Macbeth et son ouvrier - Ecole dramatique de Yajlou (Iran) at Espace Charles Trenet, Tain / Tournon

This was a very multilingual experience. While I was on holiday in France, I saw an adaptation of Macbeth performed by an Iranian company. It was performed, according to the programme, in Azerbaijani Turkish, with a few simple words of French thrown in here and there.

So the largely French audience on Tuesday 29^th July in Tain didn’t understand the words any more than I did. Quite a unifying experience, in a way.

As with the Globe’s multilingual season a year or two ago in London (see my reviews of the Georgian As You Like It and South African Venus and Adonis), this production had to use something other than words to communicate with the audience.

A live musical soundtrack provided by three musicians on the side of the stage helped to convey what was going on in the plot. Shadow puppetry, costume and props also combined to create a sort of symbolic visual language for the audience to interpret, and it was a very physical piece.

Although this was clearly not Shakespeare’s play in translation (it was a 45 minute piece set on a construction site), it probably did help to know already how the story of Macbeth unfolds. I think, in fact, that the few English people in the audience may have understood more than the French, simply because most of us had studied Macbeth at school.

So when Lady Macbeth started furiously rubbing her hands, we knew that this was the ‘Out damned spot’ bit. And when the three actors (for there were only three in the cast) became a sort of three-headed tangle of bodies and speech, we knew without needing words that they were representing the witches.

But for me, it wasn’t just the adaptation, the language and the physicality that made this an interesting piece. It was also interesting because of the cast.

As I said, there were only three actors. Two of these were women.

Now, I don’t know a great deal about Iranian culture (although Persepolis opened my eyes a little), but from what I’ve heard I rather gather that women on stage might be frowned upon by the authorities. So it was interesting to see the roles of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth performed by women in that context.

Was it significant that as Lady Macbeth went mad her headscarf worked its way loose and finally came off? Did I only notice that because it was an Iranian company performing in France, where there have been particular controversies over the wearing of headscarves? As neither French nor Iranian, do I interpret the piece differently from either of those audiences would? Or perhaps my gender has a bigger impact on my reading of the production?

These were questions I came away with, and I do like to leave the theatre with questions.

A very interesting evening.

Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi

This was something of an enlightening read for me – for two main reasons. I’ve never read a graphic novel before. And I know next to nothing about the culture and history of Iran.

So Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi was educational on both counts.

First off, let’s deal with the graphic novel thing. Being a literature sort of person, I’d probably been guilty of an unconscious snootiness regarding graphic novels. Having read comic books as a kid (mainly Asterix and Tintin – sometimes in the original French as my dad thought this would help us learn the language!), I associated the form with light-hearted fiction for children.

Nothing wrong with light-hearted fiction for children – I read quite a lot of children’s books – but I think I may have been a bit suspicious of the comic-style form being used for adults. I certainly didn’t approach Persepolis expecting to be challenged by it intellectually.

But I was challenged by it. Not in terms of the words or syntax used, but by the ideas expressed and the themes explored. This is not a light-hearted ‘comic’. It graphically depicts violence, murder and suicide. The characters swear. They talk about sex, politics, religion. And through the words and pictures that Marjane Satrapi uses to tell her story, we are guided through a turbulent time in Iran’s history.

Persepolis is autobiographical, and through seeing how our main character’s life changes, we are given a glimpse into the political and religious upheavals in Iran in the late 20^th century. It’s pretty hard going sometimes. Some moments are powerfully moving and some are ideologically challenging.

I know very little about Iran’s history, and of its culture I only really know what I see on the TV news or what I’ve read about in books like Reading Lolita in Tehran. Most of what I know is about the oppression of women. And while this is undeniably a big deal in Persepolis, it’s made clear that it’s all part of a larger tapestry.

So this book opened a window. I learnt something about the revolution and the unrest that came before and after it. I couldn’t help reflecting on the situation in Egypt at the moment as I read it. I also learnt a bit about Iran’s war with Iraq (I was just about being born when this was actually happening), and it made me wonder about all the subsequent conflicts in and around the area.

What struck me most was how complicated it all is. The drawings in this book may all be in black and white, but the narrative itself doesn’t fall into black and white morality. I think I’ve come away from reading Persepolis feeling even more confused about Iran as a country. But then, perhaps that’s what happens when you have a little more knowledge. It’s easier to be certain when you’re ignorant.

So there are books that come and go and don’t leave much impression, and there are books that leave you thinking. I know that next time Iran is mentioned on the news I’ll be thinking about this book. And I know that next time someone recommends a graphic novel to me, I won’t be so slow to read it. Persepolis has left me just that little bit more knowledgeable, and just that little bit more open-minded.

Always good things for a book to do.