We sat down for a quick chat with Anthony Simpson-Pike, director of the play and also Theatre503 Artistic Director, about his latest project, Donbas.
You’ve chosen Donbas to open your first season as Artistic Director – what did this play say to you about what Theatre503 should stand for right now?
Donbas is such a beautiful play, written by an incredible Ukrainian writer called Olga Braga. From the moment I first read it, I knew I wanted to put it on because it represents exactly the sort of stories we want to be telling at 503. Olga’s play exists in the grey spaces and resists easy answers while being absolutely rooted in the now. Nina Simone said the duty of an artist is to reflect the times and I believe that Theatre503, and theatre in general, can be an arena to contest society’s most urgent questions while engaging the audience in a way they can’t be by just sitting at home on Netflix. Theatre is an inherently communal act; it must be engaged in thinking about community broadly. What connects us? What drives us apart? These are the questions at the heart of Donbas, and are being explored in different ways in the season. Most of all, Olga has written something truly theatrical, bold and surprisingly funny. The quality of the art will always lead. At 503, the constant programming question will be “is it groundbreaking?”, Olga’s play is that and then some.
Donbas lives in ordinary moments – flirting, joking, arguing – even while planes are overhead. How did you stage that tension between the domestic and the catastrophic?
The play is focussed in two locations: a house belonging to a father and son, constantly visited by the neighbours; and another abandoned house being inhabited by Russian-aligned soldiers. We focused on the idea of the house representing Donbas itself. What does it feel like when your home is turned upside down? What does it look like when the home is a battlefield? Niall McKeever, the designer, has done a brilliant job of holding those questions in the set design, backed by meticulous research into the experience of Ukrainians in Donbas. From the top of the play there are already objects in the space that tell you some sort of preparation is happening and there are clear ways in which the outside world is being kept out. The same space represents two houses: one home to a family, and one overtaken by soldiers – and the question looms: does this same fate await the family home? That possible future looms large and creates tension rooted in real life experiences. When the invasion does happen, a battlefield is created purely from household objects, the home overturned, the familiar suddenly incomprehensible.
What do you hope this play communicates to people who feel disconnected from the war in Ukraine?
I hope it gives an intimate picture of what sort of choices people have to make and paints a rich picture of humanity at the sharp end of war. We’re in danger of becoming numb to conflict and what Olga has done is humanise the headlines with incredible warmth, humour and theatricality. People still laugh and flirt and cry and dye their hair in war time. Humans are so resilient. I think this play is about hope and strength. It’s a call to action and glimpse into the soul of a nation that has been through so much over the years. People will leave knowing more about Ukraine, but more essentially, they will also understand more about the power of community and how identities can be constructed and deconstructed, and what it means for former friends to turn on each other. All of that to say, the play also unearths vital questions we are dealing with in the UK. More than anything I hope this play communicates that Ukraine will be free.
What did directing Donbas teach you about empathy as a theatre-maker?
You know, I think Donbas has been teaching me lessons that I started learning while making Grenfell: in the words of survivors. When you’re working with real life you have an increased sensitivity to how you are holding the audience and the people whose stories you are telling. They are always at the forefront of your mind. I think all theatre is an act of empathy because it is literally the act of placing yourself in someone else’s shoes and trying to understand their world but work like this sharpens those instincts. One lesson is to get out of the way and let the story be the most important thing. Another is to imagine that the people whose stories are being told are in the audience. How might they find watching the production? That should be a guiding light.
What do you want an audience member to feel walking out of Theatre503 after Donbas?
The world isn’t simple, each one of us carries a universe inside us, Ukraine will be free.