Lead Artist, Writer and Lighting Design by Katherine Williams

Directed by Ewan Downie

Review by Dominic Corr

Citizens Theatre

Dawn breaks over Pollokshields with the ominous idle of an immigration enforcement van humming against Glasgow’s grey asphalt, gradually summoning the collective pulse of a community drawn into political battle. Marking a poignant theatrical reflection of the May 2021 Kenmure Street protest, Katharine Williams’ documentary dance-theatre piece These Are Our Neighbours arrives at the Citizens Theatre Studio as an urgent, grassroots act of remembrance. Developed in close collaboration with local residents and co-produced by RUPTURE, Company of Wolves, and in association with Bijli Productions, the piece attempts to translate a historic, eight-hour human blockade into a living stage experience, capturing both the euphoria of solidarity and the underlying anxieties of a hostile environment, with the undercurrent of how the UK and Scotland, would further slip into more of these atrocities.

Directed with rough-and-ready exuberance by Ewan Downie, the production unfolds against Alisa Kalyanova’s simple but striking set design – a minimalist cut-out facsimile of Kenmure Street punctuated by projected archival imagery from that momentous day. From the opening moments, the cast break the fourth wall, establishing an intimate, conversational rapport that relies heavily on verbatim testimonies gathered from local interviews. It’s a much-needed introduction and accessibility point; details such as shared samosas, blueberry muffins and police badges lend immediate tactile authenticity to the storytelling. Yet, this homespun charm occasionally rubs against jarring staging choices; whimsical choreography – such as a dance sequence involving castanets – briefly fractures and substitutes the docu-dramatic tension, and the script occasionally bypasses broader socio-political critique in favour of anecdotal snapshots and a push of energy, not from the subject matter, but from sound and music. The weaving of this documentary-theatre and dance piece, though inviting and at times impressive in movement, can’t quite thread the two mediums together.

Despite these structural wobbles, the production’s emotional momentum builds steadily as the evening progresses, gathering fierce theatrical steam in its second half. The trio of performers – Umar Butt, Leticia Sanchez, and Adam Tompa – treat the studio space with an understated, stately calm, deftly balancing humorous anecdotes and storytelling with heavy emotional truths without ever resorting to heavy-handed diatribes. John Biddle’s pulsing electronic score underpins the action with a subterranean tension, amplifying the carnivalesque energy of the crowd as real-life defiance swells on stage. The music choice, too, including Lady Gaga’s Poker Face, offers a connection back to these earlier times while maintaining the energy. While a deeper exploration of the systemic mechanisms driving the UK’s immigration policies could have elevated the narrative framework, the production’s direct engagement with the audience transforms the auditorium into a living extension of the street itself.

As the final harmonies settle and the studio lights fade, These Are Our Neighbours leaves behind a warm, imperfect testament to ordinary people standing shoulder-to-shoulder against institutional indifference. It is an uneven theatrical journey that occasionally stumbles in its stylistic ambitions, yet its unyielding belief in human solidarity proves entirely infectious. Leaving the Citz, one carries the lingering echo of a community’s defiant chant – a timely reminder that when the vans arrive on our streets, our greatest defence is each other.

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