Cry Havoc

Park Theatre, 27th Mar - 20th Apr

Seeing Cry Havoc the same week as the south-east Asian kingdom of Brunei announced an imminent strict adherence to sharia law, which includes a sentence of death by stoning as the punishment for gay sex, has made this already incredibly relevant play all the more poignant, and caused a chill to run down my spine when, in the plays opening seconds, a bruised and bloodied Mohammed (played by James El-Sharawy) bursts scared into his apartment. Whilst the action that unfolds is not set in Brunei, the modern day Cairo to which Cry Havoc transports us, has a no less atrocious record on LGBTQI rights that includes harassment, arrest and police brutality, systematic crack downs on gay and bisexual men being more often the norm than the exception. The Park Theatre may seem a million miles away from such horrific events but Tom Coash’s three-hander does a good job in reminding us that this is still a chilling reality in many countries. 

With the arrival of his boyfriend, an English school teacher Nicholas (Marc Antolin), we learn that Mohammed’s treatment by the state is likely the result of his name being on ‘a government list’, as an alleged dissident due to his previous work as a political cartoonist, although we sense that his sexuality would also play a major part in the periodic arrests and subsequent police brutality Mohammed see’s as being very much a recurring part of his future. Nicholas is adamant that they must now both flee the country, and sets about trying to secure his partner a visa to travel to England with him. Whilst this finds Nicholas jumping legal hurdles, Mohammed finds it increasingly hard to come to terms with his own more emotional hurdles as he battles between the equally demanding pull of his head verses his heart, struggling to find easy answers to the many questions surrounding his allegiance to his country, his faith and his sexuality.

These broader themes are expertly navigated by the cast which are given voice through the emotional transformations within this central relationship.(Some light relief is provided by Karren Winchester’s scene stealing performance as an austere immigration official, Ms Nevers from who Mohammed’s English visa must be granted) The plays biggest success is in Coash’s script allowing us to see why Mohammed’s decisions aren’t as clearcut as we might expect, despite the situation he finds himself in and the opportunity there is for him to get out of it.

Although there is evidence of a strong bond between the two lovers, he also can’t shake the feeling that his British boyfriend is representative of an arrogance in western culture, seeing himself as the great white hope who has come to save the day. (Yet another theme of the play that once again uncannily echoes very recent events, those being the recent headlines regarding MP David Lammy’s comments about Stacey Dooley’s Comic Relief posts from Africa, declaring “The world does not need any more white saviours”) At his core Mohammed is ultimately unable to share the same rose tinted view of a future away from Egypt that his boyfriend paints. “In Egypt I can’t be me” he despairs, “But anywhere else, I can’t be Egyptian”. 

The set design of Mohammed’s apartment acts both as a haven for the couple, whilst at the same time becoming increasingly claustrophobic as emotions run high. James El-Sharawy successfully conveys his characters inner turmoil throughout the plays 80 minute duration which is certainly driven at a pace through Pamela Schermann’s direction, although at times this pace seems just a little too brisk, leaving the dialogue feeling a bit too mechanical in places. However this impressive play goes far beyond its central and timely theme of queer persecution to open up questions about faith, love and an allegiance to country that one man must reconcile before he is able to save himself or allow himself to be saved.

★★★★

Production Photos: Lidia Crisafulli