Dedicated to the 40^th anniversary of the first original production of the musical Starlight Express

The 40^th anniversary of the West End production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical Starlight Express didn’t go unnoticed this year. The journalists and musical theatre critics brought back the tagline – “the fastest musical in the Universe.” That is exactly how the spectators from different continents and various parts of the world remembered this fantastic show, which has no analogs today. After all, its cast members move around on roller skates throughout the whole show! And it is not people who compete in speed with each other, but steam locomotives, diesel locomotives, electric locomotives, and wagons of various purposes (including freight) and classes of service.  Moreover, express trains also have different “citizenships”: USA, Great Britain, France, Italy, Germany, Russia, and Japan. Their number and composition varied in different productions.  In this current German production, the British Express carries a self-explanatory name – Brexit, and the Russian trans-Siberian Express – Turnov, is deprived of the right to represent its country with an unfurled flag.

The literary basis for the musical was the book of children’s stories by Wilbert Awdry The Railway Series Books, where the main character is Thomas the Tank Engine. The plot which tells of the life of toy trains was not complicated: Rusty the engine falls in love with the glamorous carriage Pearl and must compete for her favorable attention with his rival – the diesel locomotive Greaseball, and to do this, Rusty must win the race.

This rock musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber was replete with bright, catchy tunes in various musical styles. Thus, for example, Greaseball sings rock-n-roll: according to the authors’ idea, he imitated Elvis Presley.  The creative team, consisting of Andrew Lloyd Webber [music], Trevor Nunn [director], Richard Stilgoe [lyrics], and choreographer Arlene Phillips, managed to create a show that quickly gained popularity among English audiences.   The performances continued for eighteen years, at that, only once did the show undergo significant revision (1992).

The musical Starlight Express premiered on Broadway in 1987. The production differed significantly from the West End version, both in terms of the storyline and songs, as well as the duration and “the spectacle” aspect of it all. It was not very well received by the critics or the public, but, nevertheless, survived more than over seven hundred and fifty performances.

Since then, there have been more than a dozen new productions, including those adapted for numerous tours in the UK, USA, and other countries. The most notable of them was the German one. The lyrics by Richard Stilgoe were translated by Sabine Grohmann and Wolfgang Adenberg. The director and choreographer – Arlene Phillips and the set and costume designer – John Napier, staged a new version of the show in the German city of Bochum, taking the Broadway version as the basis. In 1988 a special pavilion for the musical Starlight Express – the Starlight Halle, was built in Bochum.  The project was included in the Guinness Book of World Records for the incredible speed of construction of the building. Since then, the musical has been running here regularly, almost daily. Initially, the racing tracks had a U-shape to them, but in 2003 during interior reconstruction – they acquired a Y-shape. Major changes to the production itself were made twice – in 1992 and 2018; they were related to the technical updates and fresh opportunities, as well as some of the new songs, characters, and performers that were introduced into the show.

The crowd of spectators, which counts over one and a half thousand people! – are surprisingly quick to take their seats, located along the tracks with rails and sleepers depicted on them. On which trains and carriages will chase each other for the following two and a half hours. On the back wall, we see three-dimensional images of arched structures that depict either the base of the viaduct or the façade of the railway station. Above it is the screen on which images of the glass dome of the station, cranes used to load cars, as well as rushing clouds, and moving crowns of trees and bushes are projected, creating the sensation of constant movement.

Starlight Halle, Bochum/ Interior/ Photo Credit by Joshua A. Hoffmann

Before the start of the show, there is a suspended track hanging from the ceiling at approximately human height from the floor, along which toy train models from different historical periods run at different speeds:   a train with several carriages, a diesel locomotive, an electric locomotive with a set of various carriages. From above comes the voice of a Boy playing with his railroad. Mother calls her son to sleep in a tired voice and sings him a lullaby “Starlight Express” and the fairytale dream begins: the toy trains float upward and performers in appropriate costumes appear on stage. The Boy introduces the locomotives and various train cars to the audience. The show features more than twenty-five performers and several professional roller skaters. All performers sing “live” and without exception, they all move about on roller skates. After the presentation of all the express trains and locomotives, the competition begins for the title of champion or the fastest engine.  At that, Greaseball makes fun of other locomotives’ efforts to be the coolest and win the race.  Greaseball only fears the electric locomotive – Electra. The spark of mutual attraction ignites between Rusty and Pearl (the first-class observation car), but the beautiful Pearl agrees to join Electra in the first race. Rusty, heartbroken, decides not to participate in the World Championship. Instantly, Mama or Momma McCoy– the veteran of previous races, decides to take Rusty’s place, eager to maintain the steam locomotive’s reputation in the race.  Nevertheless, Rusty becomes a participant in the following race, thanks to Mama’s support, overcomes any obstacles, the main one of which is the betrayal of the vile and corrupt break truck Caboose, who does everything possible to arrange for Rusty’s fall and remove him from the ranks of competitors. It seems to be the end and the complete failure of steam engines.  But out of nowhere, the legendary Starlight Express appears in the sky: a myriad of shining white and blue stars circle above Rusty, carrying him along with them, inspiring him. The Boy also encourages him by shouting: “Hurry, Rusty! Hurry!” In the end, Rusty wins the race and gets the girl – the heart of the beautiful Pearl now belongs to him.

It’s not just the roller skating that leaves a lasting impression. Of course, it’s cool and unprecedented that the performers are skating, acting, singing, and dancing all at the same time.  You won’t come across this anywhere else in the world of musical theatre. But the “fabulousness” of what is happening is ensured largely thanks to the lighting [Ron Sinclair] and set [John Napier] designs: the metal truss of the railway bridge, which serves as a transforming stage, contains more than a hundred lighting fixtures, creating the very fairy-tale world into which the musical immerses the spectators.

How all this beauty was created and how it all works on stage as well as why the show has been attracting new spectators over the past thirty-plus years – we were able to discuss all of it and more, all technical and production peculiarities, with the performers of the roles of Mama – Reva Rice, and Dustin – Léon Ohrling, as well as with Meinolf Müller – the artistic director of the theatre in Bochum.

Reva Rice/ Headshot from R. Rice’s personal archive

Reva Rice’s life has come full circle with the musical Starlight Express: she originated the role of Pearl on Broadway, played the role on West End, as well during the North American tour of the show, and in the Las Vegas production, she also played the role of Velma Kelly in Chicago on Broadway, and then after working in such shows as Smokey Joe’s Café, The Color Purple, Fosse and Spamalot, among many others, she returned to Starlight Express in the Bochum production and created the character of Mama. Reva is a two-time Broadway World Awards winner and the two-time nominee for the Helen Hayes Award. She is considered the “veteran” of the show.

Léon Ohrling/ Headshot from L.Ohrling’s personal archive

Léon Ohrling, on the other hand, is a young performer who has recently joined the cast. Originally from Sweden, after graduating from the Royal Academy of Music in London, Léon performed in such famous musicals as Rent, We Will Rock You, and Once Upon a Mattress. Léon joined the cast several months ago and has just completed the rehearsal process.

Both Reva and Léon were excited to share what the production of Starlight Express means to them.

Lisa Monde: What does this show mean to you? What is so unique about your experience in the Bochum production?  Which character are you playing now? 

Reva Rice: I’ve been with this show for a long time. Starlight Express has a very sentimental value in my life because it was the first show that I ever did on Broadway. Also, interestingly enough, my mother’s name is Pearl, and my grandmother’s name is Pearl. I played Pearl on Broadway and in other productions of the musical too. So, for me – it holds that historical, special place in my heart. This musical taught me how to sing because I wasn’t a singer when I first started doing Starlight, but I was always a skater. I played Pearl from 1986 till 1994. I think it was the last year I played Pearl. Then I continued being Pearl in the US, on West End, during the first National Tour, in Las Vegas and now I’m here, in Bochum. I always wanted to perform the show in Bochum because the set is one of the best sets in Starlight’s history and to be able to come here and skate the set and learn the language… It’s also wonderful to see young people come into the cast and embrace the show and the athleticism of it: especially this cast, the athleticism that they brought to the show from the very beginning is truly amazing. To be able to skate on these sets that they created is a challenge even for professional skaters! Now I’m playing Mama/ Momma McCoy – it’s come around full circle for me. I don’t mind telling people my age: “I’m in the senior-citizen age” and for me to still be able to do this at this age – I’m very thankful to be Momma McCoy!

Starlight Express, Bochum/ Cast 2024/ (C)- Reva Rice as Momma McCoy, (R)- Léon Ohrling as Dustin and Ensemble/ Photo Credit by Joshua A. Hoffmann

Léon Ohrling: It’s been a wildly different experience for me. I was aware of Starlight Express before, but I didn’t know that it was still running in Bochum. So I went to an audition and got cast. And then I arrived, and what I found here exceeded all of my expectations, it was mind-blowing!  Nothing is like what I imagined it would be – it’s much more grand and much more amazing. I mean, I’ve enjoyed the rehearsal process, but it’s truly a show like no other! In the musical I play Dustin – I can relate to my character – he’s all about kindness, he just thinks the best of everyone and that’s a skill that I try to incorporate in real life personally.

LM: During the rehearsal process, you must be working with so many people! I guess you start with the skating practice, right?  Then you also have the director, the choreographer, and the music director… The rehearsals consist of several stages, is that right?

LO: Yes. I think yesterday we did the Finale and a lot is happening in the Finale, all over the stage: we have three different levels, plus the ramps. We work with the roller-skating coach’s assistant, the skating coach, the choreographer, the assistant choreographer, the associate director, the music director… So, there are usually at least seven people working with the cast simultaneously – they are spread out all across the set, teaching and choreographing different parts of the show, and then out of this cacophony a scene is born, we somehow put it all together and then we run it from the top.  At that point, everyone should know what they’re doing. Amazingly, it works! And in the end, we have a show!

LM: In Starlight Express your characters are all trains! You have very elaborate costumes, big headpieces, and roller skates to work with! Do your costumes “make the character?”

RR: The skates become your point shoes, your tap shoes, your ballet shoes if you will.

LO: Yes, the roller skates have become a tool, almost. For example, apart from playing Dustin I also cover another character in the show. And so, for each character, I will skate differently, I will use my skates differently depending on which character I am playing.

LM: Obviously, the Bochum production of Starlight Express is in German. Does everyone speak German in the cast?

RR: No. We just have amazing dialect and language coaches who drill and drill and drill the phonetics with us.

LO: I feel like I’ve cheated a little bit because my mother comes from a region of France where they speak German. So, I can understand quite a lot of German, but we still had to work a lot on the proper pronunciation.

LM: It’s one thing when you speak German, but it’s a whole different story when you have to sing in German. Would you agree?

LO: I don’t know about you, Reva, but I feel like the first time I sang in German, it felt like the vowels sat differently in the mouth. My singing technique had to change a little bit.

RR: I had to get used to not “crushing my vocal cords together” when I would sing, in such words as ‘licht,’ for example, where you have that soft “ch” sound. Sometimes the sound falls to the back of the hard palate when it needs to stay a bit more forward, otherwise, it creates too much pressure on the vocal cords. You have to discover where the placement of German sounds feels “natural” to you as opposed to just being phonetically correct.

LM: Many people think that German is not the easiest language to sing in. But I disagree. I love singing in German!

RR: Well, I think every language is beautiful, it depends on what your ear is used to. It’s really interesting trying to sing something in Asian languages, for example, because they don’t have as many consonants.

