Khambay's Words, Words, Words

Gone Girls and Cool Girls: Holly Golightly and Amy Elliott Dunne

Now, I doubt many people would put Holly Golightly and Amy Elliott Dunne together – and I’ll admit, I came across the idea totally by chance. I recently read Gillian Flynn’s 2012 thriller Gone Girl, and afterwards chance upon Truman Capote’s 1958 novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Gone Girl tells the story of Nick’s search for his missing wife Amy Dunne, and it is through her narration later in the novel that we discover that she faked her death, and framed her husband as revenge for him having an affair with a younger woman. Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s is a nineteen-year-old socialite, whose story is told through the eyes of an unnamed narrator. Upon finishing the novella, I noticed that, although both women are different characters with different stories, there are common threads that tie them together, namely the archetypal ideas of gone girls and Cool Girls.

At the start of their respective stories, both Holly and Amy are gone girls. Amy is missing, the reader only learns of her through Nick or through her diary entries, and Holly has been missing for some time. They both enter shrouded in mystery, we are aware of their presence but never know who they truly are. Both become almost mythological, especially Holly after being sighted in Africa. The narrator is shown a photo of a ‘carving of a head’ that is the ‘spit-image of Holly.’[1] It is unclear what this carving is for, but it seems that Holly’s likeness is now associated with a different culture and mythology far away from America. She’s become an idol, and at this point for the narrator, a mere ‘memory.’[2] Even when Holly is present, she still never seems to be. Her name tag says that she is ‘travelling,’[3] and she always seems to ‘lose’[4] her keys – she never settles into one place or one personality.

Amy already has a pretty big influence on American culture because of the Amazing Amy novels. The series, partly inspired by Amy herself, is written by her parents, and it is what Amy herself is known for. The front of my edition of the novel bears the line the ‘search for Amazing Amy continues.’ The character is the ideal American child, something that extends to Amy herself. While she is missing, she is portrayed as the ideal, beautiful, blonde, pregnant wife. Everyone is so invested in finding her, and the romanticised idea of the reunion of the perfect couple that Amy knows that there is no way that people could believe she ever framed her husband for murder.

Even when we are properly introduced to these women, they maintain an ethereal, shape-shifting quality. Although it is Amy Dunne who establishes the idea of the ‘cool girl’ both women inhabit it.[5] Amy Dunne explains that Cool Girl is a type of woman that morphs herself to appeal to the male gaze and male fantasies. Cool Girl reflects what her man likes, is hot, never complains, remains thin and is what she believes men see as their ideal woman.[6] Since we are talking about Amy, lets stick with her. Her clearest confession about her shapeshifting ways comes in her statement that ‘some women change fashion regularly’ while she changes ‘personality.’[7] She is evidently very good at it, as at the close of the novel, she has the country in the palm of her hand, playing the doting, happy wife.

Holly also is in a constant state of change. Holly tells the narrator that she does not like older men, she ‘simply trained’ herself to.[8] Like Amy, she fashions herself to reflect what men want, and does so because she depends on their gifts of money and jewellery to survive. Obviously, with some men, this gets her into hot water, with Joe Bell naming her a ‘goddamn liar’ who ‘don’t know herself anymore.’[9] Bell believes that Holly has taken on so many personas and personalities that she does not even know who she is. This may be in part true, as Holly is still young, barely an adult at aged nineteen. Due to her youth, we could argue that she is not as assured as say, Amy is.

It is worth noting though, that although from the outside the intent of these women seem different, they both change their personalities to survive. Holly for financial survival, Amy for reputation, and to save herself from jail. There is still nuance here, as Holly appears fairly harmless, she does not actively seek to hurt others as Amy does. Holly herself appears as an early iteration of the Cool Girl.

I have noted that both characters change and shift personalities, but Holly has incidences where these characters are more defined. For a start, we learn that she was born ‘Lulamae Barnes’ and was raised in poverty.[10] She adopted the name Holiday ‘Holly’ Golightly when she started her new life in New York, her first name directly referencing the idea of fleeing, getting away and escaping. It speaks to the idea that to a degree Holly is untethered and unstable, fleeting from place to place and person to person.

