Adapted by Matthew Spangler

Based on the Novel by Khaled Hosseini

Directed by Giles Croft

Initially staged in 2009, the adaptation of Afghan-American novelist Khaled Hosseini‘s 2003 novel wanders through an ashen timeline of which many of us may claim some understanding but frequently fail to recognise the extent. Set over twenty-five years of Afghan history, from pre-Russian invasion through to the Taliban regime and American ‘intervention’. The majority of this happens in the peripherals of one boy’s life, Amir, as it connects and fragments into telling so many other stories. Following a harrowing betrayal of his closest childhood friend, Hassan, the son of his father’s long-time servant, the pair’s days of Kite running end abruptly with a lingering sense of self-shame, guilt, and long-lasting ripples.

Trimmed for the stage Spangler’s adaptation may distil elements of the book as The Kite Runner is staged through a clean mechanic of weaving between flashbacks and a present Amir ‘narrating’ elements, chartering Amir’s younger years in Kabul, the horrific events which cause him to turn his back to Hassan, and his eventual re-settlement into America. What the production may trim in the narrative, it refrains from watering down the more harrowing elements and tragic nature of recent (and continued) history in Afghanistan and the conflicts and atrocities involved. It’s a production which delivers plenty of hard-hitting elements: not least sexual assault and genocide, but it is both unavoidable and not to be turned from or played down.  

The shading of vulnerability is delicate and keeps even the more cowardly acts of some characters firmly in understandable actions. It’s plain to see in Stuart Vincent’s internalised battles as Amir grows, unable to leave his abandonment of Hassan behind, unable to stand up for himself when faced with more traditional ‘masculine’ threats. But these tones of believability are at their strongest with Dean Rehman’s Baba, Amir’s father. Tough, a well-to-do man with an image to maintain and high expectations of his son, Rehman is a formidable presence against the more sincere roles of Christopher Glover’s Rahmin, or Daphne Kouma’s significantly solid impact and connection to their co-stars (and the audience) as the personable Sorya, while bringing touches of humour and comfort to many intense moments.

Similar cannot be said for Bhavin Bhatt’s Assef, another performer who carries and grows with one role through the production without doubling up. Rising ever crueller and malicious, with as sadistically twisted a streak they can muster, Assef’s embodiment as a barrier to Amir, being that ‘idealised son’ Baba failed to have is thoroughly repulsive and performed with grit and commitment. At the opposite end of the spectrum is Yazdan Qafouri’s Hassan, chiefly the catalyst for most of the production’s more familial drama outside of the turmoil of world conflicts and war. Theirs is an awe-strikingly captivating performance: innocent and heartfelt, without pander or false sincerity. Their chemistry with both Vincent’s exquisitely dedicated performance that is held through the entire lengthy second act and Tiran Aakel’s heartfelt place as Ali, Hassan’s father, in a loyal performance does well to boost those around them.

One vital element sits at the centre of The Kite Runner: music. There’s a reason principal musician Hanif Khan receives as appreciative a standing ovation as Vincent. While Vincent is the form of the production, its body and vessel, Khan’s live music (along with the ensemble) is the spirit. The resident Tabla player for the production for over a decade, The Kite Runner’s story can stand apart and would lose such intimacy without Jonathan Girling’s composition and musical direction – from song to the inclusion of percussion to simulate the rushing winds of the kites.

Framing such rich and intense emotions in Barney George’s minimalist set is effective, and for what initially seems to be unyielding, with curved rises allowing for additional movement, unfolds into two kite sails forming a central focus for William Simpson’s projection which enhances the terrific colours, with a focus on vermilions and reflective greens. Never distracting, the staging and lighting design from Charles Balfour is only ever used for storytelling mechanics or enhancement.

Most will mention the brutal nature of the production’s watch and how it’s a gut punch of truth and difficulties faced. It’s a fraction of the haunting reality of what has happened (and is happening) to millions. It does so with respect and determination to find the stories and live amidst death and suffering and achieves this and more as it soars ever skyward, weaving and ducking the attempts to cut down its voice. An intimate and engrossing piece of theatre with all of the shades of humanity: ugly and beautiful.

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