premiere of the piece played by Ailsa Weilerstein to whom it is dedicated.

Weilerstein can certainly coax some unusual un-cello-like sounds from her instrument. The second movement opens with col legno (to represent the padding feet of a jaguar) and there are some plaintively mysterious harmonies in the third movement with a pedal note in the basses and tinkling bells at the top of the texture.  Her glissandi grab the attention and so do her harmonics. It’s a piece full of haunting sound effects and Weilerstein plays it beautifully – it must be pretty challenging but satisfying to do for her as well as for conductor and orchestra. On the other hand it’s not particularly listenable and I suspect many of the audience, who were looking forward to the main piece in the concert might have preferred something more melodious ,although contrast and innovation are always welcome.

And so to the high spot of the evening and this performance of Scheherazade – Rimsky-Korsakov, always a sumptuous melodist, at his very best – really did scale the heights. Played throughout with incisive passion and conducted by Marin Alsop without a score, it shone like a brightly burnished old coin.  Highlights included the magnificent bassoon solo in the second movement which Arvid Larrsson packed  with warmth and rubato. And Ostovsky played the narrative solo line with immaculate poignancy without ever milking it.  The rich string work, especially, in the third section was full of dynamic contrasts and I like the way Alsop sometimes stops conducting conventionally and simply sways.

I suspect the quality of a Philharmonia performance such as this lies partly in the sense that every member of the orchestra is enjoying playing. It’s not just a job. Annabelle Meare, principal second violin, always draws my eye, for example, because she lives and breathes every note with tangible pleasure.

Photograph: Gabriela Ortiz

 

First published in Sweden in 2024, Liza Ridzen’s debut novel has been a runaway, word-of-mouth success. The English translation landed in mid 2025 and it is now translated into 34 languages. I think its power lies in its simple humanity. Most of us will have experienced, from some angle, at least a bit of what Ridzen presents here.

Bo is an ordinary man of northern Sweden (where Rizden lives). His adored wife, Fredrika is in a care home, so far afflicted with dementia that she no longer recognises him. Having worked for fifty years in a sawmill, Bo now wants to live independently with his beloved elkhound, Sixten. The trouble is that he’s 89 and his health is failing rapidly. It is not safe for him to take Sexten out into the woods, as he always has done, although he tries to repeatedly. At one point Sexten spots an elk and hares off in an attempt to do what he’s bred to do and there’s a tense 24 hours when the dog is missing. Bo is visited four times each day by carers.

The narrative runs on dates like a diary – with third person, quasi stream of consciousness passages in which Bo shares thoughts, memories, views and worries as if he were speaking to Fredrika. Interspersed with that are comments left by carers in the record book. Apparently, that is where the inspiration for this moving novel came from: the written entries left by carers in the report book as Rizden’s grandfather’s approached the end of his life.

Bo is often understandably angry. Who are these people to keep telling him what to do? He won’t shower if he doesn’t want to. Why should he eat if he’s not hungry?  And of course he can take his own dog out. He’s been doing it all his life. But, in fact he is powerless as, increasingly his son, Hans, make decisions for him. Bo, inevitably, detests this role reversal and uses sullenness to object because it’s the only strategy he has left.

One of the issues is Sexten who gives Bo huge amounts of comfort as they sleep together on the antique day bed in the kitchen. But of course, the reader knows, that tragic as it is, Hans is right. This is no life for an active dog and he needs to be rehomed with a family who can look after him properly. On the other hand, we also feel Bo’s grief at the prospect of being dogless. Then there’s the issue of the day bed to which he has become attached.  Bo refuses to use the bed he formerly shared with Fredrika. Now his son and carers decree that he must have an “adaptable” hospital style bed and, of course, he doesn’t want that either. “This isn’t just about you, Dad” Hans tells him tersely. Bo wonders sardonically why it isn’t – it’s his life and comfort, after all.

