“I’m always hungry for queer historical representations,” says Charlie Josephine, the non-binary playwright of I, Joan, a sweaty, heady, gleefully weird new drama about France’s patron saint. “Because our history has been erased, especially that of transgender people, there is very limited documentation of us throughout history, even though we have existed since the beginning of time.”
I, Joan, which has just opened at London’s Globe Theatre, takes us into the life of 17-year-old Joan of Arc, the 15th-century teenage peasant who claimed to be divinely chosen to lead the French army during the hundred years of war With a limited surviving archive from medieval France, there are details about John’s life that we will never know for sure. This makes her story ripe for reexamination and, for Josephine, reclamation.
We had enough in the budget for the horses, but that would have really overshadowed my writing
I, Joan, which is directed by Ilinca Radulian, portrays Joan as non-binary. We see them fighting first for an audience with the future king, then in the fields of France, but at the same time they fight against a society where their identity puts them in extreme danger. Joan wore men’s clothes, had short hair and held weapons. But gender is rooted much deeper than these outward signifiers, which can be argued for the practicalities of surviving the Middle Ages. For Josephine, writing Joan as non-binary seemed obvious and natural. “I could have written this play as a cis woman who is a feminist and passionate about expressing herself in this way,” Josephine says, brushing the idea aside. “But the more I read about Joan, the more I think they are what we would now call non-binary or trans.”
In Josephine’s imagination, the character’s struggle with gender is inextricably intertwined with her divinity. “My understanding of John’s God is that it’s an internal instinct, almost an instinct,” says Josephine, who points to the transcript of John’s trial, the primary source of John’s voice: “They are asked again and again to what are they wearing men’s clothes… And again and again, John says: ‘Because God has guided me'”.
“I am very familiar with this kind of abuse”… Charlie Josephine
It is this judgment that ultimately leads to John being burned at the stake for heresy. “It seemed like it wasn’t a casual fashion statement that Joan chose death. It was seen as a sin and a crime to present them the way they did. They knew the risk and they chose it. To me, this it’s a deep need.” Joan’s strangeness, suggests Josephine, is like those messages from God: an order, an insistence, a need. “I couldn’t read this as anything other than a trans experience.”
The announcement that the character was non-binary drew immediate outrage online, with attacks on the cast, crew and the very idea that a historical figure’s identity could be reexamined in art. “It was all pretty predictable,” says Josephine. “Personally, I’m very familiar with this kind of abuse. None of it was surprising. But we haven’t paid too much attention to it, because we have a job to do.” As we talk, the show begins to come together. “This play it’s been done with such care and love. It takes real courage on the part of the actors. I think they have enough on their plate without thinking about all that stuff.”
There was, however, one part of the reaction that took Josephine by surprise. “I forgot I was blaspheming a saint!” they say laughing, with their hands raised above their heads and almost forming a halo. When first considering how to write the play, they add, Joan’s devotion proved a challenge. “I’m not a religious person and most of our audience won’t be,” says Josephine. “I said, ‘How am I going to make God exciting for a non-denominational audience in 2022?’ How am I going to make it accessible?”
Josephine found the answer by leaning into the complexities of John’s Catholicism and exploring how a working-class background might have been a barrier to the traditional hierarchies of religion. This boy who grew up in a farming family would not have understood the Latin spoken in church. “They didn’t know how to read, they didn’t know how to write,” says Josephine, “but they had to go to church to listen to a boy speaking in Latin, and to be told that this is how God lives. John experienced God as he walked through the fields with nature, listening to its own expression.”
In the play, the vehicle for this expression is dance, the use of movement derived from the failure of language. Rethinking gender through a historical lens, says Josephine, always raises questions about finding the right words. “The language we have now, then Joan didn’t have it. I think there is violence in that. Not having the words to tell you is a really terrifying thing.”
“It was seen as a sin and a crime to present himself in the way John did”… the patron saint of France was burned at the stake in Rouen in 1431. Photo: Universal Images Group/Getty Images
Therefore, in the absence of proper language, there is an abundance of movement that encompasses everything. The entire show is written vividly and bodily, with each battle told through dance, choreographed by Jennifer Jackson. “I didn’t really want to do any awkward sword fights,” says Josephine. “With the war, I wanted it to be about the body, to remind us of the humans there. It’s also a strange message. I felt it was important that the body was front and center.”
The epic space of the Globe requires this kinetic energy, argues the playwright, this riot of movement of John’s battles, bullies and moments of divine inspiration. With £5 floor tickets, they hope the show will invite a whole new audience to hear this story of a historic working-class hero, told here as non-binary, turning the Globe into a space for dance and the celebration “Half the audience is standing like they’re at a concert,” says Josephine. “They can literally leave if they get bored. There are planes and pigeons and it’s going to rain. It’s visceral and immediate.” If all goes according to plan, they say, the show should feel “punk and gassy.”
The size of the theater has also allowed them to be bold in their writing. “I wanted to dare to write epic speeches and be aware of the sky in this space,” Josephine says with a smile. “We have the budget for the horses, but that would have really set the stage for my writing.”
God’s chosen teenager is played by non-binary actor Isobel Thom, a recent graduate of the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. “They graduated five minutes ago,” laughs Josephine. “They are incredible, an intelligent, passionate and brave actor. I don’t know if he could do what they’re doing, certainly at this stage of his career, but also at this stage of his life.”
Anyone who wants to see Joan as a strong young feminist can still see it that way
In response to the online attacks, Thom posted on Twitter: “Joan is an icon to many, of any gender, but has such special significance for women / afab. [assigned female at birth] people […] nobody is taking the historical Joan from you. no one takes Joan away from you, whatever Joan might mean to you […] this show is art: it is an exploration, it is imagination”.
Few performers have to deal with an embassy of abuse for their professional debut. But this production has never been to cause controversy. In Jo, Joan, the protagonist’s rascality is an essential part of who the character is, a fundamental part of the story. It’s clear from Josephine’s script and enthusiasm that the very bones of this production vibrate with strange pride, delight and community. “It’s a joyful thing to be queer,” they say, smiling. “It’s a beautiful thing to be trans.”
Historical theater will always be interpretive, by its very nature. “It’s not historically accurate, if you compare it to history books written by white, cis, straight, middle-class, middle-aged men,” says Josephine. “But I think it’s important to question where we get our information from.” They’re not trying to tell a naturalistic story: there’s a lot of movement here, after all, with drummers, dancers and direct address. “There is an unlimited expansion in art. This is the point. It’s not a museum. It’s poetry, play and asking all the big what-if questions.”
What if this was the story of a non-conforming warrior who, if he were to be alive today, might hear the word non-binary and feel like he fits in? What if it was told in a scenario that played with history, reimagined and reexamined it, and took into account our motivations for putting the past on stage? “There’s room enough for all of us,” says Josephine, leaning back in her chair, sure of herself and her show. “Those who want to see Joan as a strong young feminist can still see Joan like that. For those who are hungry for this new exploration of Joan, this work is exciting. It doesn’t take anything away, it just expands.”
I, Joan is at the Globe Theater in London until 22 October.