TW: Flickering and flashing lights that may affect viewers with photosensitive epilepsy.
CW: Description of misogyny
After watching Benedict Cumberbatch talk about the power of theatre and “the best seat in the house”, the National Theatre Live screening began by familiarising the viewer at home with the theatre space and the audience before projecting the following words onto the curtains:
“PEACE IS OUR PROFESSION.”
The cast is then uniformed as military personnel. They are singing? They are singing.
In what is one of the most iconic political satirical films, Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) has now been adapted for the stage by Armando Iannucci and Sean Foley, premiering at the West End’s Noel Coward Theatre last year.
Directed by Foley and directed for the screen by Matthew Byam Shaw, Nia Janis, and Nick Salmon, this tale of mutually-assured-destruction feels more cinematic than theatrical, in part due to its source material, despite the film itself being based on Peter George’s 1958 book Red Alert.
The premise begins when General Ripper (John Hopkins) speaks to Captain Mandrake (Steve Coogan), exceeds his authority, and orders the use of nuclear weapons on Russian targets.
Without access to the recall code, no one, including the US President, can authorise the bomber planes to turn around.
While this is set during the height of the Cold War and associated paranoia, the show feels very contemporary in language, references and allusions to political concerns of our time, such as climate change, war, and abuses of power. The play is referential to many elements that still resonate today, whether that be NATO, Jerusalem, or the moon as a potential haven (“but it’s not even ours”), guns as the answer to everything, and the ever-so-enduring gag of the Coca Cola machine as “private property”.
When I heard the line, “….That’s one I’ll just have to leave to the scientists”, I immediately thought of Opposition Leader Peter Dutton making the same comment about climate change during a live televised debate. This moment was a stubborn reminder of how political decision makers say what fits their current circumstance — election season — rather than commit to being transparent and accountable to their citizens.
The play best shines when the script is full of uninterrupted banter, and the actors deliver it in a fast-paced manner. There’s a joke for bisexuals. There’s a joke about Elvis Presley being a Russian impersonator from a Soviet special imitations unit. There is a joke about colons and the use of the Oxford comma. There’s almost a joke for everyone — venn diagram pending.
There were moments of pitch-perfect physical comedy and timing(I’m looking at you ‘Canadian man’) but more times than not, the comedy fell flat (“Operation Dropkick” comes to mind). I even almost missed the iconic line: “Gentleman, you can’t fight in here, this is the War Room” because I was taken out of the narrative for a few moments.
As the original story is male-centric, women are mentioned in passing, save for the conclusion, where a woman arrives on stage to sing. The film’s only female character, Ripper’s secretary/mistress/Playboy Bunny, was notably cut.
The final scene surrounding the (doomed) future of the human race, that is living in mine shafts for 100 years, took the discussion a step further than the film referring to algorithms, the abandonment of the “monogamous sexual relationship for men”, “conception camps”, breeding at scale, and the question of whether the Russians would take more women than the Americans.
Steve Coogan, who plays the titular character, Captain Mandrake, President Muffley, and cowboy pilot Major TJ Kon, delivers all four characters with clear idiosyncrasies and determined rigour. Due to time constraints, some characters felt more rounded than others; President Muffley and Major TJ Kong, who appear for the least amount of time, come to mind.
It was impressive how transitions between characters, often in the same or next scene, were conducted without the audience noticing. The use of body doubles when Coogan exits to change costumes and his ability to switch between characters seamlessly are a testament to his commitment to the craft. General Turgidson, played by Giles Terera, delivers a lot of exposition and holds his own during the Pentagon scenes. But, it is Mark Hadfield as Faceman who stands out, delivering every line, facial expression and movement with precise humour and effortlessness.
Sound design and composition by Ben and Max Ringham were a highlight. The score is triumphant and loud despite the insertion of two musical numbers at the beginning and end, which felt out of place. The use of the songs “Try a Little Tenderness”, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”, and “We’ll Meet Again”, however, makes sense within the story. The lighting by Jessica Hung Han Yun, aided by Chris Fisher’s illusions and Akihila Krishnan’s projection design, all complement well to deliver strong visual storytelling.
The set alternated between the War Room, General Ripper’s office and the cockpit of a B-52 plane. Also responsible for costuming, Hildegard Bechtler recreated the atmosphere of the 1960s, but of course, as the War Room table is an ubiquitous image that many are familiar with, it is difficult to bring something new to the table in that regard (pun intended). That being said, I do wish I were able to see the table in person and see whether that would have changed my opinion.
While the stage adaptation was a great opportunity to revisit Dr. Strangelove, it ultimately made me want to rewatch the film, which captured so much of the paranoia of the time. McCarthyist sentiment, censorship and the military-industrial complex endure today, but the play loses ground in terms of what it chooses to directly translate from the original work and what it builds upon.
