FringeReview UK 2024

Dugsi Dayz

Sabrina Ali

Genre: Comedy, Contemporary, Drama, Feminist Theatre, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Theatre

Venue: Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs

Festival: FringeReview UK

Low Down

Review

Though riffing on Breakfast Club, this is all about Saturday afternoons. And why would you endure detention in you ‘dugsi’ school, eke out another of your dayz there too.

Four Somali-British girls do just that, in Sabrina Ali’s second play Dugsi Dayz now revived from last year at the Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs, co-directed by Poppy Clifford and Warda Mohamed till May 18^th.

Though one approval-seeker takes it upon herself as moderator, or as the girls would say, ‘snitch’ appointed by their absent teacher or macalin, there’s a surprise at the end. And one before that. Though free-wheeling there’s a neat structure and a satisfying feel of lives nudged and shifted.

Dugsi Dayz is funny exuberant, often witty but turns crucially on the possibility of friendship between four diverse girls: two are already friends, another two might find it impossible to bond.

Half-way through, reflecting on how Somali ghost stories are being bleached out of memory for those even younger than themselves, they decide to revive them. What follows is close to Conor McPherson’s The Weir. “Now that one actually traumatised me” declares Salma. She’s seen nothing yet. One, cajoled to speak doesn’t tell a tale; she tells the truth and it’s devastating.

The set’s a simple affair of rugs and a desk, with school implements. Lighting vanishes twice, as the group struggle to find a substitute: torches or the light’s return. It textures and stretches the play’s fast-moving 80 minutes. Not surprisingly, we’re cascading with (for some) unfamiliar idioms braided with everyday Zoomer in brilliant clashes.

Most of all the script’s free-wheeled and expanded on occasion, as four actors quite brilliantly flex an improvisatory riff or two on an already vivid text. The author being one of the actors, it’s clear this is a creative decision: it certainly pays off.

Pace is relentless which is authentic enough, though some further moments of repose, allowing some tales to sink in, would land the seriousness of one story even further. It doesn’t quite have time to breathe and begs questions as to the extent of what’s said, which may well be the point.

Occasionally voices are indistinct in their skeltering delivery, and need a bit more clarity.

Introvert Hani (Hadsan Mohamud) sits in the corner nursing her past, hiding when another arrives but gradually the quartet assemble. Mohamud’s performance is all containment till it isn’t and even then, there’s no unleashing but a dignified spellbinding as she nails experiences beyond anyone’s ken.

Munira (Sabrina Ali) is both silliest, immature-seeming but also most creative, coming up with story-telling, possibly a slant take on her earlier self.

Bestie Yasmin (Faduma Issa) seems frivolous but endearing in on-point fashion and in-the-world immersion and outbursts of slang. Hers with Ali isa kind of dance of a performance, as they gyrate round each other in a firm bond. Often declaring what’s “haram” or forbidden, they discover that dropping a text on the floor is a really comparative thing.

Salma (Susu Ahmed) arriving last seeks approval from authority, but swerves between that and outright goofiness: she’s the most contradictory complex character of all, Ahmed excelling in pivotal shifts.  “Salma you’re a set-up chick sending girls to Peckham” she’s told, and unravelling that bit of guilt will take Salma a while.

Sound designer Culum Perrin is the sole creative mentioned outside the co-directors: their sonics (often music) blended with an economically-framed set are all we need.

Ali’s a terrific talent and this paly ought to develop even further (it already has) into a 90-minute work, where its qualities might land even more than here. Thrillingly promising, and ground-breaking work.

Published May 5, 2024 by Simon Jenner