Abstract
More than three decades after Index published the celebrated playwright’s work dedicated to the Czech dissident Vaclav Havel, censored Iranian writer Reza Shirmarz has responded with his own play, Muzzled. He talks to
PICTURED: Index asked Reza Shirmarz - shown at a theatre in Athens - to respond to Beckett’s play
CREDIT: Epi Kolono
When Havel was finally released, he wrote his own play, Mistake, as a response to the one Beckett had written in solidarity.
In February 1984, in one of the most significant milestones in the history of Index on Censorship, both plays were published for the first time (you can see these in our archive at tinyurl.com/catastropheplay and tinyurl.com/mistakeplay)
Now, in the year that Index celebrates its 50th birthday, we asked Iranian playwright Reza Shirmarz to write his own response to Beckett’s Catastrophe.
Shirmarz was born in Tehran in 1974 and raised in an educated, multicultural (Persian, Turkish, Russian and Kurdish) family surrounded by books on literature, philosophy and history.
“When I was a teen, I grew fond of drama, theatre and music and began to read the world’s dramatic texts more meticulously from the Greeks to the contemporary playwrights as well as translate the ones I liked,” Shirmarz told Index.
As part of his education in theatre, Shirmarz studied the works of many of the theatre world’s greats, including Beckett.
“Beckett is an architect of silence,” he said. “He uses silence to give a harmonious interpretation of the words he builds his post-dramatic situations upon. This interaction between silence and words under the strong shadow of constant karmic repetition of lexical structures, sounds, silences, etc. gives the playwright a great chance to create innovative moments through which he gives his interpretation of the status quo.”
Shirmarz began writing his own poems and plays and soon received accolades for his trilogy Cinnamon Stars, Crystal Vines and The Lanterns are Weeping which documented three decades of sociopolitical life in Iran.
If you are not an advocate of the ayatollahs’ devious unscrupulous ways, you are an outsider, an outlaw
Despite the praise from audiences and critics, Shirmarz gained unwanted attention from elsewhere.
“The plays were censored or banned by the fundamentalists when I tried to stage them or when they were sold out and the major publishing companies in Iran attempted to republish them,” he said.
“Any sort of social criticism is the red line for the regime of Ayatollahs. My plays are all against the status quo in Iran and reveal the fact that morality can be unethical in countries under religio-ideological regimes, that religion and ideology together can change into an uncontrollably ferocious monster which tends to devour the entire society including itself, that the revolutions based on religious wiles and ideological lies go through a devastating process of political cannibalism as well as self-cannibalism.”
Shirmarz eventually chose to emigrate to Greece because of Iran’s “extremely corrupt system which chooses to support its proponents and excommunicate its opponents at any price”.
Kianoush Ramezani, 48, who has drawn our cartoon (overleaf), fled Iran in a crackdown after the 2009 election
He told Index: “If you are not an advocate of their devious unscrupulous ways, you are an outsider, an outlaw, and you need to move out if you want to survive, but if you are or play the role of the devil’s advocate, they will return the favour, let you work under strict censorship, or they may even promote you a national celebrity.”
As a censored writer himself, what are Shirmarz’s views on Beckett’s Catastrophe?
“Catastrophe is about censored communication, the ritualistic representation and the symbolic image of human relationship constrained by external forces, a deterministic, political and post-dramatic text which demonstrates how humans are coerced to be and live in a torturous limbo.”
“[In Catastrophe] Beckett’s Protagonist is deprived of free will by the systems surrounding him and the systematic control imposed by others, except at the moment he moves his head up and looks at the spectators.
“Despite his psychosomatic pain, he talks through his silence and protests through his immobility. As so-called social actors and audiences, we are reminded by the playwright that we are not able to get out of the cage the sociopolitical conventions have imprisoned us in and we must abide by the unbreachable laws brought in by the global structures and conglomerates in order to survive.”
Muzzled, Shirmarz’s response to Catastrophe, is published here in Index for the first time.
