When the space race was at its height in the 50s and 60s, NASA spent millions of dollars developing a ‘space pen’ that would write underwater, upside down and at zero gravity. The Russians took pencils. Sadly there is precious little evidence to support this charming vignette and it may be almost as much of a myth as the moon landings. True or not, the story suggests that those hurling huge resources at a project may come to see that a simpler solution was under their noses all along.
Michael Frayn’s Afterlife at the National Theatre is a big undertaking: a morality play within a morality play, a life of Max Reinhardt (the Steven Spielberg of the 1930s), an exposition of mortality and an interrogation of theatricality. The stage teems with cathedrals, banquets, baroque palaces, New York, LA, fascists, Prince Archbishops and the Grim Reaper. Put simply: there is just too much to admire in Michael Blakemore’s production of his long-time collaborator’s latest work.
Frayn seeks to bind and blend the remarkable rise and fall of theatrical impresario Max Reinhardt with the story of one of his most famous productions: Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s version of the medieval morality play The Summoning of Everyman, performed annually at the Salzburg Festival (established by Reinhardt). Unfortunately life is not quite art and vice versa: Roger Allam gives an excellent multi-faceted performance as Reinhardt but it is impossible to sustain sympathy for this compelling, complex and tragic figure who lived for the theatre whilst being constantly reminded that he’s a metaphor. On the other hand, just when Frayn’s lively translation of the Hofmannsthal play gets going, Reinhardt interrupts it.
Peter Davison’s set makes no use of the depth of the Lyttleton stage, it consists of some giant steps on which the characters are confined in cramped clusters whilst painted flats fly or zoom in and out around them.
Peter Forbes stands out among a strong ensemble cast as Reinhardt’s long suffering manager ‘Katie’ and David Schofield does very well as Death and a Nazi.
Somebody should send Frayn a space pen and a pencil so he can write a screenplay for a biopic of Max Reinhardt with one and complete the translation of the Hofmannsthal Everyman with the other.
