22/08/24

Summerhall (Anatomy Lecture Theatre), Edinburgh

Ade Adeyami (Yolanda Mercy) is an up-and-coming British-Nigerian playwright/actor. Some recent success (including a BAFTA nomination) means that the world is her oyster – or, at least, that’s what people keep telling her. But none of the white theatre execs she meets have any interest in her idea for an uplifting play about Black women scientists; instead, they want something about slavery, some trauma porn that they can wallow in to make them feel – what? Virtuous? The one play she has had commissioned – based on her own experiences as a Black scholarship girl at a prestigious private school – is being systematically torn apart before her eyes: an influencer cast in lieu of Adeyami herself; a director who wants to change some details, so that the bullying refers to class rather than race because “it’s more universal.” Sigh.

Unhappy though she is, Adeyami cannot heave her heart into her mouth. She’s supposed to be grateful for the opportunities she’s being offered. She has to succeed. “You’re doing it for all of us,” another young, Black, aspiring playwright tells her. And so she nods, says nothing. Works on the rewrites, as required.

It’s all too much. The weight of expectation on her shoulders is unmanageable. It doesn’t help that the work she’s doing is all unpaid until someone wants to buy it, nor that her ‘boyfriend’ is so flaky. To cap it all off, her bestie isn’t picking up the phone.

Mercy – who also wrote the script – is an engaging performer, so that – although the piece is undeniably inward-looking, it never feels self-pitying. It’s more like a howl of rage that’s been hammered into shape before being presented to us, allowing us a glimpse into the overwhelming amount of effort and persistence it takes for a Black woman to make theatre – even when she’s hailed as a success. The sense of doom is palpable, Adeyami’s dreams of a glittering future hanging by a thread so delicate that it’s hard to imagine it won’t break.

Mercy talks directly to the audience, making the most of the intimate performance space, drawing us into her orbit and forcing us to feel Adeyami’s pain. The narrative arc is subtle but effective, the conversational tone belying the clever structure. There’s even a twist ending – and I don’t see it coming.

Despite its title, Failure Project is a success: warm and funny on the surface but with some serious depth.

4 stars

Susan Singfield