Dinner at Vegan Hotel Saorsa 1875by Randi / November 4, 2022The Doctor on the West End: Has a Show Ever Made Me So Angry? Let’s Find Out!
It’s Theatre Thursday! This is a rant y’all! The Doctor closes at the Duke of York’s Theatre this Sunday. BYEEEEE.
The Doctor was more frustrating than waiting all night in A&E to get four minutes of face time, because at least at the hospital you know the NHS is doing their best with limited resources and you can blame Tories for that, but who can we blame here? Society? The writer? Tories? Tories it is.
This show was an exercise in trying to remain calm, and seated. I think I’m extra frustrated because it so could have been something powerful…or at least said something coherent and not just spit chaos at a stage. There are lots of issues I’m going to point out with this play about a doctor who follows hospital policy and then gets cancelled by the whole world for it, but there are two main ones I’ll focus all thoughts around.
Number 1: What the fuck.
The plot of The Doctor focuses on Juliet Stevenson’s character (I’m gonna call her Juliet) who is a cold but brilliant doctor. So maybe her bedside manner sucks, but she is always going to make the right call medically, which, I don’t know about you, but is what I want from a doctor. She knows her shit, and some dialogue in the first few minutes makes clear she’s a better doctor than her esteemed colleagues. When a teenage girl is dying on Juliet’s shift, a priest appears and insists on going into her hospital room to give her the last rites. The Doctor says, well, first of all I don’t know who you actually are, stranger off the street; b) I haven’t heard from her parents to give this permission/instruction which I would follow if they said so; and also the girl is very out of it but peaceful and I think it’s best for her to die peacefully and not panicking if she finds out she is dying. (And lo, she was right, because we find out later that some dick-faced intern asks the girl if she wants the last rites while the priest is making his ruckus, and so the girl does panic and does die panicking. you f-ed it, you piece of shit intern.)
So, back to my main issue: what the fuck.
I don’t understand why this isn’t a two minute discussion. She followed hospital policy and chose NOT TO ALLOW A STRANGER INTO A DYING MINOR’S ROOM. A stranger off the street who just shows up and says he is a priest, says that the parents called him and asked him to come – but the parents didn’t call the hospital to tell them to let him in. Is that just a cool thing to do in this country? I know you don’t have as many regulations on things like this as the USA does but really? I can just walk into a dying child’s hospital room even if the staff is like, hey now wait? that’s fine? So you’re saying she SHOULD have let a stranger into a child’s room to upset her when she was dying, without hearing from any guardian and even though her decision was supported by hospital policy.
Given the sense I just made at you, I thought maybe this play was going to be about how society has forgotten what common sense is, and the hubbub caused by this event would be shown for the insane circus that it was. Like, we were supposed to be this angry with how irrational all of this is, that was the intention. I assumed that the conflict would be portrayed as the whole world against Juliet when it was clear that Juliet was right, a case of someone being ‘cancelled’ unfairly (even though that sentiment is overblown since people simply don’t understand what words or consequences are but I digress). However, it seemed the opposite, and people approve of her facing professional consequences for her character unrelated to her job. People that are actually allowed to dress themselves in the morning (slash write the ‘real’ reviews for the Guardian et al) apparently think she was wrong – which okay, you might have made the opposite decision since both were allowed. You might have thought she should have let the stranger into the dying child’s hospital room with no proof that he was who he says he was. But was she wrong enough to get fired? To be publicly shamed, to be threatened, to be the subject of this shitstorm, to have bricks thrown through her window, to be yelled at by irrelevant activists on TV? no no no, bless your heart. But it seems the vast majority of people think this was all warranted.
Another wtf: where on earth were the hospital’s lawyers at all these subsequent board meetings? I worked in medical law for a few years and this is a big old piece of unrealistic nonsense that at no point in the first five seconds of the debacle did the lawyers show up and say “so, she followed hospital policy…that’s all there is to it. That’ll be 3000 pounds please.” It’s kind of laughable that this wasn’t a legal drama, as it would have been in real life. I know you love your chat shows but solving a regulatory question on one is some soft-ass shit.