Both characters change their preferences and personalities to exert control over those around them, both realising that femininity can be used as currency. Holly’s livelihood depends on her femininity, working as a socialite in 1940s New York. She spins a lot of people and a lot of plates, with the narrator recounting that she had a ‘tremendous many’ messages.[11] In an attempt to get Holly some acting work, she is modelled on the ‘Margaret Sullavan’ type, explaining how, for Holly, fitting an established, popular mould could have given her great fortune.[12] Holly’s situation is precarious though, as, if the men withdraw their affections and money, which is their prerogative, like José Ybarrar-Jaegar later on in the novel, Holly is left alone again.

While she has to have a degree of control to maintain her lifestyle, it is also hinted at throughout the novel that she does not wish to belong to anyone – she almost feels that people do not have the right to own her, nor she the right to own anything. It’s for this reason that her cat remains nameless, and why Holly classes everyone as ‘independents.’[13] While Holly treads a fine line on the control front, Amy goes full scorched earth.

Amy has Nick in a chokehold by the end of Gone Girl, knowing that she can ‘ruin’ him.[14] This is because, unlike Holly, Amy has poured all her energy into one pretty watertight plan. She has stacked the evidence against Nick, and also crafted a story to ensure that she is popular with the media. Amy becomes a commodity as far as the media is concerned, and within the novel, and outside it, speaks to ideas about marriage, gender, and violence against women. In the 2014 film version, Amy, played by Rosamund Pike, understands that ‘America loves pregnant women,’ hence, when she went missing, she added that to her narrative by faking a pregnancy, then realised it upon her return.[15] She knows that people will be sympathetic to her plight, even more so if Nick leaves her, because he will appear as the man who abandoned his traumatised wife and unborn child. While Holly’s control is essential to her survival, Amy’s calculating and controlling nature seems to be the foundation of her character.

Both characters speak to wider ideas about womanhood, and have become cultural symbols. Historically, both women’s abilities to shape shift is reminiscent of the feminine gothic – take Catherine Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights. Cathy’s personality changes depending on her romantic affections. Holly and Amy change their personalities in similar fashions. In the same vein, Amy is recognised as the embodiment of feminine evil, harking back to the literary archetype of the Victorian villainesses of the 1800s, such as Lydia Gwilt and Lady Audley. Or in contrast, some people see Amy as a beacon of feminism, exacting revenge on her cheating, inadequate husband and by extension mankind.

Holly Golightly, particularly Audrey Hepburn’s lauded portrayal in the 1961 film version has been hailed as a style icon, with her black dress being noted as one of the most iconic outfits in cinema. She is also recognised as a romantic heroine.

So although their stories are different, as are their outcomes, I do feel that both women do speak to each other and reflect evolving cultural ideas of gender and womanhood. And although Amy Dunne’s Cool Girl did not exist in the 1940s, in retrospect, I believe that Holly can be seen as an early, albeit accidental prototype.

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[1] Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (London: Penguin Essentials, 2011), p. 6.

[2] Ibid., p.3.

[3] Ibid., p. 10.

[4] Ibid., p. 11.

[5] Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (London: W&N, 2014), p. 250

[6] Ibid., p. 251.

[7] Ibid., p. 250.

[8] Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (London: Penguin Essentials, 2011), p. 18.

[9] Ibid., p. 29.

[10] Ibid., p. 59.

[11] Ibid., p. 4.

[12] Ibid., p. 29.

[13] Ibid., p. 95.

[14] Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl (London: W&N, 2014), p. 439.

[15] Fincher, D. (Director) (2014) Gone Girl. [Film] 20th Century Fox.

‘Sestercentennial’ at the Bread & Roses Theatre 2026 Review

Last night I headed to the Bread and Roses Theatre in Clapham to catch Arif Silverman’s one-man show Sestercentennial, a play centred around a Fourth of July barbecue that puts pressure on some deeper-seated questions. Across its short sixty-minute runtime, Silverman explores themes of family, race, belonging and identity.

Silverman delivers a commanding and conflicted performance as Hamza Beshara, a conservative Bangladeshi-American struggling to reconcile the current political landscape of America with his cultural roots. The timing is apt, quite literally as the show was performed on the eve of Independence Day, and Hamza’s discussions surrounding identity and race are probably the most relatable threads. They bring him into conflict with his sister Ish and his parents, revealing the tensions that grow from occupying multiple, cultural identities. It is Silverman’s writing and performance that allows for an authentic look at the dual identity of the ‘All-American Muslim’ and the contradictions that this brings.

