Review by Simon Jenner, June 11th 2025
“My charna came home from school crying because one of his ‘friends’ tried to cut off his topknot with a pen knife.” At the start of Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s 2013 novel Marriage Material, there’s conflict. And a reference to Sanghera’s preceding memoir The Boy With the Topknot. Adaptations of both are now playing at the Lyric Hammersmith. Marriage Material is directed by Iqbal Khan till June 21st.
Ensemble Photo Credit: Helen Murray
An intergenerational epic of a Sikh family’s struggle with a Wolverhampton corner-shop and two daughters who find different ways to rebel, Sanghera’s also rooted his novel in Arnold Bennett’s 1908 The Old Wives’ Tale. Set in the Five Towns north of Wolverhampton, it sees Bennett’s replace ‘An’ with ‘The’. He suggests it matters. And so does this storytelling. What we’re presented with is mostly the beginning around 1968, and present day in the second act (essentially 2013). Te radiant warmth, decency and pulls between tradition and “When in Wolverhampton” tug. Sometimes it means saying no to both and getting away to London.
That racism hasn’t dated in the decade since is an index of how far we’ve not come. And some traditionalists take a lot of persuading to move on. But in the assertions of daughters Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh) and persistence of Kamaljit (Kiran Landa), new hopes and ways of living splash out. It’s as infectious as the dancing in Anjali Mehra’s movement direction that sashays throughout like a thread of joys that finally unspools in a riot of colour.
Surinder’s the gifted one, a top A student whom Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell’s first role) is convinced can do anything. Indeed Surinder’s already critiquing Hardy for cruelty in Jude the Obscure. Kamaljit though just wants to marry someone close at hand (Omar Malik’s cousin Tanvir), have seven children and eat Black Forest Gateaux.
Their father Mr Bains (Jaz Singh Deol’s first role) is ailing. His early death leaves their mother, Mrs Bains (Avita Jay , glowing behind clouds of dust and duty), a warm affirmative widow wavering between her instincts and the heaviness of tradition in uncle Dahnda (an equivocally patriarchal Irfan Shamji) whose notion of tradition is disturbingly ancient. Yet he too has a sense of rightness, despite his outrageous suggestions being the catalyst for heartbreak and frantic decisions. He and Tanvir both understand what they’re up against. One of the earliest set-pieces is the demand to wear turbans working for buses: Tanvir’s eloquence and Kamaljit’s sturdy support are highlighted by Dowell’s Reporter. The first half teems with deaths and entrances, and exits.
Anoushka Desmukh. Photo Credit:Helen Murray
No more so than Surinder’s attraction to Tommy Belshaw’s Jim, his main role. A chocolate salesman who can quote Dylan Thomas and as much a he can, loves Surinder, might seem enough. But there’s layers to live through and a bleak future. Belshaw’s whining shiftiness with a veneer of charm is unerring. And cringeworthy.
The second half may not be plotted so tautly with ‘suddenlys’, but is more emotionally gripping. Kamaljit’s ailing now and Dhanda’s moving in on her. The absence of Surinder is the overarching tension, but there’s others. The simmering brotherly tensions between Dhanda’s laddish but combatively ‘traditional’ son Ranjit (Malik again) and his art director cousin Arjan (Singh Deol’s main role), Kamaljit’s son, is more disturbingly brought out in the novel but it explodes here too. You fear Ranjit, or “Jes” might go dark quickly, and Belshaw’s aptly named drunk lout Tommy shows why. Both leading Arjan on in a quest for Surinder, and laying a fighting version of his father’s values with fighting tools. To Ranjit’s displeasure, Arjan though has become engaged to Claire (Dodwell) anxiously liberal Claire, but who emerges with a sturdy sense of right. Ranjit might have a way of inadvertent sabotage. The outfall’s spectacular and there’s only one who can put everything right.
Celeste Dodwell and Jaz Singh Deol Photo Credit:Helen Murray
It’s subtly lit by Simeon Miller’s and Holly Khan’s sound design and linking composition exuberantly references a period trawl of mid-to-late 60s songs including the Archies’ Sugar Sugar neatly integrated. Everything down to period soup tins is authentically rendered in Good Teeth’s design of a corner-shop that splits open (like the two daughters, hinged but apart) revealing a 60s interior, the Wolves’ accents seem spot-on too.
Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation manages to transcend much of the constraints of straining a novel through a theatrical sieve. Performances are universally fine, with the exuberant yet steely Deshmukh describing an arc of fire that refuses to be extinguished, even with a bucket. Landa’s smouldering warmth yet bursts into wild enthusiasm. She renders Kamaljit’s later embittered self with heartbreaking dignity. Jay’s clouded radiance behind the anxiety is compelling, and her rendering of Mrs Bains’ later self startling. The multi-roling actors are absorbing in their variety and affect – Singh Deol’s and Dodwell’s confrontations are painfully wrought. Though much connecting narrative has to go, and a key plot-point elided for a purely upbeat end (do buy the novel, on sale), it doesn’t alter anything fundamental. As we follow the Bains over two-and-a-half hours, you can’t help wishing this exhilarating, heartwarming play a long run, as it transfers to Birmingham Rep.
Casting Director Jatinder Chera, Fight Director Dani Mac,
Associate Movement Director Rakhee Sharma, Associate Sound Designer Anna Wood, Associate Director Harper K Hefferon