Speaking of those irrelevant people on the TV panel: if we were supposed to be angry and frustrated as we see these various irrelevant voices losing the plot, then great, that worked. But it honestly seemed like we were supposed to care? what various academics and scholars and action group workers thought about this situation where a doctor followed hospital policy? Are you out of your gottam mind? How is any of this at all relevant or worth considering? How did it become about her character unrelated to being a doctor and — this is the problem– how was that not presented or interpreted as unreasonable?
The worst thing about that panel show, besides everything, was that one of those irrelevant people had the gall to make her apologize for the harm her ancestors have done to other people. I mean. She’s Jewish, by the way, if there were ever doubt about the antisemitism in London theatre that I go on and on about. Again, if the audience was supposed to grasp that this was all awful and insane to be doing to her, then I’m down, but the way it was presented and definitely received was more like ‘yeah this is good she needs to apologize for the way her ancestors have…been persecuted for thousands of years.’ I am so angry that the show put forward these tropes about Jews not to show that they are tropes or subvert them, but to present them as valid. The antisemitism in this show could have been framed to show why she faced unreasonable consequences, but instead it felt like it was a reason supporting the backlash that we were supposed to accept. Is that a problem with the direction, or the writing? Or, did they just want Jewishness to be part of the alleged villainy?
For the people who disagree: how is this not simply a case of “this doctor, who is a good doctor and did not do anything wrong medically or in terms of her hospital’s rules and regs, is not a very warm person and people really don’t like her and even though she didn’t do anything ‘wrong’, she made an unfeeling but permissible call on something completely unrelated to being an actual doctor, which I don’t like, but understand”? You can think that and accept that, but to then force all these insane consequences as a result of not liking a largely sensible choice she made is, well, absolutely insane.
I’m so frustrated because yes, it was about how this simple question, of whether or not the doctor made an appropriate call, became a question of whether or not she was a good person. But instead of saying ‘yeah and isn’t that irrelevant to what’s happening, that that’s what the societal conversation morphed into? isn’t that awful?’ the play seems to be saying that it’s VALID! It is NOT! And it wasn’t framing it as a ‘isn’t this complicated’ question either! It is NOT supposed to be complicated.
Another wtf as a palate cleanser from the bigger issues: the time with her teenager friend didn’t pay off. We learned a little more about her but nothing to explain why we listened to her talk for 15 minutes about having sex in high school. Was this a test.
Issue number 2: The play presents abortion pills as dangerous.
The part that has really stuck with me and made my blood boil is that this show vilifies abortion pills in an ignorant, dangerous way. FYI abortion pills are very safe, and effective the majority of the time. They are able to be ordered online in many countries because this has been proved, as long as you take them as directed. The teenage girl in question died after ordering and taking them in secret — the play repeats this in a way that presents the pills as the killer, full stop, no context. Abortion pills killed her. But if you listen closely, you learn she was way farther along (I think I remember she was 4 months pregnant?) than you can be to take the pills. THAT is why she had a fatal reaction. You can only take the pills if you are under 10 weeks along. With reproductive rights under attack it’s easy to see audiences largely accept from this story that abortion pills are dangerous, and thus susceptible to Tory swaying that they should be outlawed, or less easily available. If there was any line where a character clearly explained that they are usually safe and shouldn’t be vilified, it was drowned out in the onslaught of clear but false messaging that they are dangerous and fatal. This is absolute bullshit, and so much of the dialogue around the pills reminded me of Republican propaganda. I truly cannot believe that anyone who cares about reproductive freedom could sit there and accept what was being fed to mostly older white audiences, the demographic that loves to vote these rights away.
OH I ALMOST FORGOT MY BIGGEST ISSUE: People were all ‘she made such a meanie decision to not let the priest in BECAUSE SHE’S JEWISHHHHH! that’s why! she hates Catholics!!’ (And the play doesn’t really do anything to contradict that unbelievably offensive bs). And aside from all the other good reasons for her decision, she says she didn’t know if the girl was really a devout Catholic, since she wasn’t lucid and her parents weren’t around. The villagers with pitchforks argue “but she had a cross necklace!”, and Juliet says “well a lot of young people wear them it’s trendy” — TRUE. What my biggest issue is: at no point does anyone say the very valid argument that, it’s well within reason for the doctor to have questioned whether the girl was a devout Catholic SINCE SHE HAD HAD AN ABORTION! THAT’S LIKE THEIR ONLY RULE!!!!! jfc.
