Interview with Marlie Haco

Ahead of directing the first professional revival of Firebird since its original West End run in 2016, I caught up with director Marlie Haco to discuss reviving urgent political theatre, handling difficult subject matter responsibly, and creating space for survivor voices at the core of the production. Written by Phil Davies and opening at Southwark Playhouse this July, Firebird addresses grooming gangs, sexual violence, and systemic failure through a deeply human perspective, making it a production that feels painfully relevant in today’s social climate.

What first drew you to directing Firebird?

I’m always drawn to character-driven plays, particularly those that centre the female experience.

More specifically, what I love about Firebird is how it challenges our assumptions, using the dramatic form to allow us to see the protagonist from multiple perspectives. At first, we meet a flawed, even unlikeable, teenager, but as the story unfolds, we begin to understand the forces shaping her behaviour. I'm interested in making theatre that asks us to look beyond first impressions so we can see each other more clearly, cultivating empathy where we might least expect to find it.

In December 2025, I watched Anna Hall's documentary Groomed: A National Scandal. The testimonies of the young women involved stayed with me and prompted me to think about how theatre can engage with this issue and whether it can create space for deeper conversations about its impact on survivors. I wasn't actively looking for a play about grooming gangs, but when I came across Firebird, I felt compelled to explore the possibility of reviving it.

Finally, I’m always on the hunt for plays that allow me to work non-naturalistically. Phil’s writing feels deceptively simple: the dialogue is natural and understated, but the cumulative effect is incredibly powerful, forming a vivid impression of a young girl surviving in the face of extreme suffering. The text is full of absences and gaps, which create space for a more expressionistic theatrical language. In production, we've embraced this fragmentation, using the tools of live performance to create an experience that is visceral and confronting, bringing audiences closer to the lived reality of the survivor at the heart of the piece.

Firebird originally premiered in 2016. What makes the play feel especially relevant in 2026?

Unfortunately, the issues at the heart of Firebird remain as urgent today as they were when it was first produced in 2016. In the years since, grooming-gang cases have continued to emerge across the UK, exposing the scale of institutional failures that allow abuse to continue unchecked.

Early in the process, Phil and I discussed relocating the play. I became interested in Scotland because it has, until recently, sat slightly outside the dominant national conversation around this issue. With a dedicated Scottish inquiry only launched in February this year, it feels as though the country is at the beginning of a wider public reckoning.

That ultimately influenced our decision to cast Scottish actors in the lead roles and relocate the story to Glasgow. Staging the play now feels less like revisiting a historical issue and more like entering an ongoing conversation about an unresolved national crisis.

You’ve spoken about wanting to foreground survivors’ strength and courage. How does that shape your directorial vision for the production?

Too often, stories about gendered violence become centred on the perpetrators. In public discussion about grooming gangs in particular, survivors are often reduced to statistics or headlines, and despite numerous inquiries, their voices continue to be sidelined. It therefore felt imperative to place the focus firmly on the survivor at the heart of this story and invite audiences into her experience. That idea was my starting point for directing the piece and everything else has followed.

Every aspect of the production is designed to take us inside the protagonist's perspective. Time and place operate according to her psychology rather than naturalistic logic. The visual world becomes increasingly claustrophobic, reflecting her narrowing reality as she’s manipulated and controlled; at times it seems as though she might be crushed by what she endures. A raised playing space creates a constant sense of instability and danger. Sudden flashes of light and a jagged, dissonant score plunge us further into her interior landscape, where traumatic memories remain raw and unprocessed, manifesting as vivid sensations and images.

Ultimately, I want the production to dramatise the remarkable resilience of a young girl whose childhood has been stolen. In the end, it is not the systems designed to protect her that recognise and address her suffering. It is the connection she develops with another teenage girl that becomes a lifeline - that tentative yet powerful bond is what allows a shard of hope to emerge. Above all, I hope the show stands as a celebration of the redemptive power of female friendship in the face of male violence.

What do you think theatre can uniquely offer audiences when engaging with stories rooted in contemporary social issues?

Theatre's power lies in its liveness, where the act of witnessing becomes collective. This is especially true in small spaces like the Little at Southwark Playhouse. The proximity of the actors to the audience, and the audience’s ability to see one another, creates a particular kind of immediacy and discomfort, even complicity, that’s difficult to replicate elsewhere. Theatre can’t replace journalism or public inquiry - but it can create a space in which people confront the difficult human reality behind the headlines. It can challenge assumptions and complicate easy narratives, inviting us, if only for the duration of a performance, to sit with the experiences of those who are too often misunderstood or left out of the conversation altogether.

Difficult plays often demand a great deal emotionally from performers and creatives alike. How do you maintain care and support throughout the process?

A key part of the process has been recognising that this is emotionally challenging material. From the outset, we wanted to build support into the production.

We're incredibly fortunate to be partnering with One in Four, a charity that supports survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Throughout rehearsals we've had regular sessions with a therapist from the organisation, enabling us to better understand how sexual trauma affects survivors while also giving the company practical tools for engaging with the subject matter responsibly. For the actors in particular, that includes strategies for establishing clear boundaries around the work, managing the emotional demands of performance, and de-roling afterwards.

As a director, I don't believe actors should have to relive personal trauma in order to create meaningful theatre. My process is designed to help them access emotional truth through imagination, movement and physicality. I believe my job is to create the conditions in which difficult stories can be explored with honesty and rigour, while ensuring the people telling them are not harmed in the process.

Which part of directing do audiences rarely think about?

When I talk to people after shows I've directed, they’re often keen to know which part of the production I’ve ‘done’. This always makes me smile because the director's influence is woven through every aspect of the production, from the actors’ performances, to the choreography, design, music, and lighting. That’s what's thrilling and terrifying about the work.

I also think audiences are often surprised by how much preparation happens before rehearsals begin. We rehearse for four weeks, but I spend months preparing beforehand: developing the script with the writer, undertaking extensive research, analysing the text, investigating the world of the play and the psychology of its characters, while working closely with my team to evolve the production elements.

There's also a misconception that directing is mainly about telling actors where to stand. In reality, rehearsals are about building a shared understanding of the story and the characters in order to deliver the clearest and most impactful version of the play.

What conversations do you hope audiences are having after leaving the theatre?

I hope audiences are talking about the systemic failures that have allowed grooming gangs to operate across the UK for so long. But above all, I hope they leave thinking about the young girls at the centre of these cases. So often survivors merely become anonymous figures within a wider political debate. I hope Firebird reminds audiences of the individuals behind the headlines - the suffering they've endured and the extraordinary resilience that surviving it demands.

A big thank you to Marlie Haco for taking the time to talk with me about Firebird: with its focus on systemic abuse, survivor resilience, and modern social responsibilities, this revival promises to be a powerful and urgent piece of theatre. Firebird opens at Southwark Playhouse this July in its first professional revival since 2016. Tickets and further details can be found via https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/firebird/