Palestinian actor and comedian Alaa Shehada wrings rich humour and occasional sudden pathos from this autobiographical solo show about taking oil from his family's olive trees in Jenin to relatives in Jordan. The journey involves crossing the Israeli-administered bridge which is the sole land exit for Palestinians from the West Bank. Traversing its 180 metres means passing through three different sets of hostile and capricious officials and takes 12 hours.
The possibility of arrest or a journey wasted by a sudden closure loom large, but so do the vivid characters he encounters on the way: the boastfully garrulous taxi driver who takes him to the bridge foot; the old woman who is his companion in the sweltering bus across; the phlegmy cigarette smuggler after cheap "Marlyboro".
Comic futility of a divided people
Underpinning it all is a comic futility: Palestinians and Jordanians are "one people, not two", as Alaa has us chant; yet his Jordanian family yearn for "anything that smells of the homeland". He secretly believes that olive oil tastes the same all over the Middle East: moreover, versions of the biscuits, cheese and flip-flops he carries are available on both sides of the river border.
He'll bring almost identical gifts from his aunt back to his mother, who regards him as a hero for making this annual, post-harvest trip. But he is not a hero. "I am just an artist," he mock-humbly shrugs.
Physical comedy and audience engagement
This is the second of Shehada's solo shows to visit the Bush after a successful Edinburgh Festival run, following 2025's The Horse of Jenin. He is a big, beardy, ebullient presence with a stand-up's ability to engage an audience. Various people in the front rows will be asked for their passports (and subsequently ticked off for "very bad miming"), eyed up by Israeli soldiers looking for bus bombs or backchat, or advised to go to Turkey for hair transplants.
Shehada has a flair for physical comedy, richly manifested in the taxi driver's slap-happy disregard for safety as he speeds past rivals or jolts over secret mountain paths. His timing is instinctive and sharp, though the fact that English is not his first language means he sometimes stumbles over his lines (Shehada co-wrote the script with director Sam Beale).
Much of the comedy is universal: the pomposity of authority, the eye-rolling exasperation of annoying relatives, the frustration of being stuck next to a selfish old lady rather than a pretty girl with immaculate eyeliner. When a sniper trains an M16 on him as he lights a cigarette he drily notes: "For the first time I'm convinced smoking kills." Some specific jokes will only land with those au fait with local prejudices. The idea of a pilot from Hebron proved hilarious only to a handful on opening night.
Illustrated backdrop and historical echoes
Throughout, Alaa and other characters he plays fantasise about a Palestinian airport, and its air-conditioned, tree-shaded splendour is sketched in on the back wall, in intricate illustrations by Jazz Thompson animated by Charlotte Knowles. Also scribbled into existence are the tormenting flies supposedly unique to the bridge, the menacing figures of faceless soldiers, the flags and barbed wire of illegal settlements.
Israelis here are a potent but amorphous threat. More vivid, somehow, are the figures of David Lloyd George, Arthur Balfour and Edmund Allenby, whose lordly proclamations as they randomly decide the fate and the borders of Palestine between 1916 and 1919 are also scrawled across the wall. The bridge is officially named for Jordan's King Hussein, unofficially nicknamed Al-Karameh, but still known as the Allenby Bridge.
Even at just 80 minutes the show slightly outstays its welcome. Shehada over-milks character and situations, and the oppressive, sluggish pace of his progress proves infectiously frustrating. A final, shocking revelation is spoiled by a silly, leave-'em-laughing coda. Still, this is a first-hand, on-the-ground, observational theatre done with great wit. Afterwards, you can buy Palestinian Comedy Club t-shirts which Shehada guarantees will "make you funny". It's certainly worked for him. Until 11 Nov, bushtheatre.co.uk