Muzzled
ACTRESS
COSTUME DESIGNER
DIRECTOR PLAYWRIGHT
STAGE MANAGER
TWO MEN
(Shrill whistles are blown in the darkness. PLAYWRIGHT and ACTRESS appear gradually, sitting back to each other on the bed at the centre. ACTRESS’s fragile red undies are visible underneath her casual transparent dress. She is pregnant, but she is at an early stage and her belly has expanded a bit. He is wearing white underwear.)
PLAYWRIGHT: They’re coming.
ACTRESS: (taking a bite of a banana) How do you know?
PLAYWRIGHT: An old friend informed me.
ACTRESS: Twenty-four months …
PLAYWRIGHT: (angrily kidding) Two years in that shithole isn’t long enough to burn us out, is it? ACTRESS: (feels a bit on edge) I promise, even if they force you to spend more time in jail, I won’t be down in the dumps… (dubious) ever. I know though they don’t want us only to feel down, they want us, they want everybody, to be paralysed with fear.
PLAYWRIGHT: Yeah, they’re totally afraid of people shattering the silence. That’d be their end. (Pause. Emphasising the positive.) They might let me out on parole after serving a couple of months. Who knows?
ACTRESS: Hopefully, darling. (standing up) Red or white?
PLAYWRIGHT: Red, as always. (Walking with a bit of hip motion and body circles and waves and trying to capture his attention, she leaves the stage and disappears into the darkness) I’m going to write more plays if they let me, sweetheart. You know what’s going on there.
ACTRESS: (from the backstage) I’ll be waiting to devour them. I can’t get enough of it. (Short pause.) How much time we’ve got?
PLAYWRIGHT: Not much. The bastards are on their way. could be here any moment.
ACTRESS: (rushes back with two glasses of red wine) I can’t believe they’re taking you away from me. that you should spend two years. (hands him the glass and kisses his forehead) that’s unfair. Locked up just for writing a couple of plays? (takes a sip and sits on his knees) Murderers, bribers, fraudsters, rapists, muggers, and smugglers are out there living their filthy lives freely disguised themselves as politicians, men of God and businessmen, while people like you…
PLAYWRIGHT: (hugs her from behind and kisses her on the neck) Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m going to get back to you ASAP. (Jokingly) I’m going to be a good boy. Won’t give them a chance to torture me and hurt me, not for me, only for you and (touches her stomach) her.
ACTRESS: (takes his hand and kisses it) She’s going to be the only connection between us. (Stands up and walks away) the only hope.
Pause.
PLAYWRIGHT: (puts the glass on the bedside table and falls back on the bed) I’ve been having the same nightmare most nights, since they’ve banned my plays and threatened my producers, my crew, my friends, my family. I saw myself chained by each wrist, I’m pulled apart and my body is about to be torn into two pieces. I struggle to get rid of the chains. The more movements I make, the more I’m pulled apart. I can see the blood gushing from the cracks of my chest and belly. I struggle to shout wildly and furiously… but they’ve muzzled me. (After a short pause) Eventually, the chains change into strings and two monstrous puppeteers take control of my limbs. They move my head, up hands, and my feet. They have control over all my actions and thoughts. They even speak for me. The) move my lips and say the things I never meant. Then, their voice changes into whistles. The) whistle so loudly that I can’t take it anymore, I try to get rid of the strings, but the more movements I make, the more they take me under control.
CREDIT: Kianoush Ramezani
( Whistles are blown. Upstage left two men come into sight. Wearing white gloves, their heads and chests are not visible. A general wash of light illuminates the stage. DIRECTOR and COSTUME DESIGNER rush in. STAGE MANAGER receives a long sheet of paper, evidently a list, from the men and hastily approaches DIRECTOR.)
DIRECTOR: Again’ Fucking bastards!
MANAGER: (as reading) “No bed is permitted on the stage. The bed must be replaced by two chairs at least a metre apart. One on the left, the other one on the right.”
DIRECTOR: (to MANAGER) A sofa is a better option. Isn’t it?
MANAGER: We know that the main issue is that they should not appear to touch, not the bed or sofa.
DIRECTOR: We say yes to their stupid choices and we are going to dance to their tune for the rest of our life. You understand? Sofa. Write it down! (MANAGER writes it down) Next.
MANAGER: (as reading) They say that their upper and lower body must be fully covered. “Sexually explicit,” that’s what they call it.
