A thoughtful meditation on medical racism and our NHS crisis.
Joe Penhall’s ‘Blue/Orange’ is a biting one-room drama that debuted in 2000, and still asks resonant questions today. Performing at the Greenwich Theatre until 25th October, the production follows Christopher, a young Black man who has been sectioned. As the play unfolds, the audience become privy to the ways his doctors, Dr Robert and Dr Rubina decide on his treatment, and how their pressures and biases influence their ability to truly see him.
‘Blue/Orange’ thoughtfully tackles the changing narratives around mental health, heavy with emotionally resonant questions about contemporary NHS neglect and medical racism. Updated for its 25th anniversary, it is a sharp study of how competing agendas, the woes of limited resources and practitioner bias all get in the way of effective care.
The play explores the prevalence of mental illness in Britain’s Afro-Caribbean population, a group which experiences disproportionate diagnoses of schizophrenia, and brings forth the need for cultural specificity in medicine. In these explorations, we are ultimately asked what our cultural expectations are around madness. The Blue/Orange metaphor was particularly powerful in challenging the nature of perspective, and questioning how we really define illness and functionality.
What was most interesting was the moral ambiguity we are posed with, made possible by Pendall’s keen observational script. We get the sense that as the doctors are trying to engage with Christopher, neither their education nor their profession can shield them from doing harm. The play poses the idea that medical racism is not necessarily a question of lack of academic racial literacy, but a lack of empathy. As the doctors make decisions about his care, they evaluate his proximity to humanity, both as a patient and as a Black man.
The set is refreshingly open in the expanse of the theatre, a simple and effective clinical room with thoughtful lighting to reflect emotional turmoil. This contrasts effectively with the emotionally intimate scenes unfolding in real-time, and the claustrophobia felt by the characters.
Matthew Morrison as Christopher compels from start to finish, faithful to a clear inner world that drew us in completely. With specific repeated phrasing and a natural comedic timing, a character that had the potential to feel excessively infantilised or like a caricature was in fact delivered with care and commitment. As he competes with manipulation and reckons with doctors who never seem to listen, his frustration resonates. John Michie as Dr Robert has a confident presence that is effortlessly charming, making his casual racism even more stark. Rhianne Barreto as Dr Rubina impressively weaved between extreme emotional states, balancing her natural sympathy with a sense of underlying rage and self-interest that made her especially complex. Although a victim of a misogynistic system, she succeeds in upholding a racist one. The choice to update her character from a white man to a South-Asian woman not only felt more reflective of our NHS workforce, but made the tensions and power-plays even more layered.
The show had some truly gripping moments, especially as the doctors’ own motivations and history came to light. However, it felt at times like the philosophisations took away from the drama, and the plot had a sustained focus on the doctors which made Christopher feel less developed in comparison. As a Black audience member, I was aching for a more sustained exploration of Christopher’s inner world, and while his mistreatment at times caused discomfort, I am not sure how much we can expect Black characters to ‘win out’ in a state-of-the-nation drama.