Written by David Lest

Review by Marina Funcasta

A portrait, be it in the form of a painting, photograph, or engraving, is usually expected to accurately depict its subject in terms of physical likeness; originating in the Old French verb ‘portraire’, meaning a rendering of, would seem to suggest that a surface-level impression does not go far enough. A portrait could be evocative; it may be difficult to pinpoint where the similitude between a subject and an object resides, but it should certainly always be felt.

This feeling is often subconscious in theatre – successful embodying, after all, can be traced in moments as great as a monologue, or as small as a glance. In Ludmilla Dabo’s case, both can be said to have been engineered to an almost mesmerising extent.

Bringing to life different elements of Nina Simone’s life, from childhood romance to her involvement in the civil rights movement in the 1960s, the play is definitely far-reaching, culminating in an hour-and-a-half performance. Yet, Dabo at no point seems fazed; mutating from song to dance as easily as from her own character to Simone’s, the fluidity of the play, brilliantly written by David Lest, emerges almost inexorably. Though at times compromised by issues with annunciation, the emotional undercurrent is communicated with such fervency that the effect is not lost.

Dabo’s own presence of character also emerges as a political intersection which bridges her experiences with Simone’s, and indeed with many other black women. It was here that the audience is challenged to reflect on how much really has changed from the 1960s, especially because Dabo’s experiences at her university dragged the systemic racist narrative from America much closer to home. In a meta-theatrical, verbatim scene, the reality of the play is brought to its most scathing – and audiences, much like Lest’s character, are left speechless.