DIRECTOR: (to COSTUME DESIGNER) Isn’t this obnoxious?
DESIGNER: Yes, but…
MANAGER: (as reading) They believe “even partial nudity is against our beliefs”.
DIRECTOR: Yeah, I know. the forbidden fruit, which sometimes tastes the sweetest.
MANAGER: They won’t let us go public with the underwear.
DIRECTOR: Anyway, there’s no time for flippancy here. (To Costume Designer) What do you think? DESIGNER: We’ve got red stretch leggings and a cream ribbed cardigan for her… black jeans and a blue close-fitting T-shirt for him (exits immediately).
MANAGER: But it’s written here (reads it out loud) “baggy pants and shirts”. That’s what they want from us.
DIRECTOR: I don’t give a shit what they want. I won’t let them ruin what we’ve worked for like dogs. This is art here, man. It’s totally over their head and their suggestion is ridiculous. It won’t work at all. The audience has to see her belly to notice that she’s pregnant. Her body is paramount here, cannot be covered in the shitty baggy thing.
(MANAGER writes it down. COSTUME DESIGNER rushes back with the outfits and helps PLAYWRIGHT and ACTRESS put them on, but STAGE MANAGER tries to stop him from putting the outfits on her.)
MANAGER: We need to take care of her “curves” first.
DESIGNER: Good God! They’d stopped caring about female body curves.
MANAGER: (Shows him) Here, take a look. (reading) “body curves including breasts, hips, butts and thighs must be eliminated. Female’s hair must be fully covered. Keep her hair straight under the scarf.”
DIRECTOR: (approaching them) What’s going on?
DESIGNER: (rushes out again) We need cincher belts and a scarf.
DIRECTOR: Cinchers for a pregnant woman? Isn’t this moronic?
ACTRESS: It’ll make me feel as though I’m suffocating. Isn’t this barbaric?
DIRECTOR: They won’t stop until they asphyxiate us all one day.
MANAGER: (reading from the list) “She must wear a thick scarf and the hair style should not be discernible under the scarf. Her make-up is too visible. Her lips are too red, make them pale. Her eyelashes are too visible. Eliminate them.”
(COSTUME DESIGNER rushes in with cinchers and a scarf and starts putting them on ACTRESS flattening her curves and covering her hair.)
DIRECTOR: Next.
MANAGER: Apple instead of banana. (reads) “It is forbidden for women to eat banana or similar fruits on the stage. It sounds inappropriate. Apple is a better choice.”
DIRECTOR: (furious) It is only a banana. She needs it. She’s got a baby on the way and she needs to eat some goddamn sugary fruits. What is the fucking problem with the banana?
MANAGER: They say (reads again) “it sounds inappropriate.”
DIRECTOR: (bawls) That’s not my grandfather’s cock. (After a short pause) Well, then give her instead (winks angrily at ACTRESS giving her a quick wry smile) a thick “cucumber” to eat. That’s going to cheer the dirty-minded assholes up.
MANAGER: It might be equally “inappropriate.” (to the audience while other characters remain motionless) He has recently come back from abroad where he used to work freely. He doesn’t know yet what’s going on here. He has no idea what he’s going to go through if he violates the rules, if he refuses to uphold the religious values, if he ignores the political norms, if he breaks the traditional laws, if he doesn’t care about the “suggestions” of the authorities, if he continues to defy the “orders” (everybody moves again).
DIRECTOR: I won’t make it an apple, I won’t give them what they want. This is my fucking stage… My stage, my rules. You understand? Next.
MANAGER: (reads from the list) “Shithole” needs to change into “penitentiary.”
DIRECTOR: Prison or jail? (to PLAYWRIGHT) What do you think?
PLAYWRIGHT: (showing his jeans and T-shirt) I’m a hundred and fifty percent with you on that. “Penitentiary” is for serious crimes, better to use “prison” or “jail” where prisoners are kept temporarily.
DIRECTOR: (Takes a glance at MANAGER) I agree. Put it down. “Prison” instead of “shithole.” (MANAGER jots it down) Next.
MANAGER: (reading) “The dialogue - I know though they don’t want us only to feel down, they want us, they want everybody, to be paralysed with fear - must change into - I know though they don’t want us only to feel down, they want us and all wrongdoers to be punished and be full of remorse for their sins.”
