"forum theatre .
found himself playing the part of
THEATOE W conventional sense. There was no
COUN MURPHY^^ff^
I he theatre director was
# young idealist, and
Be wanted to change
the world. He brought
his theatre group to a
rural village, where the
people were mired in
poverty. In the village square, they put
on a play.
It was a simple fable of how the
rich oppressed the poor. The village
audience was roused and inspired by
it. And then came the play's turning
point. The hero — a poor man
was being beaten down by the rich
— cessful small Irish theatre compa-
man. The director stopped the play,
and turned to the crowd.
"What should the hero do now?"
he asked.
"Revolution!" cried a man in the
audience. "Revolution!" the others
cheered. They started to run around
the village, seeking weapons.
The actors were aghast. The direc-
tor was terrified. Hastily, he tried to
explain that that wasn't quite what
he'd been thinking of.
His group abandoned the play,
and bid a hasty retreat back to the
safety of the city.
The theatre director was a Brazil-
ian named Augusto Boal, and he
went on to become perhaps the most
influential voice in "activist" theatre
in the world.
After his humbling early
experience in rural Brazil, he came up
with a careful new system. He called
it "theatre of the oppressed".
It was a way of using theatre to
explore the problems facing people,
and help them find practical solu-
tions.
Boal visited Ireland often, lead-
ing workshops with theatre folk and
community workers; I interviewed
him in the late 19905.
He died a year ago this month.
His legacy lives on, though, and last
week his theory was put to the test in
Temple Bar.
That may not be an obvious site of
oppression. Eustace Street, though,
is home to a cafe and day-centre run
by the homelessness charity Focus
Ireland, and it was there that the
theatre company Guna Nua chose
to debut their first venture into Boal's
It wasn't much of a play, in the
set, except for a few ordinary chairs.
The actors competed with the noise
from the kitchen behind. People wan-
dered in late, or got up during it and
went out for a smoke.
This was as far from the bright
lights of Broadway, or even the
bohemian cool of the London, New
York and Edinburgh fringe scenes, as
it gets.
Which is why it was intriguing
that the company involved was not
simply a group of well-intentioned
volunteers, or low-key community
arts workers.
Guna Nua is one of the most suc-
nies of the moment, and this venture
was sandwiched neatly between runs
of their international hit play Little
Gem, by Elaine Murphy.
If Guna Nua seems, at first glance,
an unlikely company for this ground-
roots political theatre, writer Gerry
McCann admits he was an unlikely
candidate for playwright. An actor by
profession, he had grown "very
cynical", he says.
"Acting grinds you down. You just
want to make a living.
"If I'd met somebody before doing
this who'd told me they were in a play
for homeless people and drug addicts,
I'd have thought they were daft."
But Guna Nua was interested in
trying out Boal's method, and they
offered to send McCann, and anoth-
er company regular Jenny ODea, to
London for a week of training.
For McCann, the enthusiasm and
innovation he encountered was a
revelation. He and ODea came back
"fired up", and Guna Nua moved
quickly to develop a production,
finding a willing collaborator in
Focus Ireland.
~~T~ n the cafe last week, the small
cast tripped lightly through a
short play about a teenage girl
I who gets pregnant and is
thrown out of home, and then one
about a pair of drug addicts on a
recovery programme who fall for
each other, and compromise their
recovery. Both were tragi-comedies,
in miniature, with sad endings.
Afterwards, the audience was
asked to suggest where the characters
could have made different choices,
and then asked up to improvise
scenes with the actors. One man
the addict wrestling with the conflict
between his recovery and relation-
ship. "We've lied all our life," he said,
to the gorgeous young actress oppo-
site, Charlene Gleeson. "Lying got
us into drugs. If we tell more lies
we're going back.
"I love you, but I don't want to tell
lies and wreck the whole lot."
He acted simply and unselfcon-
sciously, improvising with searing
honesty. As raw drama, it was
mesmerising. As an act of political
theatre, it was potentially
transformative.
"I've seen my best of mates dying
of overdoses," he said, afterwards.
It would be glib to suggest that an
afternoon of theatre can prevent
that. McCann explains its intent in
more modest terms.
"It helps you to think in terms of
options and choices, in a situation
where you may think you don't have
any options, where you feel trapped."
But it's not just about "helping". For
Paul Meade, Guna Nua's director,
this experiment will feed back into
the company's mainstream work,
lending it authenticity and urgency.
They're two of the qualities that
their hit play, Little Gem, has in
spades. For Guna Nua, the synergy
between political theatre and popu-
lar theatre could yet prove a fruitful
one.
Little Gem at London's renowned fringe
venue, the Bush, till May 22, at the
Centre Culturel Irlandais in Paris from
May 27-29, and at Cork's Everyman
Palace, from June 7-19. Tickets: (021)
4501673. It returns for a national tour
in the autumn. See www.gunanua.com.
colinmurphy@independent.ie
'Fired up': Writer Gerry McCann