LM: Both of you know the show in the original English and now you’re performing it in German. When the musical gets translated, it changes a lot and sounds different. But the opinions on the matter of translation differ: some people say the musical may sound better in the original language, even if the translation is amazing, and some feel like certain shows sound better after being adapted into another language.  I personally love Starlight Express in German. Which version do you like the most? 

RR: I would want to sing in my own language because I can immediately relate to it all better. But the translators have done a wonderful job, I think, translating the show for the German audiences!  People love it.

LM: What about the costumes – some of the costumes you are working with are very heavy….

Starlight Express, Bochum/ Cast 2024/ (FRONT)- Reva Rice as Momma McCoy, (BACK)- Léon Ohrling as Dustin/ Photo Credit by Joshua A. Hoffmann

RR: Well, the two of us are the only characters that have to wear fat suits in the show.

LO: That’s true. The first day I had to wear the costume from the opening number and then yesterday I was in my Dustin costume. It is heavy. It’s the heaviest I think of all the costumes, but it wasn’t as bad as I expected. When you’re watching the show, the performers on stage look like Transformers, they are quite literally “larger than life.”

LM: When I watched the musical, I was so impressed! I can’t imagine how one can perform in such complicated and heavy costumes and skate at such speed while singing!

LO: And, you know, we skate all around the set and do some jumps even. It’s very hot performing in those costumes, especially during the summer season.

RR: Some of the helmets that we put on during the races are about a foot and a half to two feet long. There’s a little window to see through, but it’s literally a football helmet that you’re wearing. When I first started doing the races with the helmet, I was terrified, but now I wouldn’t race without it. I feel very safe in the helmet.  So, the costumes are a huge part of our character development process. John Napier, our costume and set designer- extraordinaire, is still with us. He created some wonderful designs, and I have to say, the German influence on the costumes and the wigs was amazing. When I first came to see the show, the first thing that jumped out at me was how well they maintain the costumes and wigs here. So, hats off, and kudos to the German production that keeps this show looking so fresh and vibrant every single day.

LM: In musical theatre, several main components make the show, and the most important ones are the music and the book, the story being told. But in this show, I believe there is something else that should be noted… What makes this production of Starlight Express work and what makes it so special?

LO: I think it would be too easy to assume it’s the skating… I feel like that’s such a small part of it, it’s just a tool to make the show what it should be. The production here in Bochum, the spectacle of it, and the music merged together give me the chills. It’s not just because of the amazing tech design, with lasers and the incredible lighting, but because the show has been running for so long, the production keeps changing things, and they’re constantly investing in the theatre. Tech-wise, for example, we have the 360-surround sound. So when Rusty is going around the track singing, the sound travels with him.

RR: It’s a theatrical event. It’s a rock concert. It’s a gospel revival. It’s a sporting event. You name it. And the way the set is designed, the audience is so engulfed in the set! You can literally feel the breeze of the races.

LM: This production of Starlight Express can most certainly be considered a full-on immersive theatre experience… Which musical is next on your bucket list? And here’s a trick question – which musical do you think would be great to do on roller skates?

LO: You’ve already crossed everything off your bucket list, haven’t you, Reva?

RR: Yes, I’m in the bucket. (laughs) But a show on roller skates… I don’t know what other show could go on roller skates.

LO: I think it would be so cool to stage some fight choreography on roller skates but not in a musical that exists. I think a musical based on an anime on roller skates would work. Something like Avatar: The Last Airbender, Naruto. As for the existing shows, the Little Mermaid or Lion King would probably be good on roller skates.

Meinolf Müller/ Headshot from M.Müller’s personal archive

Meinolf Müller, the artistic director of the Starlight Halle, shared some of his extensive knowledge and secrets. He’s been with the show since its premiere in 1988…

Lisa Monde: How would you explain the success of this show?  The musical has been running for 35 years already and there is an unfading interest in it. So many people come to see the show. Why do you think it’s so viable?

Meinolf Müller: I think because it’s a show that is meant for all generations. Unlike many other shows. Little children are enjoying it and their grandparents are enjoying it as well. Because there’s a lot of action in the show. Often women purchase tickets to musicals and are fans of the genre. With this show, men are also enjoying it, because it’s a show full of action, full of breath-taking moments, that our great cast is fully responsible for. So, I think that’s the main reason – we address people from all generations. And secondly, we always keep working on the show, perfecting it. We implement little changes every year, and a lot of people return after a while to see “how it looks nowadays” and that also brings many spectators back, which is another reason for the big success that we have.

LM: Now, how was the decision to build the Starlight Halle, this whole theatre, made? Why in Bochum?

MM: Well, when this new musical theatre era began, I think in Germany we had Cats... Cats opened two years before us. That was the only long-running production at the time. And then the mayor of Bochum and his team heard about that success, and they decided to contract The Really Useful Group and Andrew Lloyd Webber. They found a producer who was willing to do the show in Bochum. Which was, of course, a huge risk at the time, but the people in power of the city of Bochum helped us: they supported us, built the theatre, and were able to cover the production costs. And as we know now, 36 years later, it was the right decision and Starlight Express is a huge success!

LM: The structure of the building looks unbelievable. Incredibly, the Starlight Halle has been around for thirty-six years! It was designed in such a way that the spectators can become part of an immersive theatre experience…

MM: Exactly. So, the immersive shows seem to be a very modern thing, but actually, we started it thirty-six years ago. That’s exactly what we’re doing here. People are sitting in the middle of the “action!” It’s truly a unique show.

 LM: Who came up with the design project of this theatre in Bochum? Who is the creator of Starlight Halle?

MM: Well, the first producer of this show here was Friedrich Kurz. He also produced Cats in Hamburg at the time. And then Kurz, of course, knew Andrew Lloyd Webber and his team.  Later, John Napier was asked to build the set, and it was his idea to build the tracks around the stage. So everything fell into place.

LM: How long did it take to build the theatre?

MM: Another world record! It took a bit over a year.

Starlight Express Theatre aka Starlight Halle, Bochum/ Exterior/ Photo credit by Joshua A. Hoffmann

LM: Wow, that’s impressive! I mean, we have buildings in New York that are not even close to the Starlight Halle and it’s taking forever to build those.

MM: The idea that John Napier was going to build the set in which the audience would be “included,” and therefore the spectators would become involved in the story as well, was great.

LM: This show is the definition of the “living and breathing” production, constantly changing, and that’s how it should be. However, there are so many musicals out there in the world that don’t change much. They keep doing the replica productions and the actors who join the cast are supposed to do what the previous performer in a role did. But in your show, it’s different. There were so many changes and so many adjustments made to the show: with the new songs being added, some songs being removed, characters changing, characters being removed… Who decides to make these changes? Is it coming from the authors? Or the director? From what I understand – the changes have been taking place throughout the 36 years of the show’s existence and are still happening…

MM: Yes, they are. It’s a mixture. Sometimes it’s us who have an idea and then we normally contact Arlene Phillips [the main director and choreographer of the show] first. If she approves, then she approaches Andrew. Sometimes it’s Andrew himself who has an idea, or, like a few years ago when his son wrote a beautiful song – we implemented it into the show. So, the changes and amendments come from different sources, but we’re all constantly working on this show together, which makes it so interesting.

 LM: The musical is being performed in German.  I’ve heard the show in English before many times, but I honestly love it in German. I think Starlight Express sounds more playful in German, the translation is stunning. I believe you used to have one special day when you did the show in English or with English subtitles, is that right?

MM: Yes, that event was called One Night Only. We thought it was a nice idea when we did it, and it was a lot of fun, but to be honest, it was much more work than we thought it would be because some of the lyrics had to change and there was a lot of work for the cast especially – learning all of the material in both languages. Many members of the cast were familiar with only the German version and had to learn the English lyrics on top of that. It was all too much.

 LM: The cast performed the whole show in English for one night only then?

MM: Yes.

LM: Got it. You have a lot of tourists coming in to see the show. I bet most of the tourists don’t speak German. How do they feel about seeing a show in German? What do you think?

MM: Well, the majority of our spectators do speak German. They come from various parts of Germany. Even our neighbors from the Netherlands understand German. But because this show is such a visual thing, with all the races and special effects, you get the story anyway, so the language doesn’t matter.

LM: Indeed. But have you ever thought of incorporating the subtitles? I recently saw the musical Notre Dame de Paris, it was a revival that came to the US and the show was performed in the original French, even though there was a translated English version that played in London in the past. The original French version of Notre Dame was performed at the Lincoln Center, and they had the English subtitles projected onto the screens on both sides of the stage. Some spectators appreciated it. To me personally, it was distracting. But some people who didn’t speak French appreciated the fact that there were subtitles available to them.

MM: To be honest, we never thought of that. I mean, sometimes we do have screens with lyrics on the sides -it’s the so-called “sing-along shows” that we do, where the audience is invited to sing along and then they can see all the lyrics – which is always great fun. We organize the sing-along nights every two years.

LM: Is there a full video of the production in Bochum available online?

MM: No. We thought about it once, but we decided against it. I think it’s often children who urge their parents to buy a ticket and come see the show: if they like it, they come back again and again… But when they can just watch it at home – that might prevent people from buying another ticket. And when you see the show live it’s such a different experience! There are so many things going on, that you feel like you must watch it several times to be able to perceive it all. You can’t replace the live event that we present here with a DVD or video.

LM:  How do you see the future of this production?

MM: Well, this theatre is owned by the city of Bochum. It’s not our theatre. And just recently, a few weeks ago, we extended our rental agreement for the next ten years. So that’s the plan. I don’t see why the show would close. The audience loves it. And meanwhile, people who came here as children, are parents themselves now and are bringing their children with them to see Starlight Express.

LM: I hope the show keeps “rolling” for many years to come. Perhaps you will end up in the Guinness Book of World Records again for being the longest-running musical in the world!

MM: Could be… Who knows?

LM: I have to ask: are there a lot of accidents that happen during the rehearsal process? From what I understand, many performers have never skated in their life before. 

MM: We’ve had some minor accidents, not only during the rehearsal process. They occur later as well, during shows. Sometimes it’s due to the roller skates: people fall, but it is never anything major. Safety is very important to us. I mean, the stage management and the technicians are all responsible for the safety of our performers. We have to keep the show as safe as possible.

LM: What is the most difficult part of the show to maintain?

MM: Currently it’s the technical aspects of it: the set was built thirty-six years ago, and sometimes you have to replace parts that aren’t even available anymore. That is somewhat of a challenge that we must work around. But our costume department is great! I mean our tailor shop is in the building of the theatre, downstairs. They do it all themselves. And some of the materials they used in the beginning aren’t available anymore, but they are so good, they always find proper replacements. So, that’s not an issue here. But technical things can cause problems sometimes, like even a simple little screw or a little valve here or there, that doesn’t exist anymore because it was installed so many years ago. But we always find solutions. So, I’m optimistic that we can solve any issue that we’re faced with.

LM: When it comes to the choreography of the show, I know that Arlene Phillips created the original choreography and then she did the choreography for the show in Bochum. How different is it? How did it change?

MM: Arlene made a few things a bit easier because at some point, I think, Andrew also thought perhaps the show was too much about dancing, and we wanted to concentrate a bit more on the storytelling – that’s why some things have been simplified a little, but it’s still fantastic choreography. Arlene created a lot of the choreography, it still looks the same as it was in 1988. Only several musical numbers were simplified.

