In the midst of a clash between languages, Sarah has yet to conquer the power of speech...
Fascinated with traditional languages and cultures, I was drawn to see Brian Friel's Translations
at the National Theatre. The play begins in a 'hedge-school' in County Donegal, where tutor Manus is encouraging Sarah, a mute, to pronounce her own name. This is a poignant starting place for a play which sees the native Irish tongue being displaced by English, an operation which threats the language and identity of its central characters. Yet despite this, Sarah is not the focus of the play, and is swiftly pushed to the peripheries as a detachment of English soldiers barge onto the scene. From the very beginning, things begin to slip away, an erosion which continues until the final scene. Here's my thoughts.
In a bleak, post-apocalyptic landscape, the king's militia brutally decapitate an enemy fighter, hanging his head in a plastic bag upon a pylon...
As with the RSC's recent production of Macbeth, the reviews for the National Theatre's rendition of the Scottish Play were less than praising. Criticised for misjudging the play's themes and glorifying its violence in a 'Mad Max'-style setting, the production has been cited as one in a long line of flops from the National Theatre under artistic director Rufus Norris. Yet, as with the RSC production, I sat down for the live screening with an open mind - and was pleasantly surprised. Here's my thoughts.
Welcome to 'Shakespeare Sunday', where I take an extract from one of the plays, and write my thoughts.
'Some parcels of their power are forth already' Coriolanus, Act 1, Scene 2
Rome: Superpower in the Making