Hans is an interesting character whom we meet only through Bo’s eyes, including many memories of his childhood.  Bo was always determined to be a much better father than his own bullying father had been. Nonetheless he and Hans have always struggled to talk to each other freely. The reader can see past Bo and recognise that the younger man is doing his best in a difficult situation – especially when they visit Fredrika or attend the funeral of Bo’s best friend, Ture. He can be tactless, bossy or exasperating but he’s a good man and very worried about his ailing father.

We also get a vivid impression of Ingrid, Bo’s favourite carer. She takes the time to talk to him. She jollies him along without being patronising. She even takes Sexten out briefly which is definitely not part of her job.

It’s a beautiful, intensely thoughtful book which I found so riveting that I read it in twenty-four hours.

Next week on Susan’s Bookshelves: Glasgow Boys by Margaret McDonald.

 

St Matthew Passion

JS Bach

The Bach Choir

London Youth Choirs

Florilegium

Conductor: David Hill

Soloists: Toby Spence, Neal Davies, Lucy Crowe, Carolyn Dobbin, Benjamin Hulett, Christiopher Purves

Royal Festival Hall, Southbank Centre

08 March 2026

 

I am a religious unbeliever. JS Bach was a deeply committed Lutheran. One thing that Herr Bach and I was agree on, however, is that this is one of the most intensely powerful narratives of all times and all cultures. Why else has it absorbed musicians (and other artists) since the stories were first set down in the first century AD through mediaeval carols to Handel, Bach, Andrew Lloyd Webber and many more? The fascination is timeless, endless and cuts through all points of view,

And St Matthew Passion, which requires two chamber orchestras, two choirs plus a ripieno choir, organ and six soloists is one of the most tenderly grandiloquent accounts of it ever written. The staunchness of Bach’s beliefs are there but so is the drama of a good story well told which is why there’s something here for everybody.

The Bach choir, marking its sesquicentennial this year, performs St Matthew Passion annually and has a long tradition of no applause until the very end which is very welcome. If only this respect would spread to other works (such as symphonies) in other concerts. David Hill had the huge forces completely under his hands and coaxed the crispest possible diction and a whole range of dynamic and harmonic richness from the choir which is seated on three sides above the orchestra. “Loose him! Leave Him! Bind it Not!” was incisively operatic and every chorale was sung with warmth and immaculate control right through to the poignancy of the final pianissimo G minor chord. And it’s a treat to see and hear the London Youth Choirs, resplendent in turquoise tee shirts, contributing so ably.

The starry lineup of six solists were seated mostly behind the orchestra with Toby Spence as Evangelist next to the organ immediately in front of David Hill. From time to time they moved to the front but sometimes sang from within or beyond the orchestra and it was pretty effective placing. Of these Spence (tenor) gave a marvellous performance – moving and dramatic with every and every note placed with precision and clarity. And, always good value, Christopher Purves, in his trademark black kilt, gave the baritone voices, especially Judas, all the dark brown resonance you could wish for.

Full marks too, to Florilegium. Working, as the piece requires, as two orchestras, they played with enjoyable mellowness on their period instruments. The flute and oboe continuos (with players standing) were especially lovely and there was plenty of fine work from strings, especially double basses.

I see, and review, a great deal of heavily amplified musical theatre. It’s reassuring to see a performance as stunningly able to fill a large auditorium as this without a radio mic in sight. Long live “classical” training.

The Wrong They Knew

Directed by Michael Bossisse and Bethany Hamlin

Rayne Theatre

Chickenshed

Star rating: 5

I have been travelling to the wilds of N14 to review Chickenshed shows for twenty years. Almost everything I’ve seen there has been impressive But this time they have, I think, surpassed themselves. The Wrong They Knew is the strongest work I’ve ever seen there.