While these ideas are familiar ground, particularly within contemporary theatre, Silverman’s use of second person does place the audience under the microscope as well as Hamza, inviting us to interrogate our own identities and assumptions. As a performer Silverman, through voice and physicality, seamlessly adapts to each character he inhabits, with Chiara Bowker’s lighting design providing deeper insight.

The show’s short runtime does, however, leave some narrative threads underdeveloped. Hamza’s conflict, and eventual expulsion from his friendship group although painful, but arrives so suddenly that it does not land as heavy as it should. The show’s commentary is undeniably timely, but it sometimes tips over from character-driven drama into issue-led theatre. At times the play explains, giving the tone of a lecture instead of a piece of drama. Silverman’s intentions are no doubt good, but due to its packed themes and shorter run time, I found myself admiring what the play was trying to do more than being moved by it.

3/5

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Poster designer: Nadim Silverman

‘The P Word’ at the Bush Theatre 2026: A powerful and pertinent two hander that implores its audience to find their humanity

Waleed Akhtar’s Olivier Award winning play, ‘The P Word,’ has triumphantly returned to the Bush Theatre four years after its premiere. Intimately following the intertwining lives of two gay Pakistani men, Bilal (Akhtar) and Zafar (Esh Alladi), Akhtar’s writing offers a powerful and pertinent look at what it means to be South Asian and queer today.

At the centre of the show is Bilal and Zafar – expertly played by Akhtar and Alladi. Bilal prefers to be known as Billy, and although he attempts to shed his Pakistani heritage, he regularly encounters racism on the gay scene, and struggles with the emptiness of hookup culture. In contrast, Zafar has fled Pakistan after his father had his lover killed. Despite the differing nature of the characters, Akhtar and Alladi make their growing bond incredibly believable and engaging, crafting a palpable chemistry that had the audience hooked throughout. Akhtar recognises that, although they both fit under the same umbrella, Pakistani and queer, they have completely different life experiences. Akhtar deftly proves through his writing that through openness and communication, progress and connection can be made.

Max Johns’ staging is simple but effective, and throughout the first half has both men narrate their story on separate sides of a rotating circular structure. As well as ensuring the play focusses on the humanity of the characters, the set neatly represents how Bilal and Zafar are both two sides of the same coin, and at the start of the play, how close, yet how far away they are from one another. Rachael Nanyonjo’s movement direction adds extra layers to the characters.

At the heart of the show is a deeply personal, and political story. The play is unafraid to confront complex themes surrounding homophobia and asylum, at times in quite heavy-handed fashion and as a result does feel like a battle cry. We don’t often get to see queer Pakistani men on stage, or the asylum seekers behind the headlines, and Akhtar deserves praise for presenting a piece of work that has the ability to challenge society and spark a conversation about the world that we currently live in.

4/5

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Photography by Craig Fuller

Tickets available here: https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/the-p-word-2026/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=7179390604&gbraid=0AAAAADniBzeHeeqirvwl6eqOHJppvS0XM&gclid=Cj0KCQjwrZTRBhDSARIsAHidYfdVw45lcZ27s_a38fkyTnDbbbdXGr8D-nDVk1RIQMkk-A2EPq-RQQMaAunGEALw_wcB

‘Frankie Goes to Bollywood’ 2026 Review: A bold, Bollywood spectacle that is as entertaining as it is relevant to our times

Rifco Theatre’s hit musical ‘Frankie Goes to Bollywood’ is back for a 2026 UK Tour, and I caught the show last night at Theatre Royal Windsor. Following Huddersfield-born Frankie as she enters the world of Bollywood to follow her dreams, Frankie, and the audience, are asked – how far will she have to go to achieve stardom? Tackling the gargantuan themes of feminism, corruption and the pitfalls of the creative industries through a Bollywood lens, Rifco Theatre provides a show that is as entertaining as it is relevant to our times. With Bollywood-inspired dance numbers, glitzy costumes and more fan machines that you can shake a sugarcane at, Rifco delivers on its promise of a big, Bollywood night out.

