Review: SWEETMEATS, Bush Theatre

Hema hasn’t had sweets in years and attends a course on managing her Type 2 diabetes diligently. Then, she meets Liaquat out of the blue, a charming Pakistani gentleman in his sixties who’s rather reckless with his health. She is direct and sarcastic; he is friendly and playful. They both hide their feelings too well. As they try to influence each other, emotion stirs in the pair of elders. He urges her to enjoy the spoils of the world, and she encourages him to take care of himself a little better. Karim Khan writes a sweet play with big rom-com vibes.

Delicious comic timing carries the humour with an effervescent pace, while the cultural aspect of the script adds a bittersweet layer to it. It’s genuinely funny, with a quick sting in the tail. Natasha Kathi-Chandra’s direction is unhurried, leaning into Khan’s deliberate restraint in building the relationship. The placid speed of the narrative development nearly tips into self-indulgence, and the two-hour-and-a-half-with-an-interval running time might be frankly unnecessary for what the plot is, but the production is endearing enough to make us neglect its downsides.

Hema (Shobu Kapoor) and Liaquat (Rehan Sheikh) draw you in. He teases her like a naughty schoolchild, breaching her guarded reticence and composure to bring out the rebellious part of her. His misbehaviour tickles her moral side. They meet weekly, sharing cultural belonging in the (we assume) predominantly white workshop in spite of her being Indian and his being Pakistani. His attentions throw her off, and there’s a vague hint of an enemies-to-lovers trope at the start.

They share memories and reminisce about their respective countries, bonding over colonialism as a genetic trauma. The loss of their spouses is hardly ever discussed, but it looms over them like a large cloud. They may joke and tease one another when they’re outside, but their home life breaks the illusion of any easygoing zest: they’re both exceedingly lonely. Kapoor and Sheikh are heartbreaking.

Their chemistry is irresistible. Kapoor’s eyes glimmer when she talks about her late husband, but her face still splits into a grin when Liaquat gifts her a box of homemade mithai. Sheikh hides his flirting under gruff looks and a cheeky smile. Alone, he’s stuck in the past, unable to move from his regrets and clumsy with his emotions. It’s what pushes him towards Hema. As their friendship blooms, Khan gets the chance to include nimble commentary on the search for peace at an older age.

The visuals are as gentle, warm, and comforting as the subject. Designer Aldo Vázquez divides the space into six: two living rooms, a kitchen and a garden (both Liaquat’s), a bus stop, and a tiny room where the course is held. Simeon Miller lights up the various scenes according to location, compartmentalising the story further while Kathi-Chandra seamlessly advances the action. The sudden tonal shifts are handled as deftly.

Ultimately, this is a good piece of theatre. It might be quieter and more introspective than current trends demand, but it invites the audience to consider a part of the public that we don’t normally see as the protagonists of anything. It treats grief not as something to overcome, but to accept. It’s realistic and naturalistic, a true-to-life picture of our empathetic instinct to connect.

Sweetmeats runs at the Bush Theatre until 21 March.