Samuel Beckett first brought his play Fin de Partie to the Royal Court in London in 1957 performed in the original French. This was still during the era of stage censorship, but the Lord Chamberlain’s Office had no objection to this production. However, when it was translated into English as Endgame, for a repeat performance at the same theatre six months later, suddenly the censor perked up and objected to the description of God: “The bastard! He doesn’t exist!” on grounds of blasphemy. However, there was no objection to this line when the same blasphemous concept was expressed in French. Words are much stronger than thoughts or actions. Especially when they’re in English.
Sanaz Toossi’s Pulitzer Prize winning English proves that point superbly. Four Iranian students embark on a basic English course, guided by their kindly and supportive teacher Marjan. We see their initial struggles, coming to terms with the prospect of only speaking English in class, and not drifting into Farsi. All the lines in the play are actually spoken by the actors in English, so we can understand everything going on. When the language flows confidently and rapidly we know the characters are speaking in Farsi, where they feel comfortable; and when they start to speak in English, they adopt a stilted, faltering tone, loaded down with a heavy accent. It’s a very entertaining device, and once your brain has adapted to the trick, it works extremely well and is the source of much of the humour.
We see the characters’ building confidence – or waning, depending on how well they are progressing. We note the element of competitiveness between them, and how jealous the female students are of Omid, who already seems to be very good at English. It’s extremely funny to relate these struggles to any times we, the audience, might have tried to learn a foreign language. You realise that those feelings of utter stupidity, such as when trying to have a conversation about the ownership of a pencil, or bewilderment when you can’t keep up with the pace of conversation of a native speaker, are problems that all language students face, no matter where they’re from. It serves as a good leveller; it’s all very recognisable, and at times hysterical.
The play questions the motivations behind all the characters. The oldest student, Roya, is learning English because she wants to be able to speak with her granddaughter, now living overseas. Others might need it for a visa application, or a job as a teaching assistant. The play also examines the need for honesty within a closed community. There are secrets – some are kept, some are betrayed; when it is discovered that one of the five characters in the play is not telling the truth as to why they are there, the shockwaves it sends through the group is very destructive.
Words can be used as a weapon, for division, or as a symbol of identity and belonging. Roya is annoyed that her Canadian granddaughter has been given a name she can barely pronounce; it’s just one symptom of how the older woman is being estranged from the rest of her younger family. Teacher Marjan talks of how she was called Mary when living in England because it was easier for the lazy locals to pronounce; she looks on this eccentricity with Anglophile affection, but Roya is offended at the way it belittles and disrespects Marjan’s Iranian heritage. This is not new; think of the Kapoors and the Rabindranaths in TV’s Goodness Gracious Me, obscuring their Indian backgrounds as they aspire to be recognised as the traditional English families, the Coopers and the Robinsons.
Sanaz Toossi’s fascinating play keeps you spellbound from the very start and is like one of those big flowers with masses of petals that you can keep stripping away at until you finally get to its well-hidden core beneath. Diyan Zora’s delicate and modest production gently reveals these layers as we get to know the characters – that is, to the extent that Ms Toossi will allow us. There’s no change of scenery; Anisha Fields’ simple set is all we need – some tables and chairs, and a TV and DVD to allow the students to watch Romcoms to perfect their language skills. Each short scene progresses through the five or six weeks of the course, the characters taking up different positions around the tables. You might think this would feel static; but Ms Zora’s clever direction makes us see the progress through language and character development rather than location.
All five actors give tremendous performances. Heading the cast is Nadia Albina as Marjan, the kind of teacher you would have enjoyed having at school, ready to praise you for the progress you have achieved, trying her best to make her limited resources go as far as possible. Like all teachers, she has her favourites; and when they inevitably let her down her frustration and hurt becomes subtly apparent. It’s an excellent and highly believable performance.
Sara Hazemi is terrific as the willing and sunny Goli, the youngest in the class and perhaps the nearest to being a “schoolchild” in her helpful attitude. Serena Manteghi is also superb as the more cynical Elham, prepared to work up to a point but also more at home when she’s in disruptive mode.
I really enjoyed Lanna Joffrey as Roya, fully aware that her age makes her a fish out of water, trying to grapple with the basics of a foreign language that is beyond her capability, and trying even harder to hang on to her position within her family. And Nojan Khazai gives a quietly strong performance as the slightly mysterious Omid, who can always be relied on to speak with confidence and ability – even to the extent that he can correct the teacher.
I came away from the play uncertain as to Omid’s motivations. He has a secret, that I won’t reveal, that makes you question his commitment to the course. It’s a loose end that isn’t tied up. But that’s life isn’t it – full of loose ends? The ending of the play also breaks the convention that had been established throughout the previous 89 minutes of the 90 minute production; the final two characters start talking Farsi (we assume it’s Farsi) to each other. As a result, it ends with a conversation that the audience doesn’t understand. Are they just saying “Goodbye, it’s been nice knowing you”? Are they saying, “I hated every minute of this rotten English course”? Are they concealing another secret about the relationships in or the purpose of the classroom? It’s simply a moment of privacy between two people, so we’ll never know. Just like the first British audiences of Becket’s Fin de Partie, who didn’t know that they were hearing highly censorable blasphemy, it all just goes over our heads as an indistinguishable sound. Language is possibly man’s most powerful tool; and English provides a very intriguing and thought-provoking contribution to the discussion.
The show runs at The Other Place in Stratford-upon-Avon until 1st June and then transfers to London’s Kiln Theatre from 5 – 29 June.
Production photos by Richard Davenport