Review: Marriage Material (Lyric Hammersmith Theatre)

Review by Harry Bower

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

How do you distil five decades of family, trauma, tradition, and love into a single evening of theatre? With a long run time, a lot of heart, and a generous helping of intergenerational drama, Marriage Material gives it a more-than-worthy shot. Adapted by Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti from Sathnam Sanghera’s acclaimed book, this is a sprawling epic. It’s warm, funny, and sometimes brutal in its portrayal of one British Sikh Punjabi family, told through the eyes of two teenage sisters growing up in the 1970s Midlands. 

What begins as a lively and familiar story of sibling tension and parental expectation quickly unfolds into something much more ambitious. Over the course of two hours and forty-five minutes, we watch as lives are lived, lost, shaped and reshaped again. Through migration, marriage, grief, ambition, estrangement and reconciliation, the plot morphs into a lifelong-story. Time marches forward through blackouts and transitions, often skipping whole decades in a heartbeat, with characters ageing (or disappearing) in a blink. The pace is relentless, but by keeping its focus firmly on a single family, the show remains surprisingly intimate despite its scale.

At its core, Marriage Material is about legacy. More specifically, it’s about what is passed on intentionally, what’s inherited accidentally, and what gets completely misunderstood by the next generation. There’s a sharp irony in watching children replicate the mistakes they so vehemently rejected, and great satisfaction in seeing others break the cycle altogether. It’s a production bursting with ideas; racism, patriarchy, assimilation, identity, grief, gender roles… I could go on listing themes. Thankfully, this adaptation never lectures. Instead, it presents a deeply felt world and trusts the audience to draw its own conclusions. The result is an emotional slow-burn that becomes more enjoyable the longer you sit in its wake. By the time the finale hits you and you reflect on the time spent with these characters, you come to realise you feel you know everything about their lives.

Bhatti’s adaptation doesn’t treat the source text as scripture. There’s reverence, but also reinvention. It feels like a modern reintroduction of a classic story. References to today’s political landscape land with a well-timed bite, particularly in a month in which the UK Prime Minister is accused of using Enoch Powell-inspired language in his speeches. There’s no attempt to present a “right” way to reconcile tradition with progress…just an acknowledgement that both are real, messy, and often incompatible. What impresses most is the way the script blends big themes with razor-sharp dialogue and heart-wrenching personal drama, only occasionally tipping into melodrama or sentimentality. Some amusing and over the top moments were punctuated on press night by equally big reactions which are unlikely to happen night after night.

Performances across the board are accomplished. Anoushka Deshmukh is magnetic as Surinder, capturing the heady optimism of youth and the heavy disappointment of adulthood with remarkable ease. Kiran Landa, as her sister Kamaljit, delivers an impressive transformation. Naive and overlooked in act one, she returns in act two as a hardened but hopeful matriarch, her physicality and presence completely transformed. Jaz Singh Deol pulls double duty with a youthful finesse, flipping between the paternal Mr Bains and his grandson Arjan. Somehow he represents two entire generations of pain, pride, and conflicted masculinity. Irfan Shamji’s villainous Dhanda is deliciously slippery, almost pantomime-esque in the way the audience feel toward him. He plays an essential role in the balance of the piece and Shamji toes the line perfectly. This is the sort of ensemble that elevates every moment and fills even the script’s quieter patches with energy.

Director Iqbal Khan’s work here is equally brilliant as his cast. There’s movement, momentum, but also restraint where it counts. For a show so rooted in domestic settings and family squabbles, the sense of theatricality is strong. The use of space is smart, and the storytelling never feels static. Thankfully Khan’s direction never overshadows the human element. His choices help the story breathe, even in its densest moments, and he never shies away from letting silence do the heavy lifting.

That said, Marriage Material isn’t without its faults. The run time is a challenge, particularly in act one, where the stop-start rhythm and frequent scene changes occasionally test the audience’s patience. Some transitions are clunky, and the sheer frequency with which foreground set pieces are shuffled on and off stage begins to feel repetitive. The buildings themselves wobble distractingly underfoot. Perhaps that is metaphorically apt, but it still feels visually odd. Lighting is functional at its best, and a few movement sections land with little elegance. In such a dialogue and relationship-heavy piece, the change in pace is often welcome but the movement decisions often feel out of place.

Still, these quibbles are dwarfed by the sheer ambition and, more importantly, the emotional intelligence of the piece. It may not be the tightest script you’ll see this year, but it is undoubtedly one of the most generous. It asks a lot of its audience. Patience, reflection, and emotional investment. Then, it rewards those things tenfold. It doesn’t promise neat answers, but it does offer hope. Not in a “happily ever after” way (though you won’t be disappointed by its ending) but in the honest, earned kind. The kind that says, “life is messy”, and invites you to find beauty in the chaos.

Marriage Material plays at The Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until Saturday 21 June 2025. For more information visit: https://lyric.co.uk/shows/marriage-material/#performances 

Photos by Helen Murray