
Sherman Theatre Stiwdio – 17/06/25
Elsie Davidson’s Martha is a glamorous, playful and fiercely political production that manages to be both joyful and deeply uncomfortable. Staged in the Sherman Theatre Stiwdio, it throws us into a dystopian 2055 where deafness is pathologised and BSL is criminalised – a chillingly plausible warning of unchecked authoritarianism.
The set and costume design were particularly striking — glamorous, bold, and effective. While the futuristic style occasionally felt a little on-the-nose, overall Carl Davies’ work was impressive. The world-building was visually immersive and immediate. From the moment I entered the space, I was asked for a “secret passcode” — a sign in BSL I would later be taught. A tattoo was stamped on my hand, and an actor enthusiastically welcomed me into the world of Martha. The layout and setting were clearly well thought through. Intimidating? Yes — but also exciting.
Before diving into the dystopian future, Davidson allowed a moment to reflect on a quieter history: an island once home only to deaf people, where everyone used sign language. After this unconventional prologue, the audience was asked directly, “Are you hearing?” — followed by a patronising, “Oh, you poor thing.” A small but loaded exchange that immediately set the tone. Thoughtful, and unsettling in exactly the right way.
The use of clowning, physical theatre and exaggerated, flamboyant characters brought energy and was articulated particularly well by Granville (played by Duffy), whose performance was a standout. At times, though, the tone bordered on being silly. Some scenes – especially the musical or more panto-like ones – veered away from the serious subject matter, which could be jarring. Still, these playful elements made the heavier themes feel more accessible for a wide audience. They also injected a sense of humanity into a world where that very humanity is being stripped away.
There was a notable split between naturalistic scenes and surreal, exaggerated ones. This contrast wasn’t always smooth. I often found myself struggling to stay engaged – the lack of live sound and reliance on subtitles meant I was constantly shifting focus, scanning for words instead of watching performances. This disconnect felt particularly frustrating in emotionally charged moments – looking at subtitles instead of faces, reading instead of feeling. It’s something hearing audiences aren’t used to – but maybe that discomfort is exactly what the production wanted us to sit with.
Davidson’s integration of BSL throughout the show was powerful – not as an add-on but woven into the form itself. In that sense, Martha wasn’t just inclusive – it challenged what inclusivity in theatre looks like. A show not about deafness, but made for deaf people, by people who care about that representation. The message landed clearly: difference is not illness, and the fight for rights is far from over.
However, while the themes – medical control, state propaganda, forced erasure – were undeniably timely and important, I felt the production didn’t always trust them to carry weight. Torture scenes, disappearances and threats were sometimes overshadowed by a tone that felt too “soft”. The cutesy, cabaret-like atmosphere occasionally took away from the emotional punch those ideas deserved.
The ending, though, was the strongest moment. A rousing, urgent call to action: “I’m still here!” A final plea for resistance, for visibility, for community.
Martha isn’t perfect – and maybe it shouldn’t be. It’s messy, experimental, bold, eclectic and emotionally complicated. For all its structural flaws, it sparks conversation. It’s not just a show about the future – it’s a challenge to audiences now.