Every Good Boy Deserves Favour
National Theatre, London
POLITICAL theatre is so liberal in its sympathies that, for a while now, the search has been on for a right-wing political play. Could it be that this revival of a 1970s play about the Soviet Union by the arch-conservative Sir Tom Stoppard fits the bill? Alas, no, it’s about dissidents, wears its liberal cred on its sleeve and makes no attempt to hide its profusely bleeding heart.
Every Good Boy Deserves Favour is set in a Brezhnev-era mental hospital and briefly observes the lives of two inmates: the disturbed Ivanov and the political dissident Alexander. Ivanov, a victim of police brutality, and Alexander, who insists on protesting against the regime’s suppression of human rights, are very different characters, but both suffer the same Catch-22 situation.
Their doctors would like them to admit that they are mad, whereas, for different reasons, both insist that they are sane. Ivanov wants to believe he is a conductor and that the imaginary orchestra that he hears in his head is actually real. In a nice, if ludicrously expensive conceit, the orchestra is actually present onstage for most of the length of this 65-minute piece.
As originally staged in 1977, this play for actors and orchestra, co-written by Tom Stoppard and composer Andre Previn, is both a political protest and a witty theatrical extravaganza. While Stoppard’s text explores the absurdity of the Soviet system through a highly literary analysis of its Kafkaesque qualities, Previn’s music seems to burlesque composers such as Shostakovich and Rachmaninov.
The problem with the play is that it’s just a fragmentary idea and its political outrage is clumsily expressed through clunky clichés. Alexander goes on hunger strike, despite the pleas of his wife and young son. Fair enough, dissidents are often awkward people, going far beyond the reasonable in their protests. But – and this whimsical sentimentality is so typical of Stoppard – having his son play a vital role is repulsively saccharine.
The best bit is at the end when the authorities get their way and the little boy’s treble about “things will get better” echoes with a ghastly irony. However, by then, even such a short show has outstayed its welcome. Although the Southbank Sinfonia play – and occasionally act – with immense commitment, while the music comes across loud and clear, the rest of the production really is below par.
Although directors Tom Morris and Felix Barrett – he of the innovative Punchdrunk theatre company try – hard to animate the stage, with lots of dance movement, a smattering of prison-style props and lighting that suggests bars, a general feeling of so-whatness pervades the evening. Casting Toby Jones as Ivanov and Joseph Millson as Alexander are happy choices, but offer small compensation for the lacklustre staging.
When Nicholas Hytner took over at the National about five years ago, he promised that instead of classic musicals, he would commission new pieces of music theatre. The early success of Jerry Springer: The Opera seemed like a vindication of this policy. Now, however, new examples of musical theatre seem hard to find, and Hyner’s policy has dwindled to reviving this sliver of a play: the net effect is nostalgic, dramatically unsatisfying and a waste of resources.
Aleks Sierz
