Pizza Shop Heroes @ Stage 2 NTR

The central conceit of Pizza Shop Heroes is that the four performers – each playing versions of themselves – are stuck in a dead-end job at a Pizza Shop. The tacit suggestion is that society expects them to be grateful for this small mercy – an assumption the play unapologetically rebuts. Tewodros Aregawe, Goitom Fesshaye, Emirjon Hoxhaj and Syed Najibi carry themselves with a ferocious dignity, notwithstanding the good-natured clowning that opened proceedings, and the easy intimacy which they go on to develop on stage. These men, who came here as boys, defiantly told their stories how they wanted to, and make explicit that as an audience we are here to listen not judge. They do not expect, or want, us to feel sorry for them. Nor do they flatter their audience simply for turning up.

It’s an uncompromising message, and not always one easily reconciled with a narrative that emphasises their humanity. I cannot pretend to empathise, but I do course sympathise, with men who suffered such terrible hardship. They, as ordinary human beings that have been corralled into the role of hero by adversity, certainly seemed to reach out and value our appreciation for what they have been through, and continue to go through. Some of the most effective scenes are those satirising how alien life in the UK was upon arrival, a point made all the more effective when juxtaposed with the testimony of those unseen, speaking in their own tongue of things we cannot know of.
 
It was a shame that Dawn Harrison’s text didn’t do more to develop the Pizza Shop concept. Instead the company seemed to quickly tire of it, shifting the focus onto a broken fourth wall as director Kate Duffy joined the actors on stage. In my view, this was the only significant misfire of the night. Directors direct, so there was some logic to her marshalling the actors about, but I grew increasingly perplexed and troubled by the device. The company will surely be aware of the well-meaning white saviour trope and would undoubtedly be horrified at the suggestion, but as Duffy continually calmed things down and sorted things out I couldn’t entirely escape the notion that she was stepping in to handle issues the men could not deal with on their own. A scripted conceit it may have been, but with an unfortunate resonance, not least as it was unnecessary – the Kate Duffy character added little to the narrative, but it did further damage the coherence of an already complex mix of fact and fiction. Significantly, it was the closing scenes of the play where, in her absence, the refugees were allowed to step back into character, which proved most effective. With heart-breaking irony each told of lives to come filled with opportunity and success, leaving the audience to work out for themselves how realistic those aspirations might be.
 
Pizza Shop Heroes is a significant and worthwhile attempt to explore the harsh realities of seeking asylum in the UK. It is episodic and uneven, but has a huge heart. It may still have the feel of a work in progress, but that is perhaps more indicative of the company than the play, as they struggle to match the emotional impact of real-life anecdote with a narrative challenges of drama. I can’t remember a play that continued to turn around in my mind for so long after viewing, and I’m still not sure whether what I saw could legitimately be called good theatre, but it’s message couldn’t more pertinent in troubled times, and that’s more than enough to earn the right to perform.