LM: Are there any plans in the future to implement new technology into production? Since, obviously, technology is ever-evolving. Nowadays, videography is very popular in musical theatre – we have video projections that become part of the storytelling.

MM: We did that in 2018, six years ago, we implemented video projections, which was a new touch. We invested a lot of money in the new sound equipment, our old equipment wasn’t up to date anymore: people who go to concerts, for example, are used to a much better sound. So, we did that, and we replaced the conventional lighting with new LED panels. So, we are always looking, trying to be aware of what’s going on, and what is new on the techno market.

 LM: The show is running non-stop. How many shows are you doing per week?

MM: Seven shows a week throughout the year and eight shows during school holidays because, as I said, it’s a perfect show for children and when they have school holidays, we add one more show on Tuesdays to our schedule.

LM: So, you have the main cast and then you have understudies and swings? How many performers total do you have in the cast of the show?

MM: We have forty-six people in the ensemble, and we need twenty-six on stage during the show. Those are the main cast performers, of course. And then there are understudies and swings for every role. Sometimes we have ten understudies for one role, so if something happens during the show, we’re normally always covered and ready to replace them immediately.

LM: What do you think is the most challenging part for the performers in this show?

MM: I think it’s learning. The skating class is the most challenging thing. Because there are ups and downs for everyone and to have to find a way to deal with the “downs- ”  is tough. Because everyone has their good days and their bad days – that’s a lesson our cast members learn for life. I think it’s the most challenging time, especially in the beginning. Sometimes there are blisters on their feet, and their legs hurt from too much skating, but it gets better and easier in time.

LM: Do the creators of the show – Andrew Lloyd Webber and Arlene Phillips, come to see the show often?

MM: Arlene is here regularly, I would say she is here at least five times a year or perhaps even more. Andrew hasn’t been here for a while. There was a visit scheduled but he was sick on that day so then just his wife and his children came. But Andrew is also very interested in what we’re doing, and if his time allows, he comes over, watches the show and talks to the cast and that makes everybody super happy!

LM: I think it’s wonderful and it’s probably a dream come true for Andrew Lloyd Webber too. Knowing that your show lives on for generations, for years and years and years to come, that such a high-quality production only keeps evolving and getting better, and has a successful life of its own… that’s amazing.

MM: Yes, and it is probably not the best show that he has ever written, but it seems to be the most successful show, which is lovely! Makes us proud.

LM: When it comes to the lighting and the sound designs, I’ve heard from the actors that the sound is a 360-surround sound, and it was also just recently implemented in the show. The “traveling sound” is fantastic. I’ve also noticed the beautiful drones that float around Rusty in one of the scenes. Who designed that? Did those additions come from a different lighting and sound designer rather than those who worked on the Broadway production?

MM: No, it was actually John Napier who was the head of everything. He got in touch with this company in Switzerland that provides us with drones. And John told them which choreography the drones needed to follow. And we’re just about to change that, actually. The drones’ choreography will be different now and Arlene Phillips will work on the choreography in that scene with us again to match the drones’ updated movement. So, as you can see, we’re always working, keeping it fresh.

LM: How will the drones’ choreography change in the scene?

MM: Well, we have twenty-nine drones, and they are flying around Rusty in the Magic Scene and now the way they fly is going to be different. They won’t be just fairy lights; the drones will come into the shape of a train and then disappear. It’s going to be spectacular.  You need to see it to believe it!

Starlight Express, Bochum/ Cast 2024-2025, Ensemble/ Finale/ Photo Credit by Joshua A. Hoffmann

            Coinciding with the 40^th anniversary of the musical Starlight Express, a “completely new and updated production” (directed by Luke Sheppard, &Juliet) opened in London at the Troubadour Wembley Park Theatre this summer. With Andrew Lloyd Webber’s blessing, a new creative team led by the veteran of the project – Arlene Phillips (as the creative dramaturg) worked on the show. Taking the 2018 Bochum production as the basis, the crew worked to create new meanings in the old story. The main one of which was the transformation of the steam engine Rusty from a backward one, powered by coal, into “the engine of the future- ” powered by hydrogen fuel cells. A locomotive with a hydrogen engine – is the latest achievement of engineering and design, which has already been brought to life, but does not have an established name yet.  Perhaps it’ll be called “Rusty?” It would be symbolic, to say the least. The other changes concerned the reimagining of the characters and their gender identities. Thus, Greaseball, having become a female character, does not resemble Elvis Presley anymore, but Pink. Electra – portrayed by a woman, pronouns they/them, clearly carries a reference to Lady Gaga. And the Boy- Control, is a child actor, who rides around the stage on a scooter. The express trains have lost their affiliation with any specific countries. Many lyrics have been changed. The music score has been significantly revised and modernized to attract the interest of a new generation.  In particular, there is a new song Hydrogen, performed by Hydra – the new character who helps Rusty win the race. New singles by the London cast will be released in November.

The design of the costumes has changed (costume designer Gabriella Slade, Six): now, according to the creators, they are designed “to embody the spirit of the train more than look like a train.” Innovative ideas, expressed in the costumes, give rise to associations with superheroes from Disney’s Marvel Comics and other popular characters from various fashionable shows. Needless to say, the scenery has been updated too (set designer Tim Hatley, Back to the Future), and is shaped like a steam engine; the stage rotates and transforms, rises, tilts, and drops. The complex lighting design and expensive equipment add to the futuristic feel of the spectacle, and the audience being seated in close proximity to the performers makes the show extremely immersive.

      Whether these innovations will be included in the Bochum production – time will tell. But given the fact that the production is secure for the next ten years and the German team is keeping pace with the progress – anything is possible.  It is also known, that the British producers are in the process of developing a version of the musical using the fashionable 360 technology. Be that as it may, forty years ago the musical  Starlight Express turned a new page in the history of the development of musical theatre as a genre introducing us to mega-musicals, clearing the path for the following grandiose projects, the first one of which was the musical The Phantom of the Opera.

No matter how Starlight Express is transformed by technological innovations, technical capabilities of the theatre venues, or the cultural code of our time, it is doomed to remain a bright satellite in the orbit of musical theatre.

The full version of the article Starlight Express The Musical: 40 Years in The Orbit is available on The Theatre Times.

Àlex Rigola first staged David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross at Barcelona’s Teatre Lliure twenty-one years ago. It was an epic, fast-moving staging realised in a gyrating fishbowl set, characterised by fierce choreography and a frenetic energy: a production of excess to capture the play’s world of excess. He has returned to the play in 2024 where the intimate location of Barcelona’s Heartbreak Hotel’s 72-seat theatre provides its own set, the words Glengarry Glen Ross chalked on the floor and a small poster pinned on the wall listing the salespersons in order of sales gains this month. The traverse staging provides a sense of claustrophobia – the audience as trapped as the characters, a team of four real estate salespersons who know that the top employee will win a BMW at the end of the month, while the two who have performed least well will be fired.

Rigola has opted to rename the Mamet’s characters; here they are addressed through their names as actors. Miranda Gas (Williamson in Mamet’s text) is the office boss, overseeing the salesmen and handing out leads. She explains the context and describes the location of the opening scene: a restaurant where she is dining with one of the salesmen, Francesc Garrido (Levene) whose bluster and bravado betray his desperation. He batters her with pleas for better leads – he won’t take responsibility for the run of poor sales, it’s all down to the poor hand he’s been given. He implores and flatters her; he insults her and opts for bribes but she won’t budge. With Miranda discernibly younger than Francesc, there is a generational shift that is clearly irking Francesc. The misogyny also belies Francesc’s underlying resentment of having a woman boss; she walks out leaving the imposing Francesc alone and annoyed.

Mamet’s characters are male, but Rigola reconceives two as women. Sandra Monclús presents Moss as a persuasive manipulator, calm in her ability to confuse the weak Andrés Herrera (Aaronow), and clinical in her attempt to cajole him into stealing the leads. She doesn’t have the extrovert qualities of Francesc or Pep Amorós (Roma) but she knows how and when to pounce; her persistent undermining of the aggressive qualities of Oriol and Emma, the absent agency owners, bamboozles Andrés. She resents the job and what it represents and her resentment spills out as poison in her calculating conversations with her colleagues.

Glengarry Glen Ross chalked on the floor of the stage. Photo: Angela Delgado

The overlapping dialogue is brisk and sly. Miranda and Francesc operate on the margins of one wall of the auditorium. Sandra and Andrés hover around the opposing wall. Francesc watches Andrés and Sandra from across the stage, neither appear to register that they are being observed. Andrés is currently at the bottom of the sales sheet and resigned to loss. He oscillates between Castilian and Catalan; the other characters speak predominantly in Catalan. It is clear he doesn’t have the linguistic dexterity of the other salesmen, doesn’t have the sophisticated grasp of Catalan. Sandra is cool and collected, practical and controlling; hands in her pocket, she is a visible contrast to the rattled Andrés.

The poster on the wall has Pep Ambròs (Roma) as top of the sales chart. Pushy, swaggering, confident and dismissive, Pep plays his game of seduction with the audience, picking out Àlex Fons as the unwitting client who he plans to sell to. The routine is perfectly choreographed, from the philosophical monologue to the song, where the other salespersons accompany him — a rendition of the Pet Shop Boys “Opportunities (Let’s make lots of money)” with Miranda on guitar, Francesc whistling and Andrés and Sandra popping in from a side door to make brief singalong appearances. It makes manifest what Pep won’t openly articulate: that he is out to scam Àlex and make lots of money.

Rigola’s production is a lean, focussed affair where moments such as the singalong rip through the surface appearances to expose the brutal reality of the salespersons’ intentions. The office break is signalled by Miranda and Andrés kicking papers across the floor. The second act has Francesc rushing in with a red file in hand to boast of a new sale of six units, regaling his colleagues with a tale of prowess in persuading a vulnerable elderly couple, Igor and Sam, to part with their cash. He is drunk on the success of ill-gotten success. The tall, imposing Francesc charges across the stage, seeking to take control again from top dog Pep. Miranda looks sceptical, staring him out, a discerning presence in her stillness. Pep knows he has little to fear; he berates Sandra; he evades Àlex when he returns trying to pull out of the sales deal and ropes Francesc in to play an American businessman that Àlex is working with and has to whisk to the airport. Francesc dons sunglasses and Pep’s baseball cap to create a ridiculous caricature of an all-too-busy client with his phone clamped to his ear delivering cliched lines that close down all conversations. It’s a wonderfully funny scene, marked by impeccable comic timing.

Andrés argues with Miranda; Pep viciously insults Miranda; Francesc lashes out at Miranda for ruining the game he and Pep were involved in to evade Àlex. But it is Francesc’s inability to put on a brake that exposes him as irresponsible, ruthless and arrogant; he inadvertently reveals he is responsible for the theft when he tells Miranda he knows she hadn’t filed Pep’s sale to Àlex. Miranda then pounces, ordering Francesc to see the policeman that is interviewing the office staff; in Rigola’s version the policeman never appears; he remains an offstage presence that the characters are escorted by Miranda to be interviewed by. Miranda, as in the opening scene, is unmoved by Francesc’s pleas or bribes.

Rigola gives the play a new currency in an age of austerity capitalism where everything is up for sale if the price is right. The actors wear their own clothes. The characters watch and pounce. The overlap between actor and role suggest that all are implicated in the culture presented in the 90-minute production. No one can be trusted, and the ruthless nature of this hard sell ruptures all compassion. ‘Oh god, I hate this job” is the production’s final line, delivered by Andrés as he looks at the devastation created by the competitive ethos promoted by the agency.

