Blackbird Hour

Blackbird Hour is a poignant and striking piece of theatre. Part poetry, part play, the piece follows Eshe, a grieving and powerful Black woman, as she feels her pain, muddles through love, and how to be loved.

Written by Babirye Bukilwa and directed by Malakaï Sergeant, Blackbird Hour debuted at Bush Theatre in 2025. It was shortlisted for a number of prestigious awards, including the Woman’s prize for playwriting and the Brentwood prize for playwriting.

A dark and unrelenting exploration of one woman’s mental collapse, friendship, and what it means to care; and poses the question ‘how do you support someone going through a crisis in their mental health?’ However, there is no lightness or humour to contrast with the persistent darkness, and their focus on trauma and mental collapse makes this a visceral, yet difficult, watch.

Eshe is in bed after injuring her leg. As well as the damage to her body, Eshe becomes trapped in a downward spiral of self-loathing. There are many factors at play: we learn she has lost her mother, broken up with her girlfriend, and rejected her ex-boyfriend Michael. Her friends want to comfort and help but are persistently pushed away by her increasingly erratic behaviour.

Evlyne Oyedokun is suitably chaotic as Eshe – drinking heavily, smoking weed amid rubbish strewn over her bed, and lashing out at everyone. It is a physically raw performance of a woman spiralling into self-destruction. Oyedokun deftly creates an often-unlikable character through her hurtful language, but also elicits huge sympathy.

Eshe’s two friends and ex-lovers represent the differing ways people struggle to approach someone they love who is in crisis. Olivia Nakintu gives strait-laced Ella an earnest kindness, but also a feeling of self-imposed distance

Ivan Oyik’s loyal Michael shows wide-eyed concern and affection, reassuring Eshe of her brilliance. When Oyik holds her like a child, gently cleaning her face after she vomits, it is one of the play’s most poignant moments. Both characters just want Eshe to get well but also clash hugely with each other. Some of the most interesting dialogue comes when they argue about their opposite approaches to the situation.

Evlyne Oyedokun stunned with her performance, capturing Eshe’s coming apart with a raw intensity. Portraying a character spiralling into mania, depression, and addition is no easy feat, and she did so, scarily well at points. The high energy and constant movement brought us into Eshe’s frenzied world. Her hysteria growing with the first act and culminating in guttural pained cries – painful to watch, impressive to maintain.

In the second act, Ivan Oyik (Michael) and Olivia Nakintu (Ella) showcase their grit and passion. Initially overshadowed by Eshe’s mania, their performances were calm or controlled, offsetting the chaos. But when pitted against one another, their dynamics shifted, and character depth developed.

The strong production features a suitably untidy set, designed by Khadija Raza, and includes Will Monks’s video projections of the dialogues, which are imaginatively conceived to be simultaneously an aid to accessibility and a work of art in their own right: words drift across the background, they blur or bounce around. The projections not only use creative captions but also have images of watchful eyes and brooding visuals, as well as the swirls of abstracted thoughts. Waves that waver, music that flows and the occasional phone icon.

Act three takes a sharp turn in form, veering into the surreal and physical. It was an interesting development in the piece that really punctuated the plays central theme. Ella becomes robotic in her care for Eshe, smothering her with questions and smiles, yet lacking genuine connection. The stylistic shift brought home the complexities of loving those in pain and being loved by those in pain, leaving a haunting final impression.