Review by Jen Tucker
A Grain of Sand by Elias Matar is a one-woman show telling the story of Gazan 11-year-old Renad, who, separated from her family by the first blasts of the Israeli airstrikes, embarks on a treacherous journey to find them. Carrying nothing but the clothes on her back and a head full of her grandmother’s stories, Renad must struggle through her decimated homeland in a desperate search for hope. It is inspired by the real-life story of Renad Attallah, whose Instagram account provides first-hand coverage of the conflict and advocates for aid, as well as A Million Kites, a verbatim collection of poems and testimonies from the children of Gaza, compiled by Leila Boukarim and Asaf Luzon in 2023 and 2024. The result is a breathtaking hour of powerful storytelling - it is a devastating piece of theatre, as it must be to deliver its horrifying truth. And yet its portrayal of Palestine not just as a warzone, but as a richly diverse cultural centre with an abundant history of folklore and myth, sparks a hope for a future Palestine where its children can be free and prosper.
The production is visually striking from beginning to end. Its setting, the vast and blank stage of Traverse One, is left empty except for a chair situated upon a pile of sand. Performer Sarah Agha is side lit for the entire performance from four exposed lights at each side of the stage, and her stories are accompanied by projection onto a canvas behind her. The result is sublime: Jonathan Chan’s lighting design, Natalie Pryce’s set design and Dan Light’s video design, with original music from composer Nick Powell, are a perfect combination. Left alone in the middle of the stage, 11-year-old Renad seems stranded, a stunning visual representation of her loneliness as her family’s sole survivor, yet other moments of the play achieve such intimacy that you feel Renad is talking only to you. This speaks not only to the play’s design, but also Sarah Agha’s dynamic talent. She brings Renad to life with a nuanced balance of playfulness and serenity. She is, at times, our childish narrator, revelling in Palestinian folk stories of farts and jealousy, and yet, her commentary on the unfolding events in Gaza rings with a disturbing wisdom – as Renad simply states, ‘I think war makes us grow up faster. I don’t think it’s a good thing’.
Introducing herself as a young girl who will be ‘the best storyteller in Gaza’ (despite her grandmother’s wish for her to study medicine), Renad asserts herself as a vivid and charismatic narrator. With giddy excitement, she tells us of her family and beloved grandmother, whose story of the Palestinian ‘Anqaa’, a mythical phoenix who will protect her people from danger, becomes a pivotal part of the play. Elias Matar’s writing paints a beautifully vivid and relatable picture of family life, focusing on the individuality and humanity of those lost in the conflict. Indeed, as Renad begins to search the destruction for her family and the ‘Anqaa’, she punctuates her story with anecdotes from the past, creating a stark juxtaposition between life before and after the war’s beginning. There are moments of humour: as she searches the hospital and encounters a classmate, she belligerently complains to the audience that this particular girl always copied her, coming to school with the same outfits and lunches. Yet these glimpses of the life before must give way to the horrifying reality, drawing a devastating parallel between past and present, between what was once a happy and safe homeland for so many people and the awful events of its destruction. The testimonies from A Million Kites are woven in poignantly, recited by performer Sarah Agha with simple yet stirring delivery. She allows the words of these real-life children to ring out for themselves, and, as their names and ages are projected onto the fabric behind her, it is impossible not to feel deeply moved. This is how the play reminds us that Palestinian children are more than a number in a news report or a distant thought. They are human, they are living, and they are vivid. A Grain of Sand places them onstage in front of us and forces us to stare the atrocities which have destroyed and defined their lives. Indeed, the choice to end the play with a list of children’s names projected onto the stage is overwhelmingly shocking – for an unsettling several minutes, the audience are forced to read the names and ages of children lost in the conflict. It is uncomfortable, but it is necessary.
A Grain of Sand urges us to remember the names of those gone and to fight for those who remain. It celebrates the rich Palestinian culture, the memories and dreams of its many people, and refuses to allow these to be lost. As writer and director Elias Matar describes, ‘A Grain of Sand captures the magic of storytelling by showing the world not only the horrific events and atrocities being broadcast from Gaza, but also the rich culture of Palestine…the Palestine we long for everyone to experience, especially its children’. This kernel of hope for the future appears through the character of Renad, her indomitable spirit and ability to survive against all odds. It is mirrored in the story of the ‘Anqaa’, who Renad searches for and calls upon for liberation throughout the play, along with the old gods and magical creatures said to live in Gaza’s ocean. Even when she realises that ‘no one is coming’ to save her, the play does not allow itself to become despondent – there is a spark of hope that runs through this story like a heartbeat, insisting that Palestine will, like its beloved ‘Anqaa’, rise from the ashes and live again.
A Grain of Sand is an earth-shattering play. It is breathtaking as both a piece of art and an act of resistance. A Grain of Sand reminds us that theatre, at its least, can bring powerful stories to life, yet at its best, becomes a mouthpiece for the dispossessed and an urgent call to collective action during our most appalling humanitarian crises.
A Grain of Sand was commissioned by London Palestine Film Festival and produced by Good Chance, a theatre company founded by Joe Murphy and Joe Roberston which puts ‘displaced artists centre stage’. Good Chance’s first theatre space was established in the ‘Jungle’ refugee and migrant camp in Calais, and its work continues to encourage action on the most urgent issues of our time. A Grain of Sand was performed at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh from Tuesday 10th-Thursday 12th March, and now continues its UK tour.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Book tickets and find Good Chance’s toolkit for advocacy here: https://www.goodchance.org.uk/agrainofsand#act
Post a Comment