Film, liveness, archives

Nyatt School Redux

In the aftermath of our archiving project CHECKPOINT, and recent work like SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA that has blended theatre and film, I've been thinking more about the potential in the relationship between the two art forms. We tend to think of theatre as the live form - less stable, more unpredictable - and film as the finished product that is pretty much the same wherever it goes. But I'm not so sure any more.

Back in April, while the CHECKPOINT project was running, I went to see a performance by the legendary American company The Wooster Group at the Coronet Theatre in West London. It was called NYATT SCHOOL REDUX, and was a reworking of the same company’s famous piece NYATT SCHOOL, originally performed in 1978. Both pieces were directed by Elizabeth LeCompte, and featured Kate Valk. The 1978 play had been co-created by the great Spalding Gray, and the opening scene marked his first foray into the autobiographical monologue form for which he was to become celebrated. What was fascinating for me was the way in which the new play was generated from a dialogue with the old one, featuring archival material which was sometimes re-created and sometimes questioned. At the start of the performance, Kate Valk (50 years older than she was when she appeared in the original work) showed the audience some newly-restored archival videos of Gray’s opening monologue from the original production. In it, Gray described his early work in theatre and played vinyl records from his own archival collection, including an LP of T.S. Eliot’s THE COCKTAIL PARTY, featuring Sir Alec Guinness. 

Somewhere behind Gray’s opening monologue was the memory of his mother’s suicide: Eliot’s play is about the sacrifice of a selfless young woman, and Guinness’s character attempts to make sense of it for the survivors. Somewhere behind the new play, and Valk’s opening monologue which mirrors Gray’s, there is the suicide of Gray himself in 2004. 

The play was incredibly moving. 

All theatre, even the lightest of comedy, is actually on some level about death. That’s because the art form is live, meaning that our experience of it is different from the way we experience a novel, a painting, a film or a poem. The performance exists only in the moment, and then is gone: and this is also true of life itself. The transitory nature of theatre reminds us of our own mortality, and so demands an intensity of attention, an entering into the experience, that transforms that sense of mortality into an embrace of life in its fullness. In the theatre, whether as performer or as audience, you feel very much alive and present.

This could be taken as suggesting that the archiving of performance is an unnecessary, even a futile action, but the Wooster Group’s work demonstrates the contrary. In Spalding Gray’s original monologue, the recorded voice of Alec Guinness served as a trace of a performance that had once been, that could not be experienced again, but that could be archived and remembered. In NYATT SCHOOL REDUX, the grainy black and white video of Gray himself, with its moments of sound loss and its poor focus, made present his very absence. His death was all the more real because of the archiving of his intensely lived performance work. The presentation through performance of that archival material by Kate Valk and Elizabeth LeCompte, now 69 and 82 respectively, was at once an act of mourning and a joyous, comic celebration of life, of theatre, and of the filmic archive.

Suppliants of Syria - Fatima and the actors

SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA was a very different kind of show, but here again the video elements served as stimuli for the live performance, and acquired new energy from the interaction. In one of my favourite moments Fatima, a Syrian woman whom we had interviewed in Turkey, asks a really important question: why do European governments try so hard to stop people fleeing from war, oppression and starvation?  The question was followed by a series of tortuous explanations and silences from the actors, while Fatima's benign presence remained above the stage, exuding a calm wisdom and a profound bafflement. The actors in this piece serve as representatives of the audience, bringing into the public space of theatre the doubts and frustrations so many of us feel around our relationship to the world beyond our borders. In another moment, we used archive footage from the ancient theatre at Palmyra, which ISIS / Daesh used as a place of execution. Here the interaction was with the young actor Tobi, describing his own first experience of theatre, and realising how disturbingly close the thrill of witnessing a performance can be to the horror of public murder. Again, the live performance and the video material interacted in a way that changed the audience's response to each of them, and made something new from the synthesis.