Sarah Pearson as Frankie and Akshay Dutta as Prem

Pravesh Kumar’s book deftly handles some big conflicts. As well as taking the audience through the world of Bollywood, Kumar airs its pitfalls, discusses the idea of where we belong, Frankie finds conflict in her dual heritage, and does not shy away from the creative industries’ darker underbelly. With toxic masculinity, and racism on the rise, well referenced by the recent spate of flags we have seen popping up over the country, the show feels timely, and also timeless, ensuring that, despite the bold, Bollywood stamp, the story remains a relatable one for all.

It is the Bollywood in ‘Frankie Goes to Bollywood’ though that is the shows biggest seller, and undoubtedly what you will take away with you. Impressive dance numbers, complemented by well-crafted costumes and songs are abound – but at times the actors run risk of being drowned out by the orchestra. Although in the first half, some of the songs seem to be without explicit function – they are more there for the spectacle, musical numbers are better deployed in the second half, explicitly moving the plot forward or allowing character to soliloquize, helping the story to develop and breathe.

Holding the show together is undoubtedly Sarah Pearson’s Frankie. The role is a demanding one, but Pearson handles Frankie’s complexity and coming-of-age journey with equal amounts of fire and vulnerability. Although one could argue that Katie Stasi’s Goldy mainly provides comic relief, a solo song from her in the second half brings some great depth to the character, and the sisterhood bond between her and our heroine, which forms the core of the show.

The ensemble cast are incredibly impressive, standout performers being Tash Bacarese-Hamilton and Anna Maria Barber, who are well placed at the forefront. Dhruv Ravi, in a variety of roles, provides some sharp comic relief, and Kiran Kaanan’s switches from ensemble player to the spoiled Timmy are effortless.

As well as leaving with some empowering messages about reclaiming your story, finding yourself and fighting for your beliefs, you will leave with the best of Bollywood. The costumes, the dance, the songs – this is what you go to the theatre for.

4/5

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Photography by Richard Lakos

Tickets available here: https://www.rifcotheatre.com/live-shows/frankie-goes-to-bollywood-2

‘Beanbags’ at the Union Theatre 2026: A relatable story about moving on, conversations we wish we had and the anchoring power of beanbags

Yesterday I took my first trip to the Union Theatre to watch Kelly Thurston’s play ‘Beanbags.’ The production follows Em (Helen Louise Baird), who is helping her mum, and her sister move out of the family home. Produced by Off Main Stage, a festival that supports new writing, Thurston’s play touches on a variety of themes, including grief and trauma. Although the lighting at times does puncture the natural, candid performances, and the themes could do with slightly more time to develop, Thurston’s work holds some relatable, golden moments – particularly when it focusses on those conversations that we wish we got to have with our loved ones.

It is worth starting with the star of the show – the beanbag! The beanbag works as an anchor for the characters, moving with them through different stages of their lives. Although at times I did find the jumps a tad confusing, the use of the beanbag grounds the story, and allows for plenty of catharsis at the end of the play. Thurston understands the emotional difficulties of transience and moving on, and the beanbag serves this major theme really well. The staging is simplistic but works for the content of the show, although the use of flashing lights used to communicate scene changes do feel slightly disruptive to the naturalism of the piece. The cast communicate Thurston’s vision with honest, candid performances, a standout being Bryony Davies as Becs, who provides some sharp levity throughout the show.

The short run time inevitably means that some themes are brushed over quite lightly, and I assume the 45-minute runtime is more to do with restrictions from above, not artistic choices. I definitely feel that Thurston has the skill to expand the story if granted some more minutes, and these skills really shines in the last few scenes. An imagined conversation between Em and her father, and the family dealing with a dodgy Facebook Marketplace scammer, showcase a deft ability for handling tragedy with comedy, and definitely deepen the themes that have been touched on throughout.

3/5

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‘An Ideal Husband’ at the Lyric Hammersmith 2026: A sharp cast and bold aesthetic reimagine Oscar Wilde’s classic play of class, scandal and secrets

The Lyric Hammersmith’s latest production of ‘An Ideal Husband’ offers a reimagining of Oscar Wilde’s Victorian domestic drama. The show primarily focuses on Robert Chiltern, whose unassailable reputation is under threat from a past secret weaponised in the present by American socialite Mrs Cheveley. Wilde’s works, like Shakespeare’s, are often revisited because the themes that are discussed are deemed universal – in this instance, Wilde serves up a hefty dose of power, corruption and betrayal. Although Nicholai La Barrie directs a version that showcases some brilliant black talent with a bold new aesthetic, I could not help but feel that the promised twist never quite sprung.

