Hanif Kureishi’s stage adaptation of his own 1995 novel reflects on the fatwa of 1989 in the context of our post-7/7 world.
After growing up in the sedate environs of Sevenoaks, Shahid (Jonathan Bonnici) is set for a culture shock when he arrives at university in London at the end of the 80s. The son of immigrant Pakistani parents, who have built up a travel agency business, Shahid’s identity is a conglomerate of cultures, races and colours which span his parents’ native country and his own. He loves books, the music of Prince and yoga; he has experienced racism and had racist feelings himself. Shahid does not easily fit into any one box, and yet when he arrives at university he encounters people who seem to want him to categorise himself more clearly.
Flatmate Riaz (Alexander Andreou) is the leader of an increasingly radical group of young fundamentalists who want Shahid to join them in upholding the values of Islam. On the other side of the scale sit Shahid’s elder brother Chili and his wife Zulma, a flashy, moneyed pair of yuppies who only worship capitalism. Religion, she says at one point, is for the ill-educated, not the brainy types. Then there is Shahid’s tutor Deedee, an unhappily married 70s throwback who implores Shahid to think for himself rather than give himself up to the influences around him.
Things come to a head with the fatwa against Salman Rushdie for his novel The Satantic Verses, a event which intensifies divisions and forces Shahid to find his own way.
Set in the bedsits and apartments of Shahid, his friends and his tutor, Jatinder Verma’s production uses the music and imagery of the 80s to put the action firmly in its time. Politics and religion aside, it is a coming-of-age tale for Shahid, whose initial earnest innocence gives way to confidence and sexual awakening. Among the cast, Shereen Martineau stands out in the hugely contrasting roles of Tahira, a young Hijab-wearing member of Riaz’s group, and the glamorous, sharp-tongued, power-dressing Zulma.
Kureishi’s adaptation comes four years after the bombs that tore apart the London underground. With the advantage of hindsight, The Black Album attempts to provide an explanation for what could have led young British Muslims to such radical actions, yet at the same time only seems to highlight the flaws in that explanation. Riaz and more so, his friends, seem to be forcing an identity on themselves that they do not entirely understand. By contrast, Shahid, in allowing himself to be open to multiple influences, seems to find a position in the world that may be less easy to pin-down but better reflects the melting pot of ideas, religions, races and colours that make up Britain.
CB