The Meaning of Zong review ★★★★★

In late 1781 the crew of the British slave ship Zong, finding itself seriously off course on its way to Jamaica, threw 132 Black people overboard to drown – women and children first. Two years later, a court in England decided the insurance company should pay damages to the ship owner for the loss of his 'property' – for ‘property’ read 'human beings'.

This harrowing incident inspired award-winning actor Giles Terera (Hamilton) to write and co-direct his first play, The Meaning of Zong, a sprawling, ambitious attempt to expand historical fact into a meditation on the ongoing consequences of slavery, and the dignity and vitality of African culture; and to find modern-day parallels. Produced by the Bristol Old Vic, it has now reached the Barbican Theatre.

It’s very much a first play, where the author throws too much into a slightly disjointed kaleidoscopic structure: straightforward historical narrative, music, dancing, mystical extrapolation, and anguished expositions on the enduring existential impact of slavery on Black people.

As one character says: 'they’ve colonised our minds, thoughts, feelings, our sense of self.'

It doesn't really work as a cohesive piece of theatre; but where it does work it’s engaging indeed, and through the use of anachronistic contemporary language resonates strongly.

The central character is Olaudah Equiano, also known as Gustavus Vassa, a former slave who bought his freedom and went on to write one of the earliest first-hand accounts of life in Africa, the horrors of the Atlantic crossing and enslavement.

Played with flair and conviction by Terera himself, in 1782 Olaudah brought the Zong massacre to the attention of the anti-slavery campaigner Granville Sharp (Tristan Sturrock, suitably fiery).

Giles Terera and Tristan Sturrock in The Meaning of Zong by Giles Terera at the BarbicanTheatre 2023. A Bristol Old Vic production. Photo: Jemima Yong

Their attempt to seek to overturn the court decision that damages should be paid to the ship owner, because offloading ‘the cargo’ (read ‘the human beings on board’) had been the result of ‘necessity,’ is the backbone of the narrative.

It's not until the second act that the horror of the Zong is reenacted. Against a background of video projections of a menacing sea (video by Tom Newell and Barret Hodgson), the skeleton of a ship’s hull frames three captive women who talk about ‘home’ as a way of allaying their increasing terror.

Incredibly, one women survived by clinging to a rope on the side of the ship and was rescued. In a long (arguably too long) scene, she is seen battered by the waves, talking, reminiscing, praying, though not all of her speech is distinct and discernible.

Kiera Lester and company in The Meaning of Zong by GilesTerera at the Barbican Theatre 2023. Photo: Jemima Yong

Central to The Meaning of Zong is the on-stage performance of the extraordinary musician Sidiki Dembele. His drums and other African instruments punctuate and underline key moments, while providing a gentle flow of sound to other sections of the play.

Although performances are slightly uneven, the nine-strong cast offer unstinting commitment and belief; and ultimately the play’s message, if a little stretched when it comes to enumerating modern-day events, such as South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, or the International Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, comes across loud and clear.