A good play does not have to have a singular focus. In fact, one of my firm favourites, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, excels at intertwining storylines of the lovers’ tale, the fairy court, and the royal wedding, supplemented by the Mechanicals’ play. And it does not just work—it works brilliantly.
But Shaan Sahota is a debut playwright and no Shakespeare. Whilst she has many brilliant ideas, she lacks, at least for now, the ability to weave them into a coherent whole. In effect, The Estate does not know whether it is a sharp political satire, a heart-wrenching family drama, or an exploration of multiculturalism in present-day Britain. Neither does the audience.
The political thread has plenty of humour. The opening scene could have been the first episode of a new TV caper, where every politician is a hypocrite, no one stops at anything to get ahead, and regardless of origin or race, everyone has studied some version of Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE).
This ‘stab-in-the-back politics’, evoking Coriolanus and its portrayal of ruthless political betrayal, undoubtedly resonates but fails to address any of the numerous pressing issues facing British politics today. Furthermore, it is unnecessarily muddied by ‘scandalous behaviours’ of both candidates leaked to the press to impact their chances for election. A better choice would have been to explore how political manoeuvring intersects with real issues—perhaps showing dubious policy compromises.
The family drama, with two sisters prepared to derail their brother’s career ambitions, echoes the sibling betrayal and ambition of King Lear. The play’s low point is the tiresome victimhood bickering: the sisters resent the household chores they were burdened with, whilst the brother bemoans the crushing weight of expectations, still feeling ‘choked’ by his father well into adulthood. If this portrays today’s adults—trapped endlessly in a parent-child dynamic, unable to assert themselves or grasp that equal isn’t always fair—extending the vote to 16-year-olds seems ill-advised.
Family relations are underpinned by the third theme—equality of the sexes—drawing parallels with The Taming of the Shrew, where Petruchio’s ‘taming’ of Katherina sparks debate over whether misogynistic norms are endorsed or critiqued. Sahota’s play could have similar nuance regarding the sisters’ resentment of what they perceive as their brother’s favoured status. Can we advocate respect for all religions and cultures whilst challenging those within them who treat sons and daughters unequally? Regrettably, this complex issue is completely glossed over.
Even Shakespeare could not have successfully combined Julius Caesar, King Lear, and The Taming of the Shrew. What we are left with feels like Much Ado About Nothing—plenty is thrown at the audience, but very little sticks.
Furthermore, the play’s overcrowded narrative leaves little room for nuanced character development, resulting in thinly sketched figures. Angad Singh, the central character, seemingly a blend of Rishi Sunak and Sadiq Khan, feels incoherent despite Adeel Akhtar’s compelling performance. The ease with which he employs underhand tactics, including blackmail, is not justified. Nor are his misogynistic tendencies—evident when he casually expects his female PR specialist to serve as a glorified coffee bearer.
Akhtar’s weary pallor and slumped posture are therefore not enough to elicit sympathy from the audience. His demeanour also makes him appear older than his sisters, particularly tantrum-throwing trophy wife Malicka, played with great energy by Shelley Conn who, at 48, four years Akhtar’s senior, looks more like his younger wife’s best friend.
Said wife is heavily pregnant but inexplicably skips about, drinks alcohol, and seems untouched by her pregnancy. She gives birth at the play’s end, but the final scene’s meaning is unclear—is Angad vowing to be a better father or lamenting his firstborn’s sex? Had the pregnancy been integrated into the narrative, perhaps by exploring Angad’s gendered expectations, this ambiguity might have been clarified, and the play’s commentary on modern patriarchy enriched.
All in all, there is both too much and not enough to make this play worthy of the National. But then, they did stage The Other Place, so who am I to comment?