Shab-Nameh

Last week, at the London Film Festival, I saw what was billed as a "live film performance" by the Iranian film-maker Maryam Tafakory. SHAB-NAMEH involved the projection of sequences from archive footage, alongside Tafakory's commentary from the side of the stage. Sometimes she spoke while the film played, sometimes she halted it overtly and deliberately, sometimes a film sequence would end and she would talk for a while in response. Before the event, she had underlined the importance of the moment when many of the texts she spoke were written, and mentioned the date as she got to them. To give just one example, there was a text written on 7th April 2026: the day Trump threatened that "A whole civilisation will die tonight, never to be brought back again. I don’t want that to happen, but it probably will." The text included Tafakory saying that the massacre perpetrated by the Iranian regime in January already seemed very far away. I don't recall her exact words, but they were questioned afterwards by another Iranian woman in the audience, who wanted to emphasise the brutality of the Islamic Republic, and said that the January massacre remained an open wound. Takafory reminded her of the specific timing of the text. She was herself deeply opposed to the regime, and had been horrified by the events in January - but her point was that Trump's threats to the entire Iranian people eclipsed even that. Every other work she had ever made expressed anger against the regime, she explained, but this time it felt necessary to turn her attention elsewhere. 

This isn't something that a "finished" film can do, of course. Once its statement is made, it is unchanging (at least for the author - the way an audience reads it can and does mutate). The introduction of live interaction with filmed material serves to mediate and to contextualise. As soon as film is put into dialogue with theatre, we can see if differently. It becomes a resource, a trace of other lives, a participant in an evolving discourse. At a time when we need to reassert the importance of liveness, this seems a very necessary action. 

Killing Fascists - Sound and Silence

Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists

Last month, I went to see Tiago Rodrigues' extraordinary play Catarina and the Beauty of Killing Fascists at the National Theatre. It was a rare and welcome bit of international programming by the National, even if it was only a week's run in the theatre's smallest space. It felt important that this piece should be seen here. Like most of Europe, indeed most of the world, Britain risks being taken over by the extreme right. Our theatres are being very coy about it.  A wake-up call from Portugal, the European country which had the longest-lasting and most overlooked Fascist dictatorship of them all, felt timely and urgent.

It's a superb piece of work, with many threads running through it. To kill or not to kill. Violence against women and male solidarity with the victims (all the anti-fascist family are called Catrina, all of them wear skirts). Living with the land (a fascist trope turned on its head by the farming family). Critical or journalistic writing has tended to concentrate on the ending, when the kidnapped fascist politician, spared by 26-year old female Catarina's decision not to kill, turns to the audience and delivers a 20-minute monologue packed with right-wing hatred. The UK press concentrated on how, in mainland Europe, that had become the occasion for loud heckling, walk-outs and even a stage invasion. They wrote about this as if those audiences hadn't understood the difference between an actor playing a fascist and a real fascist: and they also expressed a kind of weary disappointment that the same had not happened at the Dorfman. Maybe, they seemed to suggest, this tells us something about the more sophisticated and reserved British theatre audience....

Well maybe. Or maybe it just tells us something about the audience of journalists and theatre management on press night. On the night I went, there was a lot of heckling and booing. Including some heckling in Portuguese. Some people walked out. But none of this was because the audience felt that the play was itself fascistic, or that the actor was a real fascist mouthpiece. Rather, it was because the play demanded that we participate - both theatrically and vocally - and that the passive audience move into a position of performance-making in public space, rather than simply receiving a completed work of art. It was a thrilling expression of liveness.

This understanding has made me think more about the process by which the play brought us to this place, looking at how sound and silence operate within the piece itself, extending from the stage into the entire theatre space and so (hopefully) to the society beyond. As far as I recall, the first voice we hear is the young male Catarina, who speaks directly to the audience - and what he speaks about is silence. Making him a kind of Chorus / Narrator means that we identify with him, watching the other characters through his eyes, hearing them through his ears. But what he tells us is that he has decided to be silent in his life: and for the rest of the play we hear very little from him by way of words. Some commentators have described him as an autistic character, but that misses the point that his silence is elective: he has chosen not to participate directly in the discourses around him. However, he does join in with the lines of Catarina 26 as she tries to deal with her moral dilemma, so drawing us into that process too. What's more, he is wearing headphones, and cues the music ("Musica"), so that the emotional sound world through which we perceive the scenes is also his world. It makes us very aware of our active presence, even as a silent audience, the contradition inherent in the decision to be silent, in political quietude. Decisions are being made that can control the emotional response to the action, and we feel ourselves implicated in those decisions.

