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| The Rabble's JOAN |
Darkness. Pitch darkness.
A heavenly light shines down on a woman praying. No, not
just praying, throwing herself onto her knees, as an offer to God. Over and
over again. In submission to Him.
It’s a hypnotic sequence; remarkable and already giving the
audience a sense of unease. The act itself is physically demanding, almost
punishing, but the glimpses we get of this woman – these women – are striking.
This is Joan pledging herself to God in repetition.
No one makes theatre like The Rabble, though these black and
white images and allusions to silent film, do bump alongside the remarkable
work of Adena Jacobs and Fraught Outfit. What a treat that Theatre Works has
programmed work from both companies this year. Fraught Outfit’s The Book of Exodus, Part I opens late in
May.
Joan, like all of
The Rabble’s work, takes a figure audiences will be aware of from history or
literature – and in this case, both – and finds a fresh way to reconsider that
text. Or that person. If we know of Joan d’Arc, we know of films and books and
songs and poems that tell her story. We may only know the basics of her
historic truth – the virgin warrior who claimed to be guided by the voice of
God.
Creators Kate Davis and Emma Valente bring out a deeper consideration on the subject; what do we know of Joan that has contemporary resonance? What
parts of her life might be better appreciated through queer, feminist theatre rather
than the stories we’ve heard told by men throughout the centuries?
The black and white imagery is evocative of one of the early
films of Joan’s life, Carl Theodor Dreyer’s The
Passion of Joan of Arc. Dreyer’s use of lighting and extreme close ups is
striking and unnerving, striving for a kind of realism which reaches its
apotheosis in the scene where Renee Jeanne Falconetti’s Joan is burned at the
stake. It’s all too real.
Much like the Dreyer film, The Rabble’s Joan is silent for much of its length for two reasons: one, the
strength of their visual elements tells Joan’s story through close-up
projections and choreography, and two, much of this play is about women’s lack
of voice. Joan’s voice, her truth, has been sublimated by the Voice of God and
the repetition of her story that highlights her possible mental illness and,
typically, her virginity.
Actors Luisa Hastings Edge, Emily Milledge, Dana Miltins and
Nikki Shiels are all Joan. They all suffer the bruising physical punishment of dropping
to their knees in prayer and, in various ways, being subjected to ordeals that
prove Joan’s purity and corporeal worth.
From darkness, through the light of God, only to find
themselves thrown onto a pyre, these women are dragged closer and closer to the
flame – ready to be burned on the altar of history and the retelling of a story
that rarely considers Joan’s bodily autonomy or her own voice.
The Rabble’s Joan is deeply affecting and troubling, but
somehow this company, this ensemble, finds a way to give Joan back her voice –
through the haze and under the bright light of a full moon.
Darkness, no more.
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