Rigola’s adaptation has no references to any specific currency, the pervasive ethos of the capitalist excess it chronicles has permeated all aspects of life across the globe. Misogyny and racism prevail, with Sandra and Miranda both targets of misogyny and upholders of the system that perpetrates such abuses. Seeing this clean, lean and powerful production in an age of austerity, in the week of a Trump presidential victory in the USA, is a reminder that the world it chronicles continues to thrive.

Glengarry Glen Ross plays at Barcelona’s Heartbreak Hotel theatre from 24 September to 17 November.

The full version of the article Capitalism Meets Austerity in Àlex Rigola’s “Glengarry Glen Ross” is available on The Theatre Times.

Peruvian director Chela De Ferrari of Lima’s Teatro La Plaza, reconfigured Hamlet — seen at this year’s Edinburgh International Festival — through the eyes of actors with Down’s Syndrome. The actors reworked the play through their own lived experience to pose a series of questions about the canon, belonging and cultural ownership. The production was hugely uplifting and celebratory – a reimagining of a canonical play realised with humour, wit and a willingness to address issues about representation and agency in both theatre and life.

For her new staging of The Seagull, which opened at the Avignon Festival in July, De Ferrari dismantles the play much as she did with Hamlet. The production, produced by Madrid’s Centro Dramático Nacional, is a jazz riff on Chekhov’s 1895 play, written and adapted by De Ferrari with dramaturgical assistance from Luis Alberto León and Melanie Werder. It opens on a set replete with sofa and armchairs, a worn carpet, screen, desk and chair that conjures a particular Chekhovian world. Russian violin music plays gently in the background. De Ferrari and her creative team then takes the piece in a very different direction. Stage manager Alicia (Macarena Sanz) come on to strike down the set and leave a bare stage. These opening moments, as Alicia with headphones and script addresses the audience, signal that this is no conventional staging of The Seagull. She audio describes the audience to a company made up primarily of blind and visually impaired actors – eliciting laughter from the audience at her observation that she can’t see anyone asleep yet.

This is a production that recentres both the play and the cast. Domingo López’s earnest Semyon emerges from the audience, rising to his feet to address Patty Bonet’s gothic Mascha. Mascha frowns and looks down at him, literally, seated a few rows behind him. At one point, Eduart Mediterrani’s Konstantin speaks of directing making visible the invisible – a line that Alicia has already used in defining what she does in her opening address to the audience. Alicia’s visibility serves to give form to the labour of making work, that which is often not seen or erased. Her work, following the script, guiding the actors, collaborating with the onstage musician, captures the messiness of theatre, the sense of theatre as a process of fumbling and finding one’s way, of looking and learning, of taking care of those performing.

Alessio Meloni’s clean set is dominated by a back wall screen where Emilio Valenzuela’s projections of the lake at the summer house capture a sense of an isolated world; the lake becomes increasingly decomposed as the production progresses. A desk stage right houses Nacho Bilbao, the musician who creates a live online score for the action, a script of sorts for the actors who rely on sound to orientate themselves; a stage manager’s desk stage left allows Alicia to follow the action and intervene as necessary. Anna Tussel’s costumes have a decidedly contemporary feel, especially in Act 4.

Belén González del Almo’s Nina performs in Konstantin’s play. Photo: Bárbara Sánchez Palomero, courtesy of the Centro Dramático Nacional

Konstantin’s play is an intense symbolist affair filled with fire and fury. Belén González del Amo’s Nina appears in a tunic with ritualistic overtones and a giant eye headdress. Lola Robles’s Arkadina, watches with the audience on the raked seating. She intervenes to undermine her son’s theatrical endeavours. Rattled and agitated he paces and stomps, departing in anger at his mother’s disruptive comments. Meditterani’s Konstantin is a volatile being from the very opening; restless in anticipating Nina’s arrival, agitated as he prepared Nina for her appearance and furious at his mother’s lack of support; the star-struck Nina is flattered by Arkadina’s narrow praise and the presence of the lofty Boris Trigorin.

Act 2 sees the group gathered at Arkadina’s estate lying on the ground enjoying the view and the weather– a brief moment of togetherness before the relationships fall apart. Agus Ruiz’s Boris Trigorin — one of only two fully sighted actors in the production — is shown to abuse his position of privilege as Arkadina’s lover by attending to the admiring questions made by teenage fan Nina. She may be compared to the seagull in the play, but it is a fluttering butterfly that her delicate steps recall. As she moves across the stage, it is as if she is feeling her way with tiny steps; her tulle skirt and white t-shirt accentuate her youth; the sunglasses she sports in Act 3 embody her growing confidence and assurance. She has no understanding of the effects she has on others: Trigorin and Konstantin are besotted with her but Vicence León’s elderly frail Peter, Arkadina’s brother, also recognises her magneticism. Blind from birth, she is the only actor who briefly carries a foldable cane in Act 1, but she soon dispenses with it, falling under the spell of Trigorin who encircles her with increasing confidence. The issue of who sees what remains a mystery in the production and works well to articulate the thematics of the play: characters unable or unwilling to see what lies in front of them.

Patty Bonet’s love lorn Mascha. Photo: Bárbara Sánchez Palomero, courtesy of the Centro Dramático Nacional

This is particularly well handled in Act 3 as the characters party – singing along to a number of well-known tunes. First is English-born Spanish singer Jeanette’s 1974 breezy pop single, “Porque te vas” (Because you are leaving), a song written by crooner José Luis Parales and immortalised in Carlos Saura’s 1975 film Cria cuervos/Raise Ravens. Here the pop beat counters  lyrics of pain, longing and abandonment: a premonition of Nina’s impending departure to follow the irresponsible Trigorin.  Camilo Sexto’s 1978 hit “Vivir asi es morir de amor” with the lyrics projected on the wall offers a singalong for the whole cast. The song’s lyrics of unrequited love echo through the unhappy Mascha, Konstantin, Polina and Semyon. Seeing Patty Bonet’s Mascha’s frenzied singing and dancing as she screams the lyrics acquires a devastating poignancy. She stares as Konstantín while Semyon looks longingly at her; Konstantín turns to Nina but Nina only has eyes for Trigorin.

The characters party to evade facing their unhappiness. Photo: Bárbara Sánchez Palomero, courtesy of the Centro Dramático Nacional

“Vivir asi es morir de amor/living like this is dying of love”, a recurring line in the song, serves as a warning of Konstantin’s suicide at the closing of Act 4. Melancholy, a repeated word in the song, is projected large onto the back wall. The party offers a moment of release that gives stage form to the play’s subtext. While the characters sing as if their lives depended on it, trapped in their own worlds of desire and deceit, Nina and Trigorin kiss and make love. They cannot be seen by characters who are trapped in their own unhappy worlds.

The form that De Ferrari and her team give to despair and disillusion make this a remarkable production. Arkadina feels her way around Konstantin’s forehead with a tenderness that provides a rare and beautiful moment of intimacy between mother and son. The magic is broken as Elton John’s “Sacrifice” plays, with Konstantin aware of the danger Trigorin poses to his possibility of happiness with Nina, confronting his mother. He throws the bandage at his mother in disgust, spitting out his words of hate and frustration as he leaves the stage.

For Act 4, Alicia narrates the passing of time and audio-describes the room in which the action evolves while the actors take their seats in a circle. All have taken on new attire; it feels less formal, more like actors in a rehearsal. They face each other while simultaneously evading making eye contact. It is as if they have no choice but to see the play through to its terrible conclusion. Semyon wants to leave with Mascha but Mascha won’t budge from her seat, evading close contact with her husband. Konstantin wears his newfound literary fame in neater attire, softer brown corduroy replacing the austere black of his Act 1-3 trousers and shirt. Konstantin and Nina’s reunion is conducted with the two actors standing facing each other. The sense of entrapment is palpable, so is the sense of a circle of fate that can’t be escaped.  There is one moment when the circle is broken as Nina takes the hand of an audience member as she tells Konstantin that she no longer fears life. It’s a moment of significant emotional power demonstrating Nina’s newfound agency. Nina leaves while Konstantin takes his own life and it is left to the gentle Elias (the name given to Dorn’s doctor) to take Trigorin aside, asking the latter to take Arkadina away because Konstantin has shot himself.

The wooden slats on the floor of the stage help the actors with orientation and spacing. Alicia assists Nina in taking her place for Konstantin’s play and helps her off stage as she rushes off stage. Nacho Bilbao’s musician is both inside and outside the production, part of the party, an accomplice of Alicia as she tries to keep the production moving, humming, singing, playing, acting as DJ for the party and conjuring the soundscape for the staging.  The cast are uniformly excellent from Lola Robles prickly Arkadina — Robles was also the accessibility advisor on the production — to Domingo López’s earnest Semyon. Characterisation feels nuanced, from Belén González del Amo’s eager Nina who grows up during the piece to Patty Bonet’s sullen bleached blonde Mascha, keen to attract the animated Konstantin who remains forever out of reach. At a time where The Seagull seems the play of the moment in Spain with a new production at Barcelona’s Teatre Lliure placing the artist’s predicament centre stage and Fernanda Orazi’s La persistencia at Madrid’s Teatro del Barrio taking Nina’s predicament as the starting point for a reflection on acting and labour, De Ferrari’s powerful metatheatrical staging, with its centering of agency, desire and its discontents, feels fiercely contemporary.

The Seagull played at the Centro Dramático Nacional’s Valle-Inclán Theatre from 9 October to 10 November 2024

The full version of the article Chela De Ferrari’s “The Seagull”: Theatre, Identity and Unrequited Love is available on The Theatre Times.

Dr. Samir Talib is an Iraqi scholar specializing in Shakespeare and Renaissance studies. He earned his M.A. in Shakespeare and Renaissance Literature from Baghdad University in 2005, followed by a Ph.D. in the same field from the University of Exeter, UK. Currently, he teaches English literature at the University of Basrah. His research interests include Shakespeare and Renaissance literature as well as Iraqi adaptations of Shakespeare.

Amir Al-Azraki: Can you share the history of how Shakespeare’s works were introduced and received in Iraq?

Samir Talib: Iraqi theatre started in the late nineteenth century in Christian schools in Mosul and Baghdad. However, the introduction of Shakespeare and other British playwrights happened after the British occupation in 1914, when English theatre troupes began to visit Iraq to perform Shakespearean plays. Then Iraqis started producing Shakespeare’s plays, with the support of troupes from Egypt and Turkey. For example, George Abyad troupe staged two Shakespeare’s plays, Hamlet and Othello, in Basrah in 1927. More performances were put on by the National Acting Troupe and other troupes in various Iraqi cities in the following decades. Later the Institute of Fine Arts (established by Haki Al-Shibli in 1940) contributed to more professional performances of Shakespeare during the 1940s and 1950s. Also, Iraqi actors and directors trained in the United States and Europe presented Shakespeare’s plays in Iraq. Several names stand out, like Mohsen Al-Azawi, Sami Abdal Hamid, Jaafar Alsaadi and many others whose contributions lasted for decades to come. Many of these productions were simple rendering of the text, but some of them ventured into appropriating the plays to the Iraqi setting. Some of these appropriations were symbolically representing the political situation during the Ba’ath era. However, the Ba’ath regime also employed Shakespeare to perpetuate anti-Semitic sentiments by prescribing a novelization of The Merchant of Venice as a set reading for high school students.  After the 2003 war, Shakespeare was recalled to address current issues like civil unrest, political corruption, the division of the country, etc. Yet, in this period, the production of Shakespeare leaned more towards appropriating the plays to the Iraqi setting than to merely producing the original. On the academic level, and since the establishment of Iraqi universities in Baghdad, Basrah and Mosul, Shakespeare’s plays are required as set reading at Departments of theatre and English in both undergraduate and postgraduate degrees.

