Deep Azure at Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

In an announcement that seemingly came out of nowhere in the already fraught summer of 2020, Chadwick Boseman died at the tender age of 43. His loss to the big screen was immeasurable, but so was his contribution to the stage, as evidenced by his extraordinary play Deep Azure. Staged in the UK for the first time, this is also the Globe debut for director Tristan Fynn-Aiduenu, who is the perfect match for such a visionary project.

Inspired by the killing of Boseman’s Howard University peer, Prince Jones, the play eschews a traditional male-centred narrative. Instead, it looks at the aftermath of the tragedy through a female lens. Protagonist Azure (Selina Jones) struggles with an eating disorder as she attempts to process the death of her partner, Deep (Jayden Elijah), who was killed by a police officer.

As a lover of the Bard, Boseman’s dialogue is a clever coalescence of hip-hop and Shakespearean verse. While the production opens with cast members dancing in metallic, futuristic garb, this display seamlessly transitions into the sort of expositional prologue that typically opens a Shakespeare play. There are even direct references to his works through utterances of “there’s the rub” and “that’s the question.”

Merging ballet, hip-hop, and lyrical theatricality, Fynn-Aiduenu’s experimental production is a marvel to behold. In addition to giving exemplary dramatic performances, the cast dance, sing and, most impressively, provide music for the production. In lieu of an orchestra, the performers create their own ambient score through beatboxing, humming and innovative vocalisations. Remarkably, they even manage a pitch-perfect rendition of Barber’s Adagio for Strings.

As Azure battles her psychological demons and grief, the ensemble takes to the stage to engulf her in dance, with Aminita Francis and Imani Yahshua giving standout, multilayered performances alongside the fantastic Jones. Particularly spellbinding is a scene in which Azure is entwined by bodies swaying in slow motion, her sense of reality becoming increasingly fragmented due to the effects of malnutrition.

A moment in which Azure becomes overwhelmed by idealised, airbrushed images on the cover of Vogue culminates in an unforgettable, visceral performance of bodily contortions from Jones. At the end of Act One, her screams reverberate through the candlelit theatre long after the hum of the ensemble has dissipated.

Boseman’s female-fronted narrative is compassionate and deeply insightful. Eating disorders are often overlooked in Black women, so the playwright’s decision to highlight society’s shameful oversight is commendable. A play rich with soulful metaphorising, Azure’s illness and the culmination of Black-on-Black violence are a microcosm of the diminution of Black voices amidst systemic racism.

As if it needed repeating, the play spotlights the chasm left in the wake of Boseman’s loss, as an actor, playwright, and empath with an acute understanding of social issues. Deep Azure is a triumph of profoundly resonant, female-centred storytelling.