The Beekeeper of Aleppo - Nottingham Playhouse Review

★★★★★

The Beekeeper of Aleppo, at Nottingham Playhouse, tackles one of the most urgent humanitarian issues of our time through intimate, character-driven storytelling. With striking performances and thoughtful staging, this production explores trauma, resilience, and hope. But with such a vital message at its core, does the production succeed as powerful and engaging theatre, or does the gravity of its subject turn it into a message-heavy TED talk with fabulous lighting?

The cast of The Beekeeper of Aleppo. Photo by Manuel Harlan.

The play follows Nuri, a Syrian beekeeper forced to flee Aleppo with his wife Afra after their lives are devastated by war. As they embark on a perilous journey across Europe in search of sanctuary in the UK, they encounter moments of kindness and exploitation. Along the way, the couple is struck by grief and trauma, while memories and present realities blur together in Nuri’s fractured perception of time. Their story becomes not simply one of escape, but of survival, healing, and rediscovering hope amid unimaginable loss.

This production is essential. Although the narrative is set roughly a decade ago, the subject matter remains painfully relevant, reminding audiences that the refugee crisis is not a historical moment but an ongoing horror. One particularly striking line, in which a character questions whether the English have ever truly experienced war, lands with unsettling clarity. For many audience members, conflict is only shown on the news and Facebook, and this production forces a confrontation with the human consequences behind those headlines. The play doesn’t sanitise the refugee experience; it presents audiences with the vulnerability faced by these people, from violence and exploitation to the dehumanising bureaucratic systems awaiting them at their destination.

Adam Sina delivers a wonderful performance as Nuri, anchoring the production with emotional intelligence and storytelling precision. Sina’s ability to navigate humour alongside harrowing recollection ensures the character never becomes one-dimensional. His vocal clarity invites the audience to walk alongside him on his journey, while his portrayal of Nuri’s deteriorating mental state is deeply affecting without ever feeling “Performed”.

Farah Saffari makes a remarkable leading stage debut as Afra, delivering a performance of profound sensitivity. Portraying a blind character facing immense grief is no easy feat, yet Saffari approaches the role with nuance and authenticity. Her physicality is carefully observed, and her emotional vulnerability creates a character that feels fragile yet fiercely resilient.

Joseph Long provides versatility, portraying both the optimistic beekeeper Mustafa and the Moroccan Man who serves as comic relief. Long’s Mustafa offers a hopeful counterpoint to the central narrative, representing a refugee journey fuelled by aspiration. Meanwhile, his portrayal of the Moroccan Man delivers much-needed levity, particularly through humorous reflections on British culture. However, while effective initially, the recurring “geezer” joke starts to grate by the show's latter stages.

Joseph Long, Farah Saffari, Adam Sina, Alia Lahlou. Photo by Manuel Harlan.

Aram Mardourian delivers a chillingly precise performance across multiple roles, including individuals who exploit refugees for profit. Mardourian successfully avoids presenting these characters as simple villains, instead offering layered portrayals that emphasise the moral complexity of survival within broken systems. 

Dona Atallah plays Mohammed and Sami, capturing childlike innocence with such conviction that it was shocking when I realised the performer is not actually a young boy! Occasionally, however, Atallah’s strong stage presence slightly shifts the focus away from Nuri’s journey in shared scenes. The ensemble cast, including Alia Lahlou, Princess Khumalo, Mohsen Ghaffari, and Helena Massoud, contributes great performances that reinforce the sense of a constantly shifting world of figures who shape the protagonists’ journey.

The creative team wisely prioritise storytelling over spectacle. Ruby Pugh’s set design, Ben Ormerod’s lighting, and Tingying Bong’s sound design function cohesively to support the narrative without overwhelming it. While none of these elements aim to be groundbreaking individually, their restraint allows the human story to remain central. In contrast, Zsolt Balogh’s video design stands out as particularly effective, using minimalist projections, such as the NHS or Homeland Security logos, to establish location while employing abstract imagery, such as fractured-glass visuals, to represent Nuri’s PTSD and fragmented memories.

Movement coach Kane Husband introduces powerful physical theatre elements that elevate the storytelling. The use of stylised movement allows the cast to convey emotions that may be restricted by language. One especially haunting moment, in which Afra repeatedly attempts to stand and reach for the door handle before collapsing, draws on techniques reminiscent of the Theatre of Cruelty, forcing the audience to witness her vulnerability through relentless repeated physical symbolism.

Dona Atallah, Adam Sina and Farah Saffari. Photo by Manuel Harlan.

The production’s non-linear timeline presents one of its few narrative challenges. By revealing early that Nuri and Afra ultimately reach the UK, some of the dramatic tension surrounding their survival is inevitably reduced. However, this structural choice actually reinforces the production’s focus: the story is not about whether they arrive, but about the psychological cost of the journey itself. 

The Beekeeper of Aleppo at Nottingham Playhouse is not merely a piece of theatre; it is an urgent act of storytelling that demands empathy and awareness. Through extraordinary performances and thoughtful direction, the production transforms a global crisis into a deeply personal human experience. This is vital, must-see theatre, a production that reminds audiences of the power of storytelling to illuminate the realities of those too often unheard.