Why produce Shakespeare? Of course he is a genius and possibly the greatest writer who ever lived, but is he still relevant to us in a world that demands that art reflects and debates the many different cultures that affect our society today? Unless we shake the Bard down and make him speak in the present tense, then we perpetuate the kind of "museum Shakespeare" that we have far too much of already. You know the kind of thing: "What a masterpiece, didn't understand a word of it, but I'm sure it's good for me."
Shakespeare was a hugely popular commercial writer who asked big questions about the world he lived in. The world has changed but the questions remain the same, and they still need asking. Perhaps because in Britain we so often lack imagination in producing Shakespeare, or seem to suffer from acute political apathy, his plays often leave us appreciative but cold. Happily, this has not been the case when we have toured Shakespeare abroad.
Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company based at the Watermill Theatre in Newbury, where we now have nearly as large a following as Vodafone. For the past four years we have been touring Shakespeare from Flint to Bangladesh, playing in spaces ranging from farmyards to national theatres. The actors play all the music and sound live, and we are constantly looking for new ways to interpret Shakespeare's plays. Our motto is simple: if it has been done before, don't do it again. At times we have found ourselves provoking audiences more than we thought possible.
At the first performance of Henry V in Mexico, the black balaclavas worn by the actors as soldiers were taken as a sign of pro-Zapatista leanings. As the company marched the audience outside to help them invade Harfleur, they were greeted by 14 camera crews anxious to record an excerpt of this contentious play. We sparked a huge debate on the issue of nationalism and national identity, a debate that we perhaps ought to be having in post-devolutionary Britain. By the time we reached Mexico City the frenzy had reached fever pitch. On the sponsors' night, the entire performance had been bought by our corporate supporters. As always happens, not all the guests had turned up so there were plenty of empty seats. Fights ensued outside as security men attempted to stop the youth of Mexico from forcing their way in.
In Bangladesh we were stopped from taking our audience outside in Henry V as the authorities felt that the play might ignite a crowd already on the edge of riot. The two major political parties were at loggerheads and many of their respective supporters had taken to the streets. On the last night a gun battle erupted between the university and government house, trapping us in the theatre, which stood in the middle. The next day, heavily guarded, we were ushered to the airport and away.
In Jakarta we opened The Comedy of Errors in a theatre next to the main university, which had only the week before been the fulcrum for riots that were, as CNN put it, "bringing the city to the brink of total civil anarchy". The play suddenly became about the exploitation of the poor and working classes as our mainly student audience watched the Antipholus twins beat their Dromio servants for failing to carry out their demands.
Much of the laughter changed as, once again, Shakespeare touched on issues nearer to the Indonesians' immediate experience than any of us could ever imagine. In Malaysia we found ourselves being visited by a government inspector on the first night to check that we weren't depicting any acts of homosexual love on stage. Any public or private act of homosexuality is illegal in Malaysia and with an all-male company we had aroused some suspicions. On the first night a government bureaucrat sat in the fourth row ready to pounce on any wrongdoing. Fortunately, by the time Henry V and Princess Kate actually kissed, in Act V, the bureaucrat had got bored and gone home. By the time the kiss was discovered and banned, the week was over and we were on the plane.
None of the places we played on that particular tour enjoyed the kind of political stability that we do, so perhaps the responses we received were hardly surprising. Even so, I am sure that the fact that we were a young company articulating the plays in a contemporary fashion had more than a little to do with the explosive responses that we were sometimes achieving.
As I write this I am sitting in Istanbul under the shadow of that great symbol of Islam, the Blue Mosque. The actor playing Henry VI in our current production has just bravely had his photo taken draped in the St George's cross while sitting on the steps of said mosque. I am watching a parade celebrating Youth Day. The brass bands are playing and the drums are beating. How will the audience of a country founded only in 1923 respond to Rose Rage, our adaptation of Shakespeare's Henry VI plays, plays that tell the story of the most bloody and nation-forming moment in our recent history? We have imagined them in an abattoir.
The Theatre Royal Haymarket in the West End of London is next. How will a political thriller about the Royal family be received in the year of the Golden Jubilee, as we pause to consider the institution of the monarchy against the backdrop ofthe World Cup finals in Korea and Japan? Will there be fireworks inside London's most beautiful theatre? Will the audience accept a man playing a woman grieving over the head of her dead lover, as represented by a red cabbage? At least we can feel thankful that the kick-off times don't clash with our performances.
· Rose Rage is at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, London SW1, until July 21. Box office: 0870 901 3356.