Review by Giada
Tickets were gifted in return for an honest review
It’s painful to admit that Flowers of Srebrenica fails to deliver on the promise of such an important and urgent subject matter.
Inspired by Aidan Hehir’s illustrated novel recounting a road trip with his guide Mustafa from Sarajevo to the Srebrenica Genocide Memorial, the production ambitiously broadens its scope to address multiple genocides from the past 25 years. But in trying to say everything, it ends up saying very little. What was meant to be a specific, personal, and deeply grounded story about Srebrenica becomes diluted in the attempt to universalise it. And yet, the universal is already embedded in the particular.
The pattern of the Srebrenica genocide, from Bosnia's attempt to reclaim the area (declared a UN “safe zone”) from the Republic of Serbia, to the forced expulsion of inhabitants, the embargo on food and aid, and finally the mass execution of those who resisted (predominantly Muslims), already reflects the broader forces of colonialism, white imperialism, and ethnic cleansing. It’s a pattern we continue to witness across the world today: in Palestine, in Sudan, in Myanmar. The tragedy of Srebrenica is already a global story.
The dramaturgical structure, in my view, is flawed. The narrative thread lacks clarity, offering the audience little guidance through the constant shifts in time and place. What remains is a sequence of monologues, dialogues, and performative interludes that create confusion rather than cohesion. As a result, the pacing feels uneven, the rhythm inconsistent, and the emotional arc fragmented.
What was intended as a multidisciplinary approach unfortunately became a case of too many disciplines competing for space: video projections, animation, recorded audio, physical theatre. Some elements were effective (the soil scattered across the floor, for instance, carried powerful metaphorical weight) but most struggled to cohere into a unified aesthetic.
The ensemble gave their best. Performed by a cast of refugee and migrant actors with lived experience of war and displacement (from Ukraine, Bosnia, Ireland, and Rwanda), their passion and emotional connection to the material were clear. But due to the show’s constant shifts and structural inconsistency, that emotional depth often failed to land theatrically.
There were strong conceptual ideas: the women’s chorus as silent keepers of memory, the awakening (or impotence) of the Western white man, the notion that “it’s never about us, until it is.” These moments lingered with me, though I wished they had been explored with greater depth and clarity. I’m someone who appreciates a performance that asks its audience to work. Not everything needs to be handed over on a silver platter. But this show, to borrow a phrase my Italian friends will understand, felt like a mappazzone: a messy pile of good ingredients that never quite came together.
The subject is vital. The passion of those involved is undeniable. But what this production urgently needs is a rethinking of its dramaturgical structure. Once that foundation is in place, everything else will follow.
The Flowers of Srebrenica plays at Jacksons Lane Theatre until 18th October 2025. Tickets are available from https://www.jacksonslane.org.uk/events/the-flowers-of-srebrenica/
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