There are many short scenes for two or three characters through the two hours that precede the final monologue: but none of those scenes have only those two or three characters on the stage. The picture at the top of this post is from an intense dialectical scene between Catarina 26 and her mother, in which both state their position on political murder, and both are right. But look at the table at Stage Right. Those two other characters are not in the scene - it's a private confrontation between two people. Those others are present as observers, as listeners, as audience. It's a motif that continues throughout. Even the fascist is present and silent from the very start of the play (long before that character is brought to the house by Catarina 26), and during his monologue, the family remains present on the stage. So the act of listening is constantly foregrounded, and the silence of the observer, the silence of the audience, is made inetgral to the play.

That's why the ending tips us into activity, into noise. We cannot remain silent, because silence has been proved inadequate by the very structure of the performance. We cannot remain a passive audience - we have to become actors - both in the sense of performing in the theatre, but also in the sense of becoming politically active. We are forced to acknowledge that we have a role to play in ensuring that the fascist cannot hold the stage.

Marjane Satrapi

 

When Marjane Satrapi died a few weeks ago, I was asked to give an interview about it. I should point out that I didn't know her at all: I guess I was approached for comment because I was known to have done some cultural work involving women in Western Asia. The interview consisted of the journalist sending me written questions, to which I wrote my replies. The published version was made to look like there had been a conversation - a few snippets were quoted. There were comments that suggested I was saying Marjane supported the oppression of women in Iran, when nothing could be further from the truth! So I thought I would like to publish the full piece here.

What was the impact of Marjane Satrapi’s work?

When Persepolis came out, almost a quarter of a century ago now, it was a revelation. In its stark, clear imagery, its direct language and its alternation between episodes of comedy and pathos, this graphic auto-fiction found a completely new way to bring a global readership into direct relationship with this warm, wry and penetratingly intelligent Iranian woman. That overturned a lot of lazy, stereotypical, prejudiced thinking. Europeans and Americans like to construct the woman as victim, and the institutional oppression of women under regimes like the Taliban, Daesh and the Islamic Republic can easily compound that, leading to people talking about Islam as inherently sexist (which it is not), and about Western Asia as a “backward” or “barbaric” place, about people “living in the Middle Ages”. When you hear the voices of women who have lived under those regimes, and recognise their profound commitment to their people, their cultures and their sisters, the sheer depth of their humanity, the articulacy with which they express their ideas - then you start to understand that they are not being oppressed by anything culturally inherent in their societies, but by yet another right-wing patriarchal power grab. 

President Macron said that Marjane Satrapi “turned an Iranian childhood into a universal tale”. On one level that seems nonsensical: her storytelling was very specifically rooted in a set of historical circumstances. But on another level he was kind of right: what she managed to do was to open up the Iranian context so that people who hadn’t experienced it could relate to it emotionally. On a human level.

Why is her loss a tragedy for Iran?

She was way too young to pass away. Only 56. And, as her family said, she died of sadness. Someone who had dealt with sorrow throughout her life had found love and happiness, and when the person she loved passed on, that was more than she could bear. That’s not only a tragedy for just one nation - it’s the tragic nature of humanity exemplified by one of its most beautiful, feeling voices.

Iran is dealing with tragedy on many levels at the moment. The regime that Marjane Satrapi so strongly opposed is still very much in place, and the illegal invasion by Israel and the United States is causing great suffering to the Iranian people. I find it astonishing that even after the Syrian refugee crisis, even after the Gaza genocide, there is still an over-riding narrative that the US and Israel are the good guys, and that they are closer to “us” in terms of values like democracy and freedom. Marjane Satrapi was one of the very rare people who had a platform from which to debunk that. One thing she said in an interview which really resonates with me was when she was asked for a message to the American people, and she emphasised that we should not mentally be dividing the world into countries, into cultures, into East and West. “The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same.” The current moment is only showing us how true that is.

What is her legacy and what were her hopes for her country?

