Imran is a successful novelist hosting a writer’s book lunch at home. Retreating to his living room, Layla follows him to introduce herself. There is immediate sexual tension despite some differences of opinion. The banter eventually leads to “I was hoping I could fuck you into a different person.” For every line that surprises in Hatef**k, there are ten riddled with clichés, lecturing or banalities.
Both characters have a Muslim heritage but describe themselves as non-practicing. Layla is a professor wanting to be published. She has a serious non-fiction book which tells a meaningful story about their people. He writes bestsellers where his kind are depicted as dark-skinned terrorists. The conflict is fairly obvious. Why is Imran writing to placate white people’s assumption of Islam? It repulses her but oddly excites her as well.
In multiple scenes between erotic couplings, the two develop a deeper attraction despite a wide gap in their belief systems. Why is she hanging around? That manipulative angle is the most interesting part of this play but is not significant enough to flesh out these thinly drawn characters. Instead of writing terrorist fiction, she comments, why not “write about you and me, the slutty non-Muslims.” He tells her “you’re a fucking rainbow killer.” The dialogue is painfully forced and often as implausible as the story arc.
Sendhil Ramamurthy admirably injects a naturalistic believability to Imran. He is successful, sexy and an embodiment of the American dream. He is living the life and having a good time while doing so. Wanting his books to be on Layla’s syllabus at Wayne State University is a repeated plot hook which never makes any sense.
As Layla, Kavi Ladnier has to be likably indignant with a subtext of social climber tacked on. The role is too preachy to be believable. If the competing sexual and literary conquests between the two of them were less romcom, this combination might be a more compelling study. As it stands now, Hatef**k is just another play about opposites, this time with a Muslim twist. The topic is admirable and relevant but that doesn’t make the play a good one.
Additional roles might have broadened the narrow scope of this work to make this lecture more appealing. I found myself siding with Imran who has grabbed capitalism by the horns despite a questionable moral compass. As written by Rehana Lew Mirza, his motivations seemed clear if objectionable. When the play ended, I was not sure either character grew or learned anything. I know I didn’t.