Almeida, London
9th July
2014 matinee
Anne Washburns’ Mr
Burns – a Post-Electric Play is entertaining, full of big ideas, well
performed by a cast who gives it its heart, and ingeniously designed by Tom
Scutt’s creative flair. However, the play’s ideas are perhaps under-explored
and left me feeling a tad underwhelmed.
Where to start with Mr Burns: a play about The Simpsons, a play about storytelling,
a play about cultural transmission. Washburn states that she probably chose The Simpsons randomly yet it (particularly
this episode) is an extremely interesting choice. The Cape Feare episode (1993) sees Sideshow Bob out to kill Bart, which
in turn means that the Simpsons have to leave Springfield to live on a
houseboat in order to escape the killer clown. Little do they know that he has
followed them. In the night, he ties the family up, sets the boat along the
river and plans to murder Bart, but is distracted by Bart’s request to hear him
sing a Gilbert and Sullivan opera. The boat crashes into a verge where Chief
Wiggum is ready to arrest Sideshow Bob. The episode spoofs the 1991 Scorsese
film Cape Fear (itself a remake of
the 1962 film), which makes the episode and play very meta-theatrical. The Simpsons, by the way, is an
excellent subject for a play. More than just a popular cartoon, each episode
(particularly the earlier seasons) features snippets of genius wit with
deeper-rooted ironies that aren’t just to be dismissed as a bit of cartoon
humour. As a post-modern cartoon it references other bits of popular culture,
politics and much more. Furthermore, as a much-loved episode, it is a good
basis for a play, but there is much more to Washburn’s work.
Act one (in the obscure setting of ‘soon’), is set in a
not-so-distant future America, after the apocalyptic disaster of the Nuclear
power stations failing (Mr Burns owns the Nuclear Power Plant in The Simpsons). In near-darkness, we meet
a group of people gathered around a campfire, collectively remembering this
particular episode. Some remember it better than others, some remember bits
wrong (such as Sideshow Bob writing with actual blood rather than ketchup and
there being eels rather than piranhas in the river), some struggle to remember
bits at all. They bond through the episode, as seen in one character’s late
entrance which is greeted with pointing guns at him. This is a setting where
they are unsure of what’s on the outside, don’t know where their loved ones are
and where the number one challenge is to survive. And as fascinating as the apocalypse
exposition is, it does have a tendency to slow the play down with crowbarred
emotion, particularly during Maria’s account of getting some duct tape, even if
it is well-performed by Annabel Scholey.
Act 2, set 7 years later, sees the same group of survivors in
a shack of a theatre (with Tom Scutt’s design coming over the proscenium into
the auditorium) as part of a touring theatre company playing episodes of The Simpsons. The world is now without
electricity, so they re-imagine episodes with home-made props, complete with
their own commercials. Even though the world may have started again, it is
clear that commercialisation still exists: the theatre
groups trade in lines from The Simpsons
and fight over who has written certain jokes. It is interesting how Washburn implies that survivors revel
in recreations of sitcoms and other popular TV shows to perhaps remember the
pre-Apocalypse world and to find comfort in them. And although the world of
sitcoms may be comforting, it might mean that other literature and culture are
compromised:
I find it a melancholy thought that art, architecture and literature may
perish in the collective memory but a popular TV show will be the last relic of
western civilisation
Michael
Billington, 2014[1]
Yet Shakespeare
groups do exist in this world even if Western pop culture is what Washburn
considers will be grasped hold of as important for existence. It’s an
interesting point, and in fact the play is at its best when delving into this
idea of cultural transmission. Indeed, just because The Simpsons is from the mainstream world of television, it doesn’t
mean it isn’t culturally credible. Episodes that are discussed for performance
in the second act include Heretic Homer,
Springfield Files, Streetcar Named Marge, and Much Apu about Nothing. The
meta-theatricality is clear and Mr Burns
is at its most fascinating when working at this level. What a richly rewarding
idea to examine the place of classic, modern classic and popular culture in a
post-disaster America through the optic of a popular cartoon. It has huge
potential but gets lost on the way. Indeed the lookalike costumes, paper mache
Simpsons car and the recreation of the funny Mr Thompson scene shows off how
this futuristic theatre company might work. But the act then tangles itself up
in acting out commercials and creating medleys of popular music. It’s entertaining
and imaginative but it could focus more on the episode and it’s usage in
America post-disaster. However, in Washburn’s defence, the Cape Feare Simpsons episode is a reworking of the movie but it then
goes off to also reference Gilbert and Sullivan songs. Mr Burns similarly brings in other material but perhaps at the
extent of it being bogged down (Demetri Goritsas’ version of Three Little Maids from School, however,
is impressive). The act ends in gunmen in the auditorium and firing onto the
stage. It’s an unnerving reminder of the world outside the theatre and nicely
suggests how theatre can be escapist but it is another reminder of how the play
can get stuck in its exposition.
Act three, set 75 years later, is a full-on opera with highly
stylized costumes with little resemblance of but strong groundings in the
original Simpsons characters. The
costumes and ship design don’t resemble that of the Cape Feare episode as much as the New York production but instead
carries a more tribal feel: Marge Simpson seems more tribal warrior than
middle-of-the-road housewife. The characters now have a quasi-religious status
and Springfield is not just a place but an idealised time before the disaster. Orlando
Gough’s and Michael Henry’s music in this act elevates the play to being
exhilarating. Jenna Russell in particular impresses as she shows the vulnerable
side to Bart in ‘It’s the End of Everything’. Mr Burns, not Sideshow Bob, is
the villain of this musical act and there is a suggestion that this could be
viewed as some Simpsons-inspired allegory in the future. It is fascinating and
its mutation from the original episode suggests how culture transcends through
the generations and how it can be made anew. Ultimately, we see how people use
pop culture to validate and celebrate their history.
The play ends with Mr Burns powering the theatre on a
generator bike, as a globe ascends to the top of the fairy light-lit theatre.
As he slows down the theatre plunges into the darkness in which it started,
suggesting a cyclical nature. It’s a beautiful moment and is another exciting
theatrical image in a play full of them. And although it touches upon
brilliance at times, the fast-paced, ambitious ingenuity of Mr Burns is perhaps the thing which
stops it from focusing on interesting, specific ideas.
After a string of hits at the Almeida from Chimerica to King Charles III, Mr Burns
may not be getting a West End transfer yet its debates and Twitter reactions
continues the theatre’s recent track record of producing engaging, provocative
theatre.
On another note, I found my first trip to the Almeida not to
be the most welcoming. Although I was impressed with the building and the
theatre’s mission statement, I found some staff members to be a bit
unwelcoming.
There’s
probably so much more to say about Mr
Burns and I’ll probably blog on the storytelling in the play. The play may only be 3 stars here, but I highly recommend it
for its ideas, Robin Icke’s entertaining production, first-class cast, Gough
and Henry’s music, and Tom Scutt’s design.
Mr Burns is playing at the Almeida Theatre
until 26th July, 2014.
