Lions and Tigers, Wanamaker Playhouse review ★★★★★

Lions and Tigers doesn't shy away from big political ideas. This new play at The Globe's Sam Wanamaker Theatre begins with a philosophical debate: the opening scenes consider the right to kill in the fight for Indian independence, and comparisons between Bengal Volunteers and Sinn Fein. These broad ideas draw out sentiments about terrorism and violence which are just as relevant today as they were in 1930s India.

However, in its specifics, Lions and Tigers tells a story far less often told, which is, at its core, highly personal and moving. The plot follows the true story of writer Tanika Gupta’s great uncle, Dinesh Gupta, who, along with two other Bengali revolutionaries, killed a British official. Parallel to this personal story, Gupta illustrates discussions and debates between the highest profile figures in Indian politics during the 1930s: Gandhi, Nehru, and Bose.

Much of the script is taken from 92 letters Dinesh sent from prison, but the audience's sympathy for him is dogged by the recognition that he was not a blameless individual. Dinesh's youthful naivety and idealism are captured perfectly by Shubham Saraf.

The play also deals well with lesser-known aspects of the struggle for Indian independence, most notably the role of women and the ugly colonial past on the Andaman Islands. Kamala, expertly played by Shalini Peiris, acts as a strong voice of opposition to her brother-in-law Dinesh, advocating a nonviolent approach to revolution. Conversely, the play's other female character, Bimala, encourages violence, as her brutal treatment as a prisoner on the Andaman Islands led her to encourage others to die and kill for their country.

Lions and Tigers directly confronts the realities of colonial rule in India in some distressing scenes, but don't be fooled – it is also packed with humour, bringing a refreshing honesty and warmth to the action. The intimate setting of the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse, illuminated by candlelight throughout, infuses the drama with a soul which makes the play’s violence hit home.

Special recognition must also go to Arun Ghosh's skilful musical accompaniment, which helped to keep pace even when historical contextualisation looked set to derail the play’s voice – a lot of history had to be crammed in, and whilst at times it fitted, in other places it felt a little stilted. The play may have benefited from more focus on Dinesh's personal story and less on the broader political narrative.

Still, striking this balance was always going to be a challenge for a story where history and legacy play such a pivotal role. Moreover, this is a relatively minor criticism of a play that is otherwise a beautiful illustration of the complexity of one man's fight for freedom, and an enlightening discussion of an event too often neglected and misrepresented in British history books.