Review: DEEP AZURE, Sam Wanamaker Playhouse
Photo credit: Sam Taylor
Hip hop and Shakespearean verse merge in Deep Azure, staged within the candlelit intimacy of the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse. Written by the late Chadwick Boseman, some time before his global recognition as a film star and deeply rooted in the Hip Hop theatre movement, in this work, Boseman sought to elevate urban prose into heightened, almost Shakespearean lyricism, fusing rhythm and contemporary storytelling. The result is a piece that blends poetic language, a beat-driven and chorus to explore grief, injustice and the private battles that live alongside public tragedy.
The main narrative unfolds in the aftermath of the death of Deep, a charismatic young Black man shot by an undercover police officer. His killing is described as a mistake, yet the surrounding circumstances remain disturbingly unclear. Inspired by real events, the story echoes the killing of Prince Jones, a Howard student whose death became symbolic of racial profiling and institutional failure. The play is not only about state violence, but about what that violence does to the body, to love and to community.
At its centre is Azure. Already struggling with anorexia-bulimia, she spirals further after Deep’s death. Her eating disorder could be seen as an attempt to reclaim control in a world where control has been stripped away. In a society that polices Black bodies, Azure turns that policing inward. The play suggests that systemic violence and self-harm are not separate conversations, they exist in dialogue. Her restriction, denial and purging mirror wider cycles of repression and eruption.
Selina Jones carries this with physical and visceral commitment. Her Azure is taut with tension, the symbolism of the greater narrative lives in her body. She does not sentimentalise the role, instead inhabiting it with raw clarity and holding the emotional architecture of the play.
Jayden Elijah’s Deep provides spiritual gravitas, appearing not just as memory but a lingering presence. A young man of promise whose potential has been cut short. The tragedy lies not only in his death but in the future he never reaches. Elijah Cook’s Tone, caught between loyalty and his role within law enforcement, avoids easy categorisation. He embodies the moral complexity of a man navigating friendship, duty and complicity. The wider cast are strong and clearly commit to the tone of the work with honesty.
Director Tristan Fynn-Aiduenu leans into the play’s fusion of realism and abstraction. The chorus functions as a contemporary classical device: beatboxing, popping and spoken word replace a traditional chorus. At times this works beautifully, particularly as a sonic landscape to set the tone and certain events. Yet the balance between the music and narrative does not always settle. Individually, the components are compelling; collectively, they require stronger synthesis. The futuristic framing of the opening sections, for example, is intriguing but initially obscures the emotional through-line. The most compelling moments come in moments in the uncovering of the truth, past joy in the happiest moments of the lovers lives together and the tragic end of Deep’s life.
Musically, there is texture and atmosphere under the guidance of Conrad Murray and John Pfumojena. When the rhythm underscores the grief, it deepens the world; when it competes with it, the drama loses momentum. Movement, overseen by Hanna Dimtsu, seeks a distinctive physical language, sometimes symbolic and striking, sometimes harder to decode, though always playful and alive.
Visually, the candlelit Wanamaker is a fitting home. The Jacobean wood and flickering light sit in stark contrast to metallic, almost industrial stage elements (designed by Paul Wills), underscores the collision between historical form and contemporary crisis.
Deep Azure is politically charged and thematically layered. It does not always find a seamless balance between poetic ambition and narrative drive, but its intention is clear and its core performances compelling. When it connects, it resonates with real force, not just as theatre, but as a meditation on grief, systemic injustice and the dangerous places pain can travel when left unresolved.
*** Three stars
Reviewed by: Stephanie Osztreicher