Writer: Sabrina Ali
Directors: Poppy Clifford and Warda Mohamed
Inspired by John Hughes’ film The Breakfast Club, Sabrina Ali brings the latest iteration of her Saturday detention-set comedy Dugsi Dayz to the Royal Court Upstairs as four reluctant Somali teens suffer the indignity of being stuck in a teacherless room for 85 minutes with nothing to do but talk. Sharp lines and strong characterisation overwhelm a slightly stagnant story, but Ali keeps the audience laughing.
Quick-tongued Munira is disappointed to be trapped in detention with old foe Hani who hasn’t been seen in school for two years. When Yasmin and Salma join them, the speculation about Hani’s absence gets out of hand, deepening the rift in the group. But none of the young women want to admit why they are really there so distract each other with stories.
Ali’s script and the collective performances of Hadsan Mohamud, Faduma Issa, Susu Ahmed and Ali herself are very funny, frequently provoking gales of laughter from the responsive audience as Munira (Ali) in particular delivers plenty of witty jibes from Hani’s 90s grunge ringtone being a cry for help to women deserving their weakest gender stereotype during Yasmin’s highly romantic story. Dugsi Day, as a result, is filled with interesting cultural reference points and an understanding of teenage behaviour that Ali investigates and presents in amusing detail.
But this surface hilarity disguises a structural problem with the management of the material and the narrative shape of Dugsi Dayz that gets a little stuck on repeat. A one-act drama needs chapters or waves of activity to give it forward momentum, but here a hodgepodge of thoughts and ideas creates scattered storytelling. We learn too little about the individuals during the play and while the big ‘why are we here secrets’ are saved to the end, it robs the story of nuance and opportunities to explore different types of bond formation, switching loyalties and conflicts that should give a four-character piece its central dynamic.
Each of the actors creates distinction in their characterisation – Yasmin the girly romantic, Selma the teacher’s pet and lover of rules, Manira who likes to break them and Hani, withdrawn and angry at the world. But directors Poppy Clifford and Warda Mohamed allow the text to come out at a singular pitch, all loud, shouty and excitable. The energy is infectious, yet the individuals lack development as a result.
The Breakfast Club is a good model but there are power cuts, folktales and vicious rumours that, in the end, don’t elicit the dramatic directiveness that they should, incidental rather than integral to the unfolding story and helping to shape the narrative and activities Ali presents. Yet this is an observational writer with an ability to cross-reference cultural experiences and a talent for comedy one-liners.
Runs until 18 May 2024
