The boy who dropped an egg on the World is a fairly ambitious project for a theatrical production. Covering material better suited to the big screen this play seemed a large undertaking. However, having the action take place in a single setting (a baghdad café) and using a small cast, this script is made managable. Using the second Iraq war as a backdrop, it ties in those familiar themes of imperialism, ideological conflict, dogma, loss of community, religious fervour, moral crusading, unfettered greed and…erm…eggs. The preview venue was limited in terms of backdrops and effects. Costumes and props were also limited so the script and the acting had big demands made upon them in terms of inventiveness and creativity. Fortunately they meet these demands admirably. After taking an initial on stage warm up to get into their stride (it was, after all, the first ever public showing) the cast rose to the challenge with vigour. The first character we see is Shakir, played by writer / director Julian Bond. An unassuming man who owns the café in which the action takes place, Shakir offers the introductions and then is more often in the background while the rest of the cast do their work. Nick Osborne convinces as Asaph, an 8 year old boy, even as his monologues enter mature territory. His skills in both conventional and physical theatre are displayed with an innocent vigour that add an extra dimension to the cynical script Zoran Blackie excels as Paul, a mild mannered young American soldier (whose RP English accent was more Hugh Grant than Ulysses S. Grant) possessed, a-la Exorcist, by a the furious arrogance of the Wrath of God – or is that the wrath of Neo-Conservative greed? Zoran moves from a meek and almost naïve would be liberator to a formidable lord of dread with the surreptitiousness of an American stealth bomber. Angela Millett was particularly unnerving as Mariyam, the grief addled war widow, particularly whilst describing in graphic detail the slaughter of her offspring by American bombers. Angela’s portrayal of the disconnected, quasi-mystical insanity of a tortured war victim sent tense shivers down my spine during a later monologue. David Collins deftly portrayed Iyad, a character that represented the familiar qualities of testo-laddishness and imbued them with a Middle Eastern flavour. This character mixed frequent laugh out loud buffoonery with barely concealed sorrow, instability and lurking menace. Menace aplenty was also present in Narzim, played by Mike Saunders. Narzim is an angry young Muslim with whose frustration at his kin’s’ oppression, one can empathise, but by whose nihilistic contempt for all things western, one is repelled. Narzim and Iyad’s relationship often displays the machismo and banter that is universal of young male bonding but also several of the negative features often associated - particularly by our biased media - with the worst of sides of Islamic values: misogynism, aggression, selective interpretation of western ‘infidel’ culture and ascribing culpability to those who are also victims or puppets. In a script pregnant with meaning and metaphor, the relevance of the egg was somewhat harder to decipher. New life? The embryo of liberation (and all the ethical haziness of that term)? The absurdity of it all? Or that the pleasures of the mundane and the everyday can actually be more powerful than the huge governments and corporations with their gruelling economic paradigm? Ambiguity, it seems, is another central theme of ‘The boy’. Also left ambiguous was the relationship of the ‘wrath of God’ to the monk/café owner and the boy. Are they renegade angels like Matt Damon and Ben Affleck or are they anti Christian heretics? Or then again are theirs merely cases of mistaken identity, their crimes as absent as a cache of Iraqi WMD’s? This uncertainty adds to the overall mystifying effect of the script. Its mélange of modern imperialism overlaid by sinister theology and indiscriminate violence is not nearly as bewildering in this theatrical arena as it is on the real life world stage. The boy who dropped an egg on the World asks questions that a 21st century audience will find familiar. Are our political agents really acting in our best interests? Does our system inevitably lead to greed, violence and oppression of weaker states? Does its rampant consumerism even make us happy? As the historical grand narratives intrude onto the everyday interactions of the characters in a humble setting these issues are made real to the audience. This play is not for the light hearted. Explicit descriptions of both sex and violence are recurrent. It is heavy, dark and demanding but also rousing, astute and highly contemporary. Although theatrical limitations prevent the exploration of the heart of darkness with as much majesty as some cinematic anti war tales, apocalypse now, for example, the boy who dropped an egg on the world is nonetheless resolute and incensed as a theatrical political statement. This play is a bold and inspired foray into the most controversial and disturbing episode the 21st century has seen thus far. It shows the despair, the broken lives, the bloodshed and the powerlessness of these all too familiar denizens halfway across the globe but never misses the detail of their community and their recognisable humanity. The boy who dropped an eggon the world is filled with controversy and strong views which some may find offensive but, to clumsily paraphrase, you can’t make a theatrical omelette without breaking a few taboos.