Her legacy is her life - not just as it was lived but as it was articulated, as it was drawn, dramatised and communicated. The way she moulded her life into a beautiful offering for the world. And through that, I hope she leaves a legacy of understanding. I hope people will revisit her writing and drawing and film-making now that she has left us, and feel close to her through what she has expressed. That way we can come closer to other Iranians too.

In terms of her hopes for her country - I think the phrase “Woman, Life, Freedom” encapsulates it pretty well. It’s striking that this phrase works so well in English - look at how “woman” and “freedom” half rhyme, echoing one another so that “life” cuts harshly through the centre with that intense individual “I”, like “knife” and “strife”. Last year I was working on a new play with another brilliant female Iranian artist, Sanam Naderi, who lives in Italy.  I asked her to improvise a speech at a political rally, and she did most of it in a fearsome Persian, before suddenly switching to English and declaiming “Woman, Life, Freedom”.  So this phrase is consciously addressed to a global audience, in the same way that the theatre of apartheid South Africa or the Civil Rights movement deliberately sought out international spaces.  The Iranian regime won’t change because of the current illegal aggression, and it’s unlikely to change positively through a further revolution on the ground. What’s needed is a longer-term cultural shift, rooted in a public discourse, and that requires international dialogue.  That’s something only the artists and the storytellers can do. 

In dialogue with researchers

SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA.  Photo: John Cobb

SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA finally had its first performance run last week at Hoxton Hall, and I'm very happy to say it was really well received. Flo London called it "Impactful theatre...  Necessary theatre", while Beyond the Curtain said it was "a stimulating, confronting and eye-opening piece of theatre". But the best piece of writing about the play was actually written before the author had even seen it, and that's Natasha Remoundou-Howley's programme note. "The stage" she writes "becomes a contested space of citizenship and rights: where belonging, inclusion, and diversity are questioned, scrutinized, and rehearsed. This is theatre that demands visibility because the agents of this claim are refugee women performing their inalienable right to exist, to be heard, and to be seen."

I first encountered Natasha's research and critical writing when I was planning the play, I suppose around 2022. I Googled "Suppliants Aeschylus Syria", and a piece she had written in 2017 appeared. It was called The Suppliants of Syria: Narratives of Displacement and Resettlement in Refugee Performances of Greek Tragedy. So that was where our title came from. Some time later I sent Natasha a note via her Academia page, thanking her for the article and explaining what we were up to. Over a year passed, and I thought no more about it, until in September 2025 I got a very apologetic reply: Natasha had somehow missed seeing the message, and was excited to hear more. We met in Dublin, and now she's a board member of our Irish company!

Revisiting that original article today, I realise it's not so preoccupied with Aeschylus' Suppliants as I had thought. The play is discussed, but the main focus of the piece is on some other contemporary pieces of theatre which are based on Greek models, and which involve female Syrian refugees. One of these, Queens of Syria, I saw when it came to London in 2016. I also made use of the film version as part of our workshop for THE PROMISED LAND in 2018, with Zoe Lafferty, who had directed the London staging, coming to talk to our group. Natasha's article recounts how this was largely a platform for testimony, and how its international reach foundered when the US refused artistic visas to the women on the grounds that they were refugees living in Jordan.

That was in 2014. Two years after that, the EU-Turkey deal brought brought about a situation where the vast majority of Syrian refugees cannot travel at all. I came to understand the background and details of this cruel policy through a dialogue with another academic friend, İlke Şanlıer who leads the Migration Research Centre at Çukurova University in Adana, Turkey, and who became our co-producer for the play. The fact that the women were confined to Turkey shaped both the subject of our play and its form. As in Queens of Syria there is specific personal testimony - but for our project it was impossible for this to be delivered directly from the stage. Instead we had to film the women's interviews, and this necessity came to symbolise the wider issues of exclusion and othering which surround the discourse on migration. This in turn led to the use of the Greek theatre model - three professional performers set against a large community Chorus - to create our dramaturgical structure. 

