But plays that say ‘something about Britain’ are different and infinitely preferable. They send our status sky-high. We become seers and prophets, interpreters of the destiny of the tribe. And as we extend our minds into the past and the future we acquire the inscrutable mask of some fabulous hybrid, the Cumaean Sybil in Nick Robinson’s glasses. What Billington fails to consider is that the theatre of national self-scrutiny is founded on two questionable assumptions. First that the ideal theatrical idiom is political metaphor. Secondly that the ideal subject of that metaphor is this country. Can ‘the state of Britain’ really be the acme of dramatic ambition? Or is it just jingoistic narcissism heavily dosed with pomposity? There’s another complication which Billington alludes to while discussing Blair. ‘He was even one of those rare politicians who went to the theatre.’ This admission strikes at the heart of Billington’s prospectus. If the entire class of people you’re addressing is absent from your chosen forum, then you should either shut up or find a better spot to do your shouting.
To put Billington in perspective I turned to Robert Tanitch’s London Stage in the 20th Century. This is a fascinating, imperfect survey listing all the major London openings along with colourful quotes and reviews. The book isn’t well organised (the index is full of omissions), so it’s not ideal for finding what you’re looking for. But it’s absolutely wonderful for finding what you aren’t looking for. Here’s Gielgud excusing a poor Macbeth. ‘The whole point of Macbeth is that he doesn’t look like a man who sees ghosts. But I look as if I see ghosts all the time.’ And this is how Billington’s paper (then the Manchester Guardian) reviewed the ultimate state of the nation play, The Entertainer, starring Laurence Olivier: ‘No great play but no bad evening either.’
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