Review: Bengal Tiger At The Baghdad Zoo – Young Vic, London – Read About Stuff

Review: Bengal Tiger At The Baghdad Zoo – Young Vic, London

RATING: **** It is a meditation on war, loss and identity within unfathomable situations, that works far better when it turns down the volume rather than when it cranks it up. Image: Ellie Kurttz

A View From The Stalls

January 11, 2026

It is 2003, and George W Bush has just announced the Iraq invasion. Some time later, a lone tiger prowls an abandoned cage in the wrecked remnants of Baghdad Zoo, goaded by the US Military, and contemplating its journey to this very moment under the watch of a battered mural of Saddam Hussein. With this first encounter, the lives of the Americans, and Iraqi translator, and a hungry Bengal tiger are never the same again.

Peter Forbes, a late replacement, is gripping as the anthropomorphic tiger, having an existential crisis and whose act of violence serves as a catalyst for the play’s chain of events. Forbes’ methodical pacing is effective in replicating the predatory movements of the tiger, but it is through the dialogue where Forbes truly shines, drawing out through the absurdity of a tiger reflections of humanity, on faith and on what it means to exist in unimaginable conditions.

Arinzé Kene, meanwhile, is frantic as Kev, whose interaction with Forbes’ tiger sends the soldier psychologically spiralling. Kene works hard with the material here and is effusive in his presentation of Kev’s mania. Yet the character feels a little too conflicted, and at times it is unclear whether we should be caring for or laughing at Kene’s character. Omar Elerian’s direction is slightly unhelpful here, making Kev relentlessly shout for large parts of the first half that almost assaults the senses. That said, the conclusion to Kev’s story in a terrifying end to Act One, bloody and horrifying, is a fascinating moment of theatre, and a necessary beat that succeeds in hammering home the stark psychological consequences of war. Kev’s character has potential, especially portrayed by the brilliant Kene, who gives it his absolute all, but the payoff is slightly lacking, hindered by repetitive, largely and relentlessly explicit dialogue and direction.

Patrick Gibson, too, as Kev’s fellow soldier Tommy, is a little too two-dimensional. Like Kev, this is another shouty performance that offers little development. Tommy’s hand, bitten off by the tiger, is one of many visceral shocking moments in the play, but it is Tommy’s pursuit of a golden gun and golden toilet seat, belonging to Hussein’s son, that puts a dim view on the character, used by Rajiv Joseph’s script as a vessel to look at the exploitation that went on during the invasion. Tommy is cast as the ‘villain’ on the American side, but could do with a little more substance.

Ammar Haj Ahmad, though, is superb as Musa, now a translator for the Americans, having worked as a gardener for Hussein’s son Uday (reanimated by a goofy, cartoonish, yet effective Sayyid Aki). Musa, haunted by Iraqi abuses to his family, yet conflicted with his role supporting soldiers whom he perceives as also abusing his country, represents the middle ground, the average civilian torn apart by a conflict he did not start. It is Musa’s scenes that are the play’s best, especially when goaded by Uday, with Haj Ahmad’s desperate portrayal of a man haunted by his past fiercely gripping.

Rajha Shakiry’s design, too, is standout. The rubble remains of the bombed-out zoo and city work well, as does the enormous Hussein mural that is eventually covered by American camo. It is a derelict, barren, bleak sight that not only represents the physical consequences of conflict, but the erosion of psychological identity too, which all four leads experience. It is certainly an overwhelmingly ambitious play, something the design leans into rather than pulls back.

It is also a play that primarily focuses on the male experience in this conflict. There are very few female characters, and those that do appear are abused, prostituted or quite literally lepers. This is a one-sided depiction, which, while not necessarily problematic in itself, does feel a little stagnant in places, something that Elerian’s direction rescues with a far more intricate and balanced second half.

Once you see through the absurdity, Joseph’s play speaks loudly of the long-lasting consequences of actions in war, and the traumas that run deep in countries supposedly ‘saved’. The problem with absurdist plays is making sure the ideas land even when the concepts are so abstract, and yet here, tonally, with cartoonish villains committing abhorrent crimes, dying soldiers cradling golden toilet seats, and a relentlessly sweary (to the point where it loses any impact) script all collide, rather than complement, rescued by a determined, undeterred cast.

It is a meditation on war, loss and identity within unfathomable situations, that works far better when it turns down the volume rather than when it cranks it up.