Maggots ★★★★★

Would anyone notice? Would anyone really notice? As a foul smell seeps in through the walls and corridors of the fourth floor of Laurel House, a politely lonely group of tenants find themselves unwillingly welcoming a spreading infestation. What does death smell like? Housing associations fail to care or help; a longer-term guilt breeds within their flats as time and inaction fester around the knowledge that their neighbour, number 61, has not been seen in quite some time, and the rotting smell is suspiciously rising from their door.

Rising writer Farah Najib, an alumna of the Royal Court Writer’s Group, Soho Theatre Writing Lab and Bruntwood Prize longlisted contender, delicately invites a conversation on loneliness with Maggots. From the beginning the tenants are suspicious of a nearby death. Fear dictates their inaction, mindlessly believing that this must be ‘someone else’s problem’. The audience follows their complicity, slowly hoping maybe a different turn will be taken, despite the obvious sense that a next-door travesty is waiting.

Najib writes her story not from characters but storytellers, the actors proudly admitting in the opening prologue that they are here as narrators and performers. They cleverly weave in between widowed Linda, young mother Carly and teenager Jayden, amongst other tenants. Previously incredibly separate in their lives, a strange community starts to form over their worries and the increasingly decaying smell. Jayden’s later discoveries are fragilely shared between the anguished ensemble as the performance’s disturbing climax. The script introduces character dialogue, Reddit forums, groupchat texts as many of the methods and world of the story. Divided into titled chapters, the writing is prose-like with third-person descriptions. With a standout intricate chapter that follows a year passing, months going by as the citizens go through their regular routines of life whilst resident Linda’s calls to the housing rapidly increase. Unnatural yet connecting, disjointed yet seamless, the rhythm and flow of events are wrapped in intricate writing and captured by the acting of the trio Sam Baker Jones, Safiyya Ingar and Marcia Lecky.

The prologue is therefore perhaps unneeded. The dramatic ‘This isn’t a story about us’ and ‘We’re actors. If you hadn’t guessed’ is a slight spoonfeeding of the script, which stands on its own to make the concept interesting without a ‘once upon a time’ -esque start.

Director Jess Barton tackles a minimal set, multi-roling actors and online interactions in masterful complementation. Even though the actors stick mainly to playing certain characters, they still interchange in moments. Fitting the story and easing the audience into the different voices present, the actors all understand portraying emotional and comedic moments, from a range of ages and personalities. Especially funny is housing staff member Darren, hopelessly careless and hilariously laddish. Despite never truly ‘seeing’ these characters on stage, but rather recounting snippets of their dialogue or thoughts in the third person, we know them. We feel for them, we end up crying for them and understanding them as an isolated struggling London community. Barton forms blocking configurations of varying levels, the actors are often parallel to each other, utilising the space and set to maximum capacity, and gripping the audience in captivating direction and movement. Barton and Najib make a powerful team.

Prominent achievements go into technical and designed production elements. Set designer Caitlin Mawhinney’s overhead dried flower arrangement starts as the grieving picture of decay and disregard. Lighting designer Peter Small, who worked on the Edinburgh and London stage performance of the now much-loved TV show ‘Baby Reindeer’, transports us across emotions and space. From the effective practical effects of lighting, thunder, flickering lamps and dim London flats, the lighting works as an extra narrator. Closing and opening each chapter, bringing cause and attention to specific characters whilst taking us through different apartments, corners of technology and long stretches of time. Blending bold and eerie, an exposing and contemporary atmosphere is artistically constructed and evidently thoughtful. Working hand in hand is composer and sound designer Duramaney Kamara. Disintegrating, degrading, yet so desperately scared and trying, the soundtrack encapsulates the community’s fears, the lack of action and the dangerously growing length of time. Isolated in Bush Theatre’s dark Studio, uneasy music seeps in through the walls as the maggots take over.

Maggots is a realistic replication of hope, giving us inklings of change before heartbreakingly plunging us into a more realistic end. Society’s impact remains small, people move on with their lives, and those who should be held responsible so rarely see consequences. Inspired by the real 2022 story of Sheila Seleoane, found dead in her apartment after two years of decomposition, an imperfect community is rewoven, change is attempted and courageous theatre is made.