Brixton Stories
Lyric Hammersmith, London

Tom Charge Burke
posted 25 September 2006

Biyi Bandele's Brixton Stories offers an account of the last days of Ossie Jones, a warm hearted immigration lawyer, as he comes to terms with the loss of his wife and his relationship with his daughter. As he leads us through the streets of Brixton we meet a gallery of eccentrics, zealots, drunks and strays, all performed by a riveting four-strong ensemble cast. Each character takes to the stage in a series of impeccably observed portraits that collectively fashion a deeply affectionate montage of Brixton and its inhabitants.

One of these eccentrics is Mr Bill, vagrant wordmonger, who sells words on Brixton High Street to passersby for a cool ten pence. Each word, 'discombobulated… tintinnabulation,' is pronounced and delivered to its consumer with such mesmeric respect and precision that it becomes clear that in Bandele's Brixton words are as volatile as nitroglycerine and as potent as Viagra.

In fact it is Bandele's incessantly playful wordsmithery that asserts itself as the most distinctive feature of the text. Relentless alliteration, rhymes, half-rhymes and rhythmic virtuosity create a vocal landscape rich with the colour and imagination of its occupants. Bandele's Brixton rivals Dylan Thomas' Llareggub and Bob Dylan's New York as locations of infinite verbal mystery. Comparisons aside he celebrates a liberating vernacular tradition that characterises so much post-colonial African and African American writing, and that he reveals to be alive and prosperous in the residents of Brixton today.

The narrative darts between events in Ossie's conscious and subconscious mind, just as the actors dart from character to characters, with such ease that attempting to distinguish a singular 'reality' in the play is a meaningless task. Is this magical realism? Is it, god forbid, 'metatheatre?' Does it matter?

Ossie derides his daughter's use of the term 'meta' when she takes him to see a fringe show above a pub. His criticism of the piece was that while he liked the way it said what it was saying, he didn't think the playwright had anything to say. Bandele has plenty to say, and such are the quality and warmth of his insights that by the time that Ossie achieves the peace that his old age craves, and echoes a well tempered Prospero with the words: 'Dreams are made of nights like this,' I was inclined to agree with him.

Run over.