Chiara Atik’s Poor Clare, in its UK premiere at the Orange Tree Theatre, is a sharply written, emotionally resonant modern retelling of Clare of Assisi — the 13th-century noblewoman who gave up privilege and wealth for radical poverty and spiritual devotion. Directed with insight and sensitivity by Blanche McIntyre, this is not a reverent hagiography, but a vibrant, searching social drama that speaks directly to contemporary concerns about inequality, homelessness, and the cost of conviction.
Atik’s bold choice to use modern language and cultural references might sound jarring, but it works. The characters speak in 21st-century cadences, but the emotional and ethical questions they face are timeless. There’s sarcasm rather than satire, humour laced with empathy, and an ongoing struggle for moral clarity in a world defined by imbalance — themes that feel urgently familiar.
Arsema Thomas leads the cast with a luminous performance as Clare. We meet her in luxury: her long dreadlocks being styled by two maids – Peppa (Liz Kettle) and Alma (Jacoba Williams), in a scene that immediately signals class, image, and transformation. Thomas embodies Clare’s internal journey — from privilege to self-sacrifice — with grace and emotional honesty. Her eventual decision to renounce her status, symbolised in part by the cutting of her hair, is not romanticised but grounded in doubt, fear, and desire.
Freddy Carter plays Francis — later Saint Francis of Assisi — as a young man caught between conviction and uncertainty. He’s passionate and persuasive, clearly moved by the cause of radical poverty and reform, but also disarmingly honest about his own limits. As he admits, he is not certain he’ll be able to sustain his commitment. There’s no easy holiness here: Carter’s Francis is emotionally complex — charismatic, conflicted, and still very much in formation. His searching energy complements Clare’s growing clarity, and their bond, while never romanticised, carries moments of fascination, tension, and mutual influence.
Anushka Chakravarti brings charm and dimension to Beatrice, Clare’s younger sister. At first, Beatrice is self-involved, concerned with appearances, and eager to secure a wealthy husband. Chakravarti draws laughter with her candid remarks about men and her desire to maintain the comforts of noble life. But her humour serves more than comic relief — it highlights just what Clare is giving up. Beatrice’s worldview is not mocked but humanised, and Chakravarti’s performance offers a poignant counterpoint to Clare’s moral awakening. In the end, Beatrice’s own quiet shift in values adds emotional weight to the story’s arc. Hermione Gulliford is excellent as Ortolana, Clare’s mother — a complex, maternal figure torn between fear for her daughter and admiration for her courage.
Costume becomes a key visual tool in distinguishing status and evolution. There is a thoughtful blend of period inspiration and modern stylisation, particularly in the attire of the female characters, whose costumes evoke — without strictly replicating — the dress codes of Italian nobility in the 13 century.
Poor Clare is more than a saint’s origin story. It’s about resistance, transformation, and the cost of choosing a different path. Clare doesn’t drift into sainthood — she chooses it, painfully and with consequence. This production makes a compelling case for her not just as a religious figure, but as a revolutionary one. Through sharp writing, sensitive direction, and compelling performances, Poor Clare becomes a play for today — asking what we’re willing to give up, and for what.
By Chiara Atik
Directed by Blanche McIntyre
Cast include: Arsema Thomas, Freddy Carter, Anushka Chakravarti, Hermione Gulliford, Liz Kettle, Jacoba Williams, George Ormerod.
Until: 9 August 2025
Duration: 1 hour and 40 minutes without interval.
photo credit Ellie Kurttz.