Review: My Beautiful Laundrette at Liverpool Playhouse ***1/2

When My Beautiful Laundrette burst on to the big screen almost 40 years ago, it was an invigorating and influential cinematic moment.

Hanif Kureshi’s debut (Oscar-nominated) screenplay plunged audiences into a world where realism and fantasy were tumbled together in a story of love, ambition, loyalty and duty in mid-80s ‘Thatcher’s’ Britain.

It put same-sex and interracial relationships in the spotlight. And along the way, it also made a star of a young Daniel Day-Lewis.

Race, class, equality, sexuality, nationalism, politics, identity and belonging – the film’s heavyweight, and heady, mix of themes are revisited in Kureshi’s own stage adaptation being toured this spring by Theatre Nation Partnership and Leicester Curve.

And while the story remains set in the 1980s, some of those themes remain acutely pertinent in 2024.

Young British Pakistani Omar (Lucca Chadwick-Patel) is sent to work for his wily entrepreneurial uncle Nasser by his alcoholic Papa (Gordon Warnecke, who played Omar in the 1985 film), where hard-work and ambition soon see him ‘promoted’ to run a failing laundrette south of the river, despite the misgivings of Nasser’s cynical right-hand man and putative heir Salim (a vivid performance from Hareet Deol).

Omar, bright-eyed, bushy tailed but also, it transpires, morally flexible when it comes to getting ahead, determines to make the newly renamed Powders a ritzy success and enlists the help of his old schoolmate Johnny (Sam Mitchell) who has fallen in with a violent, volatile nationalist crowd.

The personal and professional become intertwined as Omar and Johnny embark on a passionate (but secret) relationship, one which blossoms in the face of hostile societal and cultural expectations.

But Omar and Johnny aren’t the only ones bound by those expectations. So too are Nasser – publicly a traditional ‘family man’ but who has another woman tucked away in the background, and also his feisty, Western-raised daughter Tania (Sharon Phull) who is fighting the restraints imposed on women within a still traditional culture.

Above: Kammy Darweish as Nasser. Top: Johnny (Sam Mitchell) and Omar (Lucca Chadwick-Patel). Photos by Ellie Kurttz.

Despite being caught between two rival factions, Mitchell’s Johnny radiates a quiet sense of comfort in his own skin, and there’s a palpable - and enjoyable – air of tenderness and affection in the burgeoning relationship between Johnny and Chadwick-Patel’s Omar, from flirtatious banter to first kiss.

What feels somewhat elusive, to me anyway, is that raw, take-your-breath-away chemistry. As an onlooker you want the frisson between the pair to feel overwhelming, the atmosphere to crackle with energy, to feel like an intruder in a world for two. You want a hot wash and a tumble dry on high.

Around this central relationship, there are a number of other narratives at play; the violent disaffection of young white men, generational conflict, and women's rights and autonomy - amplified by Tania’s bleak choice between two unpalatable options of filial duty.

Of the wider cast, Kammy Darweish gives a standout performance as Nasser. It would be easy for the Belial-tongued but bullying businessman to appear as little more than a caricature. But in Darweish’s hands he becomes satisfyingly three-dimensional, his confident veneer peeled away to reveal all his flaws and fears.

Despite the harsh griminess of its South London setting, the original My Beautiful Laundrette had a captivating, dreamlike, magical quality to it.

And Grace Smart’s neon-infused laundrette set, evocatively lit by Ben Cracknell, certainly helps to capture that in visual terms, even if the play itself doesn’t always soar as high as it might.