Protest plays at the National?
An anti-Bush satire in the West End? Suddenly, theatre is more relevant
than ever, says Michael Billington
In
January I wrote an article attacking British theatre for its failure
to deal with public issues. Whereas it had been volubly articulate
about Vietnam in the 1960s, it was now less likely to respond to the
crisis in the Middle East. I was spectacularly wrong: over the past
few weeks the theatre has been startlingly repoliticised and has
confronted, directly or obliquely, the conflict in Iraq.
Each
afternoon this week the Royal Court has staged War Correspondence, a
series of events including plays by Martin Crimp and Rebecca
Prichard, poems by Tony Harrison, a documentary piece by Caryl
Churchill, and talks by journalists and academics. The National
Theatre has been devoting Friday afternoons to a series called
Collateral Damage, in which a range of artists (including Judi Dench,
Patrick Marber, Tony Harrison and Ralph Steadman) have come together
to deliver their responses to the war. The Madness of George Dubya,
which started at Theatro Technis in north London in January, proved
so popular that it had an extended run at the London Pleasance and
has now moved to the Arts Theatre in the West End. Janie Dee
organised a Concert for Peace which packed out Drury Lane. And David
Williams's Warcrime, which deals with the fiction of precision
bombing, is enjoying a successful run in the crypt of St Andrew's
Church, Holborn. Whatever the sins of which you can accuse our
theatre, silence in the face of war is not one of them.
But
does it matter? Opinion polls show that support for military action
has risen to 56% while opposition has fallen to 29%. Is the
increasingly sceptical theatre out of touch with popular sentiment?
The past few weeks have shown that the theatre is a vital focus for
opposition, is seriously engaged with the public world, and
possesses a capacity for rapid response that TV drama either cannot
- or will not - attempt to match.
But
the clutch of recent events has also proved something else of
crucial importance: that there is room in theatre for fact as well
as fiction, and that the stage is one of the few remaining forums in
our mechanised society for discussion of public issues. The point
came home to me at the Royal Court this week. Monday night began
with a short piece by Martin Crimp called Advice to Iraqi Women (a
transcript of which is printed opposite): a fine example of Swiftian
irony in which Stephen
Dillane and Sophie Okonedo
solemnly delivered household tips as if addressing westernised,
bourgeois women. In the context of the week's pictures of maimed
mothers and children, the idea of the home as a potential
"minefield" moved from metaphor to grisly reality.
Crimp's
piece was devastatingly effective. Caryl Churchill followed it the
next night with Iraqdoc, assembled from exchanges between Iraqis and
Americans on a website chatroom: amid the expected abuse, I was
struck by the cry of one Baghdad resident: "Remember 9/11?
Every day is like this here."
If
testimony is effective, so too is argument. On Monday night Guardian
columnist George Monbiot delivered a cool, logical analysis of the
domestic, regional and global motives behind the invasion,
emphasising America's "unsustainable" budget deficit and
the shock to the US economy when Saddam Hussein started selling oil
in euros rather than dollars. You could call it spoken journalism,
but Monbiot's arguments were both challenged from the floor and
gained extra power from being heard on a public stage. It was also
fascinating to note that when Monbiot described Washington's
undermining of international institutions as "a hubris which
invites its own nemesis", he reverted to the terms of Greek
drama.
The
Greeks are, in fact, a useful role model in times of crisis. On a
second visit to Justin Butcher's The Madness of George Dubya, I was
impressed by the show's Aristophanic vitality and ability to keep
abreast of events. It takes the form of a dream in which a bunkered
George Bush has a nightmare straight out of Dr Strangelove: one in
which a crazed American general unleashes a seemingly unstoppable
nuclear assault on the Middle East. New songs have been added and
topical jokes are inserted daily. But behind the idea of a distrait
president prattling about "weapons of mass distraction"
lies a satirical fantasy about the escalation of a localised war
into a globalised catastrophe.
Preposterous?
Perhaps. But I am haunted by an article by Thomas Powers in the New
York Review of Books (June 20 1996), which revealed that, during the
Carter presidency, William Odom, military assistant to the national
security adviser, woke his boss in the middle of the night to say
that the Soviet Union had launched 2,200 missiles at the US; he
called back, before the US could launch a retaliatory strike, to say
that someone at Norad (North American Air Defense Command) had
mistakenly loaded the computer-controlled warning system with
exercise tapes for simulating war games. For one moment Stanley
Kubrick's fantasy nearly became a horrendous reality.
The
strength of Dubya lies in its ability to blend manic comedy with
passionate polemic. Anyone who thinks Butcher is going too far in
imagining that the neo-conservatives surrounding Bush should
reinterpret PNAC (Project for the New American Century) as Plan for
Nuking Arab Countries should read Michael Lind's excellent article
in the New Statesman on the hijacking of US foreign policy. And the
jokes and songs in Dubya are interrupted by an impassioned speech
from the Iraqi ambassador, searingly delivered by Rupert Mason,
itemising his country's exploitation by Britain and the US: a speech
that gets a nightly salvo of applause.
