One of Britain's foremost directors, Katie Mitchell's career embraces a formidable repertoire of play and opera productions. She has a taste for Greek tragedy – her Phoenician Women (1995) won the Evening Standard Best Director Award – and takes in Gorky, Chekhov, Genet, and Beckett, as well as such contemporaries as Kevin Elyot, whose Forty Winks she directed at the Royal Court in 2004. She has worked in Dublin, Milan, and Stockholm, and is an Associate Director at the National Theatre. This interview with NTQ co-editor Maria Shevtsova shows Mitchell's lucid and passionate engagement with her craft. It took place in London in several stages from December 2004 to July 2005, during a period of intense activity for Mitchell. Maria Shevtsova wishes to thank her for so generously giving her time.

Friedrich Schiller – poet, historian, and philosopher as well as dramatist – is acknowledged to be a towering figure in German-language theatre, yet has had only a fitful impact on the stages of the English-speaking world, where such of his works as Don Carlos, Intrigue and Love (Luisa Miller in the operatic version) and William Tell are better known through the filters of Verdi and Rossini than in their original form. But there were signs in 2005 – the bicentenary of Schiller's death at the tragically early age of forty-five – that the English theatre was taking more notice of this major playwright, with Phyllida Lloyd's production of Mary Stuart and Michael Grandage's of Don Carlos both well received. In the article which follows, George W. Brandt traces Schiller's troubled breakthrough into professional theatre as a young man with his first play, The Robbers – which, while significantly different from his later work, does anticipate his lifelong preoccupation with the theme of freedom. George W. Brandt, Senior Research Fellow and Professor Emeritus in the Drama Department of the University of Bristol, has previously contributed to NTQ with articles on Bristol's Shakespeare at the Tobacco Factory Company (NTQ 72), and Iffland's 1796 guest performance in the Weimar of Goethe and Schiller (NTQ 77).

Invited by NTQ to review two recent books on performance studies – Jon McKenzie's Perform or Else: from Discipline to Performance and Richard Schechners's Performance Studies: an Introduction – Baz Kershaw found himself in a Catch-22 situation: given the vast territories they claimed for the discipline, how could a short survey do them justice? Yet more perplexing, how might a close analysis of their diffusive visions proceed, even in a longer essay? Struck by their common use of air disasters as denouements and their respective publication dates just six months before and after 9/11, he uses these and other homologies as a route into exploring the ethical and political implications for the new century of the arguments employed by the two texts. Drawing on the philosophical innovation of ‘dialetheism’, which deploys paradox to stretch the bounds of classical logic, he also considers the books' differences and suggests a kind of de-territorialized reconciliation through his notion of a ‘paradoxology’ of performance. He offers the resulting search for depth in surfaces, beginnings in endings, presence in absences, and truth in contradictions as an exemplification of philosopher Po-chang's aphorism about the quest for Buddha's nature: ‘It’s much like riding an ox in search of the ox.’ Baz Kershaw holds the Chair of Drama at Bristol University. His many publications include Engineers of the Imagination (Methuen, 1990), The Politics of Performance (Routledge, 1992), and The Radical in Performance (Routledge, 1999), and he is editor of The Cambridge History of British Theatre: Volume 3, Since 1895 (CUP, 2005). He is also Director of the AHRC-funded major research project PARIP – Practice as Research in Performance.

Once Arnold Daly and Bernard Shaw had got through their baptisms of fire in the transatlantic theatre of the 1890s, the circumstances for their future collaboration must have seemed propitious to them both. However, the Irish-American's inflexibility and the Anglo-Irishman's passion for control led to the fracturing of the relationship within the span of a few years in the first decade of the new century. The exposure of their work – in tandem in American vaudeville and later as competitors on the English variety stage – marked points of their disagreement and quirks in their difficult personalities as they scrambled for audiences who rarely appreciated them as much as both felt they deserved. Leigh Woods, Head of Theatre Studies at the University of Michigan, explores the breakdown of a partnership that launched one man on a course to oblivion and the other on a path to greater glory.

In the following article Benjamin Lloyd uses the work of the noted Swiss psychologist Alice Miller to propose a new archetype – ‘the wounded actor’, a person in the throes of a narcissistic disorder, as defined by Miller in her book The Drama of the Gifted Child. He suggests that conventional actor training will not help the wounded actor, but that the re-introduction of spirituality into the acting-class curriculum may do so. In this light he looks at Stanislavsky's writings about spirituality, focusing on the chapter in An Actor Prepares called ‘Communion’. Linking Stanislavsky's spirituality to the writings and thought of Leo Tolstoy, he explores the reasons why the spiritual nature of Stanislavsky's work has not been generally explored in the West, and suggests some ways in which acting teachers may introduce spiritual concerns into their curricula. Benjamin Lloyd teaches at Villanova University. His The Actor's Way: a Journal of Self-Discovery in Letters is due for publication later this year by Allworth Press, New York, and he is currently facilitating a workshop on possible intersections between Quaker spiritual practice and theatre-making called ‘Revival: Meetings for Theatre’.

Just as the imminence of the Second World War overshadowed the first production of J. B. Priestley's ‘modern morality play’, Johnson Over Jordan, in 1939, so did the disaster of 9/11 its only major revival, at the West Yorkshire Playhouse in 2001. Both productions boasted a major actor – respectively Ralph Richardson and Patrick Stewart – in the title role of a play which continued Priestley's search to find a theatrical style for his own metaphysical enquiries into the nature of time and the boundaries of human mortality. In this article, Alan W. Friedman sets the play in the context of western attitudes towards death and the nature of an afterworld, and relates these to Johnson's own journey after his funeral through rewindings of his past life towards some sort of reconciliation with its ending. Alan W. Friedman is Thaman Professor of English in the University of Texas, Austin, and has also taught at universities in England, Ireland, and France. He has published numerous articles and books, the latter including Multivalence: the Moral Quality of Form in the Modern Novel (Louisiana State UP, 1978), William Faulkner (Frederick Ungar, 1984), Fictional Death and the Modernist Enterprise (Cambridge UP, 1995), and (edited with Charles Rossman and Dina Sherzer) Beckett Translating/Translating Beckett (Pennsylvania State UP, 1987).