DIRECTOR: You serious? (incandescent with rage) Is this a fucking joke?
PLAYWRIGHT: This is going to ruin the whole notion behind the dialogue. This is absurd.
MANAGER: We need to stick to the guidelines if we want our play to get permission, if we want to continue our profession.
DIRECTOR: (to MANAGER) Come on, don’t be such a coward, grow some fucking balls. (to PLAYWRIGHT) Let’s think of something. Just be quick about it.
PLAYWRIGHT: We could say “I know though they don’t want us only to feel down, they want us, they want everybody, to feel. (cannot find the proper word) to feel. eh. safe.” How about that?
DIRECTOR: You’re not serious. That’s far from what the original words meant, (after a short pause) but what else could we do? We’re running out of time. Let’s move on. (To MANAGER) Next.
MANAGER: They’ve suggested “Coca-Cola or Fanta” instead of “red or white wine”. PLAYWRIGHT: (ironically) How about citrus peach cooler and pomegranate mojito mocktail?
DIRECTOR: (To MANAGER) Absolutely not. Nothing less than beer or cider, I’m telling you. (To himself) God, how do they think they’re going to get away with this bloody foul play?
MANAGER: We know that “Coca-Cola or Fanta” are the only choices we have, but anyways. (Jotting it down and reading concurrently) “Words like darling and sweetheart must be crossed out.”
PLAYWRIGHT: Perhaps (addressing ACTRESS who is clearly almost suffocating in the cincher belts) “my dearest” or “honey” are better synonyms, aren’t they, love?
DIRECTOR: (stops MANAGER who wants to say something) Shut up and jot it down, “my dearest” and “honey.”
(MANAGER jots it down reluctantly. Now COSTUME DESIGNER puts the red stretch leggings and a cream ribbed cardigan on ACTRESS.)
ACTRESS: (letting out strangulated whimpers) I can’t fucking breathe. How can I move around, act and talk? And I’m as flat as a board.
DIRECTOR: (to the audience while others remain motionless) They’re creating a maze for us we never going to get out of it. They know how to neutralise our creativity, our endeavours, our fucking presence. But it is what it is. They don’t want us to have a real say about what we’re doing here, do they? (smiles bitterly) Or we might think a different line of work in the future (everybody moves again).
ACTRESS: (strives to get used to the cinchers) I’ve never done this. (tumbles into the arms of PLAYWRIGHT)
PLAYWRIGHT: (jokingly) You’re a newcomer, darling. You’re going to get used to it. Think about your future career. This is just the first step.
(PLAYWRIGHT and COSTUME DESIGNER help ACTRESS walk around and get used to it as she might tumble any moment.)
MANAGER: (reading) “Kisses, hugs, or any sort of touch must be omitted from the play and its performance.”
DIRECTOR: (now sits down feeling exhausted and light and drags on a cigarette leaning on the wall) Next.
MANAGER: (reading faster and louder as he goes on) “Instead of the word - bastards - used to describe the police, it is necessary to use the law enforcement officers.”
DIRECTOR: (pulls on the cigarette) Next.
MANAGER: “The word, devour, and the sentence - I can’t get enough of it - are lascivious. Cross them out.”
DIRECTOR: Next.
MANAGER: “The sentence - Murderers, bribers, fraudsters, rapists, muggers, and smugglers are out there living their filthy lives freely disguised themselves as politicians, men of God and businessmen, while people like you… - needs to change into - Murderers, bribers, fraudsters, rapists, muggers, and smugglers also spend time serving. They must be punished in order not to turn to crime again.”
DIRECTOR: Next.
MANAGER: “The sentence - they’ve banned my plays and threatened my producers, my crew, my friends, my family. - must be crossed out.”
DIRECTOR: Next.
MANAGER: “The sentence - they’re totally afraid of people shattering the silence. That’d be their end - must change into - They’re only afraid of God. That strengthens their faith and it’s the beginning of their journey.”
DIRECTOR: (draws on the cigarette) Next.
