This puppetry and visual theatre performance from Indonesia takes as its starting point a bloody military coup that took place in 1965, opening with a video projection of (literal) puppet politicians giving speeches and live masked performers cheering the events waving red balloons and red flags. One either side of the white cotton screen that hangs at the back of the stage are two fabric constructions with little red platforms leading from them, like raised walkways over very swampy ground.

The core of the show is a tale of two families portrayed by puppets – two fathers, two brothers, and one little girl in a wheelchair. They are neighbours and one of the fathers is ultimately arrested. The puppets are operated in the kuruma ningyo style of the puppeteer sitting on a little box on wheels freeing both hands and feet to operate the head, arm, and feet of the puppet. This places the action low on the floor and the audience struggled to see some of it in the C venue it was presented in.

The story is a simple one of how political turmoil affects the children and we are moved by the innocence of the young child. Intermingled with the representational portrayal of the children and their fathers is a more abstract, symbolist visual theatre performance combining mask, projection and totemistic handling of dolls symbolising the oppression of the people. It’s here that the real strength of Mwathirika lies – the wordless portrayal of human suffering.

The arriving audience is greeted by electronic music being created live by a musician, a plain white set of walls, windows, domestic furniture, and a young woman sitting wide-eyed on a small bed staring off into the middle distance. As soon as the performance begins a man appears, very clearly in grief for a lost relation and it becomes clear that the young woman is his teenage daughter. He has to go to work and she is meant to be going to school. In a blink of an eye the set transforms into a comic book world and the girl is ‘Blaze’, superhero sidekick to ‘Silver’ who is in need of rescue from the evil ‘Doctor Oblivion’ but who is this new creature in the metropolis? The mysterious Beast?

Sparkle and Dark have created a tightly scripted, highly physical production which draws upon superhero iconography to explore teenage grief and how a family deals with trauma and breakup. Young adult audience members will immediately be drawn into this world and those of us who are older will remember the intense and sometimes desperate inner world of adolescence. Hopping back and forth between the real world of family and the imaginary superhero world the cleverly painted and lit set, the skilful puppetry of the Beast, and the hallucinatory feel create a powerful emotional through-line for this compelling piece.

The beast is scarred, potent, and full of rage. He encourages the girl to cross the moral line, not only defeating but killing her enemies to finally get to Silver, only to find it is too late and that Silver is gone as her rage dissolves into tears. I Am Beast captures an important moment in teenage life when you find that inner strength to cope with what seems like a world shattering event.

Based upon true events that happened a few years ago and were briefly in the papers in Scotland and England, this performance derives from interviews with the daughter and the two parents who were at the centre of the story. Most of the events recounted here take place in Glasgow and focus on the romance and marriage of a man and woman from two very different backgrounds and cultures. The reason they later made the papers was because of the apparent ‘abduction’ of the daughter from Scotland to an Islamic country against the wishes of her non-Muslim mother.

Using a domestic-looking set with western and eastern décor creating an impression of two different interiors, a surround of astroturf, and a backdrop of cloth printed with newsprint, the real power of this performance lies not in how it looks or what happens onstage, but the raw emotion of the mother’s testimonial and the extraordinary performance of the lead actress. She recounts the tale of a life from a harsh background, meeting a man of Asian heritage, their marriage and her efforts to be accepted into a very different culture. Ultimately this attempt is framed as a tragedy in this very balanced play, created by Tamasha through interviews with the family sharing their experiences in their own words. Islam is regarded by most Muslims as a faith, not a culture or a lifestyle, and this woman’s love for her children and her efforts to be accepted by the family and the Islamic community run aground against the strict edicts of conformity that gives her man too much power over her and her children.

The verbatim accounts of the man and the daughter are carefully intermingled into the performance and every side of the story explored. The human story of a family in crisis is palpable, as all sides try to do their best in a difficult situation, the parents trying to figure out what is best for the children and how to adapt to the changing circumstances of the family breakup. This is a moving and very well composed play about a story that should never have made it into the papers, but one that is worth hearing nevertheless.