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The Inheritance Part 2: A Fine and Fitting Conclusion to A Masterpiece
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Part 2 of The Inheritance, playing along with Part 1 until January 19 at London’s Noel Coward Theatre..
Before I saw Part 1 of The Inheritance, I had been putting off seeing the show for a very long time because I couldn’t imagine that it was worth the serious time investment: two separate theatre visits of 3 ½ hours each. I said stupid things like ‘if I’m going to see a superlong two-part show it’s going to be Angels in America’ and ‘but they’re not even singing!’ As we learned a few weeks ago, I was hella wrong, because I found Part 1 to be one of the most gripping, moving, full-blooded shows I’ve ever seen. In the few weeks I had between seeing Part 1 and Part 2, I again wished I could put off seeing the second half, but now for incredibly different reasons: I didn’t want to be finished with this story or have to say goodbye to these characters. Spending so much time with this play, the story became part of my mind the way a book does, the way dedicating so much personal time to a book results in it becoming a part of you. I didn’t want it to end. And I was simultaneously scared of how it would end, because this play isn’t exactly a romp. But even though Part 2 is not as great – after the glorious perfection that was Part 1, no second half could really ever measure up – it’s still riveting and emotional and, ultimately and most importantly, satisfying.
Before I saw Part 1 of The Inheritance, I had been putting off seeing the show for a very long time because I couldn’t imagine that it was worth the serious time investment: two separate theatre visits of 3 ½ hours each. I said stupid things like ‘if I’m going to see a superlong two-part show it’s going to be Angels in America’ and ‘but they’re not even singing!’ As we learned a few weeks ago, I was hella wrong, because I found Part 1 to be one of the most gripping, moving, full-blooded shows I’ve ever seen. In the few weeks I had between seeing Part 1 and Part 2, I again wished I could put off seeing the second half, but now for incredibly different reasons: I didn’t want to be finished with this story or have to say goodbye to these characters. Spending so much time with this play, the story became part of my mind the way a book does, the way dedicating so much personal time to a book results in it becoming a part of you. I didn’t want it to end. And I was simultaneously scared of how it would end, because this play isn’t exactly a romp. But even though Part 2 is not as great – after the glorious perfection that was Part 1, no second half could really ever measure up – it’s still riveting and emotional and, ultimately and most importantly, satisfying.
The simple-seeming title, The Inheritance, was relevant to several aspects of Part 1 – the inheritance as in a last will & testament, as in what you receive from ancestors, as in what you get from and what you owe to those who came before you in certain struggles. Part 2 develops that even more, as the play is also about what you get personally from your own family and your upbringing, what you can do with what you’re given and what you can’t fix, what you’ve inherited that might ruin you. Every aspect of what the title encompasses finds a way to break your heart, and even though the emotional reach doesn’t have the same breadth as Part 1, it retains its depth.
The main questions I had from Part 1 were, whether Eric would ever find out the truth about the house; whether he would take over the house’s spiritual purpose of providing a refuge for gay men with nowhere else to turn; and whether Eric would actually continue this relationship with Henry, the real estate billionaire who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. Part 1 ends with Eric finally seeing Walter’s country house and feeling the history of the place just as Walter thought he would, in a beautiful tearjerker of a scene that seemed to go on too long but also should never have ended. It created a sense of peace and importance. Part 2 opens with the exact opposite sensibility, an abrupt flip to coldness and ignorance of the house’s tranquil beauty, as Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey) tells Eric Glass (Kyle Soller) they’re ready to leave only minutes after they’ve arrived. The painful change served as a reminder that these stories aren’t going to work out easily or happily or how I wanted them to. You yearn with Eric to stay and find out more about what has happened there, and in the bigger picture you want Eric to decide that this life of helpfulness that Walter had found in the house is the kind of life he’s meant for, and that Henry’s lack of awareness in this regard shows why he’s wrong for him. Of course, that wouldn’t happen in the first scene, and so he follows Henry back to the city, even though you’re like, dude, why are you spending time with this jabronie?? But it effectively reminds you that these stories are probably not going to go how you wish they would.
