Hands That Speak Volumes - Martha -the performance that’s placing BSL at the centre of the storytelling
What happens when language becomes resistance? That’s the question Taking Flight poses with Martha, a bold, emotionally charged production that invites us into a future where sign language is forbidden and Deaf culture driven underground. Set in the year 2055, Martha imagines a regime that outlaws sign language under the guise of harmony—silencing identity in the process.
At the centre of it all is a cabaret bar that doubles as a haven, where outcasts and survivors gather not just to perform, but to remember and resist. It’s here that we meet Sarah (Cherie Gordon), orphaned at six and now a woman on the run and with a secret of her own, her arrival sparks friction and vulnerability in equal measure. As she uncovers a personal truth far deeper than she expected, we’re pulled into a story that blends movement, music, and visual storytelling with rich emotional complexity.
The performances are deeply affecting. In particular, the character of Mabel (Bea Webster)—poised, fiery, quietly fierce—anchors the production with clarity and conviction. The world around them is stylised and symbolic, drawing on noir aesthetics and dystopian overtones, but it never loses sight of its heart. This is theatre that moves with intent—through light and silence, through voice and gesture.
The entire cast is nothing short of astonishing—each performance adding nuance and texture to this carefully crafted world. Eben James brings a thoughtful vulnerability to Bill, the play’s only “hearie,” straddling both insider and outsider perspectives with quiet complexity. Duffy is pure joy as Granville, delivering hilarity laced with warmth in a role that’s both paternal and profoundly human. Amy Helena’s Helen smoulders with conviction—her political fire is palpable, making every one of her scenes spark with tension and urgency. And Rhiannon May offers a stunning portrayal of Kitty, the heart of Martha’s cabaret, grounding the show with emotional resonance and quiet strength.
As a hearing person, Martha was unlike anything I’ve experienced. The use of British Sign Language alongside spoken word and visual captioning didn’t just facilitate access—it reshaped how I engaged with language and meaning. At points, I found myself watching hands instead of mouths, reading expressions instead of relying on sound. And somewhere in that unfamiliarity, I found clarity. It left me asking: why isn’t sign language part of our everyday learning? Why do we let something so vital become a dividing line in our own communities?
Plays like Martha matter deeply. Not just because they platform Deaf voices or experiment with form, but because they make us confront the gaps in our empathy, our understanding, our education. They show what’s possible when inclusivity is built from the beginning—not tacked on as an afterthought. In a cultural climate that often speaks about diversity without shifting its frame, Martha embodies it.
It’s a rallying cry wrapped in satin gloves, sung through gesture and gaze. More than a play—it’s an experience that changes the way you see the world we live in.
You can get tickets to Martha at the Sherman Theatre Website here.