We’re in the 1950s. Immigrants have arrived from the Caribbean and there is a lot of ugly hostility. I am old enough to remember a lot of this in the later 50s and 1960s and it’s very important to inform young people that things were far, far worse before we had race relations legislation. The raw prejudice was horrifying and that’s what this very moving production highlights – in Chickenshed’s inimitable way. That means breathtakingly slick choreography involving a big, inclusive ensemble  cast, diverse in every sense, punctuated by acrobatically smooth architectural shapes. It’s somewhere between physical theatre and ballet. At the same time there’s fabulously atmospheric music with lots of calypso and rap along with a haunting version of “Early One Morning” (which every 1950s school child knew) in the classroom and a menacing reworking of “I know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly”.

The plot is very clearly inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird. Two children leave food for a reclusive man who, a long time later, rescues them from a dangerous situation. White girl, Madeleine Awol (Tilly Morton – good) is a lonely, abused victim terrified of her father but sexually frustrated. She persuades Theo Rookley (Shiloh Maersk – fine performance), a happily married, disabled black man, to come, against his will, into her home to help her. Her father (Jimmy Adamou – very good indeed) is a brutish lout who then beats her up and accuses Theo of assault. Despite the efforts of the benign, decent lawyer, Isaac Shawcross, Theo is found guilty. If you know To Kill a Mockingbird you’ll know more or less how it pans out although there is a pleasing narrative surprise at the end

Cara McInanny, co-musical director with Phil Haines, plays Iris who is Isaac’s second wife and a loose reworking of Harper Lee’s Calpurnia. She sings beautifully and acts as an anchor for much of what happens on stage. Other music mostly involves Chickenshed’s trademark short solos and lots of dramatic chorus work all of which drives the plot along powerfully.

The Wrong they Knew also visits the joy of Carnival – a concept which arrived in Britian in the 1950s with people from the Caribbean. Then there are tensions with Teddy boys and quite a lot else. I really liked the insertion of real extracts from 1950s news reports, interviews and vox pop comments along with posters, placards, banners and grafitti.  And everyone on stage is in some form of 1950s costume – tweed skirts, full skirts, polka dots, ties, formal jackets and much more. The sense of period is spot on. Even the foyer music is calculated to support that. I hadn’t heard “Magic Moments” for a very long time,

Bravo Chickenshed. You certainly live up to your “theatre changing lives” branding. Shocking as the subject matter is The Wrong They Knew is a joy to watch,

 

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret

George Ryder and Brodie Husband

Directed by Emily Prosser-Davies

Linnet Theatre

Jack Studio

 

Star rating: 4

 

Five first year students who don’t know each other arrive at a shared house and the group dynamics are complicated. It’s a strong idea for a 95 minute straight-through play and it’s tautly written.

Bex (Emily Dilworth) is, at least on the surface, a knowing, confident good-time girl of some experience. Charlotte (Katie Emanuel) is, very different: nervous, Christian and initially keener on work and peace and quiet than drink and drugs. Later her caution is thrown to the winds and Emanuel really nails the contrast and makes it plausible.

Luke (George Ryder, co-writer of the play) is at the start worldly like Bex and Henry (Brodie Husband. co-writer) pretends to be a slobbish buffoon but actually emerges, as the play goes on, as an articulate man who knows about poetry. None of them is a stereotype.

But Ollie J Edwards gets the best role. As Kane he is a non-drinking studious, decent type who supports (and fancies) Charlotte or so it seems. Actually he is a dark – shockingly dark – horse. Edwards plays him with naturalistic nuance and it’s good to watch.

This well-directed quintet of accomplished actors play impressively off each other too. There’s a lot of alert listening and response and the aggressive arguments are convincing.

The low budget set works well. The room contains only a sofa (stage business with cushions) a table and a mini kitchen. A false back wall incorporates a locked door behind which is a chilling mystery and the main auditorium entrance is used to add depth as usual at the Jack Studio.

