Review: The Book of Grace (Arcola Theatre)

Review by Raphael Kohn

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Dalston’s Arcola Theatre has a knack of producing some rather fascinating stuff. This spring is no different, with the UK premiere of The Book of Grace, Pulitzer-winner Suzan-Lori Parks’ exploration of division, tension and the politics of borders and control. It’s a tough watch – tense from the outset and pushing the limits of darkness. But much of the time, it’s also an important watch.

We join young Buddy as he returns to the home of his father, Vet, a border control officer, living with his stepmother, Grace. There’s tension from the first minutes as Buddy seems instantly uneasy around Vet, almost angry. Meanwhile, Grace does, to be frank, not enough, seemingly existing in the narrative only to offer ideas of happiness and positivity about the world during Buddy and Vet’s clashes.

And they do clash. A lot. It’s rarely physical between the two, but it goes a lot deeper than the trope of the rebellious son and controlling dad. The division between them, symbolic of the divides in America, both politically and culturally, never stops to rear its head even in moments of surprising intimacy between the two. This turns out to be the 

Vet is nominated for an award for his work as a border force patrol officer, and Grace invites Buddy to attend the ceremony. At times, Buddy wants to, at times, he doesn’t. Meanwhile, Grace still does rather little. She’s the titular character, and feels like she should be more central, trying to explore the best of the world while Vet and Buddy fight. And this is where the play begins to falter – it feels like an intense one-act play between Vet and Buddy has been elongated and drawn out into two acts. The first act is rather brilliant – a set of monologues making excellent use of the space is followed by some deeply insightful exploration of the key themes of the piece to not just set the scene but provide a lot of development.

But then, it all goes a little bit wrong. The second act, drawn-out and confusing, spends about 50 minutes veering off-course and losing all the tension built up over the first act. Thankfully, it ends with an arrestingly and alarmingly urgent finale, which makes it all worthwhile in the end, but I still could not help but wonder what it would have been like if it were slightly more polished, and slightly trimmed down.

The off-course second act seems to coincide with the absence of Peter De Jersey’s Vet. De Jersey is a veteran actor, an associate artist at the RSC, and very familiar on screens and stages alike. He’s absolutely at home in this play, with a magnetic presence and a disarming swagger that makes his portrayal absolutely believable and constantly engaging. Vet might be so obnoxious and awful that nobody would dare actually want to hear from a man like him, but every time he left the stage, I longed for his return.

He's opposite Daniel Francis-Swaby’s Buddy, alert and jittery in Vet’s presence. Francis-Swaby has a tough role to play – he’s often silent on stage for long durations, watching his father, reacting quietly – and he plays it brilliantly. The titular Grace, while given the least to do plot-wise (mostly), is played charmingly by Ellena Vincent, who squeezes every detail out of her part.

Transformed from the thrust of the Arcola into the round, with the addition of onstage seating, Femi Elufowoju Jr does a remarkable job directing the play. Immaculately staged in the venue, making excellent use of features such as the aisles, balcony, and even the seating itself, Elufowoju never allows anyone in the space to feel comfortable or at home. He’s helped, of course, by William Fricker and Rae Smith’s sublime scenery, much fuller than anything else I’ve seen at the Arcola, complete with a full kitchen including working fridge, cooker and tap, and even a shower.

The divides in the text are literalised by Fricker and Smith’s steel scaffold, dividing the space in half without compromising any views. It’s not a homely environment – it feels like an unwelcoming, uncomfortable living room on that set. David Howe lights it all tremendously, making the most of the contrast between light and dark, and especially using a few terrific effects to make some terrifying tableaus in the more horrifying moments.

It's ultimately a touch confusing at times. But when it works, it works a treat. Parks’ poetic, meandering script gets deep into controversial waters, and for a play written in 2010, it feels all the more relevant in 2024. ‘You’ve got to build a wall around it’ remarks Vet, and it’s as if Parks predicted the horrifying descent into Trumpian hell the USA fell down. Ultimately, it’s a horrifying yet urgent watch, presented by a trio of stunning performers. I challenge any viewers to not find themselves deeply moved and disturbed.

The Book of Grace plays at the Arcola Theatre until 8 June 2024. Tickets from https://www.arcolatheatre.com/whats-on/the-book-of-grace/

Photos by Alex Brenner