Maggots, a new play by Farah Najib, is currently running at the Bush Theatre’s studio space. Set under a ceiling of dried and decaying flowers, the play – or to be more exact, a story acted out by three performers who tell us they are actors and break the fourth wall from the off – starts with a smell.
The setting is Laurel House, a block of rented flats somewhere in London. In her flat, full of knick-knacks and reminders of her late husband, Linda Barnes notices a sweet, sickly smell. It’s not like the bins when they aren’t collected, or dodgy drains. It’s something a bit more sinister and disconcerting.
In Maggots, Najib brings a lot of characters into the story, often mentioned fleetingly. Our actors do not necessarily play given characters, but move between them. These are the neighbours who say “hello” but rarely interact. They have a practical group chat but no real social engagement.
Written in memory of those who have been left unnoticed and forgotten, Maggots suggests that we should take more care of those around us. It offers a negative portrayal of officialdom: the housing company that won’t investigate an overflowing mailbox and a woman no one has seen for weeks, turning into months, because the rent is still coming in.
The actors (Sam Baker Jones, Safiyya Ingar, and Marcia Lecky) do not distinguish that much between the characters in the story. The play itself is much more tell than show, even as the titular Maggots make an appearance. I felt there was a potential to draw more horror or at least unsettling weirdness from the situation.
It is true that death can come at any time, and can often be ignored; perhaps because it is easier for us to do so. When I was in my teens, a neighbour across the street was rarely seen and when he disappeared altogether for a few weeks, it wasn’t commented on or noticed. An air freshener was put in next door in a residential house. On the other side, the shopkeeper checked her cupboards for rotten produce.
Six weeks passed before the police broke down the door and just as quickly as they went in, made their way out of the house. We watched as a young constable vomited in the garden. The man was, we were told, found in front of his heater on full blast and “full of maggots and bluebottles”.
The reality of death. For Linda and her neighbours, the unease of the building “filth in the walls” seeps into their lives. Hundreds of calls to the housing. Carly Lewis and her baby boy, Muslim father and daughter Adeel and Aleena, care worker Rebecca and teenage son Jaydn. None of them wants to know, really, what is behind the door of number 61.
Maggots is something of a downbeat, morbid show, perhaps because we are conditioned to see nature’s off button that way. I didn’t quite believe that the police wouldn’t break down the door for a welfare check, but this is the world we live in. An aside about creme caramels hits harder than any unsettling odour or unwanted bugs.
The lighting by Peter Small is clever, offering both muted tones and a raging storm outside as the play progresses. Jess Barton’s direction allows the studio space to be utilised as characters walk, worry or wish that their world would settle back to a form of normality.
Maggots is an interesting play, but the execution of it didn’t quite work for me. It could just as easily have been a monologue or an interview, with Linda telling her story to an investigator, for example. I liked the performances as far as they went – Baker Jones laconic and laid-back, Ingr talkative yet tranquil, Lecky concerned and committed.
With its false ending, its light introduction, and its sense of dramatic tension, Maggots could have gone in a very different direction. As it stands, it is worth a look, but not an essential watch.
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Maggots continues until 28 Feb 2026 at Bush Theatre – details here.