Writer: Khalil Gibran
Director: Bronagh Lagan
Book: Nadim Naaman
Music and Lyrics: Dana Al Fardan and Nadim Naaman
The union of music and poetry makes for a fruitful marriage. After a healthy period of gestation, this wonderful new work finally gets a full staging in London after concert performances in the UK and the Middle East. Vibrating with the sounds and strong-running emotions of young love, Broken Wings is a dramatised retelling of the poet Gibran Khalil Gibran’s book of the same name. Through our journey with the poet and the other characters we cover huge swathes of narrative territory from the role and power of women in that time and place, the balance of happiness, duty and wealth, and the philosophy of love.
It’s told by a middle-aged Gibran recounting his great love, and we find ourselves with a small cast of characters in turn-of-the-century Beirut. Khalil Gibran was moved to the US by his mother as a child, but is now back as an 18yr old student, played by Nadim Naaman as an older man, and Lucca Chadwick-Patel as the younger version. An encounter with Farris Karamy (Stephen Rahman-Hughes), an old friend of his father’s, leads to a meeting with his daughter Selma (Noah Sinigaglia). The pair is entwined in faithfully reciprocated love from the first moment. This being the Beirut of the early 1900s, however, a woman’s hand in marriage was not her own to give and Selma is matched with Mansour (Haroun Al Jeddal), the dissolute philanderer nephew of the local bishop. Gibran and Selma’s intense love runs true, and inspires monumental sacrifice and loss for both.
As the young lovers, Chadwick-Patel and Sinigaglia are reliable focal points around which the rest of the world turns. Their easy interaction and rapport are a fine driver of the story’s emotions, and act as ideal reflectors for the love shown by adoring father Farris and the malintent from the scheming pair of Mansour and his uncle. As the nephew, Al Jeddal is quietly engaging, a perfect rendition of a selfish and uncaring cad.
With music by Dana Al Fardan and Nadim Naaman, and refreshed orchestration and arrangement by Joe Davison, the transportation to 1900s Lebanon is achieved with joyful ease. Highly evocative of the past, with a modern twist, the music and songs pull the story on as a fully equal partner to the rest of the book. Of special highlight is the quartet of songs that covers the blessed moment when Gibran meets Selma for the first time in her father’s garden, the two solo performances where the young lovers realise the depth of their feelings alone, and the duet where they declare for each other is a gorgeous passage. Filled with romance and hope, the section gives us such sweetness and light that the traumatic impact that comes with the announcement of Selma’s impending marriage seems so much more bitter. Further emotional power comes from the Mother’s song in the second act: Spirit of the Earth. It feels anthemic, and is performed with rousing charisma and clarity by Soophia Foroughi.
The language throughout is highly stylised, especially in the musical numbers. Based on the work of a renowned poet, it’s only natural it should be. It’s truly beautiful in places, evoking powerful but concise imagery from the natural world to make highly compelling points. The reflection of his words through the piece is reinforced by the older Gibran’s near constant presence on stage. It’s an interesting touch with mixed impact. Combined with the performative and constructed language, his presence reminds us that he’s the narrator and in control of the story. We know the language is artificial, so what of the rest of it and what are his intentions in telling the story this way?
The visuals are largely supplied by costume and set designer Gregor Donnelly, which interact perfectly with Nic Farman’s lighting design to create an atmosphere that nurtures the poetry and tenderness of the story. We can almost smell the cedar wood and feel the balminess of a Beirut evening. The theatre is laid out with the stage sandwiched between two banks of audience seating. So it’s not quite in the round, and feels a little claustrophobic as we loom over the action.
The force created by everything working in unison overcomes any of these snags. It’s a beautiful piece of work whose grand ambitions and storytelling scope are more than matched by its execution. The confidence with which it approaches these major themes is moving. The reward for this confidence from Lagan, Naaman, Al Fardan and the whole team is a triumphant piece of musical theatre.
Runs until 26 March 2022
