“Do you see a rise in social harmony on the horizon?”
Between this interview for the Evening Standard and the three pages of
programme notes that accompany the playtext, Anders Lustgarten clearly sees conventional
theatre as a challenge to be met and his play for the Royal Court - If You Don’t Let Us Dream, We Won’t Let You Sleep – certainly aims to be different. Fitting into
Dominic Cooke’s brief to shake up the archetypal middle class audiences at the
Sloane Square venue, it offers a illuminating deconstruction of the politics and
economics of austerity and promises an alternative but where the first point is
definitely delivered, the second remains somewhat unrealised.
Lustgarten has imagined a world not at all dissimilar to our own with the
impact of a financial system in meltdown unfurling insidiously throughout
society. With traditional avenues closed to them, City financiers plot new ways
of making money and alight on the idea of Unity Bonds, wherein “problem
families can now be monetised” by the bankers betting on social disorder
increasing whilst officially being incentivised by it going down. But this is
just the start of a series of short scenes, the rest of which focus on a
society which is fast unravelling. Prisons, hospitals, schools all feel the
shockwaves of this approach, as services become depersonalised in the endless
rush to meet targets and frustrations boil over into violence.
It’s a compelling view of a dystopia that doesn’t feel too far removed from our
own reality and is blessed by some superb performances from the cast of eight
who cover multiple roles in the ever-shifting scenes. Daniel Kendrick’s angry
young man, Ferdy Robert’s oleaginous financier, Lucian Msamati’s compelling
abuse victim, Susan Brown’s frustrated but innately good nurse, Laura Elphinstone
in everything she does, Lustgarten’s characterisations may not have time to
really take hold but their dialogue has real bite. And in Simon Godwin’s
deliberately austere production, sans décor, there’s an almost playful
atmosphere against the harsher reality of the material.
But by the time we reach the final extended scene, where a group of dissidents –
bringing together some of the characters we have previously met – converge on a
disused building to create a Court of Public Opinion where they intend to…well
I couldn’t really tell you exactly what they were going to do aside from ‘challenge
the status quo’ and put something or somebody on trial, it is clear that
Lustgarten’s frenetic energy has expended itself. And though we’re only 70
minutes in by this point, he opts to stop, rather than develop a piece of
involving drama out of this scenario, which is a shame as it does feel full of
potential.
Leaving the theatre, one could feel a little dissatisfied as something which
starts off so confrontational and yet backs away as the going gets tough. But
reading around the playwright’s intentions, it is possible to see that the
blurb on the back of the playtext may have gone a little too far in promising an
alternative vision to austerity, where Lustgarten may have been more interested
in providing us with the stimulus to think of our own by breaking down perceived
complexities around economics. That’s my take on it but it certainly isn’t one
which is immediately clear (nor necessarily correct) and so I’d say approach
this with caution – aim to get £10 tickets on a Monday rather than splashing
out for full price.
Running time: 70 minutes (without interval)
Playtext cost: £3
Booking until 9th March