12 angry convicts

Drama therapist Zeina Daccache talks about her creative remake of 12 Angry Men. The catch? She casts the hardened inmates of Roumieh Prison.

Translated from its original Arabic.

You didn’t pick the friendliest of crowds to work in, did you?

Working in a prison does have its rewards. I love working with people who have something to say. The people who have the most to say are people who’ve been through more than what you have, people who have a problematic background. It doesn’t get any more problematic than prison, does it?

Nope; and it doesn’t hurt that some are hardened criminals either.

Forget what they’ve done for a second, living in prison – a place you can’t leave, a place where your freedoms are arrested – practically guarantees that your head is buzzing with a million things to say. And criminals don’t wiggle around, they’re rather straightforward, aren’t they?

Straight as a bullet…

If the man doesn’t like you then he’ll tell you, or attack you. There’s no need for veils or pretenses. These people may be criminals, but on the flip-side that makes them rather genuine, and interesting. It makes you want to help them.

What’s the play about anyway?

It’s an adapted version of 12 Angry Men, shortened and redesigned to allow for monologues that express the inmate’s emotions. They basically get up and have some time on stage to talk to the people around them, through the play itself.

And they just share their stories for the asking?

Some of them had nothing to say; ‘I’m imprisoned, I’m OK with it, I don’t feel guilt and I have nothing to say.’ That’s fine, you can’t work with people without insight though, but that’s why we had a selection process to begin with.

You interviewed the inmates?

No, we held training sessions; five training sessions for several groups to a total of 150 people. Throughout the basic exercises we were able to assess skill and whether the inmate could function as part of a group, or grasp enough of the basic requirements.

And you had the final say?

I gave in a list of 75 names, and you have to run this by the prison authorities. Some of the selected men had behavioral issues, or were judged unfit to function and perform, and we ended up with a list of 45 names. And that was it.

Well were they easy to work with?

They were interesting. You’re working with 45 people but really you’re working with 45 different worlds. Every one of these men came from a different planet, and the challenge for me was to get them to align with one cause, and I know that it was just as challenging for them. They had to work on themselves a lot. These men are already impatient; they haven’t refined their mannerism to the point where they can wait for your thought or sentence to properly end.

Sounds like a losing battle…

It was tough, but every time one of them came close to losing their focus he remembered the common goal, and then he’d assess the importance of his inconvenience against that goal. Do I care that I’ve been upset? Yes, but is it more important for me to get angry or get the play done? But this attitude didn’t come easy either; this conclusion would only dawn after hours of soothing conversation.

Do they understand the point of the entire exercise? Do they know it’s a form of therapy?

Yes, if they didn’t they wouldn’t take part in it. You have to understand these people don’t get paid for this, nor do they harbor dreams of Hollywood careers. If they weren’t aware that they’re helping themselves they wouldn’t bother with this project at all.

Has it actually helped – I mean, have you seen any results?

Yes. Hawweelo [lead actor] for instance can’t read or write, and was skeptical about his ability to contribute to the play. The point of getting them into this was giving them a challenge, and Hawweelo’s challenge was taking on a main role; and he did. He spent his nights with his friends learning how to read. He got to a point where he’d read commas out loud and had to be corrected, but reading anything was a major accomplishment.

He actually learned to read?

It was incredible. Another one of my actors, Shankar, is serving a life sentence. He’s been there for 18 years, can you even imagine 18 years in prison?

But what happens when you leave?

This is where we need help: we don’t want to leave, and they don’t want us to leave. Our aim is to have a yearly production in prison, and why not?

Well, why not?

We need funding. We need some accessories and salaries, and beyond that we’ve already covered the basics. We have everything set up and ready, we just need maintenance funds. In April this will all be over, and they’re already asking me ‘then what?’ I can’t stand the thought of hurting them like that, having them live a great dream for a year and then just dropping them.

I suppose you might leave them worse off; so what are you planning to do?

Collect funds of course, and I’ve set up an NGO [Catharsis] for that very purpose. These guys are criminals, fine, but they are human beings, and I’m driven by the belief that there is good in everyone. They may have done some good in their lives, they may want to do good, still.

This program is the only one of its kind in Lebanon. Prisoners receive poor treatment and worse rehabilitation. If you’d like to help maintain this effort, contact Zena Daccache on (961)3-162573