I
am not claiming that the invasion or "liberation" of Iraq
- choose your own term - has yet produced any great art: that may
come in the years ahead. What the crisis has shown is that the
theatre - so often treated as marginal in our modern, hi-tech world
- responds more quickly to events than other media and is not
burdened by expectations of spurious objectivity. Can you seriously
imagine TheMadness of George Dubya or Warcrime, which deals with a
mis-directed cluster-bomb, being shown on British television? Can
you envisage a serious journalist getting 30 minutes of
uninterrupted airtime - as Monbiot did at the Royal Court - to
counter the propaganda put out by governments? Of course not.
Whatever
the ultimate consequences of the Iraq war, it has at least shown
that theatre possesses a public conscience and a social function. It
can't stop a war or broker a peace. What it can do, as I have
reassuringly discovered this week, is to offer testimony, satire,
informed argument and articulate dissent. After this, there is no
going back.
·
War Correspondence is at
the Royal Court, London SW1 (020-7565 5000), today and tomorrow at
5.15pm, and Saturday at 1pm. Collateral Damage is at the National
Theatre, London SE1 (020-7452 3000), tomorrow at 5.15pm. The Madness
of George Dubya is at the Arts Theatre, London WC2 (020-7836 3334),
until May 3. Warcrime is at St Andrew's Church, London EC4 (020-7583
3913), until April 19.
Advice
to Iraqi women
A new theatre piece by Martin Crimp,
presented this week at the Royal Court
The
protection of children is a priority. Even a small child on a bike
should wear a helmet. And a newborn baby on a plane must be strapped
to its mother. A child on roller-skates should wear kneepads. And
elbow pads. A child on roller skates should wear knee and elbow pads
as well as a helmet. Buy one of those plastic things to stop young
children opening the drawer in the kitchen: there are knives in it.
Don't give children small mechanical toys: they can swallow the
moving parts. It's tempting, but just don't do it. Check the eyes of
teddy bears. Don't buy a teddy bear if the eyes are loose. Check the
squeak of the teddy bear. If you think the squeak might frighten
your child, don't buy it. If you have a dog, muzzle it - and if you
have a cat, mind it doesn't sit on your baby's face. If you have a
mud-scraper outside your house, tie rubber over the blade. Your
house is a potential war zone for a child: the corners of tables,
chip pans, and the stairs - particularly the stairs - are all
potential sources of harm. Your house is a minefield. Your house is
a minefield - you only have to think about the medicines in the
medicine cupboard - or the hard surfaces in the bathroom - the bath
- the enamel sink - these are very hard surfaces. Avoid slippery
floors. Avoid slippery floors and at the first sign of unremitting
fever, do call a doctor, call a doctor straight away. The doctor
will come straight away at the first sign of unremitting fever. She
will have the latest drugs and the most up-to-date skills. If
necessary she will intubate. Don't be frightened to call out your
doctor: she is waiting for your call, she has spent her whole life
waiting for it. It's not a good idea to give your child long pyjamas:
they can trip over the ends. Mind zips. Avoid zips, especially metal
ones. Give your child fresh produce. A child should eat fruit and
the fruit should not contain pesticides. The fruit must be grown
scrupulously. The growers of the fruit and the land itself must be
treated with scrupulous respect if you want your child to thrive.
Although beware allergies. Beware zips, beware allergies, test for
allergies every three days, test for food allergies every three
days, or more frequently in summer when pollen is also to be
avoided. When driving in the country to see the country orchards,
seat your child in the back and strap it down. Strap the child down
hard and if you need to use your mobile, stop the car. Don't buy a
car without rear airbags. Don't buy a car without side-impact
protection. Don't let your child play under a car, or beside one,
because a car is a minefield. Just like a home. A car, just like a
home, just like an orchard, just like a zip, is a minefield for a
child. If you have a toolbox, lock it. Lock the tools inside it.
Don't let a child handle a chisel - not even a small child's chisel.
Even a hard pencil used for marking timber is dangerous. Don't let
children write or draw with a dangerous pencil. Mind the caps of
felt pens. Make sure the caps, if inhaled, would not obstruct your
child's airway. If an accident does occur, call a doctor straight
away. The doctor will come and immediately remove the obstruction.
Explain road safety from an early age. Explain that the traffic
comes from two directions. Explain what a red man means. Teach your
child the word "amber" from an early age. Explain how
dangerous water is. Explain that just two inches of water is enough
to drown in. Supervise all swimming. Make sure your child wears
goggles because of the chemicals in the water. By all means inflate
a paddling pool in your garden but bear in mind that your garden is
a potential war zone. Like your house. Like your house, like your
car, like your child's colouring book, your garden is a potential
war zone. Keep sheds locked. Lock sheds. Lock garden chemicals out
of reach. Secure hoses. If you have a greenhouse with seedlings in
it, keep the child away. When your child is in the pool, screaming
in the pool, supervise it at all times, and don't let it burn. Don't
let your child burn. Even on a hazy day it still might burn. Even in
the water. Even in the shade of a tree. Even in water a child can
burn. Even in spring it's still possible. In the time it takes you
to cut the grass and trim the edges, a child might have burned,
because of the very strong rays. Avoid sunlight, and in strong
sunlight, when there are fierce rays, apply cream. Use a good cream.
Use a good brand. Use a reliable cream. If you use a good brand of
reliable cream your child will not burn. Your child will not burn if
you are liberal with a reliable cream. If you want advice about
which brands of reliable cream to choose, talk to your pharmacist.
Performed
Saturday, April 12, 2003.
