Inner demons manifest as physical ones in this intimate coming-of-age monologue written and directed by Kwame Owusu. Tienne Simon is Malachi, who has his head in books, his heart looking for the right man. Humour and fear ride in tandem as he grapples with betrayal, anxiety and the terrifying business of making new friends at university.
Simon’s loose-limbed performance also encompasses the characters Malachi spends his uni days avoiding: intrusive new friends, a racist rich boy in his seminar group. But then there’s Kojo, the almost too good to be true second-year student whom Malachi deepens his voice for, and immediately melts upon meeting. When he talks about Kojo, his whole body seems to shine with pleasure, Owusu’s lyrical language dancing on his tongue. This is one of the play’s great strengths, spotlighting the visceral delights of finding the people you fit with. When Malachi meets Kojo’s friends from the Black Queer society, it’s as if he lets out a breath he’s been holding the whole time.
But creeping into his open-hearted efforts are Malachi’s oceanic nightmares. Blue shadows tower over him as he throws himself against the wall (with movement directed by Ingrid Mackinnon). His words become fragmented in dream sequences. His anxiety becomes physical. Cracks appear in his material surroundings. The sci-fi from the books he loves climbs out of their pages and intrudes violently in his life. Tomás Palmer’s carpeted set becomes a lopsided climbing frame as he tries to escape his thoughts, Simon’s performance impressively athletic.
The fantastical elements of the story come to a head in a way that feels rushed, but the tension and dread beforehand are finely laced. A monologue is an opportunity for a writer and an actor to show their control of a single story, and both Owusu’s script and Simon’s performance make it look easy.
• At Bush theatre, London, until 5 January
