A heartwarming and refreshing two-hander that was at its strongest when leaning into its theatrical devices.
Brixton House’s Housemates festival, which runs from 1-19th September, is an annual festival which celebrates fresh voices, showcasing a diverse range of theatremakers telling important, socially relevant stories. ‘We Can’t Be Friends’ by Abir Mohammad, running from 8th-12th September with a sold out run, sits comfortably within this definition. Mohammad’s piece sheds a nuanced light on queer Muslim identity, as two gay Muslim men navigate romantic love in the face of huge stakes.
‘We Can’t Be Friends’ is an intimate two-hander, exploring the connection that blooms between Rahim, an openly gay Muslim who is estranged from his family, and Azhar, a devout Muslim who initially finds comfort in heteronormativity. When Rahim walks into Azhar’s classroom, in the mosque where he teaches young people about the Muslim faith, they are both clearly searching for something. Over the course of the play, the two become closer emotionally, forcing them to confront the powerful forces in their lives: community obligation, religious conviction, and the sometimes painful cost of being who you are.
The characters are a refreshingly unlikely pairing, Azhar being a seemingly grounded millennial East Londoner, while Rahim is an energetic Gen-Zer who likes ‘Glee’ and Charlie XCX. As they find pockets of connection, they begin to defy their stereotypes, but they also obfuscate their passions for each other.
The play was realistic, yet heartwarming in its exploration of the subject, and was equal parts sensitive and comedic. Mohammad’s script was sharp, cleverly blending culturally queer references with culturally specific aspects of the Muslim faith. Between prayer and partying, mosque and movie nights, the implication of the title looms devastatingly over the story with palpable tension. With the atmospheric, effective sound design (Riwa Saab) that created the worlds that the characters inhabit, paired with slick, intentional lighting choices (James Levy), the intimacy of the production was always felt.
Saqib Bashir plays Rahim with charm, balancing innocent sincerity with sharp comedic timing. Ayan Philip is an equally strong presence on stage, countering Bashir’s innocence with thinly veiled confidence, hiding a stoic vulnerability underneath.
There were perhaps one too many cultural references that took us out of the moment, and at times it felt as if the theatrical elements of the play could have been pushed further, exploring the feelings that the characters felt they couldn’t say. It felt as though the production was scratching the surface of what they could articulate with movement and subtext, and the play was at its strongest when dialogue and form felt integrated. Despite this however, what unfolds for the audience is a love story where they find something deeper than romantic love, a love story that will stay with you.‘We Can’t Be Friends’ is refreshing, tender and nuanced, and deserves to be seen.
‘We Can’t Be Friends’ run at Brixton House is sold out.