THEATRE REVIEW: The Chosen Haram - Waterside, Sale. Greater Manchester.

This dazzling and expressive piece of physical theatre started from purity, and ended in wretched excess. Last evening’s performance of “The Chosen Haram” was at Waterside in Sale, as part of the Pride In Trafford season, and produced by Turtle Key Arts.

The mostly empty stage featured two floor-to-ceiling poles in the middle of the space, and the furniture of a ratty little flat to one side. Two figures wrapped up in cocoons were in the centre. One of them burst out of his wrappings to reveal the performer Sadiq Ali, playing the character of a pious Muslim man in white robes. The other cocoon revealed the performer Hauk Pattison, playing the dweller of the ratty flat and scuffed up in jeans. Their developing love story was spun out in a variety of techniques that included seriously impressive acrobatics on the Chinese poles, a lot of partner work on the floor, and some quite genuinely moving silent acting.

Sadiq Ali was the instigating deviser of the piece, and had based it on a combination of both his own personal experience as a gay Muslim man and interviews with other members of the LGBTQ+ community who identify as (ex) Muslim. His character’s inner conflict between his faith and his orientation was returned to again and again, as he moved from dreaming about holding hands with strange male commuters, to responding to a dating app, to arriving at the flat of Pattison’s character. It broke down in increments in other details too, as he turned down alcohol the first time it was offered, to eventually moving into some quite hardcore drug scenes. The smart suit was replaced by semi-transparent nightclub clothes. As Pattison’s character became increasingly dear to him, the mosque (represented by various lighting effects) shut off. And it did not end happily.

Hauk Pattison was the co-deviser, and his character was more of the cheeky jester, bringing lightness to break up the darkness. This could be very amusing – an effect involving a lot of fake snow and an electric fan will not be forgotten – and in a way, he was also the representation of the worst excesses of the LGBTQ+ world, though his own character’s development became one of vulnerable sensitivity.

Conor Neall, who consulted on the circus movement, had done an extraordinary job. Ali and Pattison’s team work was seamless, and particularly when they were bounding around each other while gliding up and down those poles, as if they had spray adhesive on their hands. They were also able to sustain the teamwork and ease of lift when expanding their physical expression on the rest of the stage. Most compellingly though, every movement kept its nuance in a very delicately-told story.

Reviewer - Thalia Terpsichore
on - 17.5.23