18 – 22 June
If ever there were a period of political life that cried out for satire it is surely the present. Taking up the brief to take a swipe at, what I think we can all agree are sitting targets, Michael McManus (himself no stranger to the inner workings of government) sets his play in the fictional immediate aftermath of a surprise victory by a newly-formed party at a general election.
We don’t have to scratch our heads too long to finger a model for the party leader. Matthew Cottle serves up a bumbling and flaccid Prime Minister, with seemingly a greater grasp of Latin tags and Greek philosophy than the state of the nation. He is every inch a cipher in thrall to his chief adviser, prone to frightful spoonerisms, seemingly bemused by and unprepared for, high office. Only at the end, with the monarchy seemingly under threat, does he grow something between his legs.
The adviser, Seth (Ryan Early) comes over as an obnoxious sociopath, a disrupter with strong iconoclastic and republican leanings. Described by one character as being like, ‘a hormonal adolescent locked in a sex shop’, he is the one character realized in sharp focus. Again we don’t have to look far in recent political life to find a model and Mr McManus gives us a little nudge just in case. Dressed aggressively casual in T-shirt, open shirt and sneakers he swaggers and jiggles around as if he’s herding sheep.
There are hints of backbone in some of the other characters after Seth is seemingly about to bring about a constitutional crisis. The deputy Prime Minister (Debra Stephenson) for example, shows a bit of political nous, but none are given much of an opportunity to show what they are really made of.
Therein lies the weakness of the play: relying on well-worn tropes about politicians it doesn’t quite make up its mind what it wants to do, being neither biting comedy of political manners with sharply drawn characters nor excoriating satire. Such has been the ineptitude and downright bargain-basement integrity of the last decade or more, it would seem to be an opportunity missed to vent some bitter indignation. Where’s the sex, where’s the corruption?
Mr McManus gives us a self-serving and disreputable shower to be sure, but without any of the striking venal weaknesses that might bring them to life the play remains satire without teeth.
★★☆☆☆ Graham Wyles, 19 June, 2024
Photo credit: Craig Fuller
