Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

★★

Southwark Playhouse Borough

WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★

“Director David Furlong deftly and clearly steers the action back and forth in time”

There are two dramatic themes that are being played out in Rowland Hill’s play, “Who is Claude Cahun?”, that seem to be competing with each other. Essentially it is about two individuals’ fight against the rise of fascism in the 1930s and their experiences during the second world war. On the other hand, it is a love story between a photographic artist and her muse using today’s transgender and queer ideology to explain the dynamics of their relationship. Hill’s writing creates a conflict between the two rather than blending them together into a coherent narrative. The former wins. We get a fine perspective of Claude Cahun’s – along with their lover Marcel Moore – resistance work following the German occupation of Jersey, but the crucial question in the title of the play is left unanswered.

Claude Cahun was born Lucy Schwob into a well-off Jewish family. After attending the Sorbonne, they adopted the pseudonym and began making photographic self-portraits, eventually collaborating in the 1920s with lifelong partner Marcel Moore (born Suzanne Malherbe). Although Cahun received the recognition for their artwork, Moore’s integral contribution went largely unrecognised. Rivkah Bunker and Amelia Armande, who play Cahun and Moore respectively, give mannered performances that are generally too polite to express the groundbreaking relevance of their works and lives. In their struggle to identify themselves we also have little to latch onto either. It is a slow burn, and it is difficult to match the lack of fire with the passion needed to fuel their resistance and activism work during World War II.

Director David Furlong deftly and clearly steers the action back and forth in time, showing us snippets of the young Cahun before returning to the house in Jersey in which Claude and Marcel are forced to accommodate members of the Gestapo; all the while covertly carrying out their activism – or ‘guerilla art’ as they called it – distributing anti-German fliers and poetry under the title of ‘The Soldier with No Name’. Among other roles, Ben Bela Böhm and Gethin Alderman are two, somewhat witless, Nazi officers led on a cat and mouse chase by the couple. There is an overall lack of tension, although glimmers of the danger do shine through when Claude Cahun is finally cornered and questioned. Bunker’s cool portrayal of the resilience of Claude’s character is a quiet and strong episode in an otherwise confused narrative.

Awkward attempts at physical theatre, which are intended to mirror the couple’s affinity with the surrealist movement, are at odds with the naturalism of the cast’s performances. More successful is the use of Jeffrey Choy’s video design, incorporating images of the real-life characters, as well as placing us firmly in time and place with captions. A modern approach that still adds to the old-fashioned feel of the piece.

In the first act, particularly, there is little in the writing or performances to make sense of – or justify – the emphasis on twenty-first century trans self-representation. Nor do we get a sense of the androgyny and the blurring of gender that informed their lives and work. During the occupation, the couple were forced to give the outward impression that they were sisters, living together as ‘good housekeepers’. However, that portrayal was little different from what we see in their backstory as the so-called progressive artists. Tokens of mask work and linguistic gestures are not enough to underline the importance of their work and their pioneering representation of gender identity.

The often-untold story of Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore is a fascinating and vital one that should resonate with everything that is happening today. Hill’s writing certainly brings it to light, without fully bringing it to life.

 



WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 20th June 2025

by Jonathan Evans

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Last ten shows reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

THIS IS MY FAMILY | ★★½ | May 2025
THE FROGS | ★★★ | May 2025
RADIANT BOY | ★★½ | May 2025
SUPERSONIC MAN | ★★★★ | April 2025
MIDNIGHT COWBOY | ★★ | April 2025
WILKO | ★★★ | March 2025
SON OF A BITCH | ★★★★ | February 2025
SCISSORHANDZ | ★★★ | January 2025
CANNED GOODS | ★★★ | January 2025
THE MASSIVE TRAGEDY OF MADAME BOVARY | ★★★ | December 2024

 

WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

WHO IS CLAUDE CAHUN?

