Review: Girls (The Maria Theatre, Young Vic)
Review by Cat Wiltshire
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
How do you hold on to your childhood when the world around you is determined to take it away? For three teenage girls held captive in Nigeria, friendship, laughter and imagination become essential to survival. Inspired by the true and horrific kidnapping of schoolgirls, Theresa Ikoko’s Girls explores the lives behind the tragedy that shocked the world.
Set in the aftermath of the 2014 Chibok schoolgirl kidnappings in Nigeria, Girls follows the abduction of three teenage friends, Tisana (Hannah Akhalu), Ruhab (Sewa Zamba), and Haleema (Tara Tijani), who were held by an extremist group. Although the girls are surrounded by violence, uncertainty, and the constant threat of death, they attempt to keep some sense of normality: they gossip about boys, discuss celebrities, play games, and tease each other endlessly, like any group of teenage friends. The harsh reality of their circumstances is always apparent, though, as they are forced to perform domestic tasks and have new religious practices imposed on them under the threat of further violence.
As the days go by, each girl develops their own way of coping, whether that's retreating into a fantasy world for Tisana, conforming to new circumstances like Ruhab, or refusing to abandon the possibility of an escape like Haleema. What the audience is presented with is not just a story about captivity but one about friendship, resilience, and the different ways people respond when they lose freedom and their own identity.
Theresa Ikoko’s writing is undoubtedly one of the production's greatest strengths; it's most effective by presenting the everyday experiences of the girls alongside the extraordinary horror of their circumstances. One moment, the characters are discussing Big Brother, Beyoncé, or the Kardashians, and the next, they are recalling brutal acts of violence or facing the harsh reality that they will never return home.
The humour is particularly well handled, and, rather than undermining the seriousness of the situation, it makes the characters more believable. Their jokes and arguments remind us that these are ordinary girls who should be worrying about school and boys, not whether they'll survive the week. Ikoko also avoids portraying the girls as helpless victims, giving each a distinct personality, opinions, and flaws. They argue to the point of hurting one another, but beneath it all is a perpetually strong bond. This complexity gives the dialogue authenticity while preventing the play from becoming overly sentimental.
There is also an important exploration of gender and the cruelty experienced by these girls, with their bodies, appearance, and reproductive abilities treated as commodities, while their captors expect them to stay obedient and ‘pure’. If the writing has any weakness, it is that the final section occasionally loses some of the momentum it had earlier in the play, with some parts feeling a little rushed and less focused as we move toward the conclusion. Overall, though, this does not take away from Theresa Ikoko's ability to make the audience genuinely care about the girls.
Director Ewa Dina brings an imaginative and emotionally intelligent approach to this challenging material; her direction creates a world in which moments of joy and terror can exist in the same moments, often shifting between the two quickly. The opening scene immediately establishes this contrast through dkfash’s movement direction; the girls dance together with the carefree energy of teenagers before fear interrupts. It effectively introduces the production's central tension: the struggle to maintain individuality and happiness in a place that destroys both.
Dina is particularly successful in handling the three central performances; the girls' relationships feel natural, with their affectionate teasing creating a convincing sense of shared history. The direction also makes good use of the Young Vic's theatrical possibilities rather than relying on graphic depictions of violence. Dina often lets sound, lighting, and the actors' reactions communicate the horrors happening beyond the audience's view; this approach leaves more room for imagination, which can be more frightening than showing the audience directly. However, at times, the repeated bursts of sound, dramatic lighting changes, and sudden transitions feel slightly excessive, despite initially establishing an atmosphere of danger. Despite this minor issue, Dina proves a strong understanding of the play's emotional rhythms, letting quieter moments breathe while keeping the threat of violence present.
With just three performers to carry the story, Girls depends heavily on their chemistry and emotional range. Hannah Akhalu, Sewa Zamba, and Tara Tijani deliver three compelling performances, each bringing a distinct perspective to the stage. Akhalu as Tisana gives a particularly affecting portrayal of a young girl whose religious beliefs become a source of strength and suffering. She does a great job of playing sweet, innocent, and hopeful at first, before her performance grows stronger as she becomes more erratic and retreats into a fantasy world.
As Ruhab, Zamba brings a warm energy and a sense of teenage romanticism to the production. Her fascination with relationships gives the play its first light-hearted moments, but she gradually reveals a desperation behind her confidence, portrayed amazingly as she becomes the woman who spits “I am Happy” at the friend obsessed with escape. Her performance captures the heartbreaking compromises people make to survive. Tijani, as Haleema, brings a defiant energy, frequently delivering sarcasm and excellent one-liners with perfect timing. What makes these performances impressive is their chemistry, with conversations that overlap naturally and moments of tenderness that never feel forced. The cast also deserves considerable credit for navigating the play's rapid tonal shifts; moving from laughter to fear or despair is not easy, but all three performers manage the transitions with emotional conviction that portrays the characters as young women, not symbols of victimhood.
The production's visual and technical elements play a significant role in establishing its oppressive atmosphere. Raphae Memons' set places the girls at the centre of a sand-covered environment with an overhead structure that shows pieces of charred and bloodied meat, creating a disturbing reminder of the death and violence surrounding them. Sophie Bramley’s video design adds another dimension, with screens displaying fragmented imagery, media coverage, and social media responses to the kidnappings. The contrast between the girls' terrifying reality and the world of celebrity activism is striking.
Elliot Griggs’ lighting is effective, with harsh flashes and ominous orange tones suggesting heat, fire, and destruction beyond the stage, and Munotida Chinyanga’s sound design is atmospheric, from the forest's relentless rainfall to distant gunfire, the rumble of approaching vehicles, and even the buzz of mosquitoes. The sound constantly reminds us of the impending doom and danger surrounding the characters.
Girls is a powerful, thought-provoking, and deeply affecting piece of theatre that brings humanity to tragedy beyond the headlines. Theresa Ikoko’s intelligent writing, Ewa Dina’s assured direction, and three outstanding central performances combine to create a production that is as funny as it is disturbing. Above all, this is a play about friendship and determination to hold onto hope when almost everything else has been taken away from the girls. Uncomfortable, heartbreaking, and surprisingly funny, Girls is an important production that deserves to be seen and remembered.
Girls plays at the Maria Theatre, Young Vic until 21st November. Tickets from https://www.youngvic.org/whats-on/girls/
Photos by Helen Murray