It’s important for our work that we should be self-aware in making the piece, and so move the audience towards a similar reflexivity. Simply putting a refugee’s personal story on stage does make a statement, but as an intercultural theatre company we also need to consider the act of watching, the role of the spectator, and so the role of the society in which the event is happening. A carefully considered contextualisation deepens the meaning of the testimony: without this, it is far too easy for a British or European audience to become self-satisfied in the mere act of listening to people from the Arab region. In the case of Syrian people confined to Turkey by the EU-Turkey deal, there is a real responsibility to be considered, and this goes much deeper than the specifics of one particular situation. Why do Europeans exclude people from the region? Why the  prejudice? Why the constant assertion of superiority? Why the fear?

Facing these questions in dialogue with the material offered to us by the Syrian women, we found ourselves making a piece which confronted the rise of fascism across the world, across Europe, and particularly in our own communities. We realised that there is nothing specifically Arabic or Islamic about the institutional cruelties practised and indeed performed by ISIS: this sort of fascistic tendency is present in our own society, and made manifest in the prejudices displayed against refugees, the demonisation of Islam, and the attitude which many men continue to display towards women. 

At the centre of the performance was a debate with the audience, and I think that symbolised the way in which the play placed itself within a discourse. I'm incredibly grateful to the researchers who helped to generate that. 

The Death of the Mask-Maker

Masks for Aeschylus' Suppliants by Thanos Vovolis

A few months ago, I had an online chat with the Greek designer Thanos Vovolis. I had been thinking about the use of masks in Ancient Greek theatre, wanting to employ them in SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA. Thanos is a superb mask maker, and his approach is rooted in deep research, both archival and practical. It was Thanos who really developed an understanding that the Greek theatrical mask was more like a helmet than a face covering, and that its internal echo was what made it a powerful resonator for the voice in open-air spaces. “It was designed for epic, mythic communication”, he said to me, “for the gods to call across the mountains.”

Thanos is very conscious of just how anachronistic the mask has become, even in his own lifetime. Hyper-naturalism is the fashion now, even in the avant-garde, and there is a deep distrust of mythic scale. As the Epstein controversy shows, we relish the mundanity, the squalor of those who dare to lead us. No gods and heroes now. 

There is one exception to this prevailing theatrical trend, and that is the Théâtre du Soleil, under its extraordinary octogenarian director Ariane Mnouchkine. As Thanos said to me, Mnouchkine’s work, which is always rooted in the mask, seeks to find the sacred even in the grubby histories of the present age. Working with the actors of the Soleil in CRE-ACTORS and THE LEGEND OF EUROPA, I’ve also realised how much the company’s use of mask (coupled with costume and props) emphasises the materiality from which a character emerges. It’s a Marxian approach at the same time as it’s a mythic one. As Peter Brook used to say, a theatre that combines the Holy and the Rough. 

A masked performer in Mnouchkine's L'Ile d'Or

On February 14th, Erhard Stiefel, who had been the Théâtre du Soleil’s mask maker for many years, passed away. He was, of course, still working to the end. He wasn’t particularly famous or noticed - unlike Mnouchkine or musician Jean-Jacques Lemêtre, he was not to be seen nightly at the Cartoucherie. He worked quietly in the background. But Mnouchkine constantly impresses upon the actors that the masks are “nos maîtres” (our masters). Their holiness is what enables the characters’ spirits to enter into the performers’ bodies.

Five days later, on February 19th, Ariane Mnouchkine finally announced that she would have a successor as director at the Théâtre du Soleil: Sylvian Creuzevault.  She is approaching her 87th birthday, so retirement has been on the cards for a while. But two things struck me about her timing. One was that she made the announcement in a speech that was also a response to the accusations of sexual harassment and cult-like behaviour that have been made against her company in the media - accusations that all the company members I know regard as malicious. (There's a useful analysis of this here). To be dragged into the world of the petty would not appeal to Ariane. The second was just how quickly the announcement came after the passing of Erhard Stiefel. Without that high priest of her theatre, the creator of the sacred, the lone figure emerging from the stillness of the Holy of Holies with the actors’ spiritual masters in this hands - without Stiefel, Mnouchkine’s practice must, of necessity, come to rest.  

There are other mask makers, of course. Thanos is a great one, and so is Erin Jacques, who has made the beautiful pieces we are putting on stage this week. But after decades of intimate collaboration, it feels right that at this moment, she should finally step away. 

