Stage-to-screen review: and breathe...

Even though I've started to go back to live theatre and get around London a bit more, venues like the Almeida, Lyric Hammersmith, Hampstead and Kiln that involve a fairly long Tube journey for me still feel like a bit of a trip too far. My second vaccination is booked for tomorrow so within a couple of weeks I should be happier travelling a bit further, but in the meantime some of those theatres are continuing to offer a digital alternative. Yomi Ṣode's and breathe... is coming to the end of its run but the Almeida have snuck in a live stream of the production, an autobiographical monologue in which Junior (David Jonsson) relates the story of a family bereavement, in part as an apology to his cousin Ade, who broke the bad news to him and got a violent reaction for his pains. Junior is the oldest in his generation of the family, and has a partner and child of his own; but it also means he feels like he should be taking responsibility for the cousins in times of crisis, and feels like he's neglected his duties when he hears of Big Mummy's illness.

His great-aunt, and matriarch of the branch of the family that moved to England from Nigeria, Big Mummy kept her cancer diagnosis a secret from the rest of the family for two years. By the time they find out about it she's on her death bed in a hospice, no longer able to communicate.

Ṣode accompanies the extended family trying to get through Big Mummy's last few days and organise the funeral, while also dealing with the fact that they didn't get the chance to prepare for the loss because of the lack of communication. Junior has a lot of guilt about the brunt of the responsibility falling on his younger cousin rather than himself, and the play questions issues of masculinity and not knowing how to grieve. But on a wider scale it's about Black families and an unwillingness to share secrets that's like a disease in itself - Big Mummy's cancer is only found out when she's spotted on the chemo ward by an uncle who's also hiding his illness. and breathe... is slightly meandering, not in a bad way but in one that feels true to the character dealing with a lot of emotions all at once, and if not cathartic in a traditional way it certainly leaves you feeling that the characters might be able to connect better after these events.

I often talk about monologues tending towards a poetic quality and Ṣode is another writer whose background is in poetry. It's interesting how Miranda Cromwell's production leans into this in Jonsson's performance style, which although it gets more naturalistic as the show goes on and Junior has to deal with the nitty gritty of death, in more reflective speeches has a more mannered quality and almost balletic movement style. One thing that brings it back down to earth is the occasionally-acknowledged relationship with the composer and onstage musican Femi Temowo, with Junior sometimes encouraging him to contribute music and sound effects that enhance his story, at other times disapproving of some of the more intrusive choices. So there's some hints at playing around with the monologue performance style without intruding too much on the writing itself, which can be unfocused at times but has real heart.

and breathe... by Yomi Ṣode is booking until the 10th of July at the Almeida Theatre.

Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes straight through.

Photo credit: Isha Shah & Marc Brenner.