Amir Al-Azraki: In your opinion, what themes in Shakespeare’s plays resonate most with Iraqi audiences?

Samir Talib: Shakespeare is relevant today because of the universality of the ideas and themes in his plays. As a result, several themes in Shakespeare resonated with the Iraqi audience. Some of these themes are political, such as regicide, assassination, political ambition and regime change, which featured in such plays as Macbeth and Julius Caesar. Iraqi audiences found these themes especially relevant due to the political unrest and authoritarian rule that characterized the political scene in Iraq for over half a century. Other themes have social resonances, such as revenge, arranged marriages and parental authority (due to the tribal nature of Iraqi society, especially in the rural areas).  These featured in plays like Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Other themes resonated because of their moral implications, such as friendship, hospitality, and racial discrimination which are highlighted in plays like Macbeth, Julius Caesar and Othello.

Amir Al-Azraki: How do cultural and historical contexts in Iraq influence the interpretation of Shakespeare’s plays?

Samir Talib: The reception of Shakespeare changed over time according to the political and social issues that preoccupied Iraqi society at any given period. For example, professor of theatre and Canadian playwright Robert Fothergill talks about a performance of Macbeth that he helped to produce in Baghdad in the late 1950s, after the toppling down of Iraqi monarchy and the establishment of the Iraqi republic. That performance sparked controversy since Macbeth is highly relevant as it highlighted the theme of regicide. Issues of political legitimacy and regime change continued to be relevant during the rule of the Ba’ath regime (1968-2003), featuring such plays as Macbeth and Julius Caesar. In the aftermath of 2003, and with the occasional decline of the national theatre, performances of Shakespeare continued in colleges and universities. This time new themes emerged as a reflection of the political and social turmoil. The theme of national unity surfaced as urgently relevant due to calls for dividing the country into three regions. King Lear featured prominently in this context in order to demonstrate how hopelessly premature these calls are. Themes of the corruption of the political institutions also surged in this period, with appropriation of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, among others.

Amir Al-Azraki: How are Shakespeare’s plays adapted for Iraqi audiences? Can you give examples of local adaptations?

Samir Talib: Changes made to the original plays differ widely. While a few performances enjoy high fidelity to the original (except for translating them into Arabic), many others practice more liberty in changing the text so as to give it a local edge. Writer and director Sami Abd al-Hamid, for example, felt more freedom in appropriating the Shakespeare text. In his adaptation Hamlet Arabian (1973), he presented Hamlet as an Arab prince living in an Arab tribal society which is very sensitive to the idea of revenge. And in his adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1982), he chose Arabic names and costumes and merged it with the atmosphere of The Arabian Nights. In a more recent adaptation, Munadhel Dawood’s Romeo and Juliet in Baghdad (2012) chose to set Shakespeare’s tragedy in a characteristically Iraqi setting, turning Shakespeare’s Montagues and Capulets’ feud into a sectarian feud between Sunnites and Shiites. Ghalib Alkanani staged Coriolanus in 2016 with students of the University of Basrah to highlight themes of political and economic corruption in the post-2003 era in Iraq. These are just a few examples of how Shakespeare’s plays were accommodated for local settings.

Amir Al-Azraki: What challenges do directors face when staging Shakespeare’s plays in Iraq?

Samir Talib: Performing Shakespeare for an English audience poses its challenges, but doing so for an Arabic audience is even more complex. This is true for the productions in both Arabic and English. In either case, moving a story by a writer in sixteenth century England to twenty-first century Iraq is extremely challenging. Productions in Arabic need be based on authoritative translations of the texts. Even then, directors need to cut out large parts of the texts that might be socially and culturally irrelevant to the Iraqi audience. Performances in English mostly take place at Universities. They are no less challenging in that they require intensive training of students on the correct pronunciation of words and sentences. Adapting costumes and gestures and body language also contribute to these challenges. Most challenging of all, however, is adapting Shakespeare’s themes and ideas to an Iraqi setting. Directors need to be genuinely creative in accommodating the plays to an Iraqi setting and in finding resonances with Iraqi society.

Amir Al-Azraki: How is Shakespeare taught in Iraqi schools and universities? What is the general attitude toward his works?

Samir Talib: Iraqi high school English curricula include only one Shakespearean sonnet and a summary of one play. In contrast, the university curriculum provides a more in-depth exploration of Shakespeare’s work. For example, in schools of theatre, students always study (excerpts of) the plays and are trained on performing them in modern standard Arabic. At Departments of English students study drama, poetry and the novel chronologically. They study Shakespeare’s plays in Years Two and Three. In year Two, students are required to study two plays, a comedy and a tragedy. In the first semester in year Three, they also study another Shakespeare play, mostly a tragedy. The favorite plays selected for teaching include (Macbeth, Hamlet, King Lear, Othello, Julius Caesar, Twelfth Night, The Tempest, etc.)  Interestingly, they study the original language of the plays (with modernized spelling). Although students usually complain about the difficulty of the language of the plays, they interact positively with the themes and ideas. Young people get engaged with issues that they find relevant to their lives. When teachers attach relevance to themes of revenge, love, political ambition, etc., students become intimately engaged and discuss them openly.

Amir Al-Azraki: What is your personal favorite Shakespearean play, and why?

Samir Talib: As a scholar with an M.A. and Ph.D. in Shakespeare, I have been deeply engaged in both teaching and writing about his plays.  However, my favorite play is Hamlet. This choice is related to its language and themes. As far as the language is concerned, it contains some of the most beautiful passages not only in Shakespeare, but in English literature in general. (The ‘To be or not to be’ soliloquy, of course, stands out here.) Moreover, many of the themes it explores are universal. The play dramatizes the plight of a young human being who finds himself in conflict with natural and supernatural forces over which he has no control. This is a story that anyone can relate to. The play continues to captivate me with its self-awareness as a theatrical work; it foregrounds its own theatricality, laying bare the fact that it is a play, not real life. For example, when Hamlet wonders how the first player weeps for Hecuba (And all for nothing! for Hecuba! / What is Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba/ That he should weep for her?), he is ironically making the exact same comment about himself: we, the audience, can likewise wonder why we should weep for Hamlet. Just like Hecuba, he is a ‘fiction,’ and, therefore, ‘nothing’! What is Hamlet to us or we to Hamlet?! The play does not fail to impress audience and readers with ideas about humanity, death, loyalty, etc.

Amir Al-Azraki: If you could stage a Shakespeare play in Iraq, which play would you choose and where would you stage it?

Samir Talib: If I were to stage a Shakespeare play, I would do an abridged version of the three parts of Henry VI. Unfortunately, Shakespeare’s history plays are rarely adapted outside of England. This might be due to their topicality, as they deal with specific events in Medieval England, namely, the War of the Roses. Yet, Henry VI dramatizes issues of civil strife and internal conflict that are depressingly similar to a large portion of the post-2003 Iraqi political and social scene. The premature actions (or inactions) of the English elites that torn the nation apart and jeopardized its very existence during these wars might ring a bell for an Iraqi audience. The plays also demonstrate how a week central government paves the way for emergent warring factions and endlessly competing warlords. The plays, moreover, contain very tense scenes, as in the war in part Three where a father, unawares, kills his son and a son his father. Such scenes have a great performative potential and can easily adapted to other settings.

Amir Al-Azraki: Can you share a memorable experience related to performing or studying Shakespeare in Iraq?

Samir Talib: In 2016, I directed an adaptation of Hamlet. It was performed by students of the Department of English, University of Basrah. Titled Hamlet: Horatio’s Story, it is based on the premise that, in response to Hamlet’s final request to Horatio to “tell my story,” and Horatio’s acceptance to “speak to the yet unknowing world / How these things came about,” there exists an alternate version of events that Horatio has written. Therefore, it was an attempt for a backward reconstruction of Horatio’s version. The text contained extracts from and intertextual reference to other Shakespearean plays. It was a challenging experience, as the performance was in Shakespearean English, requiring extensive training for students in pronunciation and intonation. Besides, this adaptation departed from traditional performances as we cast a female student to play Hamlet. As much as it was a challenging experience, it was an enormously useful learning experience for me personally: it gave me a firsthand experience of Shakespearean performance, highlighting the most challenging aspects, the techniques for encouraging actors to fully immerse themselves in their roles, and more. After all, the dedication that those students showed was what made it work.

Amir Al-Azraki: How do you envision the future of Shakespearean theatre in Iraq?

Samir Talib: The future of Shakespeare in Iraq has different aspects. In academics, I expect little change since curricula update very slowly. In theatre, traditional performances will likely continue. For example, there are preparations this summer by renowned Iraqi director Salah Al-Qasab to stage Shakespeare’s Richard III. However, I can identify two ongoing movements since the last decade: the first is a movement from mere adaptation to radical appropriation of the plays. Iraqi directors are becoming increasingly prone to drastically localize the plays in order to accommodate them to Iraqi settings. The second is a movement away from a narrative storytelling of Shakespeare’s plays (or their appropriation) towards a more symbolic engagement with their themes and characters. One illustrative example is Mounir Rady’s The Shakespearean Monodramatic Pentalogy (2023). In the five pieces of this work, Rady presents monologues inspired by and responding to various Shakespearean characters—like Lear, Lady Macbeth, and Desdemona—in an effort to explore and connect with their unwritten pasts. It departs from the real Shakespearean stories to speak to the soul of these characters that remained implied in the plays. Besides, I think that the reception and production of Shakespeare’s theatre will not be immune to technological advancements, like Virtual Reality, fanfiction and AI. The young generation of scholars and theatre practitioners are becoming increasingly familiarized with and capable of using these technologies in their interaction with Shakespeare.

The full version of the article Shakespeare In Iraq: An Interview With Dr. Samir Talib is available on The Theatre Times.

Created by On the Rocks Theatre Co. (the two person co-writer and designer team Christopher Ford and Dakota Rose) The Beastiary is a hypnotic feast for the senses, engorging its audiences in a strange world of color, spectacle, apocalypse, and destruction. Perhaps at times it left me somewhat overstuffed (read: out of my mind with sensory overstimulation), but despite the show’s own warnings about indulgence, I’d still eat this “medieval meets modern” masterpiece again and again. 

Directed by On the Rocks member Dakota Rose, Ars Nova’s “twisted comedic puppet pageant of consumption, corruption, and the end of human-kind” now playing at Greenwich House Theater is an aesthetic wonder. From the moment one enters the theater they are accosted with a bright rainbow backdrop, menacing omniscient eyes, and teeth just on the brink of gnashing (set design by Ford and Rose). We are thrust into the action with an eruption of flashing lights (Kate Mcgee does lighting design) and the delightfully eerie music of Dorit Chrysler performed by Cornelius Loy on theremin and music supervisor Ellen Winter on other instruments (Enrico de Trizio does sound design). These otherworldly musicians are nearly as compelling as the events onstage and my eye was often drawn to them in the play’s slower moments. 

