Anita and Me

The Alhambra

MEENA is the only child in the only Asian family in a West Midlands mining village which has seen better days.

This is 1970s Britain, and adolescent Meena is embracing Top of the Pops, Jackie magazine and life at the local comp. And blonde, rebellious Anita - who lives a couple of doors down but a world away from Meena's own limited experience - epitomises everything she wants to be.

Based on Meera Syal’s semi-autobiographical novel, Anita and Me is a bittersweet comedy about growing up as an outsider in a community set in its ways. With a motorway set to tear through the village, the local school under threat, and saris blowing on the washing line, life in post-industrial Tollington is changing, and Meena finds herself at a turning point of her own.

Taken under the wing of some neighbours - "You're a smashing girl, Meena", says the kindly woman next-door - and viewed as a curiosity by others, Meena is torn between the youth culture tempting her on the street outside, and the cultural heritage her Indian parents cling to at home. When her baby brother arrives, and her exhausted, lonely mother yearns for her family in India, gazing longingly at the "same sky", Meena pours her heart out to Cathy and Claire.

This is a lively, entertaining production, with an infectious warmth at its heart. But, while the Bollywood-inspired routine at the end is joyful and uplifting, I'm not sure the play lends itself to the sudden, jarring, song-and-dance numbers which end up depicting the working-class community and its culture clashes in a colourful, cartoon-like way. Issues such as immigration, racism, domestic violence and mental illness became a little lost along the way.

It became an ensemble piece, with Meena somewhere in the middle. In Syal's book, Meena is obsessed with Anita, almost to the point of infatuation. As their unlikely friendship develops, Anita is presented as an enigmatic character, just out of reach. Yet here, she's a fairly one-dimensional teenage girl, no more or less remarkable than any of the other characters.

The production was suitable poignant and funny, however, painting a vibrant portrait of village life at a time of power cuts, glam rock, decimalisation and Enoch Powell.

Despite a few sound issues, that may have been more to do with quickly-spoken dialogue in strong West Midlands accents than acoustics, an impressive cast shone throughout. Aasiya Shah was a delight as Meena, struggling between the world her parents left behind, and her own changing world stretching to Wolverhampton and beyond. When we meet her she has a cream cardigan pulled over her head, to resemble the long blonde hair of Babs from Pan's People, but by the end she's facing a future of opportunity at grammar school.

Meena's transition is largely down to her grandmother, who arrives from India and steals the show. Rina Fatania was fabulous as no-nonsense Nanima, veering from glorious comic moments to a beautifully delivered soliloquy reflecting on her experience of Partition and marriage.

Great performances too from Shobna Gulati and Robert Mountford as Meena's lovely parents, Laura Aramayo as feisty but troubled Anita, Sam Cole as misguided skinhead Sam and Therese Collins as well-meaning Mrs Worrall.

And well done too the local cast members - Shazia Bibi, Molly May, Leona McLoughlin, Michelle O’Malley, Jayne Whitehead and Oliver Hirst - appearing in the production at the Alhambra this week.

Runs until Saturday.