The jabronieness of Henry Wilcox is amplified in the first major part of the play, and the most upsetting, when Eric has all his friends over to Henry’s $30 million house in the Village for brunch. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when you bring a bunch of liberal gay men to the house of a billionaire Republican, things are gonna get ugly. In Part 1, it was hinted at that Henry was an R-word when he said he didn’t think the direction of U.S. politics was so bad, and that seemed bad enough for me. But here, they go full out and have Henry talk openly about supporting Trump because he supports what’s ‘best for the market’ and probably loves him some tax breaks because all a billionaire needs is more money. This whole long scene, I felt like Chidi with the stomachaches. Jasper, Eric’s most politically active friend, tries to talk some sense into Henry, but it’s a lost cause and the frustration I felt in my belly exploded onstage as Jasper lost his cool in the ensuing argument. Sure Jasper was wrong for fighting with Henry in his own home, I guess that’s rude, but is it as rude as someone actively making the world worse? I think not. Just go out on the sidewalk and fight the monster. This scene was well done, with Henry at least offering the arguments that aren’t ‘because I hate everyone who isn’t a white man’, and showing how Eric’s sense of morality is disappearing as he spends more time in the billionaire’s world. But it was so frustrating to have to listen to any republican apologists and to think about the diaper genie during my theatre time. Ughh the frustration at Eric for standing by this patently immoral man made me long for the craziness of Toby.
And then we get hours of craziness from Toby (Andrew Burnap)! Like I said before, if Burnap doesn’t win an Olivier and a Tony, then the awards truly don’t mean anything. We already know awards don’t mean anything but they REALLY won’t extra extra. Toby tries to feel something and escape his problems not by getting direly needed therapy or rehab, but by partying on Fire Island with the prostitute Leo (played by the same actor who plays Adam, Samuel H. Levine). The Fire Island club scenes are literally my nightmare, with all the unce unce unce music and the flashing lights and just all the noise, guys, can we keep it down. I was surprised that the focus seemed to switch from the role of Adam in Part 1 to the role of Leo in Part 2, with Adam barely in it anymore, but the actor doubling shows how important both men were for Toby in different ways. Leo’s character was fascinating and heartbreaking, and while Toby still wins the prize for Most in terms of both of those things, the ways they help and hurt each other made both characters more compelling.
Leo gets some of the most spellbinding reveals in Part 2, from the riveting wedding appearance and all the multitudes that can be said by saying just one word, to the ending when we come back to the framing device and it all makes sense. But it’s Toby this time around whose heart you worry about the most, whereas in Part 1 I was concerned most with Eric’s well-being. Eric, though misguided with Henry, shows he can remain standing on his own two feet when things get hard. Toby, on the other hand, is fragile, and even though someone who can be so horrible to others and to himself can seem tough and resilient, he’s really the one most in need of help. I find myself still worrying about Toby and heartbroken at his strife, and mad at playwright Matthew Lopez, Boy Genius, for causing him so much sadness. Oh Toby.
Interestingly, one of the aspects of Part 2 we were most keenly aware of was not the presence of something but the absence: we missed Walter (Paul Hilton). It’s remarkable how he managed to create such a warm, wise, beloved character in Part 1, so much that his absence was deeply felt, creating in our minds a semblance of what Eric and Henry must have been going through. We grieved with them.
Amid all the anxiety I had about Part 2 and where the various stories would go, I had excitement for one specific aspect: to see Vanessa Redgrave onstage. And while I mean no disrespect to this living legend, they should cut her entire part out for Broadway. They won’t, because you can’t fire Vanessa Redgrave, but they should. It’s the same exact situation as with Meryl Streep in “Mary Poppins Returns” – sure she’s a g-d ledge and you’re lucky to have her in your thing, but neither her character nor her scenes do anything to augment rather than detract from the story you’ve built. It didn’t serve the story well, and although she shares some emotional moments as she talks about her past, they weren’t anything novel and so it wasn’t enough to outweigh their feeling out of place in this play. Shame.