Chike Okonkwo and Jamael Westman as Robert Chiltern and Lord Goring

What is undeniable, is that there is real talent on stage. Comedic timing across the board is sharp, and the cast do a brilliant job of finding the comedy and sarcasm in Wilde’s work. As well as Wilde’s words, the cast dig deeper to convey comedy through physicality, particularly Jamael Westman’s Lord Goring and Tiwa Lade’s Mabel Chiltern – both delivering their performances with a touch of camp and flair, almost reflective of today’s Gen Z. Tamara Lawrance also puts in a controlled, commanding turn as Lady Chiltern.

The overall aesthetic of the piece, particularly the costumes, also provide a freshness to Wilde’s work. Rajha Shakiry’s rails boast a wealth of colours, headwraps and bold prints, in reference to Black British culture. It is moments that explicitly reference Black British that provide some joy throughout the play, particularly the blasts of Afro Beats and Garage music. However, these moments are few and far between, at times leading to a bit of a disconnect between Wilde’s Victorian social mores and 21^st century modernisms.

Tiwa Lade and Tamara Lawrance as Mabel Chiltern and Lady Gertrude Chiltern

And although seeing a black cast star in a show typically focussing on the white middle class is refreshing – I am still unsure as to why this decision was made, as it is not explicitly referenced in the script. Does this adaptation tell me about what it is like to be a Black Briton today? Not particularly. It does feel like a missed opportunity. The plot of this adaptation also follows the original work pretty closely, so I am unsure what the aforementioned twist is, or was. For this reason the show does feel like it lacks some punch, and does not quite know who its audience is. It will satisfy the purists, the text and plot are broadly the same, but for those looking for that bold reimagining it might not be enough to cause a stir.

3/5

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Photography by Helen Murray

‘An Ideal Husband’ is playing at the Lyric Hammersmith until June 6^th!

Tickets here: https://lyric.co.uk/shows/an-ideal-husband/

‘Second Trimester’ at Battersea Arts Centre Review: A unique piece that deftly balances an affecting story with a bold, Bollywood aesthetic – with healing and heartwarming results

Last night I attended the press night of Krishna Istha’s ‘Second Trimester’ at the Battersea Arts Centre. The second in a planned trilogy, this show focuses on the relationship between Krishna Istha and their mother, Geetha Shankar, and stems from Geetha’s initial lack of understanding at Istha’s desire to get pregnant as a trans man. What follows is an intimate, truthful look at a parent and child relationship, that has plenty to say about gender, identity and generation divides – particularly within the South Asian community. What is unique about Istha’s work, is that, through the use of live cameras and green screens, it balances the deeply personal and affecting subject matter with Bollywood-inspired visuals. Director Milli Bhatia ensures that both aspects are equally honoured in this timely and poignant piece.

By using the fictional platform of ‘Notflix,’ Shankar’s story is divided into several chapters, which characterise major life moments and geographical movements. The use of projections, green screens and Bollywood-inspired aesthetics allow for some levity in amongst the deep subject matter, but also help to illustrate the more emotionally demanding aspects of Shankar’s life. This, plus the unscripted elements, make the piece feel especially immersive, and Shankar and Istha’s openness and vulnerability make it feel inviting – it’s almost like a shared experience, not your run of the mill show where you might expect to just ‘sit down and watch.’ The audience are engaged with by both performers from the off, and are welcomed into their world and their past, which is used to ask pertinent questions about the present.

For me personally, it speaks to a generation of South Asians who locked their past away to protect their children, and to that generation of children who are digging into their past to understand where, and why, they are today. This is something so universal, whether you are part of the South Asian community or not. In this way, the piece acts as a bridge between the two generations, and two different ways of thinking, established by Istha and Shankar’s clash about the former trying to get pregnant. In the process, Shankar is also given the chance to process her past and feel heard. Her lack of professional performance does not matter here – her authenticity and vulnerability are more than enough to win the audience’s undying support.

What is healing, is that by the end, that gap between the two generations seems to close. Istha and Shankar prove that, by opening up the conversation, and opening up the past in a safe and controlled way, progress can be made and we can reach an understanding that promises the hope of a more tolerant future.

Theatre that promotes openness, understanding and progress, especially in today’s world, is no bad thing.

