***** Review: RSC’s Buddha of Suburbia is a coming-of-ager for the ages… rollicking and boisterous
(Five Stars *****) REVIEW: The Buddha of SuburbiaThe Swan Theatre, Stratford, until 1st June
Pass me the microphone would you? Thanks. Is this thing on? Yes? Right, before we begin, let me just say this: You don’t even want to think about missing this show.
Ok, are we all sitting comfortably? Then let’s get going. Once upon a time, before they paved over all the meadows, uprooted all the trees to plant bricks, decided we have no need of a reliable rail service, and joined all the towns together in one great big giant sprawl, there was a place called Suburbia. Suburbia was planned as a manufactured earthly paradise located physically, spiritually and symbolically halfway between the we’ve-gotta-get-out-of here-slums and the posh inner city condos and apartments, between the Rachman rat-infested rentals and the choc-y box villages, a not-quite-here-not-quite-there-land situated conveniently for access via public transport to work, schools, shops, places of worship and doctor’s surgeries, an aspirational destination for the working class have-nots who strove for more and bigger and better, mocked by the have-it-all/ know-it-alls who scoffed at folks with ideas above their station getting it all red-wine-in-the-fridge wrong.
Suburbia was semi-detacheds with stone lions on the gateposts, Sharons training to be hairdressers and Trevors fixing the Cortinas in the drive. Ian Dury’s people with their Betjeman-endorsed wood chip wallpapered palaces, massive colour TVs that looked like furniture and barbecues on the back lawn. House-proud mums and fags-and-slippers dads, they loved it, the middle-class dream. The kids, by and large, were bored and loathed it, the nowt-to-do nightmare. For every Tracy Chapman ("I know things will get better/ You'll find work and I'll get promoted/ We'll move out of the shelter/ Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs”, Fast Car), there was a Siouxsie Sioux ("I was washing up the dishes/ Minding my own business/ When my string snapped/ I had a relapse...a suburban relapse/ Should I throw things at the neighbours/ Expose myself to strangers?/ Kill myself or…you?”, Suburban Relapse).
Siouxsie, before she joined her Banshees, was Susan Janet Ballion. Susan grew up in Chislehurst, Kent, a suburb three miles down the Widmore Road and A222 from Bromley, which is where Karim, the 17-year-old hero and narrator of our play, lived with his white housewife mum Margaret and his Indian immigrant dad Haroon. This makes Karim “an Englishman born and bred. Almost.”
The “almost” is obviously the seed for the drama. Karim’s story was originally told in Hanif Kureshi’s celebrated debut novel The Buddha Of Suburbia which was first published in 1990 and has now been adapted for the stage by the author and Emma Rice, who recently did a stint as Artistic Director of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. The action takes place in the late 1970s when the National Front were beginning their racist rampage, there was massive inflation, dissatisfied workers were often out on strike and a change of government - Margaret Thatcher’s grim reign - loomed dark on the horizon. “Another world, eh?” Karim jokes. “Another world.”
This troubled scenario is the undertow to the action – never overplayed, never didactic – because Buddha is a comedy, and a wonderful one at that, bursting with complicated characters striving to cope with their lot. Dee Ahluwalia is Karim, the kid who wants out and discovers his escape via acting. Ahluwalia is a casual revelation, snake-hipped with a handsome mane to die for. Ankur Bahl is his dad, Karoon, the Buddah of the title, a man searching for his place in life and attempting to find it via yoga, eastern philosophy and all that jazz. Bahl is incredible in the part, playing it ludicrous yet with such conflicted emotion that we can’t help but sympathise with him. He finds his only real satisfaction in Lucy Thackeray’s Eva, his sophisticated bit-on-the-side who seems to offer all the opportunities denied him by his mousey missus, Bettrys Jones’ Margaret. Both the ladies are pitch perfect… Look, I can’t crack on like this or I’ll exhaust you with superlatives (and ways to say wow!) so suffice to say, with apologies all round, every actor in Buddha’s 10-strong cast is utterly brilliant.
