Redemption – The Big House

Redemption continues at The Big House, London until 13 August 2022.

Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Making a welcome return to Islington in London is James Meteyard’s Redemption which played to much praise last year at The Big House in N1.

The venue – a former frame factory at the end of an otherwise suburban street – has operated for the past ten years as a sanctuary for young people who find themselves in limbo after being wards of the care system. Here, under the gaze of founder, artistic director and CEO Maggie Norris, these troubled members use drama to explore their situations, fire their imaginations, and build the skills and confidence needed to enter adulthood.

Productions staged by this innovative company include Knife Edge, Bullet Tongue and the innovative, six-at-a-time and socially distant The Ballad of Corona V, all of which touched on aspects that have affected these young performers’ lives, such as drug crime, the care system and the pandemic. The latest venture, which opened first in 2021, is Redemption, a play written by Meteyard with music by British rapper The Last Skeptik (aka Corin Liall Douieb) that picks at the scabs of broken families, exploitation and ultimately forgiveness.

The pulsing heart of the show is the phenomenal Renaya Dennis, who gives one of the most impressive – most believable – performances I’ve ever experienced. In every way, she fully inhabits the character. This is undoubtedly due in no small part to the proximity of her own troubled life story to that of her character, Maz.

Dennis, who spent her teens as a runaway, comes loaded with the kind of honesty and lived-it truth that only someone with her troubled past can, and the result is that her creation Maz is electrifying. Explosively, terrifyingly real. I don’t want to downplay Dennis’ acting abilities but this just doesn’t feel like acting – it’s more like we’ve just stumbled into a bedsit to witness a real human life falling apart in front of us. As a narrator, she is talking just to you. I couldn’t take my eyes off her: I was awestruck by her from start to finish, and her performance stayed with me long after the show.

Maz, we learn, is out of the care system and struggling to stay sane and safe in her new home, where she faces daily dangers from fellow residents with mental health issues. She aspires to be a grime MC ≠ and wow, Dennis has the voice to deliver! – and spends her time streaming with her buddies. As her tale is recounted, we learn ever more about her alcoholic mother and her suicidal brother. Her friends appear more like enablers in her downward spiral, and her one source of stability, her former social worker Michael (Taurean Steele) struggles to keep her from trouble.

After the feisty firecracker of Maz, we meet her complement, the introverted Tayo, played with subtlety and intelligence by Shaquille Jack. He also has a vocal gift, but this time what flows from his mouth is lyrical and sweet. Tayo recognises in Maz the same emptiness that gives resonance to his music, and they hit it off, musically and emotionally. I get you, he says, which is just what she needs to hear.

The pair are drawn to the siren song of mouthy producer Darnell – played to perfection by a dazzlingly bad-dressed Dymond Allen – with his big talk of connections and contracts. Allen, like Dennis, is utterly believable and captivating in this role, and I found myself just as dazzled by his almost Shakespearean banter as I was by his shell suit and bad-boy bijouterie.

My ear is by no means attuned to the rhetoric and lingua franca of the UK grime scene – ha, far from it! – but in just the same way that even the knottiest Shakespeare seeps into your brain, so too does Darnell’s patter. Credit is very much due to writer Meteyard for this, toying with prose, poetry and lyricism to bring these characters to life, and I suspect the whole cast have had a hand in shaping the dialogue to their own voices.

James Atwell impresses with his own rapping skills in the role of a likeable DJ who provides something of a steadying hand in Maz’s life. Atwell also doubles as Maz’s disturbed housemate, whose psychotic episode in a small bedroom is the show’s most terrifying moment.

In supporting roles are the versatile quartet of Tezlym Senior-Sakutu (Scratch), Jermaine Freeman (Scratch), Victoria Nwaesei (Mum and the hilarious Brenda) and Tajah Workman-Jeffrey (Patricia).

The other star of the show is the venue itself. Redemption is an immersive promenade production that plays out across multiple rooms over three floors. Brava set designers Zoë Hurwitz and Rachael Light, whom we also have to thank for Darnell’s tracksuit! (Sadly, wheelchair access is impossible, and those with a physical disability might struggle with the stairs and dim lighting.)

This parlour theatre is at its most effective when we’re thrust into deafeningly loud club nights, or the smoke-choked sitting room of a drug-dealing friend. A scene set over a sea of broken glass shards evoking an icy night on a bridge is particularly effective, as is an intimate moment in the basement of cinema. Tyler Forward’s lighting and video design, and Jack Baxter’s sound design, all combine to create a multi-sensory experience.

However, it’s a long show – touching on three hours including a 20 minute interval. There are definitely moments that could be trimmed, and the shuffling from scene to scene, combined with the jostling for a vantage point, gets a little irksome. Not every scene needs a new location (and thankfully not all scenes get one). But the overall experience of intimacy goes beyond mere novelty so it’s worth the step count. (Mine was not the only step-counter to ping during the show!)

This is truly in-yer-face theatre (wow, the language is fruity!), and you don’t need to be a fan of grime, rap or techno to appreciate the exhilaration that Redemption offers. It’s not a traditional musical – all of the live rapping and singing is diegetic, so at no point are you ever taken out of the drama. (Well, there is all that shuffling around but after some of the more harrowing scenes, it’s almost a welcome chance to decompress a little.)

I’ve not been able to stop thinking about the show, so it’s certainly had an effect on me. This is heightened by the knowledge that it’s performed by young people who are undergoing a transformative experience by the very act of presenting it to us. What a privilege it is to be a part of their journey. Don’t miss it.

Craig Glenday