Indian Ink at Hampstead Theatre Review

The play was based on an earlier work for radio, In the Native State from 1991 and similarly deals with the disconnect between Indians living and working in the subcontinent under British rule, and the expats who conceitedly slap themselves on the back for running the entire show, with little acknowledgement of the culture and civilisation which existed there long before their arrival.

The play’s narrative is split over two timelines, the first involves a vivacious and perhaps headstrong young poetess Flora Crewe (a beautifully vibrant performance by Ruby Ashbourne Serkis) who travels — for health reasons of all things — to the country in the 1930s. There she meets artists, maharajas, and various British and Indian flunkies all of whom she appears to scandalise through her bohemian views and associations. The second involves Flora’s younger sister Eleanor (Felicity Kendal) many years later in the 1980s. She takes tea in her English rose garden entertaining (or rebuffing) various people who visit her during the course of the play. Among them is an American determined to cobble together elements of Flora’s 1930s trip in a bid to create a biography. Another, is the son of an Indian artist with whom Flora may, or may not, have had a brief relationship, which would have been fundamentally against the mores of the time. As the artist who paints Flora as she writes poems and letters on the verandah, Nirad Das (Gavi Singh Chera) carries much of the weight in conveying the British distaste for Indians trying to be too British, but the contradictions are everywhere to be seen and heard. Much of the imagery related to events is conveyed through Flora’s letters to Eleanor, some of which are read out or spoken as they are being written. It’s a device which reminds us how skilfully Stoppard could be relied upon to deliver key information without ever labouring the point and still manage to retain our engagement with the characters before us.

Felicity Kendal and Aaron Gill in Indian Ink. Photo by Johan Persson

Tom Durant-Pritchard has moments to shine as David Durance, the military chap who has been seconded to keep an eye on things and persons of interest (which includes Flora). His brief appraisal of Gandhi’s Salt March puts everything into perspective, whilst entirely managing to misinterpret its future historical significance. And Donald Sage Mackay annoys as biographer Eldon Pike, the American with a penchant for contriving convenient suppositions and copious footnotes, which results in one of Ms Kendal’s more delicious put-downs.

Leslie Travers’ set, which is split between the verandah and rose garden, works reasonably well, aside from the occasional wobbly walls and door frames due to some over-exuberant handling. And Nicky Shaw’s costumes manage to detail all you’d hope of the colourful sub-continent whilst remaining resolutely British. Director Jonathan Kent deploys a steady hand on the tiller, ensuring that cast and creatives have all pulled in the same direction. The result is a gentle, amusing and often surprising gem of a play and a fitting tribute to the great man himself who was undoubtedly smiling down on opening night.

Indian Ink continues at Hampstead Theatre until 31st January 2026.