Baghdaddy @ Royal Court Theatre Review

Milli Bhatia directs yet another outstanding play at the Royal Court by Jasmine Naziha Jones, a playwright that stared shame back in the face with smoke, cheap thrills, bells and whistles and ran with it. What we all really want to see is someone else face what we couldn’t, a storyteller that spits her truth out and an added bonus is doing it with style. A stunning production with pace and gut-wrenching symbolism that has made its mark on contemporary theatre. Extraordinary acting too from our playwright-cum-actor who amazingly plays a child better than she plays an adult. It’s the best exploration of intergenerational trauma I’ve seen on stage and to think this is only the start with this being Jones’s debut play. We love to see it.

Courtesy of Helen Murray.

Baghdaddy explores second hand trauma through a girl who grows up thousands of miles away from a war that consumes her father. It’s a play that treats both characters with such tenderness it’s almost unbearable, it’s tragic, and I’m not embarrassed to say the final scene had me in a chokehold. The world conjured up is vibrant, full of colour and the stuff of ghoulish nightmares. There are scenes that are grotesque and tasteless but it works because what is trauma if not ugly. I loved that Jones resists romanticising it. It’s visceral and loud because why should her trauma be palatable? Bhatia’s trademark direction dances on a knife edge as humour is weaponised against the viewer. It’s really, really clever.

The topic is one we’ve all grown up with here in Britain. The unmentionable dinner party discussion of the despotic regines of the Middle East. I’m ashamed to say that I learnt something tonight that should be old news. I have known Iraqi’s in London and sensed their recent history and I shied away from it. I’m one of those people who don’t really care, who signed a petition and moved on with her day. And this is the power of art and storytelling that even when systematically desensitised, art finds the humanity in us.

My favourite moment is when Darlee decides she does want to play after all as she watches her father haggle with the cab driver to save his brother’s life through a hand written message across war torn county lines. A stunning tableau that shatters our Western sensibilities with our easy expectations of communications and knowledge at our fingertips. Real Darlee is out clubbing in England. Dream Darlee offers her heart up to barter and is told by her psyche/ghost-of-trauma-past that this isn’t how it works. You can’t just go back in time and fabricate your martyrdom. It was beautifully written, beautifully delivered and really gets you thinking because why can’t we stick a filter on our past? They’re our memories, aren’t they? And that was the moment when the play won me over.

Having said all that I have to confess that the play does take time to find itself, the writing in the first half sometimes falls into cliches and there’s a little too much hand holding for my liking. Jones would benefit from less exposition and more trust in her audience to read between the lines. At the beginning the world building from the chorus is a little laboured and there are moments in the writing which feels like she is telling us what we expect to hear. But maybe that’s a part of it? It’s something Jones tackles at the end as the playwrights voice comes out. In an impressive monologues where she seems to come out of character Jones laughs at herself as she rages against the irony of her words about the commercial viability of her trauma. It’s particularly sad because it’s true. I would have liked less mollycoddling of the audience, however all in all, an extraordinary piece of theatre I won’t be forgetting anytime soon. Go check it out, must end 17 December.

Review by Tasnim Siddiqa Amin.

Baghdaddy Is currently showing until Saturday 17th December 2022 at the Royal Court Theatre. To find out more about the production, visit here…

Written by Theatrefullstop