Alaa’s mission? Delivering a battered yellow plastic jerry can of olive oil, made from his grandfather’s ancient trees, from his mum in Jenin to his aunt in Amman.
The storytelling and the writing are genuinely strong. Dialogue flows effortlessly, taking us through the sheer frustration of border delays, family errands, and the colourful characters you meet along the way. The script weaves in the history seamlessly. We go back more than 100 years to 1918 and the British government’s geopolitical machinations that created the West Bank in the first place. It gives you essential context that most of us are unaware of without ever feeling preachy or slowing down the pace.
Alaa Shehada is a brilliant, highly energetic performer with massive comedy creds. He completely owned the Bush’s main space. Performing in the round can intimidate a less experienced actor, but he played right up to the audience on all three sides. His multiroling is spot on, effortlessly bringing to life his mum, his uncle, a girl he fancies, a coughing cigarette smuggler, and a local elderly woman, amongst others. Each character is distinct, consistent, and cleanly drawn. Micaela Miranda’s movement direction blends in seamlessly too; the physical comedy and brief dance bits never feel tacked on. I needed a couple of minutes to tune into his accent at the start, but I quickly caught the rhythm without missing any detail.
Visually and aurally, the production keeps things minimal but effective. The set is just a wooden bench and that battered yellow jerry can, but it doesn't need anything else. Jazz Thompson’s illustrations and back-wall animations were a real highlight for me - striking, unexpected, and beautifully executed. Coupled with Julius Pollux Rothlaender’s sound design (bringing in the market noise, the checkpoint buzz, and even the annoying flies while you wait as well as original music), it paints a vivid, sensory picture of both the journey and life in the West Bank.
Where the show lost me a little was in its structural format. The Bridge sits right at the crossroads of one-man play and stand-up routine. There’s frequent fourth-wall breaking and direct audience interaction. The rest of the crowd were clearly lapping it up, but for me, coming in expecting a straight play, some of the stand-up elements broke the tension a little for me. It’s a serious topic, and whilst humour is vital for showing the resilience and warmth of the people, leaning so heavily into stand-up routines interrupted the narrative flow right when I wanted more dramatic depth and poignancy. I may be an outlier in that respect though!
What makes The Bridge stand out in the landscape of political theatre, especially compared to shows like My Name is Rachel Corrie or David Hare's Via Dolorosa, which I have also seen recently, is that it isn't an outsider's commentary or compiled verbatim text. It’s lived, daily Palestinian experience from a Palestinian. It doesn't dwell purely on the occupation, even if the expanding Israeli settlements and border guards are ever-present background realities. Instead, it focuses on a very relatable ordinary life: family connections, helping fellow travellers, and navigating absurd bureaucracy and jobsworths.
Ultimately, it’s a deeply human, incredibly energetic piece of storytelling that offers a fresh lens on an intractable reality, even if I personally wanted a bit more play and a bit less stand-up.
The Bridge plays at the Bush Theatre (Holloway Theatre) until 11 November. Tickets (from £15) available here https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/the-bridge/
