It is no laughing matter - The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui
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The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui written by Bertolt Brecht, translated by Stephen Sharkey, at the RSC Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until 30 May 2026. Directed by Seán Linnen.
Review by Wynne Lang.
This is surely a play for our current, troubled times.
Written by Bertholt Brecht in exile from Germany in 1941, before the outcome of the war was known or the full extent of Nazi atrocities brought to light, it charts the rise of Hitler (Arturo UI) from upstart factional leader in 1932 to the Nazi annexation of Austria in 1938. In the play, Hitler is re-imagined as a Chicago mob boss - his cronies, Goring and Goebbels (Givola and Giri), are his gangster enforcers.
What the German political philosopher Hannah Arendt described as ‘the banality of evil’, is played out in front of our eyes. The aristocratic Junker class whose entitlement to rule Germany is taken for granted, is satirised as the Cauliflower Trust - vegetable wholesalers. The influential Old Dogsborough is inveigled in their tax-evasion scam – echoing the compromising of German President Hindenburg by gift of land from the Junkers. Ui’s ability to exploit this vulnerability begins his rise.
Being a didactic writer, Brecht signals such political parallels in the notes accompanying the play’s text, and in production here an overhead screen performs the same function. The audience is left in little doubt as to what’s going on.
And what goes on is never less than enthralling. Mark Gatiss, so familiar on-screen, makes the transition to stage in the lead role seem effortless. His Ui is a truly repellent creature; an almost Beckettian tramp-like figure at the outset, but with the familiar toothbrush moustache and lank, greasy hair, he wheedles, cajoles and threatens as he gradually morphs into the preposterous uniformed demagogue so recognisable to us. He also has the cadaverous look of a German Expressionist vampire - he is rarely in physical contact with anyone on stage, which makes his licking of the face of Betty Dullfleet in his ‘charm-offensive’ to take over Chicago’s neighbour, Cicero, genuinely shocking.
It's impossible not to look for obvious modern parallels in the production, especially given its American setting, and it’s to everyone’s credit that the obvious is avoided. This makes the occasional subtle echoes all the more pointed, like the odd moment when Gatiss’s diction seems to mimic that of the current US president - it really needs no more than that. If you’ve been awake and paying attention for the last few years, you will make your own connections.
Brecht never saw the play produced but had visualised a garishness to its tone and setting, referencing fairground/amusement arcade attractions. The staging here reflects that, and is as good as I’ve seen at Stratford, especially regarding costume and make-up. The Cauliflower Trust are flamboyant in suits of the day, whereas UI’s acolytes, Givola and Giri, appear as refugees from a Berlin Cabaret, in clownish costume and circus make-up. These parts are both superbly played by LJ Parkinson and Mawaan Rizwan. Rizwan’s appearance recalls that of Joel Grey, the emcee in the film of Cabaret, as does his disposition, but with a frenzied, psychotic dimension that makes him a truly terrifying figure. The henchmen who are not destined to stay the course alongside Ui, such as Roma, never move beyond their street-fighting garb.
As a satire, there needs to be humour, which there is, almost exclusively in the first half, and always of an edgy, uncomfortable kind. As in Bugsy Malone, where the gangsters fired splurge guns, the weapons here are comic, until they’re not. There is a well-conceived scene in which Ui learns from ‘an old Shakespearean actor’ how to speak, use his hands, and walk across stage. That a certain type of walk emerges is an uncomfortable laugh. The use of response cards telling the audience to applaud during the first half creates discomfort too; its vaudeville feeling at first is responded to, but the more it feels like collusion, audience uncertainty ensues.
The second half is a darker affair. The Ui gang turns upon themselves, resulting in ‘the night of the long knives’. Gradually, the guns aren’t toys anymore, and Roma and his street gang are dispatched in a sustained hail of machine-gun fire in a brilliantly choreographed sequence. The score by the rock band Placebo, played live by a band cleverly housed on top of a cube which moves up and down-stage, is suitably moody and louring, Cicero falls under Ui’s control, and the drama ends with the uniformed figure of Ui declaiming from the top of the cube where might be next, Washington, Milwaukee, Detroit, Toledo…… then there is the Epilogue, with house lights up, bringing us to the here and now with a warning.
This is a superbly realised production of a play that could easily seem crude. It knows exactly what it wants to say and how to say it. Although not many actors have been singled-out, it’s a brilliant ensemble piece in which everything works together. It may be hard to get tickets, but worth the effort. Catch it if you can.
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