Period Parrrty review – angst, fumbling and turmoil for a non-binary Tamil British teen

In many ways, Period Parrrty is your classic coming-of-age story – full of teenage angst, fumbling romances, and dreams of older, freer years. But Gayathiri Kamalakanthan’s debut play is also a bold study of Tamil history and identity. Set in 2010 and using the celebratory ritual that follows a teenager’s first period as a catalyst, it focuses on the thoughts and feelings of Krish, a 15-year-old who has not yet told their family they are non-binary. It is a deeply endearing play, with Krish’s inner conflicts about wanting to please their family spilling out across the stage in candid revelations. But the structure of Kamalakanthan’s writing feels haphazard. From naturalistic scenes, the drama clumsily shifts to monologues that address the audience directly – then recorded interviews for a school project about “cultural heritage” are used as transitional snapshots. Despite the creativity, the various techniques prevent the play from coming together as a unified vision. Still, with the relationship between Krish and their ever-attentive best friend Brenavee at the heart of the production, it is virtually impossible not to be touched. Played by Elizabeth Green and Tanvi Virmani, their friendship sings with warmth and the kind of intimacy that comes from dedicating all their time to one another. As Brenavee begins to confront her true feelings for Krish, her rising insecurities bubble over as childlike jealousy. The set – designed by Katie Scott – is a shapeshifting spectacle. The toilet cubicle, where we witness some inspired directing by Gitika Buttoo of Brenavee struggling to insert Krish’s first tampon, morphs into both teenagers’ respective rooms, as well as the scene of the period party. With movement direction by Sundeep Saini, we watch Krish’s growing discomfort as a veil is placed over their head. It’s very funny, too – Kamalakanthan is a master of writing adolescent turmoil, and the generational misunderstandings between Krish and their mother, Brintha, stretch out into chasms. Moving between languages, their conversations play out in the sound of an authentic British Tamil home. When they finally reveal all they’ve kept silent from each other, it feels like a bridge is being lifted. That’s the skill of Buttoo’s production – it hits you right in the emotional gut. This is a tender, delicate exploration of self-discovery. • At Soho theatre, London, until 22 November.