The grooming gang scandals of Rochdale and Rotherham continue to influence headlines today, while Scotland has only this year begun its own public inquiry into child exploitation. Playwright Phil Davies was born in Rochdale, and the events that came to light there inspired his debut play, Firebird, which premiered at Hampstead Theatre just over a decade ago and is now revived at Southwark Playhouse.
Davies notes in the programme that, after all these years, it can feel as though little has changed, or perhaps we have simply become better at expressing our outrage. One thing that has changed is the setting. Originally located in Rochdale, the action has been relocated to Glasgow, reinforcing Davies’ belief that exploitation is not confined to one community.
If there were one word to describe this play, it would probably be frustrating. Partly because it is intended to be, and partly because the script leaves so much unsaid. At its centre is Tia. Coming from a broken home, she is, frankly, a highly unlikeable character. All mouth and no manners, she initially makes it difficult to understand why anyone would want to be her friend.
Yet the opening scene sees her being pushed in a wheelchair to the top of a hill by Katie (Kelise Gordon-Harrison), before the story rewinds to reveal how she ended up there. A chance meeting in a kebab shop sees AJ (Taqi Nazeer) flatter Tia, offer her food and cigarettes, and eventually a lift home in his Mercedes.
What follows is, of course, far more sinister. Though never described explicitly, the audience can piece together the horrors Tia experiences at the hands of multiple older men. Before long, she finds herself in a police station, where PC Bilal (also played by Nazeer) questions her after her escape. Instead of being recognised as a victim, she is treated as a suspect.
The audience is left to fill in many of the blanks in Firebird, and at times the dialogue can feel repetitive, hammering home points that are already painfully clear. Yet it remains a gripping piece of theatre, thanks in no small part to Mollie Milne’s exceptional performance as Tia. She captures both the character’s abrasive exterior and the vulnerability beneath it, making Tia far more sympathetic than she perhaps appears on the page.
Nazeer is equally impressive as AJ, presenting him first as smooth, charming and disarmingly likeable before gradually revealing something much darker beneath the surface. The multi-rolling can occasionally feel distracting, though it may well be intended to reflect Tia’s understandable distrust of the adults around her. Gordon-Harrison brings warmth and sincerity to Katie, offering a sharp contrast to Tia’s defensive cynicism, while also convincingly stepping into the role of social worker Deborah.
Director Marlie Haco has clearly found the essence of these characters. While some scene transitions feel a little clunky, the ninety-minute running time flies by. Tomás Palmer’s set is simple but highly effective; the raised platform ensures Tia remains the focus throughout while simultaneously enhancing the sense of claustrophobia. Ben Jacobs’ lighting design and Ákos Lustyik’s atmospheric score steadily ratchet up the tension.
As Firebird returns to the stage, it remains both shocking and profoundly disappointing, not because of shortcomings in the production itself, but because the issues it confronts remain so painfully relevant. The script occasionally frustrates and leaves too many questions unanswered, yet this revival is anchored by superb performances and a confident production that refuses to look away from an uncomfortable truth. More than a decade after its premiere, Firebird remains an uncomfortable but essential piece of theatre.
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