There’s so much I want to talk about and cry about and rant about, but I’ll avoid any more spoilers in case some of you decide to see The Inheritance when it opens on Br’dway. Suffice it to say, the total work was one of the best theatrical events ever, and I’m so glad I finally got to experience it. As my last show of 2018, it was fitting to end a stupendous year of theatre with this masterpiece.
INFORMATION
Trying to rush this show on TodayTix is pretty much impossible – they’re gone in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Luckily, the grand circle (that’s the second mezzanine) is still as good a view as the royal circle (that’s the first mezzanine) and slightly cheaper, so affordable tickets are still to be had. Although this Part is five minutes longer than Part 1, there is only one full intermission and one 5 minute ‘pause’, whereas Part 1 had two full intermissions. However, the pause is more than long enough for a sprint to the bathroom if you sit on the correct side – house right (stage left) is closest to the women’s. YOU’RE WELCOME.
The main questions I had from Part 1 were, whether Eric would ever find out the truth about the house; whether he would take over the house’s spiritual purpose of providing a refuge for gay men with nowhere else to turn; and whether Eric would actually continue this relationship with Henry, the real estate billionaire who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself. Part 1 ends with Eric finally seeing Walter’s country house and feeling the history of the place just as Walter thought he would, in a beautiful tearjerker of a scene that seemed to go on too long but also should never have ended. It created a sense of peace and importance. Part 2 opens with the exact opposite sensibility, an abrupt flip to coldness and ignorance of the house’s tranquil beauty, as Henry Wilcox (John Benjamin Hickey) tells Eric Glass (Kyle Soller) they’re ready to leave only minutes after they’ve arrived. The painful change served as a reminder that these stories aren’t going to work out easily or happily or how I wanted them to. You yearn with Eric to stay and find out more about what has happened there, and in the bigger picture you want Eric to decide that this life of helpfulness that Walter had found in the house is the kind of life he’s meant for, and that Henry’s lack of awareness in this regard shows why he’s wrong for him. Of course, that wouldn’t happen in the first scene, and so he follows Henry back to the city, even though you’re like, dude, why are you spending time with this jabronie?? But it effectively reminds you that these stories are probably not going to go how you wish they would.
The jabronieness of Henry Wilcox is amplified in the first major part of the play, and the most upsetting, when Eric has all his friends over to Henry’s $30 million house in the Village for brunch. I don’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when you bring a bunch of liberal gay men to the house of a billionaire Republican, things are gonna get ugly. In Part 1, it was hinted at that Henry was an R-word when he said he didn’t think the direction of U.S. politics was so bad, and that seemed bad enough for me. But here, they go full out and have Henry talk openly about supporting Trump because he supports what’s ‘best for the market’ and probably loves him some tax breaks because all a billionaire needs is more money. This whole long scene, I felt like Chidi with the stomachaches. Jasper, Eric’s most politically active friend, tries to talk some sense into Henry, but it’s a lost cause and the frustration I felt in my belly exploded onstage as Jasper lost his cool in the ensuing argument. Sure Jasper was wrong for fighting with Henry in his own home, I guess that’s rude, but is it as rude as someone actively making the world worse? I think not. Just go out on the sidewalk and fight the monster. This scene was well done, with Henry at least offering the arguments that aren’t ‘because I hate everyone who isn’t a white man’, and showing how Eric’s sense of morality is disappearing as he spends more time in the billionaire’s world. But it was so frustrating to have to listen to any republican apologists and to think about the diaper genie during my theatre time. Ughh the frustration at Eric for standing by this patently immoral man made me long for the craziness of Toby.
And then we get hours of craziness from Toby (Andrew Burnap)! Like I said before, if Burnap doesn’t win an Olivier and a Tony, then the awards truly don’t mean anything. We already know awards don’t mean anything but they REALLY won’t extra extra. Toby tries to feel something and escape his problems not by getting direly needed therapy or rehab, but by partying on Fire Island with the prostitute Leo (played by the same actor who plays Adam, Samuel H. Levine). The Fire Island club scenes are literally my nightmare, with all the unce unce unce music and the flashing lights and just all the noise, guys, can we keep it down. I was surprised that the focus seemed to switch from the role of Adam in Part 1 to the role of Leo in Part 2, with Adam barely in it anymore, but the actor doubling shows how important both men were for Toby in different ways. Leo’s character was fascinating and heartbreaking, and while Toby still wins the prize for Most in terms of both of those things, the ways they help and hurt each other made both characters more compelling.
