Written by Onjali Q. Raúf

Adapted by Nick Ahad

Directed by Monique Touko

Review by Dominic Corr

The Festival Theatre

‘Refugees are people who have fled their countries to escape conflict, violence, or persecution and have sought safety in another country.’ – UNHCR

‘People‘.

Some of us seem to have forgotten this. Few family shows manage (or even attempt) to juggle humour, heartbreak and political clarity with the deftness of The Boy at the Back of the Class, which arrives at The Festival Theatre with a warm, generous spirit and a quietly insistent message about kindness.

The Oliver-nominated story, adapted by Nick Ahad from Onjali Q. Raúf’s award‑winning novel, follows a group of nine‑year‑olds whose classroom gains a new pupil, Ahmet, a refugee who has fled war‑torn Syria. When the children learn the truth of his journey, they concoct “The Greatest Idea in the World”, a plan to reunite him with his family. What begins as a schoolyard adventure grows into a tale of friendship, courage and the power of small acts of compassion; even with the weight of the grown-up world crushing down on them.

The production’s language and style are its most striking assets. Ahad’s script balances childlike directness with inventive phrasing, allowing complex discussions of displacement, race and belonging to be delivered with clarity for younger audiences without ever patronising them while maintaining a thread of connection for the grown-ups out there who still need to hear this. The humour lands with a light touch, which is often physical, and the emotional beats are shaped with care, ensuring that the weightier themes feel accessible rather than overwhelming. Director Monique Touko guides this tonal blend with precision, ensuring the story’s moral centre remains intact while still embracing the chaos and comedy of childhood.

The ensemble performances are the production’s beating heart. The cast move between roles with impressive agility, capturing the exuberance, impulsiveness and sincerity of nine‑year‑olds without slipping into caricature. The friendship group at the centre of the story, played by Sasha Desouza‑Willock, Abdul‑Malik Janneh, Petra Joan‑Athene and Jonny Warr, bring a buoyant chemistry that anchors the narrative. Their scenes brim with warmth and mischief, and each performer finds moments of emotional truth within the play’s broader adventure.

Visually, the staging is lively and imaginative. Lily Arnold’s set transforms the stage into a hybrid of school gym, playground and storybook landscape, a flexible environment that supports both the intimate and the epic. Ryan Day’s lighting and Giles Thomas’s sound design add texture and momentum, shifting from the bustle of the classroom to the vastness of Ahmet’s memories with fluid ease. Movement director Kloé Dean injects the ensemble scenes with rhythmic energy, using simple gestures and patterns to evoke the camaraderie and conflict of childhood.

At the core of the production is Serkan Avlik as Ahmet and Sasha Desouza-Willock as the shows default narrator; Avlik delivering a performance of quiet, affecting restraint. His stillness contrasts beautifully with the surrounding exuberance, and when he finally steps forward to share his story, the moment lands with a sincerity that resonates across the auditorium. The role demands both vulnerability and strength, and Avlik meets that challenge with remarkable poise. Similarly, Desouza-Willock’s Alexa is one of the most endearing performances to date – wholly believable in their childlike innocence and frustration at the world and the irrefutable things which love and kindness cannot seem to fend off: they make for the perfect gateway for the audience to see most of the story, before we live it through Ahmet’s perspective.

Elsewhere, Natasha Lewis brings grounded authority to her dual roles, while Max Jordan offers a sharply drawn portrayal of the school bully, capturing both the menace and the inherited prejudice that shape the character. Evie Weldon’s comic timing provides welcome levity, and the swings and supporting roles, including Eleanor Patel, Fedrat Sadat and Yash Kutty, contribute to a cohesive and dynamic ensemble.

The production is not without its imperfections. A few transitions feel slightly rushed, and the scale of the spaceoccasionally dilutes the intimacy the story thrives on. Yet these are minor blemishes in a show that otherwise succeeds in delivering a heartfelt, humorous and socially conscious piece of family theatre. Additionally; these issues are largely protected by an earnest and canny cast who recognise the space between audience and cast – Jordan especially working to draw the audience into their goading of Brendan the Bully.

Thoughtful and uplifting, The Boy at the Back of the Class offers Edinburgh audiences a gorgeously unique experience, one that celebrates empathy, friendship and the courage to stand up for what is right. It is a production with genuine heart, carried by a talented ensemble and a creative team committed to telling a story that matters. What’s more, it’s a riot of movement, choreography and engagement sure to both entertain whilst it imparts. A richly deserved round of cheers and enjoyment to be had at The Festival Theatre, and a reminder that kindness, even in its smallest form, can change the world.

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