Review: Saria Callas (Camden People's Theatre)

Review by Isabel Benson

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Many of us have heard of Maria Callas – opera diva, award-winner, heartbreaker. And for a split second, I thought she’d risen from the dead and was lounging onstage at Camden People’s Theatre, reincarnated as Sara Amini, with those dark eyebrows and killer cheekbones! But nope – this was not (always) going to be a night of arias at the Met. Not even close.

Seemia Theatre’s sultry, tragic – yet effortlessly funny – staging of Saria Callas is a one-woman show, primarily brought to life by the dance music from Tehran, Bizet’s hit single (as it were) from ‘Carmen’, and a series of impressive costume changes. Amini herself is a theatrical enchantress, as she maps her life from childhood to womanhood, commanding the stage with power and pathos as she battles restrictions imposed on her body and voice.

Amini takes us back to Tehran, where she grew up in the shadow of Iran’s 1979 Revolution. Her dream? To be a singer. This is not exactly achievable in a country where women have long been banned from performing solo in public – their voices silenced, restricted, and condemned. But cut to now: she sits on stage, glass in hand (half a bottle of red down), and dancing like no one’s watching – except we are, and we’re utterly transfixed. It feels like we are truly in her bedroom, living out memories and her rebellion. One lucky audience member was even offered the pleasure of drinking with her! It wasn’t me, sadly.

But this story isn’t just buried in memories. Amini grounds us back in the present day. Living in London, Sara raises a child who questions their own body and gender identity. Whilst Amini uses the hijab as a visual symbol of her voice being silenced in Tehran, she does well not to criticise her own culture exclusively, showing the issue as more complex, with her body further targeted in other parts of the world. In Paris, she is forced to strip down to her lingerie for la discotheque, and in Warsaw, she is told to have an abortion by her baby-daddy, who later abandons her. Then there’s London, and her son Nima, who, although silent, becomes a vessel for a whole new story of gender identity struggle.

Amini does well to create a sympathetic character out of Nima. His narrative is particularly touching, especially now, in a time when trans identities are being convicted in political discourse. When Sara’s father exclaims, “Why is Nima dancing like a woman?” our heart sinks for the greater implications of this statement. By acting out key moments of motherhood, Amini creates a narrative symmetry which represents an intergenerational identity struggle; something Sara battles against in her youth but starts to witness during the adolescence of her son. The journey from her own youthful lies – “We weren’t dancing!” – to the pleas of her son – “We were just dancing…” - are heartbreakingly undercut by Sara’s line, “You can’t just do what the f*** you want!”, a line she buried deep from her mother, only to resurface against her son.

For a one-woman show, Amini packs in a lot – so much that it’s hard to pin down a single, neat takeaway. That might be the downside of an hour-long, interval-less play: the themes come thick and fast. I suppose I left focusing on the idea of freedom and what it means, not only in post-1979 Iran, but within the lives of women and mothers everywhere. On the other hand, without explicitly saying it, the content also meditates on how tradition and culture have the power to mediate gender identity, acting as a restriction.

Written, performed, and co-directed by Amini herself, you could tell this is a piece that lives deep in her bones. She doesn’t just perform the story – she embodies it. With magnetic stage presence, striking features, and vocals that move from sultry to soul-stirring in a heartbeat, Amini holds the space with total command. With absolute heart and soul, this is storytelling that’s bold, raw, and unforgettable.

Special mention to lighting designer Ali Hunter, who transforms the small stage from an electric bedroom-infused arena to a more intimate, tragic space for monologue and reflection. Mana Sadri Irani too must be applauded for her powerful palette of costume colour, something which gives the show structure and engagement. The costumes neatly complemented Amini’s choreography – sometimes jarringly, and deliberately so – as when the sultry lingerie of her bedroom dancing transformed seamlessly into the hijab of her school days. Video direction was also effective, led by Elahe Esmaili. Although at points unclear whether it was Amini’s footage or not, the video denotes more contrast to the act and is included at pretty relevant times.

One thing I would say is that some elements of the story were lost to random musical interludes, which, although entertaining, detracted slightly from the narrative drive. Perhaps the ‘Maria Callas’ element was forced for the title pun, as I wasn’t entirely sure where her relevance lay when included musically (apart from the fact that she was a singer). I also felt that the pacing worked better in the first half, with Amini perhaps losing stamina towards the end. Having said that, who can blame her? She was an admirable tour de force regardless.

Overall, I can’t help but envision Saria Callas on a larger scale. With a touch more production, technical vocal training, and the larger audience she deserves, it’s clear that, if not the show itself, then Amini herself has a bright future. Although patchy in places, I left the theatre feeling emboldened and inspired by Amimi’s determination to dance, sing and survive through injustice. We may not have heard arias from the Met, but what we did hear was much more fun and will certainly leave you feeling high-spirited and drunk with the sounds of Iran! Saria Callas is a must-see – only an hour-long, and who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one offered that large glass of red. Then you’ll leave intoxicated by both the alcohol and the unstoppable talent of Sara Amini!

Saria Callas plays at the Camden People’s Theatre until 17th May. Tickets from https://cptheatre.co.uk/whatson/Saria-Callas#tickets

Photos by Harry Elletson (1, 2, 4, 5), Héctor Manchego (3)