Performed and Devised by Sadiq Ali, Phoebe Knight, Jonah Russell

Artistic Direction by Sadiq Ali

Review by Marina Funcasta

The Studio (Edinburgh run)

Sadiq Ali Company stuns with their new show, Tell Me. Taking an HIV diagnosis as a starting point, we follow Grace, played with delicacy by Phoebe Knight, as she contends with the internal and external challenges which unravel as a result. We travel from a present, personal stigma, into a weighted historical narrative: Ali plays an ‘everyman’ of the 80s queer night clubbing circles, and Knight, along with Jonah Russel, are his companions. Performed with exceeding charm and abounding presence, most of the performance gives the audience an insight into the prelapsarian queer joy of the 80s, and the love and carnal desire which often hide behind the virus.

The technical skill displayed by all three dancers is mesmerising, especially when compressed in cubes of varying sizes. Trained in circus art and Chinese pole. The acrobatics entertain and captivate in ways which explode the capacity of conventional live performance. The energy on stage is electric, as the risk and vulnerability of the material is enmeshed into the bodies of our performers, and so our characters. This is because the seeming impossibility of the moves, combined with the elasticity of our performers’ bodies, requires complete trust and vulnerability between our three performers. But as Rishi Trika, the dramaturg, acknowledged during an interview after the show, the form feels more than appropriate for the content. This performance showcases circus for its emotive rawness, stripping back the spectacle to reorient its performance around the heart of the subject.

The emotional storytelling is a real strength of this performance, and perhaps the entire company. Having excelled with their debut show Chosen Haram in 2023, Ali seems to hold onto truth and experience (be it personal or universal) at the foundations of his art. It is a shame, therefore, that the narrative felt clunky at times. We jump through time, characters switch, forms bleed into each other, and in the midst of the chaos, we are confronted with symbols which, abounding with meaning and dimensions, can also have jarring effects; scenes need to be stripped back even further, as in the drive to capture the whole emotional picture, the building blocks of the performance may begin to shake.

And yet, I left the performance with a clear understanding of its importance. This is because, despite the overt tragedy of its subject, Ali places queer joy at the forefront, which is rare for stories of this subject. This is what made it such a fascinating experience for me, an ignorant audience member. The emotional, social, and internal suffocation were all made tangible through sound and lighting design (a massive round of applause for Guy Veale and Jamie Heseltine – I am intrigued to see how they adapt to Manipulate!), but in a way that did not compromise the complete humanity of the characters I saw onstage. They laughed, they danced, they had fun. They took us with them. Their bodies intertwined in moments of sexual and intimate community. The final vignette in particular stood out, and brought tears to many eyes, I’m sure.

This calls to mind moments where I thought the show hinted at its fullest potential: choreographic sequences where characters are caught in the middle of the cube, raised at an angle, or wrapped around the poles. In these moments, we get a glimpse of how far we have actually come, and perhaps get the chance to feel the presence of all those who suffered before us. Remembering with honour, understanding, and empathy seems the only solution provided by Ali for moving forward, of building a community which is no longer subject to stigma but to healthy resilience and survival.

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