A 17-year-old kneels with her back to us, spotlit, praying. She has just ‘crowned’ the King of France. The year is 1429.

This is one of many striking moments in Flyleaf Theatre’s remounting of Saint Joan, Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw’s 1923 play.  Although the play is over a century old and references historical events that happened 6 centuries ago, it feels strikingly modern in both language and the questions it raises: testament to the skill of its director, cast and design team.

Director Grace Augustine has chosen an epic theatre staging, reminding us that we are watching actors portray characters. A central rectangular stage takes up half the space; in the ‘wings’ are formally placed black chairs, racks of costumes and a few props. Before the show begins the seven actors enter in base blacks and help each other put on their costume ‘shells’ – robes, coats, hats. Throughout the show, actors can be seen quietly changing for the next scene, and sometimes there is no one on stage, just a pause while we contemplate and wait for what’s next.

Despite these natural pauses, it’s a pacey show, with the 90-minute run time barely noticed as we are so engrossed and entertained. I didn’t hear a rustle or fidget. And yes, it was very entertaining – the actors picked up nuance and translated it for modern audiences with every gesture and glance signalling what their characters are thinking.

Bronwyn Ensor as Saint Joan follows the tradition of this famous role by being an older actor portraying a teenager (other actors to portray Joan include Sarah Snook, Imelda Stanton, Judi Dench and of course Sybil Thorndike, the actor it was written for).  A convention no doubt intended by Shaw as his Joan is a complex, divisive character – less a heroine than a character study and a thesis on a cultural phenomenon. Ensor imbues Joan with youthful impetuosity, convinced she is always right, unable to compromise or to see things from others’ points of view, and in the end prepared to die to uphold that belief. Her unshakeable religious belief, in which she speaks frequently of her ‘voices’ – saints communicating God’s commands direct to her – is presented with no judgement.  We, the audience, are left to conclude whether Joan really was heroic to affirm her version of faith and freedom in the face of death, or whether she is the victim of her youthful simplicity and is, as the Inquisitor says, “a young and innocent creature crushed between these mighty forces, the Church and the Law.”

The other six actors work hard portraying the multiple other roles demanded by the script, at times leaving the stage, changing costumes and immediately coming on as another character. Each actor does a great job differentiating between all their characters and communicating the layers (within time and script limits) of each historical figure.

Aaron Richardson’s Robert De Baudricourt is as pompously foolish as his Dunois is forthright and likeable. Joseph Wycoff as The Chaplain presents a bull-headed, simplistic, easily mocked and yet powerful man reminiscent of certain figures in contemporary American politics. Mustaq Missouri’s chuckle as the Archbishop, when Joan kisses the hem of his robe, is exactly the right mix of fatherly delight and slight paedophilia and got a big reaction from the audience on opening night. Justin Benn has a grounding stage presence in every scene he is in – his portrayal of Cauchon, Joan’s interrogator, allows us to feel sympathy for this character’s position. Dylan Underwood gives us an over the top, immature Dauphin to hate while Mauritz Badenhorst plays a series of swamy politicians as Bluebeard and De Beauchamp, contrasting with his mostly silent role as The Executioner.

The play spends much of its run time explaining the complex political machinations underscoring this era when the English occupied much of France and the powerful Church was being courted by both sides to legitimise ‘their’ monarch. Shaw streamlines this, and he also takes artistic liberties with Joan’s life story, compressing her trial, confession, recantation and execution for the purposes of dramatic tension. Aaron Richardson, one of the actors and also the show’s co-producer, further streamlines by cutting out what is to modern palates extraneous exposition while keeping the witty heart of Shaw’s writing. 

With such weighty topics – not to mention the fact that everyone knows how this story ends – it’s hard to retain lightness, but this production succeeds. Scanning the online version of the script (thanks Gutenberg Project), I was surprised to see that two of the insults that got the biggest laugh from the audience – Joan calling Courcelles ‘a rare noodle’ and calling De Boudricourt a ‘cowboy’ – are Shaw’s lines. No doubt their meaning has shifted over the century, but delivery is everything and the cast’s comedic timing is spot on.

The multitasking Richardson is also credited with set and props design. There is a subtle Noh reference in the bundles of driftwood on the stage margins, while in the final scene shown (Augustine has chosen to leave out the ‘Epilogue’) Joan processes from this world to the next by simply walking slowly down the length of the stage and passing beyond the blacks. I enjoyed the minimalism of the staging: black chairs placed on the stage are one of the few set elements; props are mostly simple, a sword or a basket. The only staging decision I found a little intrusive was when a fan turned on to make a flag fly. Even though it underscored a crucial plot point and occurred in the context of a meta theatrical staging, it took me out of the dream and forced a laugh from the audience at what was meant to a serious part. A pretty minor complaint.

Subtle lighting by Tim Jansen unobtrusively mark shifts in emotion; flashy moves such as spotlights are reserved for key moments. The sound design by Laika Rountree is similarly subtle, underscoring key thematic moments, and serves a useful purpose between scenes to keep the energy going while the actors are changing. There is a simple AV display with white text projected onto the back curtain to clue us into the location and date of scenes.

I went home thinking about how we so often fall in love, as a populace, with young leaders driven by the force of their beliefs: even though they tell us repeatedly that they are just ordinary humans who have accepted a calling, we ascribe supernatural powers to them and lionise them to the point of idolatry. But we’re then quick to turn on them and harshly judge, even wish harm, when they make even small errors of judgement. Think Thunberg, Ardern, countless other visible young women who have refused to back down when challenged for their beliefs or smeared because they are politically inconvenient.  There is a scene in the play which wouldn’t happen in the current world – when powerful men, one by one, warn Joan that they will betray her for their own interests if she is captured. If only real leaders were that honest.

When Joan in the play is accused of ‘blasphemy’ for refusing to dress and act according to her ascribed gender, it hit hard. Some ideas never change, even if the words do. Sadly, I think we’re well back down the path of accusing people of being ‘sinners’ just because they refuse to conform.

Shaw also asks us to consider the cost of standing up for our principles and whether it is worth it if it costs our survival: in this staging, at least, he refrains from directing us to a conclusion. In a world where everyone I know is battling fires, it’s a question we come up against often.

This is my first time seeing Saint Joan, even though Shaw is one of the most well-known playwrights writing in English of the last century and this is one of his most famous plays. I never studied the script at school either. The programme notes that it is not frequently produced in Aotearoa now, and I wonder why – it’s a cracker of a play, relevant and interesting.  Flyleaf Theatre Co has done a fantastic job staging it and the actors are all fabulous. Go see it.

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