August in England – Bush Theatre, London

Writer: Lenny Henry

Directors: Lynette Linton, Daniel Bailey

Lenny Henry’s performance in his debut play, August in England, showcases his considerable strengths as an actor, stand-up comedian and impressionist. He plays Jamaican-born August Henderson, one of the Windrush generation arriving in England in the 1960s. For the first part of the play, the mood is light. Henry as August effortlessly transforms into a range of vivid characters. He becomes his feisty mother, Tallulah, giving short shrift to her husband’s white lover, yelling ‘Oh? Yu tink I jus’ gwine let yu teef my husband?’ before hurling her stilettos out the window. He gives us a quick burst of his canny grandmother (‘Yu cyaan leave August here wid me – the boy too rude’). He gets a big laugh imitating the white kids at his Brummie school (‘How comes you’m always talkin’ Jamaican? Yow’m here now – y’gorra spake the Queen’s English now ay ya!’).

The one-liners come thick and fast and much of the show is hilarious. Henry as August is endlessly watchable as he shows off his comedy dance moves and engages happily with the audience. The intention behind the show is entirely admirable – to make us think anew about the UK’s inhumane treatment of members of the Windrush generation who, without the necessary paperwork, suddenly face deportation.

But what exactly are we watching? August in England may seem like the sort of layered monologue which uses comedy to reach into the depths. But Henry’s constant breaking of the fourth wall mean that August in England lacks the strong interiority of, say, Gary Owen’s brilliant Iphigenia in Splott.

What this means that as show reaches the hour-mark (continuing a further 40 minutes without interval), there are awkward changes of gear as August begins to introduce the downward trajectory of events. There is an unevenness of tone as scenes which show flashes of a projected detention cell are interspersed with more comedy from August’s life. Some of the more serious moments work, however, such as the genuinely moving one in which August discovers his partner Clarice’s condition.

But the tension slackens when, following tragedy, August is back as comedian, giving a laboured account of his toothache. This, it quickly becomes apparent, really serves as a rather improbable plot device. Even more improbable is the jokey/tragic subplot about storing fireworks in his friend Iqbal’s wooden shed – a Chekhovian gun if ever there was one. There’s writing here which could usefully be condensed – references which reach too far back in time (daleks, for instance) or seem too deliberate an attempt to cover all bases (do we need the grandson’s coming-out scene?) – detract rather than add to the comedy. One wonders if directors Lynette Linton and Daniel Bailey have been allowed enough freedom to tighten the script where necessary.

The final five minutes of the show is again well-intended but feels like an abrupt hand-brake turn rather than a graceful finale.

Runs until 10 June 2023