Performing Possibility

Over the last year, Border Crossings Ireland has been leading a European Youth project called PERFORMING POSSIBILITY, working with our great friends at Teatro dell'Argine and Opera di Padre Marella in Bologna, and with the YMCA in Cork. This post takes the form of a conversation between Brenda Musiani, who works at Opera di Padre Marella, Rowan Mohan who travelled to Bologna from Cork, and two young Afghan sisters who now live in Italy: Om Hani and Hosna Yalani.

Brenda: I will start with some questions. What did you expect from the project? What was your idea of the project at the beginning? 

Rowan: I think it was a way of capturing what is like living in Europe, with young people's experiences from all over the world, whether that is people who were born in Europe or people from outside Europe coming to live in Europe. Sharing our experiences, finding similarities and differences, sharing our stories and what is like for us. 

Om Hani: The first idea of the project was the idea of meeting people from outside Italy, sharing our ideas, getting to know each other and know other cultures. 

Brenda: Do you think that meeting with people from different countries and sharing ideas strengthen our sense of belonging to Europe? 

Rowan: Definitely. I think it is really important to put different countries in communication and for everyone to see different experiences. Because without that we’re isolated, we only have our own view and things can’t be done on our own. We need a community to bring change, and I think change is important in Europe. 

Hosna and Om Hani: We agree! 

Brenda: It is very important to share thoughts and to really be together: also to be physically in one place to connect with people. 

Rowan: I think it was really important to capture that in the digital outputs, so more people can see it. And it was good from my perspective. I have experience in digital media, but Hosna and Om Hani, what was it like to have that experience with digital creativity and to have to deal with creating content?

Hosna: It was our first time doing this kind of activity, where we were the ones that needed to create the digital output. Also it is the first time that we have participated in a project like this, where people from other countries come here. It was interesting and we learned a lot of new things. 

Rowan: I have to say that one of my favourite experiences in Bologna was capturing the interviews with both of you. It was very impactful to get that account of your experiences and thank you so much for sharing that. I think that if it was the only piece of media captured in the entire week, I would have been happy with that. 

Hosna: We also had a great time with you, and we also want to say thank you. 

Rowan: I think it was really important to capture your story, not only for us but also for other people to hear and to know. It was really impactful. 

Brenda: We really can see the importance of doing all these things, for us in the project but also for all the people that will see our digital outputs and that will share those. In your opinion, is it important to share all these outputs and to do this kind of projects, also in the perspective of future generations?

Om Hani: Definitely! In this project there were many different cultures and people together, and that was very important to me. I liked the fact that we had the chance to live for a week with people from another country, and did all these activities together. 

Rowan: I completely agree.

Brenda: One last question. What are the reflections that you bring home with you after this project?

Rowan: I think I’m bringing home the perspectives of everyone I met. Seeing so many different cultures and so many people with different perspectives of the world, opinions of where they are in Europe, what being European means... I think I’m coming back home with a wider mind and a wider view of what the world is, what Europe means to other people and what it should be. 

Hosna: I’m bringing home with me the meeting of new people and new cultures. How different people from different countries get along with each other, even with cultural differences. 

Om Hani: I really liked this project because it was very nice to meet people from a different culture and to get to know them. The time spent with each other was really precious since there was no judgement and we could talk openly about our opinions. The most difficult part though was to talk in English, but even if there was a language barrier we did communicate in our own ways.

Brenda: What I see is that you all have similarities in your reflections and that’s a big thing because in my opinion this project now belongs to everyone and it became an experience that you all lived together. 

This project is funded by the Erasmus+ Programme of the European Union. However, European Commission and Irish National Agency cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein. The European Commission support for the production of this publication does not constitute an endorsement of the contents which reflects the views only of the authors, and the Commission cannot be held responsible for any use which may be made of the information contained therein.

