FringeReview UK 2026
Soldiers of Tomorrow
The Elbow Theatre in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre.
Genre: Contemporary, Fringe Theatre, Historical, International, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Political, Puppetry, Short Plays, Solo Play, Storytelling, Theatre, Translation
Venue: Finborough Theatre
Festival: FringeReview UK
Low Down
Israeli writer Ital Erdal introduces Soldiers of Tomorrow. Written with Colleen Murphy, it’s performed by Erdal, since 1999 resident and married in Canada; and Syrian-Canadian multi-instrumentalist singer Emad Armoush. He plays here on a modern oud. It’s directed by Anita Rochon at the Finborough till July 4.
Vital, necessary theatre. Not a play but a testimony.
Review
A man stares at serried ranks of toy soldiers as he sits back. “Abed is one of the only barbers in the city who uses a straight razor, which results in the cleanest, closest shave you can get….. And yet, every single time I go, the first time he puts the razor to my neck I imagine him slicing it from ear to ear. He is the most gentle, lovely man – but I can’t help it.” Thus Israeli writer Itai Erdal introduces Soldiers of Tomorrow with an understated wry flinch. Written with Colleen Murphy, it’s performed by Erdal, since 1999 resident and married in Canada; and Syrian-Canadian multi-instrumentalist singer Emad Armoush. He plays here on a modern oud, and engages discreetly throughout. It’s directed by Anita Rochon at the Finborough till July 4.
So a show (not really a play) premiered at Edinburgh in 2023 to great acclaim took another three years before anyone had the courage to mount it again. A war intervened. But a war is what it’s about. The Finborough’s received a barrage of its own for mounting this. Huge credit to the team helmed by its artistic director Neil McPherson. And to Erdal, persisting despite hostility. The sold-out responsive audience share a huge witness of their own histories: the post-show Q&A, as Erdal says, can often prove even more engrossing than the 80 minutes of Soldiers.
How do you combat those reflexes, that flinch of razor? And how did they arise? Erdal’s nephew, now of fighting age and despite Erdal’s counsel, is taking a decision. When eight, he was presented by his teacher with an empty box to be filled with soldiers: “To the soldiers of today from the soldiers of tomorrow.”
But who will the soldiers of tomorrow belong to? And who will fight, or fight not to fight for it? Ido’s choices inform – and justify – the thread of Erdal’s own narrative. He removes one of the painted panels, reverses it, and conjures Ido as a baby. Later another as a boy of 18.
In particular we’re treated to Erdal’s life as a soldier when he joined up at 18, in 1992, till his discharge in 1995. “I knew I was going to be a soldier from infancy. My father was a soldier, my cousin was a soldier…but I was hesitant to enlist. I grew up in a mixed city, my parents had Palestinian friends, we used to go to their weddings.” Erdal’s already confronting this kind of doublethink. Left-wing Israelis – who also include most of the 20% of Arab Israelis – live on a faultline of liberal contradictions.
Still, if you’ve grown up with those aspirations and it’s the country of your birth, and you’re enfiladed on all sides by real and imaginary forces of hostility, it’s difficult to navigate dissent. That is, till you confront what your soldiering in tomorrow means.
The core story concerns the next three years. And training with super-cool always fresh-creased Avi, the admired Lieutenant, who teaches Erdal not to follow an unlawful order. “That’s what makes us the most moral army.” He also plays on Erdal’s fears with taking the pin out of a grenade and questioning him.
His comrade Rafael shares Erdal’s views for the most part. His job is covering Erdal. Their more hardline comrade Yochai covers from the watchtower. And everything changes when they encounter a grandmother, quizzed over an absent son who might be a suspect, and a sick grandchild. Despite the conflict here, to let the grandmother through or not, it seems a world away, and the past really is another country. They do things differently 30 years ago. Nevertheless, the arrival of Avi opens Erdal to a surprise.
Soldiers of Tomorrow is above all an apologia for a man who coming from a secular non-Zionist family, who believed – still believes – Israel is possible. One that echoes his experience of growing up in Jerusalem where its mixture of Arabic, Muslim, Christian and Jewish cultures might prove the norm.
But Erdal also feels that after the far-right Zionist assassination of prime minister Yitzak Rabin in November 1995, that such a possible Israel has receded to vanishing-point. That too was a paradox (that Ariel Sharon of all people would partly emulate). “I hated Rabin for most of my life. He was the one who gave the order to break the limbs of Palestinians who threw rocks.” Yet Rabin changes his mind, and the Oslo Accords of 1993 – not more than touched on here – made Erdal believe peace was finally in sight. More than the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand, perhaps, Rabin’s murder has had prolonged consequences.
Brian Ball’s set strips back to the Finborough’s bay shape upstage with the audience opposite only. This allows Erdal to range about and foreground transparent trays of toy soldiers downstage, set for a surprise. And three larger soldiers models, standing in for those three comrades. Erdal deploys a few other props: a telling series of flags. But it’s a set dominated by the Finborough’s Juliette Demoulin, and her scenic explosion: a fearlessly immersive post-Impressionist mural of sea, stars and land: ranging through cerulean blue, raw umber and virid green. And those serried miniature ranks. All neatly lit by Alan Brodie.
Unsurprisingly Erdal’s scathing about Netanyahu and the ‘open-air prison’ of Gaza, a phrase lent currency by David Cameron surprisingly. The catastrophe of the Nakba which literally means that, the escalation of West Bank violations and of course the genocide in Gaza.
All this has been added since the original text of 2023. The text itself alters with the pressure of history and Colleen Murphy’s shaping. Indeed her pulling together with Edal all these strands is not only remarkable, it’s an ongoing project. This work has still not found its final form, and perhaps never can till its final performance, anywhere.
Erdal’s informative too over Shia-Sunni conflicts and the depth of loathing between all parties. That includes lesser conflicts between Zionist and non-Zionist Jews, religious and non-religious; which (till recently at least) were taken as more family spats.
Though Erdal returns to Israel (and will next in August) however, he also laments the drastic loss of left-wing thinking. Once 40%, left-wing support has dwindled to around 10%. Education perhaps, certainly suicide bombings have hardened opinion. Erdal surprises though: he still affirms Israel is a place where opinion is free, and democracy still operates. For some.
Throughout, Armoush echoes, sometimes speaks, and often riffs wickedly. Memorably on Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” amongst other pieces.
As Erdal underlines, anyone who objects from either side are making valid points about his right to present this work. He doesn’t affirm the right to speak for anyone but himself, But this is his witness. We should be glad of it. Engaging, quietly humorous, lucid, in firm control of (a revised) narrative and Q&A, Erdal deals with an easy, warm authority any curveball either the narrative or indeed Q&A can throw. It’s vital, necessary theatre. Not a play but a testimony.
