FringeReview UK 2026

Between the River and the Sea

Royal Court in association with Maxim Gorki Theatre Berlin

Genre: Autobiography, Character Stand up, Contemporary, Historical, International, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Theatre, Theatrical Storytelling

Venue: Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs

Festival: FringeReview UK

Low Down

Review

“I’m an average Palestinian man. I live in Berlin.” That should garner more laughs than it did, even if the man is making Cappuccino and it’s not bitter. This is a one-man show of displacement, of being – in several senses – beside oneself. Director Isabella Sedlak’s and performer Yousef Sweid’s Between the River and the Sea expresses this in a perfect double-take, playing at the Royal Court Upstairs till May 2.

A slippage from the provocative “From the river to the sea” suggests a liminal “between”, such as Sweid exists in. In Berlin, with a coffee machine, and Sweid’s half-Palestinian, half-Jewish children. “Because I am not going to talk about Oct 7^th or the war in Gaza./I am going to talk about – my divorce.” That gets laughs.  It’s a laugh though hiding the pain of a custody battle with Sweid’s second wife: where Sweid feels that his multi-racial children aren’t going to thrive in Israel. A family that can claim at least seven ethnicities and countries.

Sweid’s a warmly personable, charismatic performer: indeed that very wide-eyed warmth despite self-parody and a previous innocence, is both a strength and sometimes weakness. Sweid’s everywhere aware of how “nice” he’s apostrophised as. And swerving between his own childhood with his father, to his own paternal role and his children’s questions, starts unravelling harder questions than he asked as a child.

In fact Sweid talks about both divorce and the outfalls of October 7, despite his presented self. Relaying his life in a scurry of flags – soon discarded over the single chair – Sweid includes jokes about the theatres he’s played in. At one moment he’s almost arrested by the British police, blamed for the appearance of a single protester with a tin can (produced here).

Certainly Sweid gets exposed to accusations of both-side-ism. His father’s the first accuser, lecturing him from Canada: “You are not a Palestinian Israeli. You are a Palestinian with an Israeli passport.” With such a hairline balance it’s no wonder Sweid’s identity is nuanced.

Growing up in Haifa “back then one of the few cities in Israel in which Jews and Arabs were living together in peace” – young Yousef inherits a more complicated heritage than most. There’s a microphone which for the moment Sweid uses to personify his father (who indeed escaped to Canada, but not for reasons you’d expect). Later on others who question him severely, crowd it.

Sweid is pushed off to two kindergartens – Jewish and Arab/Christian and back to Jewish. His trauma as Sweid terms it (not entirely seriously) is down to convenience he finds. There a riff on identities young Yousef – Yossi to Jewish friends – sashays through; as he’s exposed to Jewish or Arab culture. Even his speech is a mix of Arabic and Hebrew. Which outside Haifa isn’t going to help, prompting nervous gags about racism.

There’s transmission of these too, how they percolate down to where Sweid’s Berlin-dwelling son doesn’t know what anti-Semitism is. And Sweid’s  trying to transmit this to his son whilst his father’s firing of nostrums generates gags. One has all three of them imagined together: “3 generations taking a stand to pee.” Though naturally both wives aren’t personified, it’s with family Sweid resorts to identity as comedy: though it’s naturally poignant.

So narrative is stranded for instance with Christian and later Jewish girls (one aroused by Sweid’s “I’m an Arab” confession), and briefly his two wives. Young Yossi is depicted being tapped by Mossad as a potential recruit with his excellent Arabic. Till they learn his identity (surely an intelligence lapse there?). The crux of Sweid’s dilemma emerges slowly; with two ongoing friendships. There’s Jewish Daniel; then when he graduates to drama college, Palestinian actress Salma. These two ride him like a double-seated bike, as events polarise, pushing Sweid to make a stand. At the same college he meets the Jewish director he marries and moves to Berlin.

Sweid enjoys interacting with the audience, “flirting”, making light plays, to the point where it might seem this is about his divorce. There’s a good scene about how Sweid doesn’t want to weaponise against his soon-to-be-ex-wife. He draws together strands obliquely, gathering to a muted climax.

Produced by Berlin’s Maxim Gorki Theatre, Between the River and the Sea might perhaps still evolve in later tours. Certainly some might feel the provocative title doesn’t deliver its provocation over its 70 minutes; and to be fair it doesn’t. This is though lived experience, still impacting on others. So though not perfectly formed as yet, this is, like everyone’s life, a work in progress. What might lift it clear is further exploring the tragedy of friendships put to intolerable strain, the polarities October 7^th demanded of people who had – as Haifa did for decades – co-existed (relatively) peaceably. Just as difficult though, is exposing old friendships to such witness. Recognizing humanity is a mingled yarn mightn’t sound revelatory. Nor what we want to take away. But it’s what we need.

Sound Design Thomas Moked Blum, Dramaturgy Murat Dikenci, Dramaturgical Advice Irina Szodruch Animation Shahar Motzafi

Producer Maxim Gorki Theatre Berlin, Agency CO International, Antje Oegel PR Agent Yuval Garber

Published April 28, 2026April 28, 2026 by Simon Jenner