Favour
Lofty promises and empty offers. What do we give when we have nothing to give? And who defines the difference between “nothing” and '“something?” Aleena comes back from prison after years away from her daughter, only to find out that she has both everything, and nothing, to give her. Her daughter, Leila (adorable, smart, honest), dreams of the day they will all live together— her, her mother, and her grandma, Noor— in a big, white house. We know that fantasy will most likely never come true: Aleena has been struggling with alcoholism and OCD for her entire life, and though her biggest wish is to have Leila all to herself, we all know it can never happen.
The cast, and all-female production team, is top notch. The acting and moment work is brilliantly honest, unadorned, and refreshingly naturalistic, thanks to co-directors Róisín McBrinn and Sophie Dillon Moniram. The set and costumes, by Liz Whitbread, have fine details that paint a realistic portrait of a Muslim family living modestly in Ilford. The writing, however, is what allows all of these elements to shine. Ambreen Razia’s dialogue is pleasant and rhythmic. And at times, it’s just laugh out loud funny. At one point, there is a delightful and whimsical interlude— a reality in which Aleena is able to give everything Leila “wants” in her life. But what does she really want? This blown-up reality slowly transitions back to the grounded one, in which we discover that Aleena may actually be more self-serving than she thought. All of these characters have a distinct point of view, a clear need, and they go on a journey many of us can connect deeply with. Not one of them is too light or too heavy. And you would think that a family drama about a recovering alcoholic returning from prison would be a tragedy, but it’s just light enough to get across the central issues of the piece. When Fozia, a bleeding narcissist and loyal community member, pays a visit to Noor’s home, for instance, we are reminded that even those who help us the most are also equally capable of hurting us. Upon her return, Aleena questions whether anyone really cares about her. Are they really concerned? Do they really want to help her, or would they rather she just disappear.
At the end of the play, Aleena does decide to disappear, and she relinquishes her overwhelming need to control her daughter. The message conveyed here still seems unclear. Is time the only solution? Time and understanding? If so, how do we remain patient and work through it in the meantime?
Favour is playing at the Bush Theatre until 6 August 2022.
