In recent years, the Bush Theatre has become London’s premium venue for gripping dramas about complex families and the secrets hidden between the generations. From Beru Tessema’s ‘House of Ife’ to Ambreen Ramzia’s ‘Favour’, these shows have a shared visual language too, wherein the stage at the Bush’s main space is transformed into a family home rich with detail and personal touches.
‘My Father’s Fable’, directed by Rebekah Murrell, is the Bush’s latest production to riff on family secrets and identity, and while not quite as polished as some of the other offerings, it still packs a punch. Written by actor Faith Omole – best known for her role in Channel 4’s ‘We Are Lady Parts’ and the National Theatre’s ‘Standing at the Sky’s Edge’ – it centres on a British-Nigerian family who find skeletons emerging from the closet after the death of the family patriarch.
Designer TK Hay’s set is the warmly lit front room where history teacher Peace (Tiwa Lade) lives with her boyfriend Roy (Gabriel Akuwudike). Peace and Roy appear the happy couple, but the jagged crack that cleaves through the ceiling of their home hints that things are more fractured than they seemed. The pair split up following the death of Peace’s father (who exists in the show as a whispery voice), but have since reunited and are now considering a potential move abroad.
Yet Peace, unsure if she can leave her co-dependent mother Favour (a sublime Rakie Ayola) behind, is burying her head in the sand. Besides, it’s not the only life-changing event on the horizon. Her estranged half-brother Bolu (Theo Ogundipe), previously abandoned by their shared father, is coming to visit from Nigeria, on Peace’s request and to Favour’s chagrin. While Peace frets if she should hide pictures of her father, lest they be deemed ‘insensitive’, Favour warns her daughter that he’s probably here for money and should hide her valuable possessions to hide them from this ‘bastard’. Challenged on this comment, her eyes widen. ‘Is that not the technical term?’ she asks, meekly manipulative.
As the overbearing, yet secretly paranoid Favour, Ayola is a first-class scene stealer. Every line is delivered with a sweetly passive aggressive smile; Peace, hating confrontation, chooses to see her cutting comments for kindness. Favour is as hilarious as she is hateable, a rich whirlwind of complexity you can’t help but pity even in her cruelty. As she worms her way into Peace and Roy’s home, it becomes clear that she has a reason for wanting to keep Peace and her half-brother apart, a dark family secret that threatens the sanctity of their entire family.
Ayola’s performance is so impressive, it’s hard for anyone else to match her. When she’s not on stage, I found myself wishing she was, although the slowly blossoming relationship between Peace and Bolu is another highlight. Initially, Peace – a woman working in a largely white school who never learnt to speak Yoruba or cook jollof rice – assumes her brother will resent her for her life in England. But he shows her another way of living, of pride in where he comes from. ‘Not all Nigerians dream of England,’ he tells her, firmly. ‘There are Africans in Africa doing just fine.’ Identity is a theme explored with depth and nuance in Omole’s script.
With so many different plot threads swirling around, ‘My Father’s Fable’ initially struggles to find its footing, and the various storylines can be hard to keep track of. But by the time the second act swings around, the show feels more streamlined and coherent. The first act might have ended on a cliffhanger, but the big twist in act two is genuinely unexpected, and had the audience around me gasping out loud. ‘My Father’s Fable’ might not be a perfect production, but Omole’s script proves her skill as an engaging writer who knows how to tell one hell of a story.
