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Review: The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind (Swan Theatre)

Review by Raphael Kohn


⭐️⭐️⭐️


There’s something inspiring about seeing stories of perseverance, dedication, and innovation. After all, they power our collective drive to reach new heights and prove the impossible. William Kamkwamba’s The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind, which snowballed from a TED talk into a Hollywood movie and now the world premiere of a musical, is quite the example. After dropping out of school due to unaffordable fees, and against adversity, drought, and famine, Kamkwamba taught himself sufficient electrical engineering to build his own wind turbine out of scrap metal to power his village’s water pump. It makes for a rather uplifting tale – and what’s more, it’s a true story.



Well, a true story that’s been refined into a musical, that is. I’m sure there must be some pruning and bending at play to make the story fit the clear two-act structure and tidy things up into a neat standalone story. But that’s the point of adaptation, a task faithfully carried out by Richy Hughes to rework Kamkwamba’s book (co-written with Bryan Mealer) into a script. Of all the musical adaptations out there, this one is more functional than fantastic, with a particularly exposition-heavy first act leaving the second with the heavy job of telling the story we’ve really come to the theatre to see, but it’s peppered with enough humour and sparkle throughout that it gets away with it.


Interspersed throughout is Tim Sutton’s music and lyrics, effervescently blending musical theatre stylisations and Malawian instrumentation (orchestrated by Benjamin Kwasi Burrell) into a joyful score. The music fares a little better than the lyrics, which at times come across a touch clunky, but they’re set to pounding, energetic tunes which are tremendous fun to listen to. The feather in the hat of the production, however, is Shelley Maxwell’s choreography, a stage-shaking stunner that blows the roof off the theatre in its most vigorous moments, and even throws a balletic interpretive dance sequence into the second act to shake the storytelling up.



It's not all fun and joy, though. The bold energy is balanced with the harsh reality of poverty and corruption by director Lynette Linton, ensuring the bitter truths of the story remain firmly in sight. Partially, that’s a product of Hughes’ script, with a much funnier first act becoming far starker in the second as death and disease rear their heads, but it’s also inherent in the tones she strikes, never letting things become too light-hearted. 


Linton’s stagecraft is particularly marvellous, working with puppetry designer Nick Barnes and puppetry director Laura Cubitt to bring planes and animals to life using scrap metal and immaculate design. It’s almost as if these puppets arise out of the metals left around the corners of the stage, coming to life of their own accord and disappearing as quickly as they form, as if we get a brief look through Kamkwamba’s eyes. 



Much of that theatrical magic is thanks to Frankie Bradshaw’s set, leaving most of the stage bare to accommodate the rather large cast while also hiding plenty of details in plain sight, ready to reveal themselves at the turn of a flat or the lifting of a floorboard. It pairs brilliantly with Oliver Fenwick’s bright lighting, aligning with Bradshaw’s colour scheme to perfection and syncing with Sutton’s score meticulously to accent each musical beat with a flash or a shadow.


Kamkwamba is expectedly the main character in a marathon of a performance from Alastair Nwachukwu, barely leaving the stage throughout. His acting chops are certainly up to the task, managing to convey both the innocence of a fourteen-year-old and also the wisdom of an intelligent technical prodigy, without falling into the traps of adult-playing-child tiresomeness. Unfortunately, while there’s no easy way to say this, his vocals don’t match the demands of the score - a shame, as his acting pulls his performance so high.



There’s plenty of excellence in the rest of the cast, with a sensational highlight in Sifiso Mazibuko’s performance as Trywell Kamkwamba (William’s father). With a deep and meaningful characterisation, laying bare the mental toll of looking after his family, he acts his socks off throughout. But what sets Mazibuko particularly apart are his stellar vocals, resonant and beautiful, in a performance that is utterly transfixing throughout his stage time.


Surrounding them are Madeline Appiah as Agnes Kamkwamba (William’s mother), whose formidable characterisation and sparkling chemistry with Mazibuko make her utterly believable. Some of the best performance, however, comes in the form of two performers who say nothing verbally, yet everything with their physicality. Yana Penrose masterfully commandeers Kamkwamba’s dog Khamba in puppet form, while Shaka Kalokoh stalks the stage menacingly and intensely as a hyena, in two powerfully visceral portrayals.



With energy enough to power the theatre without a mains supply, it’s certainly an enjoyable evening out, despite a few scattered drawbacks. Its West End transfer is already booked, showing that there’s certainly no shortage of appetite for The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind. For me, I’m nothing but relieved to see this show, telling the kind of story we rarely get to see on British stages, reach wider audiences and box office successes. I only wonder if, with some tightening and tweaking, it may even power its way far beyond its two limited runs in Stratford and in London.


The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind runs at the Swan Theatre until 28th March, then transfers to @Sohoplace in London from 25th April.


Photos by Tyler Fayose

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