Last Updated on October 22, 2025
A powerful story of resilience
4.5 out of 5.0 starsThe Royal Court has a long and proud history of staging cutting-edge theatre. With Deaf Republic, it not only brings to the stage an adaptation of Ukrainian-American author Ilya Kaminsky’s poetry, but also does so using a highly technical, multi-layered staging that encompasses puppetry, live screening, aerial performance, and poetry. It is both emotionally and politically challenging. Written and directed by Bush Moukarzel and Ben Kidd of Dead Centre (a renowned, Dublin-based theatre group) in collaboration with Zoë McWhinney, a sign language poet, the narrative is related through a combination of spoken English, British Sign Language (BSL), captions, and silence. Some of the actors in the ensemble are deaf, while others are hearing. The narrative unfolds in both languages with the use of captions where necessary.
The production is described as ‘an epic modern fable of war, humanity and collective resistance’. It is set in a fictional town, Vasenka, in an unnamed country under military occupation and opens with a deaf boy, Petya, shot for disobeying orders that he was unable to hear. The following day, the whole town wakes up deaf. Deafness becomes a form of resistance to brutal occupation. It is a powerful refusal to submit to the occupying ‘voice’ and results in members of the community being murdered and tortured. Sign language, we are told, demands that the users take a position; they are part of the story. You cannot be a passive observer. This is a challenge to the audience who sit passively watching the horror of a war unfold on stage, much as we might do while watching scenes of similar horror on our TV screens.
What starts off as a romantic love story in the context of war, beautifully acted by Romel Belcher (Alfonso) and Caoimhe Coburn Gray (Sonya) with marvellous puppetry and video work, turns into an orgy of violence so shocking and graphic – and rendered agonisingly visceral on a large screen that covers the stage – it felt at times like watching A Clockwork Orange meets Titus Andronicus. There are some tableaux using hoists that are both deeply disturbing while displaying such physical grace, plus beautiful lighting (Azusa Ono) that Deaf Republic reminded me of the violence depicted by Caravaggio. The outstanding staging subverts the emotions – sexual violence and murder taking place in a fantastical environment more akin at points to a children’s party.
There is a lot of humour in Deaf Republic, at least at first. From the outset, the power imbalance between the hearing and deaf world is subverted with the signer (Belcher) relating that the hearing audience members will be missing out on what is lost in translation, as sign language is so much more nuanced than the spoken word. He refers to the Worder (Coburn Gray) as a puppet and playfully suggests that he see what he can make her say. The use of puppets is literal in that much of the action is performed through puppeteering, which is live-screened onto a gauze screen that covers the stage. It also refers to puppet states, which are commented on by the occupying soldier. There are numerous layers of metaphorical meaning in Deaf Republic, which in turn is portrayed through the multiple layers of action unfolding on stage.
The performances are excellent throughout, demanding that the hearing actors move between spoken English and BSL, while others are puppeteers and aerial performers. It is one of the most versatile performances I have seen. It is a testament to the strength of the writing and the direction that all weaves together smoothly. The set (Jeremy Herbert) is a stage within a stage with a small puppet theatre and puppets projected in real time onto a large screen so that the audience can see through all the layers. It is very clever and most effective.
The use of language is explored beyond whether it is spoken or signed. The characters are named because giving someone a name means that we care about them a bit more. The naming of the townspeople of the fictitious town of Vasenka subverts the dehumanisation and othering of those enduring the atrocities to which we develop compassion fatigue and grow deaf towards as they are beamed into our living rooms year after year. It is not oversight that only towards the end of the play are the occupying soldiers named. For they too are people brutalised by war and violence, which is enacted both by the occupation and the resistance. But if those involved in the conflict are all complicit, what about those of us who sit and watch from the sidelines? Deaf Republic is a meta production, keeping the audience thinking about the role of storytelling; why do we go to the theatre, and what is our responsibility in response to the stories that we see?
If the purpose of theatre is not only to entertain, but to discomfort, confront and shock, then Deaf Republic achieves its aim and then some. Yet Deaf Republic is only too aware of the irony of how we use deafness to turn a blind eye (or a deaf ear) to conflicts and atrocities that we cannot bear to witness or are too comfortable in our own safety to protest. At the end of the performance, the audience will troop out of the theatre and, as the final scene suggests, return to our lives where in ‘our great country of money, we lived happily during the war’. The play is commenting on the role of theatre itself, to make stories accessible (not only in the sense of being understood by both the deaf and the hearing) but then subverts it and says that it is just a story, all made up. Yet in the audience, we know that this is far from the truth, that this story is playing itself out on various gruesome stages across the world where the geopolitical situation has only worsened since Kaminsky published his book of poetry, Deaf Republic, in 2019. In one exchange that seems to encapsulate the situation of the residents of Vasenka and beyond on the world stage, Sonya says to Alfonso: ‘ We have no past. It is obliterated. We have no future. It is unthinkable. We just have this. Condemned to the present tense’.
This is a production that will stay with you for days after, and is not only multi-layered and poetic, but also deals with a multitude of issues. It brings to the stage such creativity and technical excellence that it makes one excited to be in a theatre.
Deaf Republic runs at The Downstairs Theatre at Royal Court until 13 September 2025
The Royal Court,
Sloane Square,
London,
SW1W 8AS
Off West End Theatre in London includes plenty of powerful productions. Check our previews
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