(Dead Blackout. Shrill whistles are blown. After a while PLAYWRIGHT and ACTRESS gradually become visible sitting next to each other on a sofa located at the centre. ACTRESS’s body seems flat in the red stretch leggings and a cream ribbed cardigan and there are no body curves visible. No expanded belly. PLAYWRIGHT in his black jeans and a blue close-fitting T-shirt tries to stay physically distant from ACTRESS.)
PLAYWRIGHT: They’re coming.
ACTRESS: (taking a bite of a huge cucumber) How do you know?
PLAYWRIGHT: An old friend informed me.
ACTRESS: Twenty-four months…
PLAYWRIGHT: (angrily kidding) Two years in that “prison” isn’t long enough to burn us out, is it? ACTRESS: (feels a bit on edge) I promise, even if they force you to spend more time in jail, I won’t be down in the dumps. (dubious) ever. “I know though they don’t want us only to feel down, they want us, they want everybody, to be punished and be full of remorse for our sins.”
PLAYWRIGHT: Yeah, “they’re only afraid of God. That strengthens their faith and it’s the beginning of their journey.” (Pause. Emphasising the positive.) They might let me out on parole after serving a couple of months. Who knows?
ACTRESS: Hopefully, “honey”. (standing up carefully) “Beer or cider?”
PLAYWRIGHT: “Beer” as always. (Walking without any feminine waves and circles, she leaves the stage and disappears into the darkness) I’m going to write more plays if they let me, my dearest. You know what’s going on there.
ACTRESS: (from the backstage) I’ll be waiting to “read” them. You know that I’ve got a soft spot for them. (Short pause.) How much time we’ve got?
PLAYWRIGHT: Not much. “The law enforcement officers” are on their way… could be here any moment.
ACTRESS: (comes back with two glasses of beer, trying not to tumble) I can’t believe they’re taking you away from me. that you should spend two years. (hands him the glass and sends him a kiss from distant) that’s unfair. Locked up just for writing a couple of plays? (takes a sip and sits on the sofa next to him trying to avoid any physical contact) “Murderers, bribers, fraudsters, rapists, muggers, and smugglers also spend time serving. They must be punished in order not to turn to crime again.”
PLAYWRIGHT: (sends her a kiss) Don’t worry, darling. I promise I’m going to get back to you ASAP. (Jokingly) I’m going to be a good boy. (jumps and kneels in front of her) Won’t give them a chance to torture me and hurt me, not for me, only for you and (points to her flat belly without touching it) her.
ACTRESS: (also points to her own belly) She’s going to be the only connection between us… (Stands up and walks away slowly) the only hope. (Stands up and walks away slowly) the only hope.
Pause.
PLAYWRIGHT: (puts the glass on the bedside table) I’ve been having the same nightmare most nights, since they banned my plays and threatened my producers, my crew, my friends, my family… I saw myself chained by each wrist, I’m pulled apart and my body is about to be torn into pieces. I struggle to get rid of the chains. The more movements I make, the more I’m pulled apart. I can see the blood gushing from the cracks of my chest and belly. I struggle to shout wildly and furiously. but they’ve muzzled me. (After a short pause) Eventually, the chains change into strings and two monstrous puppeteers take control of my limbs. They move my head, my hands, and my feet. They have control over all my actions and thoughts. They even speak for me. They move my lips and say the things I never meant. Then, their voice changes into whistles. They whistle so loudly that I can’t take it anymore, I try to get rid of the strings, but the more movements I make, the more they take me under control.
(Shrill whistles are blown. Upstage left two men come into sight. Wearing white gloves, their heads and chests are not visible. A general wash of light illuminates the stage. DIRECTOR and COSTUME DESIGNER rush in. STAGE MANAGER receives a long sheet of paper, evidently a list, from the men and a black package, shakes hands with them and enters with a broad dazzling smile. He takes the sofa out of the stage, comes back with two chairs and puts one on the left and the other one on the right side of the stage. PLAYWRIGHT and ACTRESS approach the seats and sit down slowly. STAGE MANAGER first gives PLAYWRIGHT a Coca-Cola and ACTRESS a Fanta and an apple, and then takes out a large black veil from the package and spreads it over the ACTRESS and covers her entire body. Shrill piercing whistles are blown. Dead blackout.)