The art of communication takes center stage in Dogg's Hamlet, weaving a thread that intricately binds it to Cahoot's Macbeth. As the curtain rises, we find schoolboys expressing themselves with familiar English terms like "Brick!" and "Cube," but these words are charged with unexpected meanings, likely baffling an audience accustomed to conventional English dialogues. For instance, Abel's microphone test echoes, "Breakfast, breakfast... sun—dock—trog . . .", translating in Dogg speak to the more recognizable "Testing, testing ... one—two—three." Tom Stoppard, cognizant of his readers, thoughtfully provides translations, transforming these enigmatic Dogg expressions into plain English. Yet, his theater audience is left to unravel the mystery through context alone.

Understanding Through Miscommunication

The character of Easy mirrors the audience's bewilderment, serving as their stand-in. He arrives at the school, tasked with delivering building supplies and assisting in the construction of a stage platform, armed only with English. Like the audience, he initially grapples to comprehend the exchanges between the schoolboys and Dogg, the headmaster. The boys, conversant only in Dogg, are equally perplexed by English. Yet, they've encountered a taste of it in the form of Shakespeare's Elizabethan English while rehearsing their abridged Hamlet. In an attempt at bridging the gap, Baker quotes Shakespeare: "By heaven I charge thee speak!" As they commence the platform construction, Easy is temporarily reassured by the familiar use of words, or so he believes. When Dogg shouts "Plank!"— which translates to "Ready" in Dogg— Abel throws a plank from the truck. When Dogg departs, leaving Easy in charge, Easy instinctively calls for materials in English, baffled when his requests aren't met as anticipated.

A Twist in Language

As Dogg's Hamlet reaches its conclusion, Easy has assimilated Dogg and abandons English, demonstrated when he bids the audience farewell with a simple "Cube..." (meaning "Thank You") and exits. Yet, Stoppard cleverly maintains a sense of ambiguity, as Easy holds a cube while speaking, leaving the audience to ponder whether he is articulating in Dogg or merely naming the object in English.

The Secret Language of Rebellion

In the vibrant landscape of Cahoot's Macbeth, the mastery of Dogg language evolves into a powerful weapon against the forces of censorship. The drama unfolds within the intimate confines of a woman’s living room—an ostensibly private sanctuary where the actors dare to perform their rendition of Macbeth without the looming threat of arrest. Yet, as they weave their narrative, a police inspector intrudes, prowling for pretexts to apprehend both performers and hostess alike. He paces the room, uttering, “Testing, testing—one, two, three ...,” a line that, per Stoppard's stage directions, blatantly hints that "the room is bugged for sound." Additional subtle hints are peppered throughout, such as when the inspector converses with the ceiling, relaying the apartment's phone number to his cohort who is clandestinely recording every word: ‘‘Six seven eight one double one.'' Moments later, the phone rings, and with feigned ignorance, the inspector answers, echoing, ‘‘Six seven eight one double one? Clear as a bell.'' It's a transparent test of the phone's function, ensuring it can relay messages to his fellow officers outside, should the need arise.

The Inspector's Gradual Revelation

Initially, the inspector shrouds his intentions, subtly attempting to mask his trap. However, as the narrative unfurls, he grows bolder, openly declaring his aim to arrest the troupe for flouting censorship laws. Despite this, he initially shows a glimmer of leniency: "I don't want to spend all day taking statements. It's frankly not worth the candle for three years' maximum and I know you've been having a run of bad luck all round." With a...