2025

THE LEGEND OF EUROPA - Sanam Nederi

Regular readers of this blog (I know you're there - and I'm very grateful!) will know that I usually mark the turn of the year with a review of Border Crossings' activities over the previous 12 months, and a look forward into the New Year. This year it seems a slightly strange exercise, as we've already been devoting time to looking back at our work in our CHECKPOINT project, which marks 2025 as the 30th anniversary of the organisation's founding. At the end of November, we held a celebratory event at Hoxton Hall (video version coming soon), which included a series of short new plays made in response to our past work by the next generation of theatre-makers: pupils at Chiswick School, 6th formers at St Charles College, BA World Performance students from East 15, and MFA students from Rose Bruford. As the evening went on, and the pieces we were re-visiting became more distant from the present, there were new plays by the original artists: Brian Woolland re-visited Anna Kovács from DOUBLE TONGUE, to see what she was doing a quarter of a century on; and Mahesh Dattani wrote BRAVELY FIGHTS THE QUEEN, which brought the warring Trivedi sisters from BRAVELY FOUGHT THE QUEEN back together in the present day. It was one kind of great joy to have Anna performed by the Hungarian film star Dorka Gryllus, alongside Andrew French as Anna's new partner Mark; and another kind of joy to see Harvey Virdi and Siddiqua Akhtar return to the roles they had played in 1996. The final piece was one I wrote myself, to be performed by Nisha Dassyne, my dear wife who has been so crucial to the company's work in so many ways; some very visible, some known only to herself and me. THE DEATH OF PROSPERO revisited THE TEMPEST as performed in India in 1995 (not strictly a Border Crossings project, but undoubtedly the piece that generated the company's ethos and raison d'être), Dev Virahsawmy's adaptation of the same play as TOUFANN, and (more obliquely) THE GREAT EXPERIMENT. "Prospero is dead" it ended. "Where do we go from here?"

CHECKPOINT - Harvey Virdi and Siddiqua Akhtar

The question feels horribly urgent as we move into 2026. The last few decades have seen the dismantling of all the old certainties that Prospero could be held to represent: patriarchy, colonialism, hierarchy.... It's been a necessary process, and one towards which I hope we have made a genuine contribution. But, as Prospero's daughter Kordelia says in her eulogy at his funeral, we have not put anything in their place. It is that absence of vision, that failure of imagination, that has opened a political space into which the radical right has stepped, with increasing confidence and aggression during the year that has just ended. This is a global phenomenon: the Gaza genocide, Russia's ongoing attacks on Ukraine, the besieging of asylum hotels in Essex and elsewhere, the racist march in London, Trump's personalisation and privatisation of the entire American polity - all of these make manifest the total impoverishment of our public discourse, the reduction of human beings to one-word labels which in turn become pretexts for othering, prejudice and violence. As I said when I introduced the CHECKPOINT performance, this is the reason why active and deliberate remembering has become so important today: because the telling of complex, nuanced and engaged histories offers a form of resistance to the reductive and the prejudiced narratives promulgated by the "disruptors". And in resistance, there is also hope.

SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA

So in 2026, we will continue the process of remembering that CHECKPOINT represents. Our archivist, Gary Haines, will put our records into order, while our researcher Dr. Jasmin ‘Ofamo’oni works on the book of the company's history that we'll be publishing during the year. Our next project, SUPPLIANTS OF SYRIA, arrives on the London stage in early March, and this too represents a kind of remembering. Back in 1999, we co-produced another response to Aeschylus' Suppliants, this one dealing with the Kosovo conflict as envisioned by South African writer Tamantha Hammerschlag and Greek director Elli Papakonstantinou. Both that play and the new one make use of an ancient text, the second oldest dramatic text in existence, to enable a fuller, more historicised and ethically informed discourse around current issues of warfare, displacement and gender. Standing in a long tradition of theatre as an enabler of democracy matters deeply right now.  

We'll also be continuing the major European projects that our Irish company has initiated in 2025. THE LEGEND OF EUROPA is another dialogue with the Greeks, in this case a set of contemporary variations on the continent's foundational myth, which makes it abundantly clear that Europe is defined and sustained  by what is outside its borders. The play that is evolving slowly through through workshops in Ireland, Italy, France and Sweden, involving many artists of both European and migrants backgrounds, attempts to situate itself in the current turmoil as an assertion of common humanity, redefining the continent through its mythological bases as an open and collaborative space. Of course, in order to make it, we need to generate just such a space ourselves. Being the change we want to see in the world.

A Happy New Year to you all.