Leo gets some of the most spellbinding reveals in Part 2, from the riveting wedding appearance and all the multitudes that can be said by saying just one word, to the ending when we come back to the framing device and it all makes sense. But it’s Toby this time around whose heart you worry about the most, whereas in Part 1 I was concerned most with Eric’s well-being. Eric, though misguided with Henry, shows he can remain standing on his own two feet when things get hard. Toby, on the other hand, is fragile, and even though someone who can be so horrible to others and to himself can seem tough and resilient, he’s really the one most in need of help. I find myself still worrying about Toby and heartbroken at his strife, and mad at playwright Matthew Lopez, Boy Genius, for causing him so much sadness. Oh Toby.
Interestingly, one of the aspects of Part 2 we were most keenly aware of was not the presence of something but the absence: we missed Walter (Paul Hilton). It’s remarkable how he managed to create such a warm, wise, beloved character in Part 1, so much that his absence was deeply felt, creating in our minds a semblance of what Eric and Henry must have been going through. We grieved with them.
Amid all the anxiety I had about Part 2 and where the various stories would go, I had excitement for one specific aspect: to see Vanessa Redgrave onstage. And while I mean no disrespect to this living legend, they should cut her entire part out for Broadway. They won’t, because you can’t fire Vanessa Redgrave, but they should. It’s the same exact situation as with Meryl Streep in “Mary Poppins Returns” – sure she’s a g-d ledge and you’re lucky to have her in your thing, but neither her character nor her scenes do anything to augment rather than detract from the story you’ve built. It didn’t serve the story well, and although she shares some emotional moments as she talks about her past, they weren’t anything novel and so it wasn’t enough to outweigh their feeling out of place in this play. Shame.
There’s so much I want to talk about and cry about and rant about, but I’ll avoid any more spoilers in case some of you decide to see The Inheritance when it opens on Br’dway. Suffice it to say, the total work was one of the best theatrical events ever, and I’m so glad I finally got to experience it. As my last show of 2018, it was fitting to end a stupendous year of theatre with this masterpiece.
INFORMATION
Trying to rush this show on TodayTix is pretty much impossible – they’re gone in a matter of seconds, not minutes. Luckily, the grand circle (that’s the second mezzanine) is still as good a view as the royal circle (that’s the first mezzanine) and slightly cheaper, so affordable tickets are still to be had. Although this Part is five minutes longer than Part 1, there is only one full intermission and one 5 minute ‘pause’, whereas Part 1 had two full intermissions. However, the pause is more than long enough for a sprint to the bathroom if you sit on the correct side – house right (stage left) is closest to the women’s. YOU’RE WELCOME.
A German Life at the Bridge Theatre: Maggie Smith is a Treasure; This Show is Not
It’s Theatre Thursday! A German Life is playing at London’s Bridge Theatre until May 11.
First of all, let me be clear that Maggie Smith is one of a handful of global treasures (pronounced tray-sure, like fellow old-lady-treasure Emily Gilmore). If she wanted to be an honorary Golden Girl I’d allow it. She’s the best. I love her. I wish her decades more of life and health and work.
A German Life is one of the most painful theatrical events I’ve ever had the non-playsure of experiencing. And not in a good ‘oh that was dramatic and heavy in a necessary way’ kind of painful. I mean it was torture. It was almost two hours straight of wondering in agony whether Maggie Smith was losing her short-term memory and forgetting lines (the thought of which was heartbreaking), or whether this was a purposeful choice for her character. Either way, it was painful to watch. It was hundo p when you visit an older person in a nursing home and you listen to their rambling stories and how it takes them a year to get out one sentence, and once they get the sentence out, they repeat it three times so they can figure out where they wanted to go from there and you’re just like OH MY GOD SPIT IT OUT but you can’t because that’s a horrible thing to think and say (when you aren’t talking to a Nazi).
And yes, all this means that Maggie was entirely successful in her portrayal (it had to be an acting decision, right, because Maggie Smith is still IN HER PRIME) of a 105-year-old woman. I mean, it’s incredible that a 105-year-old woman managed to communicate all that she did. But realism and accuracy in the portrayal doesn’t automatically make for good theatre.
