Artistic licence
I recently saw the play On the upside-down of the world at Downstage Theatre in Wellington. Written by New Zealand playwright Arthur Meek and featuring Laurel Devenie in an impressive solo performance, it dramatises the life of Mary Ann Martin, an early English settler in New Zealand and wife of the country’s first chief justice, William Martin. It is based on her posthumously published book Our Maoris (1884).
The play charts Mary Ann Martin’s transformation from a genteel English lady conducting awkward, cringe-worthy conversions with Māori on her arrival in 1842 to a hard-working colonial who thrives in her new home. This transformation is represented by her changing attire. She begins fully dressed in hat and crinoline. The hat comes off first, followed by the crinoline, until she’s left wearing a simple, patched dress. Later in the play she wears a woollen rug lined with feather-like fabric in imitation of Māori.
She becomes fluent in the Māori language and gains great respect for the people and their customs. She rails against ignorant English visitors who denigrate the intelligence of Māori and bitterly opposes land laws and post-war confiscations which transfer the land to the hands of settlers, ever-growing in numbers.
Devenie’s performance is powerful and gripping, so we suffer with Mary as she sees control slipping from Māori and the tide turning towards war. We also share in her personal pain when she miscarries during a trip around the Rotorua area, ending her and her husband’s hopes for children.
The end for Mary is bitter – her husband is relieved from his post after complaining about the treatment of Māori, and her beloved Māori foster son, whom she called Sancho after a character in the novel Don Quixote, is killed during the land wars. She laments on receiving this news as she has heard Māori women do.
I was tremendously moved by this play and Mary Ann Martin’s story. But is it history? Well, not entirely.
I read Mary Ann Martin‘s Dictionary of New Zealand biography (DNZB) entry before going, so I’d have some notion of her life story. After the play ended and I recovered, I started to think about the gaps between the entry and the play.
The entry didn’t mention a foster son called Sancho and said that William Martin resigned from his post because of ill health, as does William Martin’s DNZB entry. I got Our Maoris out of the library and discovered that Sancho was actually a grown Māori man and seems to have been more like a servant. As my colleague Jock pointed out, religion was entirely absent from the play, yet the DNZB entries and Our Maoris make it quite clear that religion was a central concern in their lives.
Does this flexibility with the ‘facts’ really matter? In a blog post on the Auckland Theatre Company (ATC) website Arthur Meek is quoted as saying ‘It’s not a history play. It’s a play about who we are and how we’ve come to be like we are.’
I’m not sure what he means by that first sentence, because the play is about a real woman and is based on her writings. Perhaps it’s a way of saying that he’s employed some artistic licence with respect to historical facts. Many writers working with historical subjects do this – it’s a valid technique, but I think the audience needs to know it has been employed.
I’m not so sure that the play’s audience will realise this, unless they have prior knowledge of Mary Ann Martin’s life. A review on Kiwiblog says ‘the play is based on the actual history of that period,’ which suggests the reviewer thinks that everything in it is true.
The ATC has described the play thus: ‘suppressed for 150 years, ATC’s latest work uncovers the words of a woman who dared to challenge colonial injustice.’
This suggests some ‘truths’ have been uncovered, whereas it’s fair to say that some of them, as portrayed in the play, are in fact fictional.
I’m not sure we can really say that Mary Anne Martin ‘challenge(d) colonial justice’ – she was critical of colonial policy and deplored the land wars, but after going through Our Maoris, I have trouble seeing her as a radical crusader for justice. Her mission was to convert Māori from heathenism to Christianity and for me this complicates her character – Christianity was just another form of colonialism.
Despite my qualms about historical accuracy, I rate this play highly. I was transported back the mid-19th century New Zealand by the writing and Laurel Devenie’s performance. It’s on at Downstage until 10 September. If you are interested in New Zealand history (however it is portrayed!) and Māori-Pākehā relations, you really should go.
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