Adam Pottle Takes Us Behind the Curtain of the World's First Deaf Musical

Searching for more fantasy and escapism in modern theatre, acclaimed author and playwright Adam Pottle paired his love of genre work with the power of music, using the medium as more than just a listening experience for the audience. 

The result is The Black Drum (Playwrights Canada Press), which has been hailed as the world's first Deaf musical. The play is told entirely in American Sign Language and Signed Music, and follows the story of Joan, who has been unable to share her singing with the world since the passing of her wife. Her grief and pain draw her into a black-and-white world where her own tattoos come to life and guide her on a journey toward healing, ultimately leading to a confrontation with a monster called The Minister. In this climactic meeting, Joan must find her voice again to prevail.

Pottle's work redefines our understanding of musicals altogether, and reflects his own experiences in unlearning the standard auditory conception of music. But, none of this will surprise admirers of a playwright who has continuously challenged audience perception and expectation in his work.

We're very happy to share an interview with the author today, as part of our Behind the Curtain Playwright interview series.

(Note: The Black Drum is to be published later this month, and you can pre-order the title from Playwrights Canada Press right now!)

Open Book:

Was there a question you were exploring in this work, and if so, did you know what it was when you started writing? 

Adam Pottle:

Because The Black Drum is a signed musical, the way we define music was a persistent theme, and as I wrote, I kept questioning my own conception of music. I was born Deaf but grew up in a hearing family, so the way I thought about music was auditorily based. The Black Drum reflects my own journey in unlearning an auditory conception of music and embracing a new definition. Music is not just something we hear; it’s something we can see and feel. There’s music in the way leaves fall from trees and in the way our blood surges through our vessels and in the way a snail lurches along the sidewalk. As I became more conscious of the music all around me, I began embracing my Deaf self more and more, and so, in turn, does Joan, the play’s protagonist. 

OB:

What drew you to the setting of your play and how did you go about creating it? 

AP:

I’d wanted to write a fantasy for the musical. My previous play Ultrasound was set in the real world, and I wanted to get away from that. There’s not enough escapism in Canadian theatre—it often takes itself far too seriously. I wanted a visually exciting setting that cohered with the play’s themes, so I drew inspiration from several sources, including Through the Looking Glass, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and Nosferatu. It’s a landscape that starts out looking apocalyptic: burnt trees, ashy soil. But it’s also a malleable landscape. Beneath the surface, things wait to claw their way upward. The setting in a way mirrors Joan’s journey; there are many different layers in the setting related to oppression, music, nature, expression, and love.

OB:

What was the most surprising or memorable moment or experience you had while writing this play? 

AP:

Going to Oslo, Norway in December 2018 and working with the director Mira Zuckermann was a wonderful experience. Oslo is a beautiful city, and one night, I’d left my hotel room to get a bite to eat, and I went to this outdoor festival-like area in the middle of a city square. There was a Ferris wheel with bright purple lights. There was a skating rink. There were numerous food vendors, and I bought a bun with sausage on it and just sat alone on a bench taking in the scenery. After I finished eating, I got up and started walking back to my hotel, but the cobblestone pathway was blocked by hundreds of people holding candles and marching toward me. I backed up and watched them gather in the square in front of this beautiful hotel. I asked a nearby police officer what was happening and she said, “Nobel.” I looked up, and on the balcony were that year’s Nobel Peace Prize winners. Everyone cheered for them. It was a magical scene: the Ferris wheel in the background, the cold winter air, the people holding their candles. The beauty of humanity was on full display, and I carried that feeling forward. I carry it still.

OB:

In your opinion, how does one go about writing great and memorable characters for the stage?

AP:

For me, the best characters are the ones who not only capture our imaginations with their striking looks and memorable lines, but whose iconography, whose meaning is clear, because their actions completely cohere with and illustrate the piece’s theme in unexpected and exciting ways. The Joker stands out because he is the antithesis of Batman: he represents violence and chaos. Because The Black Drum is so visually focused, I had to ensure each character had their own unique look and pattern of Sign. The two who stand out to me are Joan and the Minister. Joan has the biggest journey in the piece. She wears several colours, and her signing is stiff at first, because she’s in mourning, but her signs become more and more fluid and musical as the story progresses. She has tattoos on her arms that come to life in the In-Between Land, and they become part of her journey. She signifies the beauty of not just Deaf people, but of humanity as a whole, whereas the Minister is her foil. He’s a horrifying character, with black clothing and a viscerally pale face. The actor who played him, Bob Hiltermann, was the perfect choice. Bob has a sharp, expressive face, and I can’t imagine anyone else playing the Minister.

OB:

Are there any misconceptions about being a playwright?

AP:

Being a Deaf playwright has its challenges, because we think of theatre as an auditory medium. People talk on stage. There’s this expectation of speedy, smooth, orally delivered dialogue, because that’s what the audience expects. But I see theatre as a visual medium. I want action and colour and movement onstage. I want to subvert the audience’s expectations. Being a Deaf playwright means that whatever I create presses against the foundations, the traditions of Western theatre, which is based on orally spoken words.

OB:

Do you feel your work has changed in any way through your writing life and career? If so, how?

AP:

I’ve become much more socially aware, much more empathetic, and that change is reflected in my writing. The difference between my most recent novel, Apparitions, and my first novel, Mantis Dreams, is enormous. I look back at my first novel with a bit of embarrassment—it was an angry young man’s novel. Prickly, esoteric, narrow-minded, selfish. I’m still angry, but I approach it more productively, channeling it into better places. I’m nowhere near as reactionary as I used to be. I aspire toward generosity and understanding in both my life and my work. 

I’ve also become more focused on horror stories, leaving behind realistic or literary stories. I loved horror as a kid, and I’ve become much more involved with that medium over the last five or six years. I’d love to tell a horror story onstage one day. I’d love to scare the audience.

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Born Deaf and raised in a hearing family, Adam Pottle spent his childhood searching for magical portals and pretending to be Godzilla. He is the award-winning author of works in multiple genres, including the acclaimed writing memoir Voice and the Deaf horror novel Apparitions. His plays include the groundbreaking works Ultrasound and The Black Drum. When not writing, he can be found at the boxing gym, the library, or the park with his goldendoodle Valkyrie. He lives in Saskatoon.