From the National Theatre programme for The Island, 2000.

In 1973, in London, a play from South Africa burst into the Royal Court Theatre like a bomb. On an empty stage, for fifteen minutes, the only sound heard was that made by the repetitive movements of two men – two young black actors, moving from one side of the stage to the other in a mime of incredible precision: digging, filling wheelbarrows, pushing them, emptying them, digging, filling them again. Great drops of sweat poured from the two men. Each muscle of their bodies, every fibre of their being showed a complete, a crushing reality that they absolutely had to express.

For them, that empty space was the quarry on Robben Island, the island where Nelson Mandela and so many other brave men were imprisoned, where the isolation was so total, the security so tight, that the only news that got through was whispered from mouth to ear, or scribbled on tiny scraps of paper.

The Island was the play’s title. It was a collective creation by the two young actors, John Kani and Winston Ntshona, and the writer Athol Fugard. Fugard was a tremendous hero of the South African opposition. He had written many polemical plays in his country, but this was the first time that a “white” South African had worked in complete collaboration with “two blacks”. The three men together gave birth to this play, day after day, hidden in a little flat, lent by another “white”, the marvellous actress Yvonne Bryceland. For day after day the trio explored, improvised on the information they received, through members of their families, on the conditions on the island. But day after day they grew to suspect that this was an unrealisable project. How could they speak of a place that no-one could penetrate, of which no-one knew anything? They were about to abandon the idea when, from the window of the little Cape Town flat, they saw Robben Island facing them, far away, its contour perfectly defined. It must be spoken of, life is stronger than doubt and despair. They had to go on.

In 1973, a draft version was presented twice in Cape Town. Then, as Athol Fugard had an invitation from the Royal Court in London, they decided that The Island would be created there. But how to obtain visas? Winston had a job in a grocery store. But John had no work and it was as “gardener” to Athol Fugard that he presented himself to the English authorities. A visa was granted at Heathrow airport. The definitive performance of The Island could take place. A new movement had crossed the barriers, escaped the terrifying vigilance of the South African police. It was a theatre of life, fed by vital street humour. The actors had an innate talent for play, for improvisation; they had a swift intelligence, they brilliantly used every cell in their bodies. They gave off an extraordinary energy, an energy that nothing and no-one could repress.

In 1999, for the second time, the Bouffes du Nord organised a South African season. In October we were pleased and proud, as part of this season, to welcome to Paris the two great actors John Kani and Winston Ntshona in a revival of the original version of The Island, which had never been seen in Paris. The season pays homage to Barney Simon (Founder Member and former Artistic Director of the Market Theatre, Johannesburg), who sadly is no longer with us. It also pays homage to all those who created and continue to create a living theatre in South Africa. The need is still there, the need to express through theatre the fierce joy and bitter anger which have made survival possible.

© Peter Brook, November 1999