Long before we get to the real drama, the inconsequential awkwardness when the five first meet at the beginning is deftly observed,

Linnet Theatre is a new company and clearly one which knows its business.

Looking For Me Friend: The Music of Victoria Wood

Paulus & Michael Roulston

Directed by Sarah-Louise Young

Jacksons Lane and touring

Star rating: 3

It’s a cheerful, pleasing show with moments of poignancy. And it’s also a crowd-pleaser – providing the crowd is steeped in the comedy of Victoria Wood. She was a stalwart of TV comedy in the 1980s and 90s with a very distinctive voice which punctured the pomposity of daily life. Anyone who isn’t happily au fait with what Wood said, sung and did will feel, sadly, a bit excluded at this show. It’s like being at a lively party where you don’t know anyone.

Paulus The Cabaret Geek (Paul L Martin) is an accomplished performer who has toured this show since 2020. It features Wood’s songs with linking repartee. He knows how to work an audience, sings well and, best of all, has impeccable diction without ever being mannered. So the songs work well from Feeling in the Mood and Pam though to Fourteen Again and the hilarious The Ballad of Barry and Freda. The samey, simpering beam which he bestows on the audience at the end of each anecdote gets a bit wearing though.

Paulus is accompanied on piano by Michael Roulston who is an impressively talented musician. He and Paulus are totally at one as they have to be. Wood, after all, accompanied herself  from the keyboard, Tom Lehrer style. I really liked the way he picks up the intro to the next song as Paulus reaches the final sentence of his spiel – evidence of careful rehearsal and years of doing this show together. Roulston also contributes the occasional bit of sung harmony and he is, himself, no mean actor doing a range of voices and perfectly timed interjections.

It’s fun be reminded of all those things we’ve half-forgotten such as the mascara brush you spit on, communal changing rooms in shops, the Bunty comic and Swarfega to remove engine grease from your hands. But you need to be a certain age to identify with it. And it helps to be in the Wood cult.

Nonetheless it’s a warm, quite pleasant two hours of theatre smoothly delivered.

My Night With Reg

Kevin Elyot

Directed by Dan Usztan

Tower Theatre, Stoke Newington

Star rating: 4

Now almost a classic, Kevin Elyot’s thirty-two-year-old play has certainly stood the test of time. On a technical level it works partly because it’s a perfectly constructed triptych. It’s clever too because the titular Reg belongs, like Godot, with a small group of other dramatic contrivances who never actually appear. It’s also often wryly funny. In this production all six cast members bring naturalistic conviction to these anguished men as their friends and lovers die of Aids during that dreadful 1980s period when there was no medication.

Daryl Hurst, as Guy whose flat provides the setting three times over several years, is intense and anxious. Joe Lewis delights as the (younger) Eric who first appears as a painter and decorator and gradually becomes part of the group – Welsh, lithe and frank. And John Stivey’s performance as the dim, vulnerable, garrulous Bernie is very enjoyable. Nick Edwards develops John from an awkward but outwardly urbane John to the point when he reveals his troubled soul in Act 3 and I  liked Billy Knowles’s take on the irritable Benny.

Really outstanding (literally because he’s a head taller than everyone else on stage) however is Richard Patient as Daniel. He plays the first act as a ridiculously camp man, never serious, throwing out rapier-sharp bitchy remarks and posturing for Britain. Then in Act 2, after Reg’s funeral, he is sober, unhappy and talking normally because he’s utterly bereft at the death of his long-term partner who, it gradually turns out, has also slept with almost everyone else in the room. In Act 3 we see a bit of the old Daniel but years have passed and he’s much less frothy than he once was. It’s a finely nuanced performance – and, like all the acting in this show, a credit to Dan Usztan’s intelligent direction.

Jude Chalk’s set gives us a very naturalistic 1980s sitting room with conservatory at the back and what fun Lucy Moss must have had designing the costumes for an era when most men wore collars and ties most of the time – when they weren’t in silk dressing gowns,