Sturla Alvsvåg, Dawn Jani Birley and Joshua Bosworth in ‘Lady M (Margaret)’, Photo by Dahlia Katz
Presented by 1s1 Theatre
With a grisly murder and ghostly apparition triggering guilt, Lady M (Margaret) has significant echoes to Shakespeare’s Macbeth, though it seems a bit of a stretch to call it an adaptation of that story. At only an hour long and focusing on the intimate, fraught drama between three characters in rural Scotland during the First World War, this Deaf-lead production feels significantly removed from its inspiration. It is also a thoroughly riveting theatrical experience on its own terms.
Blending sign language with minimal spoken dialogue, the production works to unite hearing and Deaf audience in a shared experience by fixating on strong visuals and expressive physicality. Director Ramesh Mayyappan is a innovative visual stylist, creating an evocative environment that feels both fully symbolic and utterly real at the same time.
A large, very heavy-looking wooden table is the grounding centre piece here. Jung-Hye Kim’s set extends and fractures this sense of rural domesticity with panels of slatted wood fencing—one suspended in the air as if dislodged by the forces of war, jealousy and protective instinct that destroy both a family and friendship.
Dynamic use of light and sound—by designers Andre du Toit and Jenna Geen, respectively—is particularly arresting during the battle scenes. As Macbeth (Sturla Alvsvåg) and Duncan (Joshua Bosworth) bound, duck, crouch and roll; explosions erupt around them. There is an almost haptic quality to the loud auditory bursts as the vibrations can be felt throughout the space. And as Lady M (Dawn Jani Birley) longs for her endangered husband, she drifts through the space between them in a way that collapses time and space to make her emotional reality tangible.
The story sees Macbeth bring Duncan home for dinner with his wife and unborn child, where the joy of reunion gives way to tension and violence as Macbeth discovers an affair between Lady M and Duncan. The timeline of this situation and character motivations get a little nebulous here; I had some trouble parsing the specifics, but the emotional reality was persuasive enough to pull me in.
Daniel Levinson’s fight direction during the pivotal altercation is truly impressive. So often, staged violence betrays the rigid choreography that ensures actors are safe, but this heated episode is so masterfully executed, I felt genuinely anxious. The use of blood is also very effective, adding visceral intensity to the messy aftermath of the fight.
Figures barely visible in upstage shadows, a baby bonnet suggesting the child that is lost; deeply emotive faces, gestures and vocalizations make this a truly haunting experience.