Death and the King’s Horseman
National Theatre, London
MYTH tells us who we are — it’s like a magic mirror, highlighting some features, distorting others. It also explains the workings of power. Nobel Prizewinner Wole Soyinka’s 1976 drama, Death and the King’s Horseman, stages the clash between two myths of power, one which represents the indigenous Africans and the other that represents the colonial Europeans.
Based on real events which took place in Oyo, Nigeria, in 1946, the play gives a Shakespearean account of Elesin, the royal horseman, who – according to the Yoruba worldview – must commit suicide now that his master, the king, has died. However, the British district officer, Simon Pilkings, has other ideas. Against the wishes of Olunde, the horseman’s eldest son, now returned from studying medicine in England, Pilkings arrests Elesin – with tragic consequences.
Soyinka beautifully captures the essence of tragic drama: the fact that both parties are equally right. Elesin does what tradition demands, and has no problem with ritual suicide. He knows his place in the scheme of things and enjoys his right to pick a bride and enjoy her body, before bidding his farewell. Yet he also has a tragic flaw: he loves earthly things too much. He relishes his own king-like power over the rest of the population.
By the same token, Pilkings is also right. As a cynical secularist, he deplores ritual suicide as barbaric, while, as a colonial official, he needs to show who is boss. His feelings of superiority over the local population are expressed by his using Yoruba ritual clothing as fancy dress for a ball given in honour of a visiting royal dignitary. Although Soyinka makes him a lot less deep than Elesin, his wife almost makes up in sympathy what her husband lacks in profundity.
When Olunde returns from England, he confronts Mrs Pilkins with the consequences of her husband’s meddling, and his powerful phrase: “You have no respect for what you do not understand” got a favourable audience response on the night I saw the show. Yet, from a humanistic perspective, neither side is right and both believe in ideas – class power; male superiority over women; religious justification for ugly acts – that are deeply unattractive from the point of view of the 21st century.
Although Rufus Norris’ production begins with a colourful and bustling evocation of an African market, with the female market leader a gutsy and wise presence, large stretches of this play are inert and unengaging. Mainly this is down to Soyinka’s desire to reproduce the effects of Greek tragedy, with its long stretches of descriptive poetry. But the result is rather windy and dull.
Norris does his best to liven things up by using an all-black cast, some of whom white-up to play the colonial characters. Despite a lot of hot air about this being racist, it works well on stage and effectively mocks the colonials from the point of view of the descendents of the oppressed. Lucian Msamati and Jenny Jules are very funny as the Pilkings, and this Brechtian device is enjoyable. As the horseman, Nonso Anonzie is a stately, dominating figure, Kobna Holdbrook-Smith radiates sincerity as his son and Claire Benedict is a fine market leader.
Nevertheless, despite the undoubted enjoyment of seeing Britain’s colonial ambitions mocked, this is a heavy-going play that ironically proves that the heritage of Western drama can choke the life out of this essentially African story.
Aleks Sierz
