For all the gnashing of teeth from the literati, it’s not as though the British theatre world has done much to embrace Europe over the course of the past 3 decades. Whilst many a US author (Shinn, Shawn, Mamet, Norris etcetera) has had their day in the sun, the roll call of living European writers who aren’t Irish who have had successful productions is pitiable. It’s a struggle to think of a single playwright who has broken out. The odd play is staged, but Europe’s most celebrated contemporary playwrights remain unknown by the average British theatre practitioner. Noren, Fosse, Lagarce, Bernhard, Koltes, Bebel, Loher… Ask most theatre practitioners and it’s doubtful they will have come across any of them. For most, Europe still means Brecht, Chekhov and not much more. Any attempt to open cultural vistas, to effect an exchange between the UK and its continental European colleagues has been negligible. Is this because these writers and many more are not much kop? Of course not. It’s probably due to a combination of imaginative and commercial reasons, due to a reluctance to seek out a horizon that doesn’t offer a backstage pass to Hollywood and its rewards. The introspection of the British cultural world, with the privileged linguistic space it believes it occupies, is no more than a reflection of mainstream political practices which have helped to create the circumstances under which the vote of 23 June was effected.
It’s perhaps worth trying to focus on a couple of the great success stories of British theatre over this period. Firstly, take Sam Mendes, an Oxbridge contemporary of the Cameron gang. Mendes, on the back of his Oxbridge productions, broke through as the great white hope of British theatre in the late 80s. His take on the classics was seen as fresh and invigorating. He soon became the heir apparent to the generation of Hall and Nunn (a generation which it might be said entertained rather more intellectual curiosity). In 1990, Mendes took over the Donmar in Covent Garden. The Donmar had all the trappings of a fringe theatre, subversively planted in the heart of a booming new commercial area, Covent Garden. It had the potential to become one of the most radical, exciting theatre venues in Europe. Instead, it became a space dedicated to astute commercial practice. A thriving ‘boutique’ theatre evolved appealing to an elitist audience. Mendes maintained his reworking of the classics whilst also starting to mine the hyper-lucrative medium of the musical. As a creative theatre space, the Donmar never really got going. Mendes left and ended up directing Bond movies, whilst forming his own transatlantic company which does - you guessed it - classic texts with well-known stars. A more conservative approach to theatre would be hard to imagine. Theatre is always a trade-off between artistic and commercial instincts; Mendes’ career shows where the British emphasis has lain. Texts which might be seen as ‘difficult’ need to wait however many decades is required before they can get the imprimatur of ‘classics’ and be sold to the public on that basis. The notion of theatre as a process of intellectual investigation, an investigation which includes a dialogue with an audience, has been shelved.
Mendes’ career is only one strand in recent British theatre history. It could be argued that the Donmar has an obligation to meet the bottom line and to put on shows that please the punters. However, it might also be suggested that this is to miss the point of culture, which is not to be a merely commercial vehicle, but a means whereby societies can begin to define themselves and also interact with other cultures. The Royal Court is a theatre which has ostensibly sought to embrace this point of view. Over the past three decades it has consolidated its position as the leading new writing venue in the country, not just for British writers, but also for writers all over the world. Indeed, the Royal Court runs its own “international” department. The exact brief of this department is sometimes hard to gauge. At times it seems like a post-colonial enterprise, as ambassadors from the British writing establishment are sent out to help “develop” playwrights in other countries. On the other hand, it could also be argued that it offers a point of cultural exchange, allowing British audiences to get an insight into what’s going on theatrically in the wider world.
There are two major problems with the Royal Court’s approach towards international writing. Firstly, as part of its remit is to “develop” writers, this means it tends to work with writers who are still at a formative point in their careers. Much as the idea of Thomas Bernhard attending the Royal Court’s international residency tickles the fancy, the conditions under which the residency is run mean it would never have happened. Great writers don’t require “development”. They need their plays to be staged. However, the Court is more inclined to use the gaps in its scheduling for international writing to promote those writers it has invested in via its international outreach work. This leads to the second problem: that in its avowed mission of ‘development’. The Royal Court has effectively turned its back on the most important plays and playwrights currently writing. It doesn’t want to show the best; it wants to showcase its own good intentions. As a result, one of the few theatre spaces in the capital which might have had the energy to tackle the work of the major contemporary playwrights of Europe and beyond, has failed to do so. Look at the list of plays staged in the main house over the past thirty years and the number of plays from Europe is negligible. The greatest opportunity for dialogue theatre offers - staging plays of significance by great writers - has been forfeited.
The writer understands that it is unfair to condemn the lack of European theatre within our (European) theatres at the door of either the Royal Court or Sam Mendes. Rather, these two examples have been cited as indicative of how our theatres would appear to have turned their backs on the continent long before 52% of the British population chose to follow suit. This only matters in so far as we choose to believe that culture matters. Had the Court and other British theatres been awash with productions of European playwrights it might not have made the slightest of differences to the political climate. However, if one chooses to believe that culture can have an effect, for better or for worse, on a nation’s consciousness, then it might be reasonable to suggest that the introspective, anglophone attitude of British theatre, regarding itself more as the 51st state of the United States than an active player within a European community, might be at the very least worthy of quiet reflection on the part of our theatre practitioners at a time when the cultural value of belonging to Europe has been so bitterly rejected.