Marc Bovino, Gil Perez-Abraham, Phillip Taratula, Rebeca Miller(c)Ben Arons

The show lurches us back and forth between the last eight remaining human souls on earth as they confront the many beasts that now populate their world. The exceptional and hilarious ensemble (each brightly clad in Ford’s gorgeous, monochromatic costumes) is made up of Jeena Yi, Marc Bovino, Gil Perez-Abraham, Phillip Taratula, and the scene stealing Rebecca Miller. Each takes on multiple roles with dexterity and precision. 

Every vignette provides new visuals to marvel at. Giant legs! Chortling demons! An authentic unicorn! The effect is jarring, but usually interesting enough to propel the overarching narrative forward. And just what is this overarching narrative about exactly? Well it begins with a fateful act at a wedding rehearsal dinner– an act of consumption and indulgence that brings about 30 years in which beasts rule the planet.

Marc Bovino pc Ben Arons

Certain themes around privilege, and greed emerge, but overall none are as encompassing as the chaos of both destruction and redemption. It’s no small feat, weaving so many stories so intricately together while maintaining a general atmosphere of disorder. It made me think of our current moment and the way the many crises we face are both inextricably interconnected, and individually overwhelming. But this is just my take away. A note in the program offers interesting insight to how the piece was constructed but little information on why. Is it meant to be dense with layered meanings and resonances? Is it a world we are invited to immerse ourselves in but not to understand? Is it merely a vehicle for Ford’s spectacular puppetry? Perhaps it’s best just to let the magic wash over you and not worry too much about it. Regardless, The Beastiary has much within to amuse, frighten, baffle, and astound.

The full version of the article The Many Monsters of Ars Nova’s “The Beastiary” is available on The Theatre Times.

Emily Bronte doesn’t have an acronym but Franz Kafka does and Kafkaesque! Directed by Ashley Brooke Monroe and now running at Theatre 154 has 90 jam packed minutes proving why. James Harvey’s script is a sharp run through of Kafka’s biggest hits as filtered through the modern moment. If his relentless digs at gen z culture grow a bit grating, well that’s all just part of the twisted world he paints. Cleverly crafted and brilliantly acted, Kafkaesque! is a campy delight that would either horrify Franz Kafka or make him endlessly proud.

So what exactly makes something Kafkaesque? As Harvey’s somewhat disaffected Franz Kafka points out “a lot of people call things “Kafkaesque” to sound smart and cultured without having any idea what it means,” a trend which he emphatically encourages. Merriam Webster defines Kafkaesque as “having a nightmarishly complex, bizarre, or illogical quality”. In Harvey’s hands Kafka’s dour tone is transformed into hilarity, exposing the absurdity of life through laughs in addition to nightmares. The “complex, bizarre, and illogical” components come from both the content of Kafka’s original writings, and the way Harvey weaves them together into one artfully chaotic mega-arc. 

Josh Nasser, Emily Olcott, Alexandra Nader, Curry Whitmire, and James Harvey in Kafkaesque! © Nicolas Arauz

This overarching narrative centers around the everyman suburban Samsa family of Kafka’s most famous story, “The Metamorphosis”. Curry Whitmire plays the alienated son turned cockroach Gregor with piteous “why me?” charm. It is a nightmarish world indeed when your first thought upon waking up as a bug is to worry about your boss firing you! His zoomer sister Grete is played brilliantly by a scene stealing Alexandra Nader whose arc covers the events of “A Hunger Artist”. In one of the show’s most clever transformations this hunger artist is an aspiring influencer, ring light and all. Nader is consistently hilarious, but also gets one of the show’s most heartfelt moments (the closest we ever come to earnest pathos) in a duet with Kafka about the nature of making art. 

The duo’s parents, Karen and Michael, are played to archetypal perfection by Emily Olcott and John Nasser. Olcott’s cancellation leading to the events of “The Trial” is a cute idea if slightly less well explored then the other adaptations, but Nasser’s bureaucratic hell of a castle storming is quite effective. 

Alexandra Nader in Kafkaesque! © Nicolas Arauz

Don’t be fooled by the laughs though, the show does get into some dark territory. There’s a lot of talk of suicide for a piece so funny. As we neared the end I did wonder if these moments were being treated with an appropriate level of care, especially since there was no content warning and one of the deaths was an invention of the show, outside of Kafka’s original writing. But then it’s a big ask to include care when the brutality and carelessness of the world is a big aspect of Kafka’s, and consequently Kafkaesque!’s, worldview.

In the end we move on quickly from these moments to make way for the “vaguely uplifting mid-tempo pop-rock number” finale. It’s a dazzling ode to meaninglessness that ties together the many threads of this sprawling work perfectly. “What was the point of all that?” you may wonder as you leave the theater. Well, in this case the pointlessness is the point. It’s a flawlessly frustrating conclusion but thankfully one that sweetens the bite with so very many laughs along the way. 

The full version of the article “Kafkaesque!” A Musical That Is As Hilarious As It Is, Well, Kafkaesque is available on The Theatre Times.

Fringe venues perform a vital role on the ecology of London theatre. While many shows at these small venues are underfunded, and some are frankly rough as well as ready, you can occasionally stumble across a gem. A shining. A shiny gem. This is exactly what I think of Ché Walker’s latest play, Burnt-Up Love, which is currently at the tiny Finborough Theatre, an award-winning venue — run for the past 25 years by Neil McPherson — which specializes both in rediscovering forgotten masterpieces and staging vital new work. Walker’s work, which in the past included the dazzling Been So Long and The Frontline, is always written with a fine mixture of emotional realism, verbal poetry and dark humour — and his latest is no exception.

But the story is grim. Mac is a violent prisoner who has killed his wife, and is now nearing the end of his sentence. One of the things that keeps him going is an old photo of his little girl, aged about three and a bit, which he keeps on his cell wall. When he finally gets out after being incarcerated for 20 years, he begins a search to find her. She meanwhile has problems of her own. Having grown up in care, and called Scratch, she is surviving as a thief, “a feral wolf child”, living with a guy called Ramon. Then she meets JayJayJay, another free spirit, and they fall in love. But, as the title alerts us, Mac’s violence passes down the generations — and both young women are soon in danger.

This is one of those short plays, told in three narrative voices, that roars into your head and then echoes around your cranium, mugging the brain cells and scraping the bone. Its emotional charge of aggression and sexuality reminds us of the wildness of the human spirit. Usually concealed and suppressed by our polite normality, this feeling of uncontrolled craziness lurks not only on the periphery of society (who’s that shouting in the street at night?), but also in each of our souls (who could I become if I followed my Id?). This jagged passion is both enviable and abhorrent. You desire it, but avoid it. Want it, but fear it. Love it, but run from it. Yes, that’s the emotional fuel of Burnt-Up Love.

And burns it does. Walker’s text mixes streetsmart realism, fierce and funny feelings, with poetic moments and baroque formulations. At one point, the language is demotic, at another, it sounds almost Edwardian. The sensibility is pained trauma punctuated by surreal flashes and comic book vividness. Demotic phrases such as “wot?” and “summat” are followed, then pushed aside, by sharp images, maybe of ants drowning in milk and blood. Animal imagery stalks the streets; there’s a smell of cooking flesh. Asked by JayJayJay who her parents were, Scratch says, “I’m an amoeba.” Alone in the world she is drifting downstream, on her way to a becoming. Becoming what? We don’t know.

But as well as these verbal pictures, which remind me of the best of Philip Ridley, Walker also includes a lot of emotional intelligence, showing the vulnerability behind the young women’s bravado, the slide from energy into lethargy, from crazed violence to debilitating depression. His analysis of prison life, with a sharp criticism of the myth of the Alpha male, is likewise right on the nose. And his view of Mac’s sentimental attachment to a child he hasn’t seen for decades, and doesn’t know, which is his way of surviving incarceration, is surely credible. This is a play about how the disadvantaged, the distressed, the desperate live in our society. It is not a documentary, but its picture of the emotional and psychological make-up of outsiders is powerfully true.

This production features a programme note by Crispin Horner about reintegrating prisoners into society in the UK. It is full of disturbing facts: reoffending rates are around 27%, rising to 38% for those whose sentences are less than 12 months. The estimated cost of this social and justice system failure is between £9.5 billion and £13 billion every year. Depressing figures about a depressing reality. But although these facts provide a good background to Walker’s play, the drama is anything but an example of social realism. Burnt-Up Love’s vibe rings with the harsh inevitability of Ancient Greek tragedy rather than the more bland considerations of liberal journalism. It’s fictional, therefore more symbolically true than factual.

Walker both directs and acts in this production, which has a bare set by designed Juliette Demoulin, with pedestals where lit candles provide the only light in this dark tale. Running at a brisk 70 minutes, the play takes place in a crepuscular gloom which at first is irritating because you can’t see the faces of the actors clearly, and so their beautiful physical movements, choreographed by Billy Medlin, are almost ghostly. Gradually, this frustration recedes and the darkness of the setting draws you in like some underworld of black thoughts and bleak experiences. Walker has literally created a gateway into a different world, darker and more savage than any normal city street and flat. The prefect setting for a story that shows how violence is passed down the generations — socially not genetically.

Joining Walker, whose Mac is wryly monomaniacal, strong and fatalistic, are Joanne Marie Mason and Alice Walker. Mason’s Scratch has a fiercesome energy which is matched by Walker’s slightly more restrained but equally passionate JayJayJay. With their bodies creating physical sculptures, the young women dominate the stage, suggesting the depths of trauma as well as the joys of electric sex. At one point they dance with sparklers, at another they dash around in fury. Victims of care and Youth Offending institutions, the music by Uchenna Ngwe and Sheila Atim lifts their stories to the heights of romance and occasionally melodrama (in a good way). By the end, there’s a real feeling of redemption. Yes, Burnt-Up Love is that rare thing — a shining gem of a show.

• Burnt Up Love is at the Finborough Theatre until 23 November.

The full version of the article Ché Walker’s Burnt-Up Love at the Finborough Theatre: Crime and Redemption In A Shining Gem Of A Show is available on The Theatre Times.

It is the 24th of September 2024 in İstanbul, and I’m finding my way through the curvy streets of Galata to reach Asmalı Sahne, an alternative-independent blackbox space that was established in the early 2010s, rooted within the exciting alternative theatre movement of the previous decade. I run my last few steps to make it at the time to the early preview of Susanna Fournier’s Ghosts of My House, directed by Büke Erkoç and performed by Berfin Ertan, Tamar Çıtak, Öykü Eraslan, Beril Çelik. Ghosts of My House is a text that deals with intergenerational family trauma, loss, grief, and unprocessed rage, by focusing on the women of a contemporary white middle-class Torontonian family with some dark humor. The play was previously performed under the name Always Still the Dawn in the 2022-2023 season in İstanbul’s DasDas theatre, within its double bill form, which included two interconnected plays: All the Ways You Scare Me and Ghosts of My House. For the upcoming 2024-2025 season the group decided to revisit the play and start performing Ghosts of My House as a separate play after a minor cast change. I was invited to this early preview as the Turkish-language editor of Susanna Fournier’s play book in Turkish, Always Still the Dawn, translated by Büke Erkoç initially for the 2022-2023 season in DasDas.

Photo credit: Büke Erkoç. Performers: (from left to right) Tamar Çıtak, Berfin Ertan, Beril Çelik, Öykü Eraslan.

