Brainstorm, National Theatre Temporary Space
reviewed for The Times, 24 July 2015
Yaamin Chowdhury in the Islington Community Theatre’s Brainstorm
Our narrator steps on stage. She’s confident, wise and articulate. So far, so professional. Except that Gracia Kayindo is 18 and, with candour unheard from most adult performers, invites us on a journey through the teenage brains of this ten-strong cast — rage, fear and neuroscience.
This is everything youth theatre could hope to be. Developed as a drama outreach project by Islington Community Theatre, Brainstorm has been picked up by the National Theatre after a week-long run at the Park Theatre in north London. There’s a deep honesty matched by an artistry and creative format that puts many of the National’s recent projects to shame. This isn’t just open-mike night at the community centre.
The techno-aesthetic is strong and simple. The tangled wires of the cast’s headphones are the brain’s web of synapses, lamps light up in a blackout each time an anonymous cast member answers “yes” to a computer’s darker questionnaire. (Five admit wishing they had been born with a different skin colour). The cast take their places in a circle, eyes glued to their phones. They’re not being unprofessional: as a livescreen tells us, they’re just critiquing the audience on WhatsApp.
Brainstorm is primarily a lesson in brain chemistry. Kayindo and the cast set their teenage meltdowns and raging crushes in the context of neural connections being made (sprouting) and unused pathways being lost (pruning). A tour of the chaotic limbic system — a rush of risk-taking, caution-free chemicals – gets the audience joining in the truth-telling games with raucous abandon.
Yet the wires that are really getting crossed are those with worried parents, and it’s the white-hot pain of each bedroom confrontation that brands the heart. (“My brain is like my bedroom. I don’t want my parents anywhere near it.”)
Doyin Ajiboye, Yaamin Chowdhury and Noah Landoni are standouts as the cast morph into their parents, a parade of anxiety, pride and the immigrant accents that make a second generation cringe. Their children emerge with a maturity we could all use. Outstanding.
