Writer and Director: Kwami-Teye Canacoo
In 2005, Danny Wallace’s BBC documentary comedy series How to Start Your Own Country chronicled the humorist’s attempt to turn his East London flat into a micronation that was independent from the UK.
That series used the concept of secession as a means of examining the state of nationhood, independence and even macroeconomics. Though while Wallace’s work is clearly an influence on writer Kwami-Teye Canacoo, the purpose here is different: to focus on the power imbalance between property landlords and their tenants.
Andrew Atha’s Don is a 20-something slacker who struggles to pay his rent without receiving bailouts from his parents and dreams of being a DJ. When his decks get ruined by yet another unfixed leak and the boiler packs up for the third winter in a row, his money troubles rear their head once more. And that’s when the landlord serves notice that Don’s rent, and that of all the properties he owns in the same block, are rising by 10%.
As barricading himself in the flat and squatting proves to be only a short-term solution, Don takes the unprecedented step of declaring his flat to be an independent republic, “Dondonia”, meaning that removing him from the premises would require extradition and not just eviction.
Atha sells this whole absurdist concept by virtue of his Don being a relentless optimist whose utter self-belief in the face of all evidence sees him seek alliances with the EU so that they will support his independence from the UK, only to almost single-handedly solve an international migrant crisis.
While Wallace’s work is visible in the discussions between Don and his lawyer sister (Amy Beckett) as they seek every loophole they can to continue Dondonia’s path to independence, there’s also a streak of Ealing comedy in the play’s heritage. There are shades of both Passport to Pimlico, among others, in the sense of the common man facing up to the powers that be.
It helps that Canacoo’s lively script is delivered so capably by Atha, who milks the comedy and pathos in his character for all it is worth. Other characters and performers fare less well; Matt Ackerman’s news reporter, in particular, feels like it hails from a broader, more pantomimic draft. Aaron Garland’s Omar, a neighbour with the same landlord who joins Don’s government, gets some nice moments, wringing comedy from a much more drily written character.
For all the humour and mirth, though, what starts out as a sharp satire on the state of the London property market rapidly loses sight of that goal. True, Don’s transformation from lazy slacker to international power broker is occasionally hilarious, and the sense of character’s personal progression and realisation of actual self-worth has its heartwarming moments, too.
But The Tenant’s Republic has more to say on statehood, political power brokerage, and the use of migrants fleeing persecution as political footballs by uncaring governments than it does about the property market. That’s no bad thing, but this is a play that promises to shine a light on a topic rarely discussed in theatre. Tackling the plight of tenants trapped at the mercy of predatory and unscrupulous landlords is one task that eludes the ruler of this small but amusingly formed micronation.
Runs until 18 October 2025
