31 March – 4 April
The chair at the back of the class has always been empty. Nine-year-old kindly Alexa (Sasha Desouza-Willock) and classmates sporty, clever Josie (Petra Joan-Athene), high-achieving geeky Michael (Abdul-Malik Janneh) and twangy American Tom (Gordon Millar) are happy being who they are. Alexa lost her dad when she was small, but despite knowing that each one of her friends is a bit weird, it’s okay because weird is the opposite of normal, which means boring.
But then the chair is occupied. Their teacher, the friendly Mrs Khan (Natasha Lewis) introduces Ahmet, (Serkan Avlik) and explains that he has come from Syria and is silent because he can only speak Kurdish.
Nasty Brendan the Bully (Max Jordan in his professional stage debut) makes flesh the hostility that Ahmet has to face before the chums decide to do something about it and befriend him.
This faithful adaptation by Nick Ahad of Onjali Q. Raúf’s award-winning novel about a child refugee is timely. Not only are migrants regularly ostracised and the subject of much ill-informed paranoia, but the whole debate tends to make us lose our humanity.
The play addresses several contemporary issues head on yet manages to retain the charm of a children’s story. It is a hard trick to pull off, mixing terrible dad jokes with a political message while engaging a young audience, but The Boy At The Back Of The Class does this and more.
The acting ensemble is tremendous, not least because the cast comprises adults pretending to be children, revelling in the often-hilarious observed mannerisms and tics. Some characters may be familiar caricatures, and there are moments of sheer naivety, but they keep the entertainment levels high.
There is a general examination of bullying, not only at a child’s school playground level, but on the grander world stage, and when the audience was confronted with scenes describing bombing of ordinary civilians so one man can get his own way there were many knowing nods about who was being referenced.
The first act ends with Ahmet finding his voice and directly addressing the audience. Avlik’s study of his character bears much to his background in clinical psychology, and his diffident, awkward movement perfectly captures the bafflement his character experiences. He releases this emotion only when he plays football or when someone offers him sweets, even if they are sticky and covered in fluff. The second act involves a series of adventures more commonly associated with the Famous Five, and they hatch a scheme to go and see Queen Elizabeth II to help reunite Ahmet with his family.
Monique Touko’s direction provides many endearing flashes of theatricality, incorporating Lily Arnold’s simple but effective set centred around school gym bars which can be turned in a trice. Occasionally the political message becomes a tad laboured, but we are swept along with the children’s quest. The number of primary school-aged children sitting in rapt attention was a testament to the play’s power and the excellence of the performance, to take home the message that it’s good to be different.
★★★★☆. Bryan J Mason, 1 April 2026
