Maybe Tomorrow Theatre Production
Rating: Three and a half stars (Very Good)
Running time: approximately fifty minutes
Antonia Chammas' solo drama Maybe Tomorrow opens with a gentle content warning before pulling its audience, without ceremony, into the fractured heart of modern Lebanon.
What begins as a warm, energetic introduction soon tightens into something far more urgent, the story of two sisters, Yara and Mina, whose hope for their country curdles into heartbreak as the promise of the 2019 revolution gives way to collapse.
Image credit Harry Chapman
Chammas writes and performs the piece single-handed, yet the effect is anything but solitary.
She shifts between voices, postures and rhythms with such precision that the stage seems populated by a full ensemble rather than one woman standing alone in it. It is a technically demanding feat, and she carries it off with a lightness that never draws attention to the difficulty.
The strength of the writing lies in its refusal to flatten lived experience into a single register. Grief sits beside absurdity, the loss of petrol and electricity is spoken of in the same breath as the agony of losing WhatsApp, a detail that lands as both darkly funny and quietly devastating.
It is this instinct, letting the trivial and the catastrophic occupy the same emotional space, that gives the piece its authenticity. Chammas is not asking us to pity Lebanon. She is asking us to sit inside its contradictions.
Image credit Harry Chapman
Her physical performance does much of the storytelling. Facial expression becomes its own language here, carrying disbelief, exhaustion and flashes of dark humour long before the dialogue catches up.
The frustration of watching a movement stall, of hope being ground down by time rather than defeated outright, is rendered with real emotional intelligence rather than melodrama.
The production wisely resists overwhelming its performer with clutter. Design choices throughout are restrained, giving Chammas the space to do the heavy lifting, and the piece is stronger for it.
Where staging and sound are used, they support rather than compete with the storytelling, allowing the shifts between domestic warmth and encroaching crisis to register clearly.
Maybe Tomorrow is a love letter written with clenched teeth, and it earns that description. A percentage of ticket sales supports Migrant Workers' Action, adding a further layer of purpose to an already resonant evening. For anyone drawn to theatre that trades comfort for honesty, this is a show worth seeking out.
Maybe Tomorrow is written and performed by Antonia Chammas, directed by Lauryn Jenkins, with associate direction by May Halm and partial sound design by Riwa Saab. Further updates on the production can be found on Instagram @maybetomorrowplay.
Image credit Harry Chapman
