We sat down for a quick chat with Karim Khan about his latest project. Before the Millennium is a lyrical, funny, and gently surreal festive play about two best friends and Pakistani migrants in late-1999 Oxford whose New Year’s Eve takes an unexpected turn when a new colleague unsettles their memories and futures. Tickets can be purchased here.
Before the Millennium unfolds in the final days of 1999—what drew you to that moment of Y2K suspense as a backdrop for exploring friendship and migration?
I was only 6 years old so my memories of 1999 are very fragmentary, and yet they also feel very vivid memories. Upon talking to various people and researching the period, it struck me how much 1999 felt incredibly hopeful, like we were on the brink of something exciting and exhilirating but also terrifying and unchartered. That strange mixture of feelings feel really important especially when portraying the experience of two migrant women who are friends, and are continuing to negotiate their relationship to this country.
The play is described as both lyrical and gently surreal—how do you balance realism with a sense of the uncanny in your storytelling?
I love dipping into the surreal and uncanny in my writing. Sometimes this feel like the best way to articulate and convey something that might feel messy and complicated, and possibly impossible to convey through naturalism and realism.
Woolworths and Pick ‘n’ Mix are potent symbols of nostalgia—what role does memory, especially shared cultural memory, play in shaping this story?
I feel as though virtually everyone has a Woolworths memory, and most of these are about Pick n Mix. It’s so deeply nostalgic and evocative, and it made sense to make this an important part of the world and essentially a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of relationships and experiences, and the way we engage with that in the present through nostalgia. At a time of increasing division, it feels like a symbol of surprising unity.
You’ve spoken about wanting to honour a generation of women who migrated in the 90s—how does the play give space to their voices and experiences?
Both the women are migrants who came in the 90s, and this play puts their experiences front and centre. Zoya came here after marrying her husband while Iqra came for her studies. Their experiences might seem very different on paper, and yet they’re both young women forging their lives in this country. In researching the play we did some workshops with Everyday Muslim, and we spoke to Muslim women in Oxford, which was incredibly insightful.
Coming off the success of Brown Boys Swim, how did writing a festive piece for the Old Fire Station challenge or expand your artistic practice?
It was kind of terrifying. Brown Boys Swim did so well, so the pressure to write the next play is always a little intimidating, but I feel genuinely grateful and honoured to have received the opportunity to write a festive Christmas show. This was never something I initially intended to do. it’s always lovely when projects come to you from the universe and even surprise you with what you end up doing next.
The Old Fire Station integrates lived experience of homelessness into its work—how does creating in such a socially engaged space affect the stories you want to tell?
It’s been really lovely. The OFS’ values really align with mine, and it’s so rare to find a venue and space that is so supportive, kind and socially conscious. It has also made me more conscious of the audiences I want to bring to see my work, and has made me consider carefully how I can radically invite communities who don’t typically go to the theatre, or feel that theatre is for them. I want this show to feel accessible to everyone.