…blackbird hour by babirye bukilwa - ★★★☆☆
…blackbird hour by babirye bukilwa is an unapologetic, unfiltered and striking portrayal of a black queer woman who doesn’t just want to be loved, but wants to love fully and more importantly, feel loved.
bulkiwa’s complex protagonist is Eshe, played Evlyne Oyedokun, who we find in her bedroom. It’s claustrophobic, and we are trapped in a small, cluttered space with Eshe and the turbulent voices in her head, one of which is her late mother Sissy’s (Danielle Kassaraté) a voice that is often critical and sharp, but familiar enough to Eshe that it does not frighten her. She is in a world of her own making; she could be on a boat stranded at sea, of which she is captain and comandeerer but also maybe a prison that she has locked herself into. Filling the stage-wide screen behind her are alternating haunting images that flit between the sea, and the face and piercing eyes of her mother who she bickers back and forth with.
Eshe dons crutches as she has been in a car accident, which we come to learn was a result of the tension between Michael (Ivan Oyik), the son of her mother’s ex-girlfriend with whom she has a complicated romantic past and Ella (Olivia Nakintu) her girlfriend with whom she actually shares the room with, but presently there is an awkward distance. She soothes herself with alcohol, weed and an eclectic playlist that she loses herself in.
In the first act, Eshe is visited first by Ella, who she won’t even open the door to forcing her to cross Eshe’s imposed “boundaries” and make her own way in. After Ella’s departure she drunkenly welcomes Michael, to the voice of her mother’s disapproval, leading to a confrontation about Michael’s inability to see Eshe in the way she wants to be seen.
Oyedokun’s portrayal of Eshe is Shakespearean: her movements erratic and her voice shrill, her commitment to showcasing Eshe’s torment forces the audience to sit with the discomfort of witnessing her struggle. She is at times terrifying, aided by Jahmiko Marshall lighting design which buries her in darkness, or sometimes light that feels otherworldly. Her pain is raw, unadulterated and possibly bolstered by substance abuse and Oyedokun makes sure we feel and experience every minute it.
When Michael becomes concerned with the turn Eshe has taken, she is forced to call Ella despite the hatred he feels for, and the two must work together to keep Eshe alive. Oyik and Nakintu provide strong supporting performances, both conveying the two very different forms of intimacy they share with Eshe, both failing to give her what she really needs and the contempt they have for each other. Michael cannot understand Eshe’s love for Ella, and the rejection of his love for her, while Ella feels overwhelmed by the expectations she feels Eshe has of her own love, and worries that she cannot give it to her. The second act sees Eshe is a daze, but bravely seeking her own voice away from them both.
The play explores what it means to be loved. Eshe appears to be suffocated with all the present, but unfulfilling love in her life. She is resentful of Michael’s love for her, a love she feels is centred around his own selfish need to possess her and is at the same time at the mercy of the Ella’s, who is unable to fully give herself to her. The love that Eshe wants to give and wants to experience is burdened by the presence (and absence) of the people around her.
It’s a difficult one, but Eshe embarks on a journey to “love like she’s never known violence”, which means rejecting the love that doesn’t reach her or serve her, and loving herself.
While the play touches on Eshe’s mental health struggles, it is not a play about mental health. It is rather a brutally honest, raw and earnest exploration of a black, queer woman in a crisis of love. The play’s ending does not tell us what becomes of Eshe, or her relationships, but instead leaves us with the knowledge that she has accepted herself, or is at least starting to
bukilwa’s script is filled with captivating poetry, and there are lines spoken that had the audience audibly awestruck. Eshe’s mind is fractured and disjointed, but the way she describes her world is beautiful. It does take some time to fully understand Eshe’s nature, and it is at first disorienting to watch. There is also a feeling that, we are hearing the characters speak a lot about the love they seemingly have for one another, but this isn’t necessarily always seen or felt. The poetic dialogue also does mean it is sometimes hard to fully grasp what Eshe is speaking on, and what its significance is, and there is no explanation or context given to a lot of her internal monologue. This does not take away from the quality of bukilwa’s pen, or the impact Eshe has.
…blackbird hour is profound and thought-provoking. bukilwa does not try to make Eshe palatable, or easy to watch, and in watching Eshe’s radical journey, we learn a lesson on radical acceptance.
★★★☆☆
By Melody Adebisi.
…blackbird hour is showing at the Bush Theatre until 01 March.