Darkness and love for a British-Caribbean family
Daniel Nelson Photo: Camilla Greenwell
The “content advice” for audiences attending The Darkest Part of The Night lists “Death of a parent, racial discrimination, police brutality/violence, poverty, structural oppression, ableism, detailed medical talk, mild sexual references, domestic violence, mental healthcare system.” It’s actually about love.
Love within a British-Caribbean family in Leeds in the 1980s and today, and particularly about the love for the apparently mentally disabled son, Dwight: parental, sisterly, familial, tender, tough, fierce, love truly a many splendoured thing — and brilliantly written, brilliantly acted play.
The first part is a beautiful, touching, nuanced, funny and above all honest evocation of a family with the natural humanity, strength and heart to expand and include a difficult child and to throw a protective web around him. But it’s the ‘80s and the outside world — school, social and health services, police — begins to intrude and threaten the family’s rock-solid stability.
Home is an arbour in which ordinary people adapt and cope. But many problems are lapping around the front door, including racism, unemployment and rote application of unyielding perceptions and prescriptions.
In the second part, this clash of the domestic and public worlds erupts, putting huge strain on the family and on Dwight. Politicians who talk glibly of simple answers to complex social problems (and specifically to conditions such as autism) should be made to watch Zimbabwe-born Briton Zomba Nyoni’s play with matchsticks propping their eyes open to ensure that they see how intractable problems need to be tackled with humility and care.
It’s ambitious because Nyoni, who says she has drawn on her experience of her own sister’s disability, is trying to show both the family dynamics and the social and economic pressures that impinge on them, which means bringing in class, race, gender and healthcare. Intersectionality is the jargon word for this interconnectedness, but this production is one of the bravest examples I have seen of putting real flesh on the word. Making Dwight’s perspective centre-stage is key to this success.
It’s heartfelt and moving, and there are several sub-plots, including increasing strains between the adults and swift time-shifts. Please don’t assume it’s a hard watch, dull and serious: Nyoni can capture dark parts in the night, but she has affection for her family characters and knows how to entertain.
The Darkest Part of the Night is at the Kiln, 269 Kilburn High Road, NW6, £10-£32, until 13 August. Info: 7328 1000/ info@kilntheatre.com
26 July, post-show Q&A, 7.30pm