Walking into the Alan Page Auditorium, which is a black box theater, I could already tell this was going to be something different. The space was totally open to the firehouse doors at the back, which I don't think I've ever seen before. Two square raised platforms are placed at a diagonal in the center of the room, a few rows of chairs on three sides. The play begins when our narrator enters, whom we would later learn is a Syrian refugee named Safi, and throws open the doors to let in the residents of the Jungle and the crisp cold air (or warm humid air, whatever this wild spring is serving on the day). From there we're immediately immersed into chaos as the residents and volunteers grapple with the news that half the camp is being evicted, and someone has died. We don't know who these people are or what's going on, but we're immediately captivated. Then Safi stops the action, telling us that a good storyteller starts at the end and then goes back to the beginning (and playwrights Joe Robertson and Joe Murphy are good storytellers). The room clears out, and we begin at the beginning when the camp is first formed in early 2015 and migrants and refugees arrive from various countries in the Middle East and Africa. We learn each of their stories, all different but all the same, and we watch them form a community. We see the volunteers arrive from the UK, the destination for most of these refugees as they "try" in various ways to cross the channel into England. The camp becomes organized, a functioning society with homes, restaurants, businesses, and places of worship. It's both home, and an in between place. In what feels like no time, we arrive where we started, except that now we know these people, which only makes the ending more devastating.
Mark Valdez must be commended for directing this beast of a play and corralling 20 humans in this not very big space, and making it all feel smooth and graceful and viscerally real. Scenes flow from one to the next, connected by the narration from Safi, beautifully portrayed by Tony Larkin. Safi is not just an impartial observer, but a character in the story with stakes in the game, and Tony plays all of those nuances. He's our guide into this story, this world, and I'd follow him anywhere. He's surrounded by an ensemble in every sense of the word, a group of actors with varying levels of experience from all over the world, including many familiar faces from #TCTheater. They work together so well and truly feel like a cohesive (and sometimes antagonistic) community. Mohamed Yabdri and Bruce A. Young play leaders of the community who are at first at odds but then become close as brothers. Ahmad Maher is so endearing as a 15-year-old on his own who's adopted by everyone in the camp, Abdoul Manaf-Kondo tells a heart-breaking migration story, Avi Aharoni shows us the dangerous side as (human) smuggler Ali, and Comfort Dolo is Helene, a woman of faith. Paul LaNave represents the (not so helpful) French government, and the British volunteers (all with different reasons for being there) are played by LA-based Eric Staves as the de facto leader, Cheryl Willis (an actual Brit) as the tough-talking Paula, Sophina Saggau as the idealistic young Beth, Alex Mitchell as the eager Sam, and Jim Licthscheidl as a tender-hearted drunk. And special kudos to 9-year-old Miko Ekisola representing the hundreds of unaccompanied children, with few lines if any, but always present reminding us of the stakes.
The use of the firehouse doors, and the outdoors, is unlike anything I've seen in this space. Characters frequently enter and exit through the doors, and the outside world is referenced and seen through the doors. A bank of lights shines in through the doors to great effect, with great lighting design inside the theater as well. The sound design helps with the immersive feeling, as we hear rain, storms, sirens, and jarring noises. Set pieces include mismatched chairs, tables, crates, and boards, with a few detailed props like maps or flags or signs. The walls of the theater are painted with colorful words, pictures, and signs, like the way people would decorate their makeshift home. Costumes are simple and appropriate to the time and place and character. And credit goes to dialect coach Isa Condo-Olvera for the many different authentic accents spoken by the cast; the surtitles, which Mixed Blood always has for accessibility reasons, come in handy sometimes. (Scenic design by Joe Stanley, costume design by Zamora Simmons, lighting design by Marcus Dilliard, sound design by C Andrew Mayer, props design by Abbee Warmboe.)
The Jungle doesn't offer any solutions to the continuing migrant crisis around the world, but what it does do is show us the humanity behind the facts and figures, the political arguments and sound bites. No one wants to leave their home, their family, their country, and everything they know and love. They do it when they have no other choice, for survival, for a chance at a better life for themselves and their family. Maybe the solution starts with treating migrants as humans, and not a problem to solve. This play does more to convey that humanity than any article or news story could do, because it puts us squarely inside of it.
The Jungle is an incredibly well-written and well-constructed play that shines light on one of the biggest crises in the world today, and Mixed Blood Theatre's production simply couldn't be better.