Grenfell: In the Words of Survivors at the National Theatre – review
Memories of the 2017 Grenfell fire are still raw, and the injustices that caused it are laid bare in this powerful piece of drama-documentary theatre, which invites us at the end to walk outside and plant a green heart in silent solidarity. The message is plain: don’t be a passive observer, campaign for justice, stand up for the victims.
Phyllida Lloyd and Anthony Simpson-Pike’s production in the Dorfman – designed by Georgia Lowe and evocatively lit by Azusa Ono – is full of such metatheatrical touches. It opens with the cast introducing themselves and the people, including nine Grenfell residents, they’ll be portraying. We are then invited to get to know the person sitting next to us, in a moment that reminded me of childhood churchgoing. In some sense we are a congregation.
The play, which has been written by Gillian Slovo based on verbatim testimony, unfolds in chronological order. In the first half we learn about the background of the tragedy, notably the idea that the tower had been cheaply refurbished and clad in flammable material as part of a campaign of “managed decline” and, ultimately, social cleansing.
The second act takes us through the night of the tragedy and its aftermath, including snippets from the inquiry (which has already been the subject of two verbatim plays from Richard Norton-Taylor and Nicolas Kent). We hear the testimony of residents who, having initially been told to stay put, eventually have no option but to try and escape down smoke-filled stairwells.
It is harrowing to experience, and we are told that we can leave at any time (there is also a support team on hand if needed). Although it can feel like a bombardment of information, and the emotive delivery of the inquiry material is somewhat overcooked – the words themselves are shocking enough – the accounts of those who were caught up in the fire are shuddering. More than one describes the scene as “hell”.
The 11-strong ensemble give detailed, sensitive portrayals of their real-life counterparts. I was particularly struck by Joe Alessi’s Antonio Roncolato, an Italian hotel manager who phones work amid the inferno to apologise for being unable to come in. Pearl Mackie brings welcome levity as his upstairs neighbour Natasha Elcock, whose first thought on allowing her bath to overflow to try and counter the flames is that she’s flooded him again. Michael Shaeffer is an impassioned Edward Daffarn, member of the Grenfell Action Group who campaigned in vain for changes to avoid catastrophe.
All have their moments, but the final word is given to the survivors themselves, who are shown in a climactic video on a large screen across a section of the in-the-round auditorium (audience in this block sit on stage to accommodate it). But alongside the anger, there is love. It becomes clear that it’s the strength of this community, which has been so appallingly stigmatised, that has carried many of these brave survivors through their trauma. The very least they deserve is our love in return.
