Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan’s debut play is a funny and refreshing take on a romantic comedy
Hafsah thinks she has Bilal’s number when she sees him in a seminar at SOAS University. He’s one of those who lets white people call him “Billy”. Then she hears him speak, and realises that he’s a proper “pkstaani Brummie”. Then she discovers that he spent a year living in Kashmir. And she’s already started falling for him.
It’s energising to see this two-person debut play by educator, writer and poet Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan, directed by Sameena Hussain, give voice not only to practising Muslims Hafsah (Humera Syed) and Bilal (Usaamah Ibraheem Hussain), but to their world as a lived reality. They talk directly to the audience as their fumbling connection grows, in spite of the best efforts of her domineering friends and his complicated family relationships. Their romantic comedy simply plays out within their faith.
That’s not to say that the play exists in a bubble floating above contemporary attitudes and prejudices towards gender as well as culture and faith. When Hafsah and Bilal go to a photography exhibition, she points out that if anyone who looked like her was one of the subjects, not someone like him, the headlines would be “Muslim girls gone wild”. Bilal also struggles to deal with the anger and frustration that he feels over the ever-present Islamophobia that overshadows his daily life.
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The play’s negotiation of humour and social commentary is a little awkward early on, with one seeming to pause to give way to the other. But as Manzoor-Khan unpacks the particulars of Hafsah and Bilal’s personalities, the elements become more organically integrated. Syed and Hussain evolve a lovely, dorky chemistry, rooting the romantic-comedy staple of a mismatched couple in refreshingly new ground.
Director Hussain keeps the focus on Hafsah and Bilal. Apart from a couple of benches and chairs on the Kiln’s revolve, the stage is bare. It’s just about them – and them and us. This creates a personal connection that keeps us invested, but it’s a type of intimacy you feel would work better in a smaller space, in spite of inter-scene choreography and music that aims somewhere between joyful and wistful. I’d also love to meet one of Manzoor-Khan’s best offstage characters, Hafsah’s fearsome friend, Mythri.
Ultimately, though, the play works as both a romance and a comedy. From Bilal delivering hot chocolates to Hafsah on a park bench, to their sparring, to the deepening of their relationship as they learn unexpected things, their dialogue is funny and believable. It doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of their world, and when obstacles inevitably arise, you care about their impact. Crucially, the ending, like all the best, is sad, but life-affirming.
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