4/5

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Photography by Ali Wright

‘Second Trimester’ is playing at the BAC until April 25^th!

Tickets here: https://bac.org.uk/whats-on/second-trimester/

‘Heart Wall’ at the Bush Theatre 2026: A relatable piece about how time changes family, friendships and grief

The Bush Theatre’s latest show, ‘Heart Wall,’ written by Kit Withington and directed by Katie Greenall has a lively start, as cast members invite the audience to belt out their favourite karaoke tunes. The opening inviting atmosphere takes some unexpected and surprising directions, delivering some thoughtful musings about how family, friends, relationships and grief changes over time. Although at times the dialogue could do with some shaving, as well as some sub plots, the cast performances and steady flow of revelations make for a relatable piece.

Much of the action takes place in local pub, ‘The Sun Inn,’ and Hazel Low’s set is detailed and familiar – I’m sure everyone in the audience has frequented that exact pub. As well as the pub, the show is anchored around Franky (Rowan Robinson) who returns home for the first time after a long absence. There is plenty of humour as characters highlight the north and south divide – something Franky feels keenly on this visit. This is something I found particularly relatable, as most people go away from home at some point, and find that when they return, they have changed, as well as the home that they left behind.

As a result, different characters remember the past differently, and it is these gaps that creates the many incidences of tension within the play, and several mini revelations that keep you intrigued and drive the play forward. All the characters feel complex and real, and the cast put in performances that are confident and engaging. The audience was very willing to go on the journey with them.

However, the dialogue could do with some trimming, and some plot threads don’t really go anywhere. Although the ending is poignant, the journey meanders at times, and for me, the plays initial focus on how worlds change over time had a stronger foundation than some of the later, smaller subplots. As a result, we never quite get to the bottom of things, until it’s too late, or see what Franky seems to be running from in London, which kind of undermines her persistence in wanting to stay before she realises anything is wrong at home.

That said, the casts performances, Low’s set and the use of karaoke make for an enjoyable evening.

3/5

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Photography by Harry Elletson

‘Heart Wall’ is playing at the Bush Theatre until May 16^th!

Tickets here: https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/heart-wall/

‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’ at the Lyric Hammersmith 2026: A comedic and political exploration of the immigrant experience, brought to life by a standout ensemble cast

Jocelyn Bioh’s Tony Award-winning play ‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’ has hopped across the pond to the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre for its UK premiere, and I was lucky enough to attend last night as a guest. Set in a busy Harlem salon, the play takes place over the course of one day. It is rare to find a show that ticks so many boxes – I laughed out loud, applauded in agreement and was left shocked by an unexpected twist. The show is as comedic as it is political, and deftly handles humour with a timely dose of commentary about the immigrant experience.

Marie (Sewa Zamba) and Miriam (Jadesola Odunjo)

As mentioned, the play is anchored in the aforementioned salon, an intimate set designed by Paul Wills. Although I have not myself visited a braiding salon, the set looks familiar and lived in and includes photos of different styles plastered across the walls, which is universal to any hair-related establishment. What brings the shop to life is the dynamic women who inhabit it. Braiders Miriam (Jadesola Odunjo), Amanita (babirye bukilwa), Ndidi (Bola Akeju) and Bea (Dolapo Oni), and owner Jaja and daughter Marie (Zainab Jah and Sewa Zamba respectively). It is hard to pick a standout performance here – all characters get their moment. Whether it’s Bea ranting about Jaja, Miriam talking about her lost love, or Amanita dealing with a troublesome customer – all women get a chance to shine. All characters have a shared heritage and culture, but all of the actors ensure that their characters are uniquely vibrant and individual. Nobody fades away into the background. I feel sometimes that can be a danger with fly on the wall shows – they can drift too far into naturalism, losing a bit of theatrical flair. Not here – the actors, and Bioh’s writing, ensure enough is happening in the shop to keep you engaged and invested.

This early investment is important, especially considering the plays political themes. Whilst always there, simmering away, they come more to the fore with the appearance of Jaja, whose conversation frankly states that there are different rules for them as women, especially women of colour, compared to their Caucasian counterparts. It feels incredibly true, and what is so clever about it is that there is no risk of alienating the audience with this discourse, as Bioh has, as she explained in the following Q and A, showed us the ‘people behind the policies’ – the people who are trying to live honestly, and contribute to society, but are constrained by intolerant policies.

