“Wilson and Bain are remarkable, deftly switching between the comedy and the subtler, more poignant moments”
Linck and Mülhahn is billed as an epic romance inspired by the true story of an 18th century gender pioneer. I expected it to be an interesting story, and an important one. What I did not expect, was for it to be funny. But funny it is. Very funny.
Much of this is down to Ruby Thomas’ script, which is both witty and bawdy, full of inuendo, and lightning-fast flirting. Owen Horsley’s direction pumps the play with energy, and it races along, aided by punk rock scene transitions by sound designer Max Pappenheim. Despite the heavy subject matter, the play rushes along with zest and spirit.
All that survives of this true story are the court transcripts, documenting Anastasius Linck’s life and their gender non-conformity. Ruby Thomas has framed this story as a romance between Linck and Catharina Mülhahn. There are shades of the screwball comedies in these lovers’ fast-paced flirtation. Both are radical, passionate about the contemporary political philosophy and enjoy a racy joke. Their sizzling romance begins with the feisty young Mülhahn (Helena Wilson) gawping at the dashing Linck (Maggie Bain) through a window. Her unabashed lust, and boldness, is refreshing in a period drama. Throughout the play the dialogue crackles out from the era, making the characters feel so real, it’s easy to forget they’re all long dead.
Both Wilson and Bain are remarkable, deftly switching between the comedy and the subtler, more poignant moments. A particular highlight of both performances is a quiet scene where they bathe one another. Their chemistry and connection are the heart of the play and there is no doubt that these two belong together.
Another stand-out performance is from Lucy Black, as Mülhahn’s mother. It’s a fascinating character, she is bitter, trapped in her internalised conventionality but hopelessly bored and lonely. Black seamlessly navigates the complexity of this role, making her at once both a villain and a victim of her own era.
Simon Wells’ set is modern and evocative. It is a revolving two-storey structure made of veiled screens and doors, which often light up in different colours, courtesy of lighting designer Matt Daw. This creates an illusion of privacy in more intimate scenes, but also the sense that their privacy is as flimsy as the screens themselves.
There are moments where the comedy muddles the emotional punch, especially in the second half. There is also a narrator, which at times feels melodramatic, and unnecessary given the strength of the story itself.
But it is a great story, and this play has spun it in a way which feels fresh, and vibrant. This is not the story of a downtrodden victim. It is the bold and unapologetic cry to leave shame behind and live your own truth.
“an essential piece of theatre that tells a story that deserved to be told long ago”
The Trojan Horse inquiry began as a counter-terrorism operation and ended as a symbol for modern Britain’s barely concealed Islamophobia. Spurred on by an anonymous letter, which detailed conservative Muslims plotting to “take over” Birmingham schools, education secretary Michael Gove took action, launching not only inquiries, but a sense of hysteria that was fed by a biased media.
Five years later it is widely accepted that this letter was a hoax, the planned takeover fictional, and the schools – far from breeding terrorism – were quite the opposite of extremist. But what of the teachers, suspended and under surveillance? What about the students who were caught in the crossfire? Birmingham City Council, disgruntled head teachers, worried parents, school governors – what do their lives look like now?
Based on 200 hours of interviews, LUNG Theatre answer these questions by asking us to relive Trojan Horse from the inside. What begins as a tale of redemption – a failing school turned around, teachers inspiring and students prospering – quickly devolves into a nightmare that is hard to endure and even harder to pull back from.
Five actors bring a fascinating group of characters to life. Rashid (Mustafa Chaudhry), who left school without any GCSEs, teaches Urdu at Park View, his life having been changed by school governor Tahir Alam (Qasim Mahmood). Alam is credited with having turned local schools around, allowing students like Farah (Gurkiran Kaur) to have hope that they can pursue success outside of Alum Rock. Former head teacher Elaine Buckley (Keshini Misha) is less than complimentary of Alam. Buckley claims she was forced out of her old school for refusing to bend to the will of parents and governors. She raises her concerns with Jess (Komal Amin) at Birmingham City Council; the anonymous letter arrives on Jess’ desk days later, giving Elaine the ammunition she needs. Though they are undoubtedly amalgamations of many people, these feel like whole characters, rather than representations of a certain viewpoint. This is thanks to the purposeful performances of the actors, particularly Mahmood’s unflinchingly honest Rashid and Misha’s vitriolic Buckley.
Once the letter leaks, the community crumbles under the weight of the controversy. School is no longer enjoyable: the students are subject to government surveillance and head counts of hijab wearers. Rashid is not an inspirational teacher, but a dangerous facilitator, and Tahir Alam his sinister leader. Hinge-top desks are wheeled around the stage to create classrooms and courtrooms, until we have no choice but to associate the two.
It is impossible not to watch and feel anger, above all else. Despite the inevitable conclusion, this is not a play where the audience leaves limp, their heads bowed with sadness. This is not a play that asks us to observe its content, clap politely, and go home. This is a play that demands action.
Trojan Horse is an essential piece of theatre that tells a story that deserved to be told long ago. Here I do my bit to transmit this story, to raise my small voice and ask that everyone that reads this go and see it. And, when the play goes to the Houses of Parliament in January 2020, I ask that everyone at Westminster – from the Prime Minister to the lowest government employee – do themselves the favour of watching and learning, not only about the power of the arts to tell stories, but from the mistakes of the past decade, in the hope that they will not be repeated in the next.