To start with: I think what Erkoç is doing in Turkey is quite precious. Considering that almost only exposure of Turkey to the Canadian theatre canon prior to Erkoç’s recent efforts were translations of two plays by two white male playwrights, namely David French and George F. Walker (translated by Turgut A. Akter initially for a 1994 Mitos Boyut Publication); it is undeniably a feminist and activist effort that Erkoç takes onto herself to introduce at least some (white) female playwrights from Canada to Turkey (the other play that Erkoç translated and I edited is Mouthpiece by Amy Nostbakken and Norah Sadava). This exposure undeniably gives some insight to audiences in İstanbul about what it means to be a woman in Anglophone Canada, no matter how much of a privileged status one might have. Erkoç’s strategic trials to bridge theatre fields of Turkey and Canada remind me of the 2005-2012 experiments of the famous DOT Theatre in İstanbul^[1]For an analysis of this era, see pages 91-137 of this MA thesis., which carefully curated a selection of contemporary UK-based plays and brought in a raw, violent and confrontational aesthetics that shook my generation to its core and challenged our ways of thinking about theatre. Only years later, and after my own immigration experience to Canada, I now see that their curation was quite white-centric. Erkoç, an artist from a much younger generation with more decolonial sensibilities, recently started another major translation project to bring BIPOC and queer playwrights’ voices from Canada to Turkey (including Djarnet Sears, Art Babayants, Jovanni Sy, and Jordan Tannahill); which proves that she has learned from the model that DOT Theatre established about bridging cultures, but she will not repeat their mistakes of re-canonizing whiteness (exclusively) as universal.

After this opening, I also need to mention that Fournier’s text constructs a theatre aesthetics that I know well from the Toronto scenes, which is a style that I don’t particularly feel fond of. The play, in general, doesn’t take me inside its world until the very last twist at its final moments, since my exposure to Anglo-Canadian whiteness and North American white feminism alienates me too much from the struggles of the characters depicted in the play. For most of the İstanbul audiences, a certain lack of exposure to whiteness in its own context of power allows many to experience the performance through a feminist sensibility instead of an alienating racial-colonial cringe. Despite my own particular experience with the script, I should also give credit to Fournier’s perspective: she does a rare thing for Canadian theatre when her script full frontally challenges patriarchal-capitalism, by exposing how structures of capitalism are internally tied to the sustainability of patriarchy and how this particular brand of North American patriarchal-capitalism decays familial relationships, impacting especially women’s psyches and bodies. This is why, as a deeply gendered illness, anorexia appears as a major theme through the play, which Fournier’s character describes as “inverted capitalism” because “capitalism seeks expansion, whereas anorexia seeks contraction” (Fournier, Always Still the Dawn, Unpublished text).

Poster: Ghosts of my House, for the 2024-2025 theatre season.

Fournier’s text challenges me ideologically (which is my overall motivation to go to theatre) only through its twist at the end of the play, which became particularly strong when I saw the performance. This happens when the performance breaks the frame of a narrow dysfunctional family story and comments on the ecological state of the world, and invites the audience to “do what they can do”; reminding Voltaire’s famous ending to Candide: “we must cultivate our garden”. Centuries later, Fournier agrees with Voltaire, and I do agree with them, too – despite keeping my critical position on not distributing the guilt and shame of planetary crises equally. Perhaps Fournier mildly suggests this too, through introducing mythology as a knowledge system to understand the world in her text. I think this front could have been stronger though; because not every individual, community, peoples have the same equal amount of responsibility in the planetary crimes committed, and the ones who are hurt the most are generally the ones who contributed the least to the current regime of global ecocides.

What I am most interested in this production in İstanbul is how, first, Erkoç, and then through following her lead, the entire ensemble domesticated this Canadian play with (white) feminist sensibilities, a very particular anti-capitalist stance, and an interventionist ecological perspective. I use the word domesticated here, because the labour that went into making this very foreign text and the very foreign experience that it is rooted in, readable for İstanbul audiences, is actually not an adaptation. It is not an adaptation because the meaning of the text is not radically reimagined and recreated for İstanbul, rather the world of the play is translated into Turkish first and then domesticated in a way that makes the performance readable and relatable to its local audiences. First of all, Erkoç did a very nuanced translation, which almost completely recreated the text in Turkish, yet without letting its poetry slip away. This created a text that is powerful but is clearly a translation, which resulted in a play that is a challenging read for a Turkish reading public. The performance, though, is a lot less challenging to interpret because the team translated the text within their bodies too: they domesticated a foreign experience through their physicality and sense of humor. The actors not only speak in Turkish but act in the cultural codes of the Turkish speaking public which makes the staging legible for the local audiences. Furthermore, the team turned the names of the characters in the play into Turkish names, which mildly placed the story to somewhere in the secular-Western fronts of İstanbul, which aligns with the audience profile of İstanbul.

Photo credit: Büke Erkoç. Performers: (from left to right) Öykü Eraslan and Berfin Ertan, within the setup of the tragic party.

After the play we have a post-show talk with Erkoç and the ensemble on the stage, surrounded by the performative remains of the show. I explicitly ask Erkoç and the team about their dramaturgical labor and overcoming the hardships of domesticating the play. Erkoç comments on the fact that, one of the major points of interest for her and her team that drew them into making this play in İstanbul was how the play was centered exclusively upon mother-daughter and sister relationships. It is true that in the global patriarchal canon of art and literature, we get to see many father-son and brother relationships, and not so much mother-daughter and sister relationships. Fournier’s work here also creates intertextual bridges with the Western dramatic canon’s strong female characters – all written by men – from Checkov’s three smart but dysfunctional sisters who we see partly reflected in the sisters portrayed in the play, to Ibsen’s dangerously imploding Hedda Gabler which is portrayed partly in the mother figure.

Photo credit: Büke Erkoç. Performer: Tamar Çıtak as the mother, playing with the pistols she inherited from her father who was in the military (just like Hedda Gabler).

When it comes to introducing the physical comedy and very beautifully crafted little added lines that came through long-term improvs (such as “Inshallah” – “Amin” duo in a moment when a character talks about her wishes; or the moment in which sisters share blood stained chips after a violent family tragedy, soothing themselves by saying “it should be okay, it is family blood at the end”), the cast points at performer Berfin Ertan as a generator of humor. Most of the cast performed on a professional stage for the first time with this play in 2022 in their early twenties, and they are now approaching their mid-twenties. During these two years cast members experienced losses and an ever-growing economic crisis in Turkey, which made them understand some of the struggles of the characters in a much deeper and embodied way. Erkoç also notes that she was much more limiting as a director in the first run of the show when it came to improvisations, because she was feeling that the cast had not internalized the play enough yet to improvise within the universe of the play. In 2024, the ensemble has grown into the world of the play, making a home for their young and upcoming ensemble. When I explicitly ask each performer what they liked about the play enough to invest in it so much, the answers vary in unexpected ways. Beril Çelik notes that it was good for her to see a nuanced approach in feminism that does not blame individuals for the socio-historically structured workings of patriarchy. Ertan notes that she finds it exciting that such a tragic story is told within the setup of a party.

Photo credit: Büke Erkoç. Performers: Tamar Çıtak, Berfin Ertan, Beril Çelik, Öykü Eraslan.

This party is a dramaturgical framework developed by Erkoç based on a reference to a celebration that characters reflect on in the aftermath of a major family tragedy, which sets up the dark humor of the performance. Beril Çelik and Tamar Çıtak note how a ghost is given a voice to tell her own perspective on stage instead of being spoken about, almost in a way that allows the “subaltern speak”. Beril Çelik and Öykü Eraslan both note the freshness of the post-dramatic text’s poetry for them, as young and emerging artists in İstanbul. They note that what they found particularly interesting was how this poetry was written in a dialogic form that moves the theatrical action instead of halting it.

Photo credit: Şilan Akmanlı. Talk back session: (from left to right) Berfin Ertan, Öykü Eraslan, Beril Çelik, Tamar Çıtak, Deniz Başar, Büke Erkoç.

As a final note Erkoç mentioned that what they were doing at this point is perhaps a bit of “dirtying” of the text, which loosens its sterile Torontonian aesthetics, and white Canadian rhetoric. Ertan then noted that she is excited to see how “the text will be further dirtied.” It is clear that Erkoç did a remarkable job to make the ensemble blossom in their collective and nuanced dramaturgical creativity. I look forward to how this young ensemble, under the direction of Erkoç, will continue to bridge two vastly different theatre fields in the coming decades.

The full version of the article “Ghosts of My House” In İstanbul: A Contemporary Canadian Play Out Of Context Or Domesticating Whiteness is available on The Theatre Times.

When the premiere performance of the play 1981, directed by Tomi Janežič, began at the Novi Sad Theatre/Újvidéki Színház, time stood still. A milky way of new theatrical movements opened up. The piece, which is the result of the workshop-like, laboratory work of the actors and the director, brings the abstract into the concrete, ravishingly orbiting the city of Novi Sad. The epicentre is the year 1981. However, numerous concentric circles radiate outward, reflecting the changes of generations and the rebirth of people within this chronotope. Numerous confluences of happy and unfortunate circumstances unfold before the audience; beautiful everyday life is spun, and human beings dissolve in plain sight, revealing the elemental in a person and the rawness of the human soul.

The gradually researching and group-questioning performance, which equally concerns the theatre and the auditorium, shows the ironies of faith, cases that turn out to be necessities, shifts of day and night, generations, systems, wigs, mise-en-scène solutions and film frames. The absolute theatrical soul and distinctive collective artistic consciousness stood entirely on the small stage of the Novi Sad Theatre, in the scenography of Branko Hojnik, in the reconstruction of the former celebrations hall of the Hotel Novi Sad (built in the same year 1981 as SPENS, the Bridge of Freedom and the Serbian National Theatre). This era was one of prosperity for both the city and the entire country—the zenith of development that began long ago, following the previous demolition of everything, after which everything would suddenly collapse again, in order to build anew. The city has a soul, much like every individual. It is born, develops, dies, and is reborn. Then there was a fierce collision of completely different shapes and dimensions of reality, cars and boats, trailers and tents, opposites in styles and colours of costumes, contrasts in the rhythms of disco and tap music, and diversity in melodies from cassettes and radio receivers.

1981 directed by Tomi Janežič at Novi Sad Theatre/Újvidéki Színház

The multi-layered directorial perspectives and acting performances are built on the basis of collective memory, placing on the stage wall – a colourful calendar and a picture of a leading statesman, on the dining table – a Teflon pan and smuggled clothes from Italy, in front of the audience – a group portrait of a Hungarian-Serbian family whose members have the same names like the actors playing in the play. The joyous speed of movement in the play is Terezia Figura, whose childhood is already reflected in the inscription on the tombstone, birth – dying – rebirth in descendants. Silvia Križan has a lethargic and sad expression in the piece. The synthesis, the symbiosis of contrasts, and the union of the opposites of the two sisters are unbridled, roaring laughter and incessant, bitter tears. A big, harmless look, a harsh seriousness and a slow walk, which is immediately followed by the joker’s smile of the inimitable Aron Balaž, who strips each moment of his stage appearance with his supernatural artistic skill and sensibility. The definition of ease of acting, artistic sincerity and immediacy is expressed by Boris Isaković in his acting. Acting tandem Balaž – Isaković, the collaborative scenes of these bards are such that you will laugh to tears. The subtlety of Jasna Đuričić will realize superb transformations. The strong technique and gentle expression of Emina Elor stand on the stage, along with the soft voice, fierce musical taste, and talent of Bence Salai. The two create a powerful stage marriage dynamic. The unpredictability of character and powerful acrobatics will give birth to Arpad Mesaroš. Dream worlds will be played by Gabriela Crnković. The hidden nature of Agota Ferenc, the youthful spirit of Gabor Pongo, the facial acting expression of Daniel Gomboš, the surprising dancing skill of Daniel Husta, and the meditative power of stillness of Deneš Debrei, all these and all of them are the creators of a rapturous, collective, fictitious creation based on the deepest truths about the world and people, about love and reciprocity.

