Writers: Guleraana Mir & afshan d’souza
Co-creator and Director: Madelaine Moore
It’s India on the precipice of partition, told through the eyes of two young girls – one Sikh and one Muslim. Santi & Naz is a moving production that touches on the intensity of girlhood against the backdrop of violence and division that threatens to tear the best friends apart.
It’s the lakeside of their small Indian village in which a young Sikh girl, Santi (Aiyana Bartlett), and her best friend in the world, a young Muslim girl called Naz (Farah Ashraf), play, read, and gossip about the new local eye-candy. Streamlined stagecraft and an effective soundscape transport the Soho Theatre audience to Santi and Naz’s intertwined world, the dialogue doing well to convey the incoming complex religious and political conflict through their youthful eyes.
Jumping from playful imitations of political figures of the time, non-linear storytelling moments, and abstract movement, both performers show their range and paint a beautiful picture of coming of age and coming out. At the same time, Santi & Naz manages to be an engaging snapshot of a complex history of displacement and violence, and a hugely complex historical event is made relatable in Soho Theatre’s small Upstairs space.
The girls relay the feelings of tension and whispers of violence and division that they feel and see around them to each other, but neither believe it can interrupt their bond, until of course, it does. Naz’s feelings are thrown into stark reality as she battles with her betrothal to a repellent older man, her love for Santi, and the threat facing her and other Muslims in what will become the Indian side of the partition. The bookish and intellectual Santi, who shares her poems and encourages Naz to practice her English, is blinded by her teenage crush on a new man in the village and can’t see the connection to him and the rising threat of violent discontent.
Problems for the production lie, however, in elements of the performance and some underdeveloped plot points that leave an unsatisfied resolution. Stunted dialogue in the silly childish moments and exaggerated performances are the main cause of this issue. In these moments, the dialogue feels exposition-heavy, and the effort to make it feel authentically childish only comes across as overperformed. Bartlett doesn’t fall into this trap as much, offering a captivating insight into the pain of coming of age and recognising the seriousness of the situation around her.
The best friends’ devotion to one another interestingly veers into queer love, and it’s a really engaging route the production explores. Madelaine Moore’s direction handles the small tactile moments between the girls deftly. Ashraf is particularly heart-breaking in displaying small moments of queer panic when she hugs her best friend close and realises the consequences and intensity of those bubbling feelings of devotion and desire. It’s wonderfully nuanced, but unfortunately, that nuance only goes so far as this aspect of the narrative is underdeveloped within the whole structure.
There’s a missed opportunity to really interrogate this line between queer love and girlhood friendships – it’s touched upon but left underdone. It means some of the emotional weight of the eventual separation of the girls and their experience of huge socio-political upheaval is undermined.
Overall, however, it’s a unique portrayal of female friendship and girlhood and a country on the cusp of transformation.
Runs until 8 February 2025
