An explosive show from the Bush Young Company where the private meets the political.
The 18-25 Bush Young Company promises an explosive debut, and certainly delivers. It had been a while since I’d been to such an electric piece of theatre, to a show provoking riotous laughter, pensive nods and even cheers of recognition.
What’s it about? Where to begin… Faith, certainly. But it’s also about the sanctity of private moments, the escape of movement, identity and it’s role in the 21st century. At times, it’s a reflection on power and place, and elsewhere it’s a raw political protest.
The production is structured as a showcase of sorts: monologues and duologues and songs interspersed with moments of movement and dance. The music? Incredible. Expect hand-clapping and frequent vibing. So often music is used as simply a signal of a time or place; here, it’s almost a character in itself, propelling and underscoring the action, rallying troops both onstage and off, transporting the audience back to their familiar and emotional histories—some they treasure and some they’d rather forget.
For a young company making their debut on the Bush’s main stage, the actors do a fantastic job. This material is not easy; it’s isolating and vulnerable. It’s asking for a stripping away of pretence and the attempt to connect to an audience, sometimes directly in the case of a frank conversation about screen-time and armchair activism. When they succeed, the show soars. The monologues about the carnival and dancing with slugs (yes, slugs), plus the reserved and subtle piece about a funeral, are particular standouts—delivered with a confidence and embodiment impressive for actors of such a young age—and the scenes regarding identity have a bravery much appreciated by a diverse Bush crowd.
It’s certainly well written, created by the company with their director, Katie Greenall. Pieces are both astute and emotional and clearly come from a place of honesty from the team. I particularly enjoyed the conversation about aphids and ants as a metaphor for collective direct action, and the monologue touching on the intimacy and language of plaiting hair. Greenall’s direction makes use of the obvious chemistry and electricity of the cast and, complemented by Ariane Nixon and Elliot Popeau-George’s lighting and sound design, respectively, brings Peter Butler’s adaptable set—giving basement/warehouse gig vibes—to life.
There are moments the show loses momentum slightly and the fringe-like elements, plus the relative inexperience of the cast, lack the punch or connection for which they strive. And moments of conflict occasionally seem contrived and not organic. But this is more than forgiven by an audience thrilled to be supporting such an important project.
It’s a reminder of what theatre can be. It’s a group of young people putting their experiences into a cannon and firing it out into the world, and that’s electrifying. The ending was five-star and as the ensemble danced, tribe-like, behind a Kae Tempest-style slam poem, the audience were moved. You should be able to party to a prayer, the company suggests. I’m not a religious man but, as long as there are shows like this, I have Faith.