FringeReview UK 2024

London Zoo

UnEqual Productions

Genre: Dark Comedy, Drama, Feminist Theatre, Mainstream Theatre, Short Plays, Theatre

Venue: Southwark Playhouse Little Studio, Borough

Festival: FringeReview UK

Low Down

Review

“The good news is it’s really funny, and… the bad news is nothing’s changed. All of this applies to us now!” There’s a point in London Zoo only writer and director Farine Clarke has dared recently; and a sucker-punch you won’t see coming.

Clarke’s UnEqual Productions revives this 2022 run of London Zoo at Southwark’s Little till March 30^th. Five of the six cast return: one’s been there from the 2021 zoom run.

Now presented on a bare tongue-and-grove in the Little with minimal props, tables, chairs – and Chuma Emembolu’s lighting strips of white and blue searing like the emerging digital age itself – it’s all you need to make a compelling bull-ring, not so far from the world of Mike Bartlett’s Bull.  But… not.

That opening line wasn’t a quote from the play but an early reaction. It sums up though this 1999-set dark comedy written in 2006 by ex-GP, medical consultant-cum-TV presenter, and publishing director Clarke. Who’s now devoted herself to playwriting since 2021.

London Zoo explores not only ingrained sexism but several kinds of intersectional racism: white on Black and Brown, and chillingly here, Brown on Black. Clarke’s first play is bitingly prescient of what even now is rarely discussed. Did I say it was often extremely funny?

We’re on the cusp of digital publishing. The field’s morphing, websites are surely to be monetized. Editor Arabella (Natalie Lauren) “ambitious for a woman” confides to decent loyal on-the-spectrum finance director Charles (Simon Furness) that their UK National News Group boss Alex (Dan Saski) is overreaching: they’re  poised to acquire a smaller more successful paper, The Daily Word.

Neither are happy: with more papers acquired, standards and profits are falling. The asset-stripping serpent isn’t just eating its own tail, but itself too. Arabella at least has heard of emojis, and more than anyone is ahead of the industry’s game. But her company’s?

The Daily Word is helmed by Kelvin (Odimegwu Okoye), who’s both hands-off to let his paper flourish and team thrive, and far more aware than anyone else of what’s coming: including racism. Kelvin knows his days are numbered, though all his staff too?

Okoye’s quietly spoken, rarely raises his voice, and uses a word so shockingly precise it ripples as a plot-point. Okoye exudes resignation: he knows how this will end, isn’t prepared to pretend, yet dispatches feelings with urbane dismissal.

The Daily Word actually makes a profit but the website’s there for unique content and extra margins. That’s not enough for NNG who seem more focused on swallowing, spitting out and perhaps retiring when everything’s spent.

Saski’s Alex is an American out of Mamet, a bully, someone who doesn’t want contingency margins from Charles who etches in 20%. Saski thrusts up to subordinates, invasively forcing them back with a raptor voice and bull-charge. It’s the most energised performance of the evening, a conscious cross-angle to everyone else’s nuance.

Alex is almost out of control, more Maxwell than Murdoch. His oleaginous sidekick Christian (Harris Vaughan) is detailed to assess and divide.

Vaughan’s Christian, all prissy sneering and Alex mini-me, hesitates dislike before making his sneer-offs tell. He enjoys one moment’s reveal to hapless Charles whom he’s peeling off from Arabella, a bullied moment as a child; never repeated.

Christian’s sexism deems Arabella “no longer on top of things”. Men are hunters, except freakish career-women. Is Arabella broody? The Christian and Arabella duel makes for the compelling theatre. Though these extraordinary exchanges might seem past battles, experience – and if we’re white males, witness – tells otherwise.

Christian’s own wife is fulfilled as mother, he continues, with the “behind ever great man” trope till Arabella reverses this. Women, now 60% of the workforce need token representation, Arabella suggests in masterly manipulation of Christian’s reflexes. If women are the social glue, wouldn’t the company be more cohesive with more on the board? Even if decisions are made before meetings? Vaughan’s smarm suggests Christian’s a born chief whip.

Lauren can raise an eyebrow, swerve with lightest irony, cast pivoting on each other. It’s an ensemble used to each other’s responses. Arabella’s the moral centre. Lauren’s balances careerist with conscientious editor, a realist yet drawn to Charles’s naïve honesty and newcomer Kelvin’s integrity; but pulled each way.

And naïve Charles? Wouldn’t he like to put some distance between himself and Arabella? Furness invokes both a fustian warmth as long-vanished decent company man; someone whose identity lies with one company. Furness humanises his predicament. Charles too can surprise. At least three times.

Another surprise is super-smooth Sunil (Anirban Roy), Alex’s vice-president. Elegant in Roy’s portrayal of a polite pouncing operator, he’s also prone to a moment of reflection with Arabella, who makes an offer. Not a cricketer, Sunil’s a polo-player: he sneers at Arabella’s assumptions of what lies behind a photo of him. “So ignorant” he muses when Arabella’s left.

But Sunil’s actions meeting Kelvin – they sum each other up, but only the latter’s right – makes the edgiest moment of the evening. Sunil’s every movement from swerving a handshake, to wanting the last word, finally invokes Kelvin’s extraordinary response. Kelvin has an attitude, Sunil concludes.

The denouement might seem predictable, but isn’t. It also vaults naturalism for something else. Clarke’s early play is curiously divided, 70/25 minutes. There’s some carpentry, where two antagonists – Christian and Sunil – are given backstories. These might be integrated. We see less of Sunil and Kelvin, and the vivid caricature of Alex – though Saski’s trumpeting appearances energise so much the balance seems right there.

Overall though, a masterly play in the making. It goes where very few dare, and in an environment we think we know. Very highly recommended.

Published March 19, 2024March 20, 2024 by Simon Jenner