What also doesn’t make for good theatre is that the show gets its message across in about 10 minutes, and the rest of the time is just playing that same one note for longer. And the message…isn’t enough. In A German Life, Maggie plays Brunhilde Pomsel, former secretary to Joseph Goebbels during WWII. The real Pomsel broke her silence at age 105 when she spoke to a group of filmmakers about her life. This play, by Christopher Hampton, is based on that. Maggie sits in a chair as Brunhilde and talks to us about her life like we are filming her for the documentary. The significance of her testimony is that she was a Nazi, who worked in Goebbels’ propaganda wing, who doesn’t think she did anything wrong. In her recounting of wartime, she spends more time explaining her favorite suit she got from Mrs. Goebbels than sharing anything she knew about what was happening in the war. It’s an effective portrait of willful ignorance, I’ll give it that. We spend this time with a self-involved person who hasn’t learned any lesson still, and so we are supposed to reflect on what makes someone ignore such atrocity, and what we would have done differently, if anything.
What bothers me about this show is how frustrated I am that the subtle messaging is not going to reach some people. Instead of thinking how horrifying it is that this woman still doesn’t get it, still thinks she was a victim for what she faced post-war, some people are going to go ‘hmm that really makes you think, there could be very fine people on both sides.’ I’m all for subtle theatre, but our audience needed to be told more clearly that Nazis were bad. I’m not joking. As usual, this show was a prime example of the disturbing humor of London audiences. Without fail, whenever there’s a soul-shocking line that would make normal humans breathe in sharply or widen their eyes or gasp, we’re with an audience that laughs. The most alarming example in my experience previously was when, in Caroline, or Change, Caroline told the young Jewish boy in her care that his people go to hell. It’s a big gasp moment. OUR AUDIENCE LAUGHED. And not in a nervous laughter way that some people on Broadway did; this was in a ‘oh that’s funny because making fun of Jews is funny’ way. Well, the Bridge audience at A German Life matched that distress by laughing every single time Maggie’s character made fun of Jews, especially their appearance, their penny-pinching ways, and especially when she motioned slightly at her nose to comment about Jews’ big noses. The audience roared. This is why anti-Semitism is back; it’s by popular demand.
And that’s why this show didn’t work for me and mostly frustrates me. It’s extremely subtle in its message, because all we get is her story and her words. It only works for people who know that the Nazis were bad and that anti-Semitism was, is, wrong. So, today, when more and more people don’t realize that anti-Semitism is wrong, they laugh along with Brunhilde like it’s their granny and then come away thinking ‘maybe not all Nazis were bad! She seemed fine!’ It’s ridiculous that I have to say this, today, but apparently we as a society haven’t reached the point where subtlety in anti-Nazi messaging makes any headway. I know some of you are like ‘you’re assuming all of that just because people laughed at the wrong things?’ No, I’m assuming all of that because of the conversations I have had every single day since 2016 about what is or is not anti-Semitic, and how often I’ve been told that just because something is anti-Semitic doesn’t mean it’s bad. When we still have people who are like ‘eh but Jews’, a restrained portrait of a non-actively-evil Nazi isn’t going to get through to anyone who needs it.
INFORMATION
I’ve previously raved about the human-friendly, modern design of the Bridge, but that was when I sat in the stalls. Sitting in the weird nether-region of the Gallery 1, which is really just more stalls at the back walls of the theatre, separated from the regular stalls by a half-step and a banister. It felt much more cramped than the regular stalls and at a weird side angle. Definitely won’t be sitting there again.
Infuriatingly, the show started 10 minutes late, in order to seat all latecomers. This is because this show has a policy of no admission or readmission once the show begins – but they also publicized the policy of ‘no latecomers allowed in’. Get your story straight! Don’t hold the curtain for people who are 10 minutes late, man alive.
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So ok after the initial prompt in italics I was going to remind you that Back to the Future the musical made you angry but mannnnn this was a whole other level, complete trash what the actual. Maybe let’s pretend it was very poorly presented satire played so straight you couldn’t tell?? I am sorry you sat through this dreck.