1981 directed by Tomi Janežič at Novi Sad Theatre/Újvidéki Színház

The director himself sits among the spectators, unobtrusively, emotionally and intellectually leading the play. It emanates pure beauty and pure goodness hidden behind banal situations. He builds bridges—even broken ones—based on an inner artistic instinct, connecting people and worlds. Heals with meaning. He is the master of light, although the play is performed under full lights in the auditorium the entire time. His actors directly address the audience and correspond in the first and third person. As if they were performing songs. The director listens to Brecht, and Jerzy Grotowski, while he evokes a new theatre age with his ideas.

Janežič stood out from moralizing, political frameworks, leading roles, empty stories and space. The course of causes and consequences does not affect the actors, they are independent, and firm in their reactions, because each of them finds, deep within themselves, their character. Joy and sadness are mixed through stage sequences from beginning to end. The work and the body communicate and the extreme differences begin to resemble each other until they merge into one powerful theatrical whole. And the world is again as it was and how it is. Beautiful. In direction.

1981 directed by Tomi Janežič at Novi Sad Theatre/Újvidéki Színház

Ninety-nine red balloons rise high as we sink, all together, into the deep waters of life today. Time runs fast like on a treadmill. However, it seems as if there is no tomorrow when Donatella Rettore and Olivia Newton-John are heard in the background. The suit is the same for the wedding and the funeral, the collars are imported, the sneakers and glasses are for the mother to see her long-abandoned son. Everything is the costume design of Marina Sremac. As hours from the present and years from the past pass, the scene is deeper and more substantial, its gravitational field of meaning is so strong that it draws everything into itself. Through a small window with red velvet curtains, you can see the bright future of the new theatre, which began with this play.

The full version of the article “1981” directed by Tomi Janežič at Novi Sad Theatre is available on The Theatre Times.

One day, Laura Jones was late to pick up her three-year-old daughter, Amy. Not a happy moment for the little girl, Jones’s tardiness would have a major impact on her career as a director. For the other passenger in her car was one Alan Schneider, whom Jones was chauffeuring around Denver, Colorado, in 1983. It was Amy’s completely justified attitude that altered, in Jones’s words, a “kind of a diva” Schneider into a “very lovely person.”^[1]Laura Jones, interview by author, July 11, 2024. Jones’s quotations are from my Zoom interview with her. Jones also provided me with archival documents, papers, and images to assist me in the … Continue reading

“She’s so angry,” Jones said, remembering her daughter’s reaction. “I was late again. . . . and Schneider found this hysterical. I mean, he really thought it was hilarious, and he, he melted. . . . So we bonded in a number of ways. . . . I got to know the man both onstage and off, and it was really quite pleasurable.”

Jones got the job as driver because she was a little older than the other graduate students at the University of Denver, where the Tony Award-winning director was guest lecturing in the theater department. Jones heard through the grapevine that she was one of only two students that impressed Schneider with the ability to be future directors. Jones took an interest in Schneider’s work and began attending some of his productions of Samuel Beckett’s plays (not, incidentally, her first love). At that point, Jones decided to approach Schneider and ask if she could write her doctoral dissertation on his directing of Samuel Beckett.

That was forty years ago. This past June, Jones, an Alton, Illinois, native, announced her retirement from directing. I was fortunate to see her final production—Waiting for Godot—at the Bas Bleu in Fort Collins, Colorado. My review of that show appears in the Fall 2024 issue of the Beckett Circle, but Jones’s retirement merits more attention than an estimation of her final play. As I learned in Fort Collins, she and a number of her colleagues have made Beckett a staple in that region of the United States.

Schneider gave Jones his permission to write about him. An eager Jones went to New York to see more of his work, including productions with Billie Whitelaw. Unfortunately, their time was cut very short. Only a few months after Jones started work on the dissertation, Schneider died in London, England. Jones only moved forward at the urging of her department. “Part of me said, ‘I don’t want to do this.’ . . . But my advisors at the University of Denver would not hear of it. . . . [They said], ‘You had his permission. Nobody else is going to have his permission again . . . so you need to run with this,’” Jones said. Run she did, interviewing the likes of Jean Schneider, Hume Cronyn, Jessica Tandy, John Lahr, and Edward Albee. “I think they were more candid about Alan because he was gone,” Jones said.

Jones earned her Ph.D. in Theater in 1989. In fact, she was the last student to do so, since the university closed the department while she was still completing her dissertation on Schneider and teaching speech and theater full-time at a community college. She then took a temporary teaching position at Colorado State University, later receiving tenure.

Top from left: James Burns as Vladimir and Dan Tschirhart as Estragon. Below: Matthew Smith as Pozzo (front) and Ryan Wilke-Braun as Lucky. Bas Bleu Theatre, Fort Collins, Colorado. Photo by William A. Cotton, courtesy of the Bas Bleu Theatre.

Jones learned much from Schneider, including the importance of art and image in Beckett’s work.^[2]Jones discusses Schneider’s theories of music, art, and image in the introduction to her dissertation. See Laura Jones, Introduction, in Alan Schneider’s Direction of Selected Monologue Works by … Continue reading Schneider also taught her about the need to provide specific circumstances for actors to do their thing.^[3]For a fuller discussion, see Jones, Introduction, 8-18. She makes sure to point out that she is not a publishing scholar; rather, she calls herself a “research practitioner.” She appreciates scholarly readings of Beckett’s work and has been part of many academic conferences, but she sees a difference between an interpretation on paper and a production on the boards. “I would take the research and then try to apply it in practice,” Jones said.

Jones indeed has been a practitioner. Throughout the 1990s, she produced a number of Beckett plays, some at CSU but others at the Petite Bas Bleu (the original incarnation of what is now the Bas Bleu). She met one of the key people of her theater life in Wendy Ishii, co-founder with Eva Wright of the Petite Bas Bleu. In an email, Ishii writes of Jones, “Laura takes huge risks and tackles challenging works. . . . Many of our awards and international acclaim can be attributed to Laura’s direction, academic research, and deep commitment to the craft.”^[4]Wendy Ishii, email message to author, July 22, 2024. Perhaps their most important work together was Happy Days. Jones directed, and Ishii starred. Beckett scholar Linda Ben-Zvi, who was a member of the CSU English Department at the time, loved the production. “Long story short, she [Ben-Zvi] was blown away. She really thought that Wendy had nailed it,” Jones said. Ben-Zvi encouraged Jones and Ishii to present Happy Days at a major Beckett conference in Toronto, Canada.^[5]For a review of the production, see Eric Prince, “Review: Happy Days, directed by Laura Jones, with Wendy Ishii as Winnie and Morris Burns as Willie, staged by Bas Bleu Theatre (Colorado State … Continue reading

Her Endgame in a swimming pool might be the most bizarre of Jones’s creations. Jones stumbled upon the venue—an abandoned indoor pool at CSU filled with old furniture and random items—haphazardly. She and her students then went to work. “And what we did was we created this stage, this space, for Endgame with the found objects in the space, so it was found objects in a found space,” Jones said. Of the acoustics, Jones said, “The sound. The sound was amazing because it was like singing in the shower, you know? . . . and we put the play in the deep end, and the audience sat in the shallow end, natural rake.”

Jones gained a reputation and soon directed a stage production of Beckett’s short 1980s text Ill Seen Ill Said in Kent, England, at the request of Ruby Cohn and Ben-Zvi for the International Foundation for Theatre Research. Jones produced the play with the set design skills of Robert Braddy and help from her daughter (upset Amy now a teenager). The audience contained a number of major Beckett scholars, including James Knowlson, to whom Jones credits much of her success. “I was scared to death. I mean, I just thought, this is the best we got, guys,” Jones said. She was soon relieved when she saw Cohn “with tears in her eyes, and she just gives me this gigantic hug,” Jones said.

Eric Prince, another of Jones’s colleagues in theater at CSU and Beckett scholar, established the Center for Beckett Studies in 2002. In 2008, the Center co-sponsored The Beckett Project. Jones directed Happy Days, Play, Rough for Theatre II, Ill Seen Ill Said, and A Piece of Monologue (she involved CSU students in some of these productions), and Knowlson delivered a talk on Happy Days and modern art. Jones used some of Knowlson’s research for her Beckett Project productions, which experimented with Beckett’s original ideas. For example, Jones said Caravaggio influenced their use of light on the stage. Ever a research practitioner, Jones shared her experimentations with other scholars at a conference in Santiago, Chile.

From left: Ryan Wilke-Braun as Lucky, Matthew Smith as Pozzo, James Burns as Vladimir, and Dan Tschirhart as Estragon in Waiting for Godot. Bas Bleu Theatre, Fort Collins, Colorado. Photo by William A. Cotton, courtesy of the Bas Bleu Theatre.

Throughout her career, Jones has ventured beyond Beckett and produced musicals and children’s theater. She retired from teaching in 2018, but she had yet other aspirations as a director. I count myself lucky to have attended her last effort on the stage, Waiting for Godot at the Bas Bleu. I asked her about some of her choices, including references to Russia and the inclusion of a railway cart. What I learned is that Jones is not a stern, Pozzo-like director or one whose vision others must not interfere with. Quite the opposite: she gives credit to her team and listens to their ideas. She has a vision and clear ideas of where to commence, but she’s also a “what if?” type. “I don’t know exactly how I want to do this. I just know I don’t want to do it the way it’s always been done, alright?” Jones said.

Jones referenced Richard Eyre’s theories of Beckett and Brecht as she developed her Godot. She also asked questions Schneider taught her to ask: “How do you perform the act of waiting unless you’ve got some place to wait?” Jones said. Part of Jones’s doctrine is to provide actors with some precision rather than total ambiguity.

Regarding Russia, Jones explained her thinking: “Yeah, maybe these guys were fleeing Ukraine. Who knows? . . . I didn’t want to be blatant about it. I wanted that to be, if anything, very subconscious, and I certainly didn’t want to put it in the program notes and say, ‘Okay, look for this.’” In the end, Russia served as a “unifying nub or core.”

The handcart at center stage was the idea of scenic designer Roger Hanna. Jones expounded on its purpose: “[I]t took me a while to realize that it was the stone, it was the rock,” referring to Beckett’s revised text.^[6]Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot: Revised Text, in The Theatrical Notebooks of Samuel Beckett Vol. 1: Waiting for Godot, eds. James Knowlson and Dougald McMillan, Grove, 2019, 9. Jones also said the cart was an impetus for drama, “to give [the characters] an obstacle.”

With the same spirit that yielded Endgame in a defunct pool, Jones saw Godot to fruition. “[B]y the end of the run, I was like, I’m satisfied. I am. I am satisfied with this production,” Jones said.

The most extraordinary event, however, occurred during the rehearsal process. After a particularly bad day for some of the cast and crew, they came in the following day to see actual leaves had grown on the supposedly dead tree they cut down from Ishii’s property and planted in the floor of the Bas Bleu. “Overnight, overnight, it had sprung leaves!” Jones said. “I was like, Sam, what are you doing?”

The full version of the article Director Laura Jones’ Career-Long Exploration Of Beckett Concludes With “Godot” is available on The Theatre Times.