Review: I, JOAN at Shakespeare's Globe

"Truth is, queerness is magic, pure magic! We are beautiful, and powerful, and for that we are killed. The violence is real."

Joan of Arc has long been a symbol of female empowerment. Her ascent to patron saint of France is often described as a tale of gender non-conforming rebellion for women to aspire to. Shakespeare's Globe and writer Charlie Josephine (they/he) have dismantled this depiction of womanhood, redefining Joan's experiences through the lens of trans existence. In I, Joan, the protagonist traverses the same war and faith we as an audience are accustomed to, whilst also advocating for and navigating their nonbinary identity.

I, Joan marks Isobel Thom's (they/them) professional debut in the title role. Thom is vibrant from the get-go; their Joan is filled with youthful anticipation even in the face of mortal danger. Joan's text is by far the heaviest, both in words and emotion, but they navigate the complexities of social politics with grace.

A gentle and clement Thomas (Adam Gillen, he/him) supports Joan throughout, resonating their experiences with sincerity. Mother-in-law to the king, Yolande (Debbie Korley, she/her) mercilessly disarms everyone around her; the brutality that she thrusts towards Joan is filled with all the modern toxicity of neoliberal feminism. Korley offers this gendered violence with exceptional depth. Jolyon Coy (he/him) and Janet Etuk (she/her) are equally vicious as Charles and his wife Marie - both complicit in Yolande's ignorance and individually eager to gain control of France.

Providing eternal adoration to their devoted leader, the full company scenes of Joan's army exploding into battle are bold and unapologetically queer. There is a wonderful messiness to be appreciated, which aids in driving the pace when action starts to drag. At 2 hours and 50 minutes, this energetic reset is vital, although ample historical explanation could have been shortened to allow the weight of Joan's queer struggle to fully resonate. Joan is scripted as having ADHD and a considerable proportion of the queer community are also neurodivergent; expecting these audiences to remain still and attentive for nearly three hours of physical and verbal combat feels inaccessible.

Joan is a highly complicated individual, both in this depiction and within the history books. Debate continues as to whether anachronistic associations of gender are helpful or even relevant when reimagining historic narratives. I, Joan is a courageous reminder that gender non-conformity does not just exist to adhere to historical fact or to serve the identity politics of feminism. Now, Joan's story suddenly feels engaging as a fresh crusade against transphobic rhetoric. Josephine's talent shines in his ability to make queer discourse comprehensible. To argue the importance of historical fact against the importance of this work would dangerously ignore the violence faced by the trans community entirely.

Queer rebellion is intersectional and deeply multifaceted, and it appears that both director, Ilinca Radulian (she/her) and designer, Naomi Kuyck-Cohen (she/her) have considered as many experiences as possible when crafting Joan's environment. With this in mind, there is still so much socio-political territory left untouched. We should never forget that queer liberation would not exist without Black activism.

The show received considerable criticism, even before opening night, but impassioned reactions from audience members throughout are enough to solidify that there is great power in consuming Joan's story as queer. There is no doubt that even with a running time of biblical proportions, I, Joan serves as a jubilant celebration of trans existence.

The remaining company includes Baker Mukasa (he/him), Kevin McMonagle (he/him), Jonah Russell (he/him), Anna Savva (she/her), Natasha Cottriall (she/her), Joe Henry (he/they), Azara Meghie (she/they), and Roseanna Anderson (she/her.)

I, Joan at Shakespeare's Globe until 22 October

Photo credit: Helen Murray