FringeReview UK 2026
Deep Azure
Shakespeare’s Globe
Genre: American Theater, Contemporary, Drama, Live Music, Mainstream Theatre, Musical Theatre, Political, Theatre, Tragedy
Venue: The Wanamaker, Shakespeare’s Globe
Festival: FringeReview UK
Low Down
Based on a real murder in 2000 of a university friend, Prince Jones, it’s extraordinary that the much-missed Chadwick Boseman’s 2005 Deep Azure has waited over 20 years for its premiere. And at a theatre that didn’t exist for nearly a decade after its original debut: The Wanamaker, Shakespeare’s Globe here directed by Tristan Fyn-Aiduenu till April 11.
One of the few moments of Peter Brooks’ term “Holy Theatre” has arrived at the Wanamaker. A must-see.
Review
“I made his desire my barometer.” A young woman mourns her lover gunned down by police. We might be in January 2026, but this casual murder is specific to Black American experience, a decades-old tradition. Here Azure (Selina Jones) must spend time not only mourning but forging her own identity now she’s lost Deep (Jayden Elijah). Based on a real murder in 2000 of a university friend, Prince Jones, it’s extraordinary that the much-missed Chadwick Boseman’s 2005 Deep Azure has waited over 20 years for its premiere. And at a theatre that didn’t exist for nearly a decade after its original debut: The Wanamaker, Shakespeare’s Globe here directed by Tristan Fyn-Aiduenu till April 11.
Using the hip-hop rhythms rhymes and a poetic density hardly out of place in a Jacobean playhouse, Boseman (1976-2000) is very different to many contemporary American dramatists. Who are more prone than UK ones to realism, even naturalism. That extends to Black playwrights like August Wilson, Suzan-Lori Parks and Lynn Nottage. Boseman departs from all this and had almost single-handedly restored verse-drama to a presence (at least) in U.S. theatre, before moving into acting and directing.
With the main cast of four are singers Aaron Alexander and Khalil Madovi, with beatboxers Nadine Rose Johnson and Khai Saw. As a chorus with Ryn Alleyne and Maxwell Chartey they often emerge from side-doors in mirror formation. The opening five minutes is non-verbal, all hymnal chants. and The quality and timing is outstanding. Paul Wills’ design also involves chrome-coloured pouffes and silver décor. The aural (and visual) intensity on such a small stage is bewitching, the wooden acoustics perfect for singing. Though here the sheer movement and busyness hampers the density of the text, which in itself lacks nothing in clarity. Details get lost. It’s not quite like saying try singing Webster: the hip-hop rhythms need much of this though they also need air.
Boseman’s tragedy of truth if not reconciliation is multi-layered and Azure has to struggle to find her own voice in the first half, peeling back her own identity from Deep. Recalling their love and his painfully specific sexual desire (under-explored here) recalls Elijah’s role as a constant presence, and not only to Azure herself, but to his friends: staunch Tone (Elijah Cook) and best friend and more impulsive Roshad (Justice Ritchie). Jones though emerges as the central figure: Azure’s plight, her lament and her truth emerge in Jones’hands as the conscience of the paly. Often against those who seek more obvious retribution.
Elijah’s sparkling presence has to remain residual, spectral almost, whereas Cook’s solid reasonable persona becomes a lodestar for most of the following two-hours-fifty of the show. Against him Ritchie’s impetuous rationale plays like a backbeat of right versus expediency. Their duetting reaches a climax when Roshad and Tone argue out a course of action against Deeps murderer. It doesn’t play out as you’d expect then, or later. Ritchie’s invocation of revenge “it comes back and makes you exact” he declares, making the revengers life precise as a cut lozenge of justice.
Azure’s own self-discovery reaches a moving revelation at the end of Act One, and never rests. There’s layers of invocation, involving spectral presences and Street Knowledge of Good (Aminita Francis) Street Knowledge of Evil (Imani Yahshua) and traditional batik clothing, at odds with the slouch of uni-wear and police unform. Act Two is clearer: the narrative twists several revelations and happily isn’t cluttered but allowed to play out with a touch more realism. Francis also assumes Azure’s mother and there’s a touching scene of glowing quiet between her and Jones.
To Boseman’s own richly-freighted narrative Fyn-Aiduenu brings the candelit spectacle of mourning, again served by the Wanamaker with candelight designer Azusa Ono deploying vigil-like combinations with lowering at intervals. Most of all there’s the music by co-composers Conrad Murray and John Pfumojena refencing everything from hip-hop through High School Musical’s ‘What Time Is It’ (this is a university killing) to Philip Glass’s Einstein on the Beach (the ‘numbers’ theme, repeatedly beating a numerical tattoo of guilt) and even a snatch of Barber’s Adagio deployed as requiem. There’s Mario’s ‘Let Me Love You’ a communal act of solidarity with Azure. And several spotted (which I missed) 50 Cent’s ‘Candy Shop’ and Kanye West’s ‘Gold Digger’.
Movement Director Tanaka Bingwa brings on a group garbed in red-silver starship-trooper apparel as TV ads and mobile phone twitterers; even on occasion crouching as birds, a real coo-de-theatre. At other moments the chorus moves round the outside of the theatre chanting “No justice, no peace.” We’re reminded this is a university experience, where everyone’s attending or an alumnus of Mecca, the name colloquially given to the university and standing for Howard University, where Boseman attended.
Everything’s managed to elevate the auditorium to a place of experience. Door-hangings adorn each entrance with Black cultural icons, mine being Boseman himself. The narrative lets no-one escape. Unlike so many sickening killings, this story has roots that let few protagonists escape some reckoning. And perhaps closure.
The cast are superb. Particularly Jones in her keening, working through memory and new shocks to a numbed embrace of the future. The singing is mesmerising. It’s mostly an outstanding work, here over-stuffed with qualities. Each exceptional in itself, these don’t always serve the text: attention is demanded when it’s obscured, even occasionally choked. Nevertheless, one of the few moments of Peter Brooks’ term “Holy Theatre” has arrived at the Wanamaker. A must-see.
Dramaturg and Cultural Consultant Somebody Jones, Associate Director Marley-Rose Liburd, Associate Movement Director Hanna Dimtsu, Dialect Aundrea Fudge, Voice John Pfumojena, Intimacy Director Raniah Al-Sayed, Fight Director Sam Lyon-Behan.
Rehearsal Co-Musical Directors Conrad Murray and John Pfumojena
Stage Manager Jules Reid, DSM Anya Williams, ASM Ibraheem Hamirani, Stage Management Placement Hannah McQuair
Globe Associate – Movement Glynn MacDonald, Head of Voice Tess Dignan, Head of Production Wills, Head of Stage Bryan Paterson, Head of Wigs, Hair and Make-up Gilly Church, Head of Wardrobe Emma Lucy-Hughes, Head of Company Management Marion Marrs, Head of Props Emma Hughes, Senior Technician George Dix, Stage Supervisor Faz Kemp. Casting Director Becky Paris CDG, Casting Associate Alice Walters, Producer Ellie James (Globe).