MEDEA

★★★★

The Coronet Theatre

MEDEA

The Coronet Theatre

★★★★

“beautifully atmospheric”

Nine anonymous women slowly walk onto the stage, one by one, each with a sack cloth over their head and their headshot photo hanging around their neck. They move slowly, but precisely. In total silence. Some sort of symbolism is immediately established. A crone-like figure shuffles into position in the corner and watches. Suddenly a rabble of boisterous men burst onto the scene, dressed like judges in black gowns. We are in a restaurant. Or is it a brothel? The women are being picked out by the men as they remove their veils. We realise that they are being cast in an impromptu rendition of a play – Euripides’ “Medea”. It is an uncomfortable casting process. The women are mute and compliant while the men relish the prospect like shady, backstreet clients.

“Medea” is then played out in full as a play-within-a-play. Directed by Satoshi Miyagi, it is faithful to the original, two-thousand-year-old story. Without changing a word, however, Miyagi has ingeniously given it fresh meaning by placing it in late nineteenth century Japan. More specifically the Meiji period – often referred to as the Meiji Restoration. A period of rapid progress and modernisation but also a return to imperialism and colonialism. It was still a patriarchal society that reinforced male authority while stunting women’s rights and limiting their education. ‘The world despises intelligent women’ we are told. In this context, the brutal tale of a woman’s revenge takes on a shocking resonance, particularly during Miyagi’s climactic moments which acts as a cool but furious, and bloodstained epilogue to Euripides’ original conclusion.

The piece seems to run in slow motion, yet the pace never drags. We have the ‘speakers’ and the ‘movers’. The dominant males speak the roles in Japanese while surtitles are projected onto the back wall. Emotive and dramatic, their words belie the stillness of the performers. Interestingly, the translated captions contain far fewer words than are spoken, as though the essence is all we need and the actress’ skills in mime and movement are more than enough to tell the story. A bit of a problematic story in this day and age. Medea’s cold desire for revenge against her unfaithful husband, Jason, doesn’t sit well. Who is going to sympathise with a mother who murders her children to harm their father? In Miyagi’s version, Medea has only one son – but this doesn’t dampen the effect. It’s hard to further the feminist cause with such a parable, but Miyagi pulls focus away from Medea’s individual actions and we begin to perceive the injustices and humiliations that shaped her and her behaviour. Yes, it is a myth, but the historical setting gives an unfortunate authenticity that tries to explain the character’s intentions, but still cannot disguise the ugly truth.

The show is nevertheless beautifully atmospheric. Hiroko Tanakawa’s percussive score rises and dips in perfect time to the dialogue, played live by the women of the company, giving additional voice to their silenced emotions. Koji Osako’s lighting shifts from shadows to blood-red shrouds that evoke the moods and settings on Junpei Kiz’s simple set. A towering bookcase dominates – used to dramatic effect in the closing moments of the play.

The cultural comments that are being underlined are not always clear, particularly to a Western audience. It is definitely worth giving yourself a quick crash course on Japan’s Meiji Era. But even without, this is a thrilling rendition of the ancient Greek tragedy. The sixteen cast members give precisely orchestrated, yet fluid, performances. The surtitles are often unnecessary; such is the expertise of these performers in allowing the story to evolve visually and musically. It can be disturbing. It isn’t easy. But Miyagi’s interpretation is powerful, while also being rather beautiful to look at. A rare feat to accomplish.



MEDEA

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed on 18th June 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Takuma Uchida

 

 

 



 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

EINKVAN | ★★★★★ | May 2025
PANDORA | ★★★★ | February 2025
STRANGER THAN THE MOON | ★★★ | December 2024
U-BU-SU-NA | ★★★★★ | November 2024
THE BELT | ★★★★★ | September 2024
THE BECKETT TRILOGY | ★★★★★ | June 2024
THE YELLOW WALLPAPER | ★★★ | September 2023
RHYTHM OF HUMAN | ★★★★★ | September 2023
LOVEFOOL | ★★★★ | May 2023
DANCE OF DEATH | ★★★★★ | March 2023

 

 

MEDEA

MEDEA

MEDEA