The Jungle review – vital drama of hope and despair at the Calais camp
This is that rare thing: a necessary piece of theatre. It is the work of Joe Murphy and Joe Robertson, who created Good Chance theatre in the refugee camp at Sangatte, Calais, that became known as the Jungle. It not only offers, in a superb production by Stephen Daldry and Justin Martin, a vivid recreation of lived experience but leaves you pondering how the world should address what is seen as the migrant crisis.
First seen at the Young Vic last year, the production has moved into the West End of London with its vital organs intact. Miriam Buether’s design transforms the stalls of this jewel-like theatre into the camp’s Afghan Cafe, where we sit round long, rough tables that become walkways for the actors. While the space seethes with activity, there is also a clear shape to the play. Starting with a funeral and the threatened eviction of the camp’s inhabitants in October 2016, it goes back in time to trace the site’s growth over 18 months. We see how a random, multinational mix of refugees turns into a town of more than 6,000 citizens living with a daily sense of hope and desperation.
The whole play is built around a shrewd balance of opposites. Optimism is embodied in the personality of Safi, a former literature student from Aleppo, Syria, who finds in the camp “more hope than you’ve seen in all lifetimes”. That is offset by the harrowing memories of 17-year-old Okot, who has made the tortuous journey from Darfur, Sudan, and who declares “a refugee dies many times”. It is a sign of the play’s careful structure that these two are left to compete for a place in a smuggler’s lorry, where possession of an onion, to deter guard dogs, is the only guarantee of survival.
The evening blends order and chaos, reflections and rants, songs and scuffles in astonishing profusion. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/The Guardian
Murphy and Robertson create a series of mounting contradictions. Salar’s Afghan Cafe, given a four-star review by AA Gill, represents the human capacity for resilience: meanwhile one of Salar’s compatriots constantly complains about inadequate sanitation. The presence of voluntary UK helpers also provokes wildly different reactions: initially resented as interlopers, their efforts in home-building, childcare and education are, in the end, gladly received. But the biggest conflict of all comes in the fierce internal debate over whether to accept a French offer of relocation or fight to preserve the existing, self-made community.
If I was overwhelmed by the play, it is because it raises a host of issues and because the production itself seems a mix of the structured and the spontaneous: the evening blends order and chaos, reflections and rants, songs and scuffles in astonishing profusion. It is also powerfully performed. Ammar Haj Ahmad (Safi), John Pfumojena (Okot), Ben Turner (Salar) speak for the camp’s occupants; Alex Lawther (an Etonian posh boy), Rachel Redford (a teenage teacher), Jo McInnes (a free-swearing child protector) for the volunteers. The result is one of those priceless evenings that enlarges our understanding while appealing to our emotions.
At the Playhouse theatre, London, until 3 November.