The cast of ‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’

Seeing these women, who have laughed and bickered with each other, band together to show solidarity and strength at the end of the play is incredibly powerful and is an ode to all of the women of colour who have made sacrifices for their children. It also allows the actors to showcase their range, as the play unexpectedly veers from comedy to impending tragedy. It is brilliant to see such a show on stage, with a packed audience, and Bioh was right in noting that, when it comes to the diversity debate, theatre feels ahead of television.

I will say, as a South Asian man born in the UK, some references probably did go over my head, but the play also left me with a better understanding of braiding, and the work that goes into it… especially micros. The show is not condescending, or preachy, it is welcoming, and it is through the characters that we can learn and appreciate their experiences, and as Bioh intended, see the ‘people behind the policies.’

5/5

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Photography by Manuel Harlan

‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’ is playing at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until the 25^th of April

Tickets here: https://lyric.co.uk/shows/jajas-african-hair-braiding/?gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=23502681555&gbraid=0AAAAADjn8lPnAW0sejYHIg2NBw7nwW6wG&gclid=Cj0KCQjw1ZjOBhCmARIsADDuFTANnY4C9_2cDCbKLROF_xAv2m5kEXwpCk4_4y924HYaiuJmJxx4SBIaAnlIEALw_wcB

‘Sweetmeats’ at the Bush Theatre Review 2026: A heartwarming and tender tale about two South Asian elders rediscovering connection and companionship

‘Sweetmeats,’ the Bush Theatre and Tara Theatre’s latest offering, had it’s press night last night, and I was lucky enough to be in attendance. The show, written by Karim Khan and directed by Natasha Kathi-Chandra, follows Hema (Shobu Kapoor) and Liaquat (Rehan Sheikh) – two South Asian elders who bump into each other at a diabetes course. Initially bonding over their love, and loss of sugar, the play follows them both as they discover a connection with each other that they thought they would not have again. It is a heartwarming and tender tale of a demographic that is not often seen on stage, and there is plenty of levity peppered throughout the piece. Although at times some of the deeper themes are brushed over quite lightly, leading to missed opportunities, and the two hander can at times feel like it needs some tightening, Kapoor and Sheikh bring to life two authentic and believable characters.

Shobu Kapoor as Hema and Rehan Sheikh as Liaquat

The piece leans very heavily into naturalistic one, as signposted by Aldo Vásquez set. It is very much one of two halves, each side showing Hema’s and Liaquat’s living rooms, but also leaving space for their diabetes course and also the bus stop… a garden also manages to sneak in. It does place you in the characters’ world, and when you see them so close, but yet so separate, it does heighten the loneliness and isolation of their situation. Essentially it is a story about elder South Asians, a demographic that is often forgotten about – so it should be praised that the show gives them space, and I think, brings those people to life in a meaningful way. I can see Hema and Liaquat in people in my everyday life, and the cultural flourishes, specifically the productions’ use of language and music adds to the authenticity of their portrayals. There is a lot to get through, and Kapoor and Reihan handle it well, and are both extremely likeable.

The play does move with broad strokes though, and some ideas could have been interrogated more closely. The India and Pakistan relationship is highlighted, but that shared history and trauma never deeply explored, and whilst the two meet due to their relationship with sugar, their love and loss of it never feels fully mined in to, leaving me wondering whether the title of the play needs some tweaking. Perhaps it needs a bit more theatrical, or Bollywood-esque, flourish to heighten these burgeoning feelings – something that at times Simeon Miller’s lighting highlights in relation to Liaquat’s health.

I understand that the show is a naturalistic, slow burn, and to an extent, this works for the characters – they are not the type that we would expect to have an Emerald Fennel ‘Wuthering Heights’ love affair, but, I do think the narrative could do with some shaving, especially in the first half. It comes to a sweet enough conclusion though, where we also get a touch more explicit discussion about loss, especially from Liaquat, which feels earned. It was clear from the audience’s reaction that people were more than willing to go on this journey, and ultimately it is a well performed, inviting and touching piece of theatre.

3.5/5

Thanks for reading!

Photography by Craig Fuller

‘Sweetmeats’ is playing at the Bush Theatre until the 21^st of March!

Tickets here: https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/sweetmeats/#book