Now, I See – Stratford East, London

Writer and Director: Lanre Malaolu

With 2021’s SAMSKARA, Lanre Malaolu used monologue, hip-hop dance, and physical theatre to show the realities of being a Black British man in the 21st century through the eyes of four generations of men. His follow-up work, Now, I See, continues with many of the same techniques and motifs, this time focussing instead on two brothers, estranged but reuniting at the funeral of their third.

Adeyeye (Tendai Humphrey Sitima) was the only sibling of the three to have sickle cell, a genetic condition that is more common in Black communities. Having a condition that can cause extreme fatigue and pain is life-changing not only for Adeyeye but for the whole family – especially for his brothers, whose rough-and-tumble lives as children could exacerbate Adeyeye’s condition.

As adults, Nnabiko Ejimofor’s Dayo projects an air of gleeful, youthful insouciance, contrasting plainly with the buttoned-down pain of older brother Kieron (Oliver Alvin-Wilson), who left home at 21 and has since found stability as a teacher in the suburbs. Around them prowls Sitima, a physical reminder of the weight that Adeyeye places on both the surviving brothers’ hearts.

Malaolu weaves character monologues into the dialogue, the two brothers gradually revealing aspects of their life with a sick brother that they could not tell each other. A picture emerges of the younger Kieron’s growing resentment at how Adeyeye’s condition meant he pulled focus even on his older brother’s birthday and how his two younger siblings enjoyed a closeness and intimacy that he never did.

Both brothers also express their conflicting emotions through some emotionally intense dance, using the physical language of hip-hop dance to emote in ways that words cannot do alone. Ejimofor, in particular, excels in these moments. But there are plenty of opportunities for lighter moments in dance, too, especially in flashbacks to the three brothers coming up with their own choreography to the soundtrack of their lives – whether that’s Usher’s Superstar or Under the Sea from The Little Mermaid.

There’s especially something about that latter piece. Although it’s played for laughs – grown men, recalling their youths as “masculine” boys, dancing to a song from a Disney animation – it reveals that, as a trio, the brothers lent each other a sense of fearlessness that has dissipated in the years since. Alvin-Wilson’s Kieron is in turmoil, denigrating his little brother’s talk of being in therapy because that is not supposed to be something that the men in their community do, but also because he is afraid of what might come out if he saw a therapist himself.

Both surviving brothers are broken and damaged, their relationship with Adeyeye worsening their pain just as the children’s games exacerbated his sickle cell symptoms. His death is “the catalyst, not the cause,” as Dayo explains in one of the moments of dialogue that just skirt the edges of therapy-speak.

And if one were to take a step or two back, we would see a story of familial conflict and resolution that hits some very familiar beats. But Malaolu has crafted a tale with enough humour, confessional moments and heartbreaking choreography that we feel for all three brothers. There are times when the siblings do not like each other, but their love is undeniable – as is ours for them, too. Like Amazing Grace, the hymn from which Malaolu takes Now, I See’s title, this is a tale of redemption, of giving lost wretches a way back. And that is something it achieves very well indeed.

Continues until 1 June 2024