A brilliant, unrevivable undertaking: Tom Stoppard’s Leopoldstadt reviewed

History will record Leopoldstadt as Tom Stoppard’s Schindler’s List. His brilliant tragic-comic play opens in the Jewish quarter of Vienna in 1899. We meet a family of intellectuals and businessmen who are celebrating their very first Christmas. The eldest son, Hermann, has married a Catholic and become ‘Christianised’ in order to smooth his path through Austrian society. ‘The Jews know a bargain when they see it.’ The family are amusingly puzzled by the distinction between ‘papist’ and ‘Protestant’ and they’re also keen to honour their ancient traditions. This generates plenty of foreskin gags. (‘Are we on or off with the circumcision?’)

At press night, the critics were busy scribbling one-liners which are destined to reach the dictionary of quotations. ‘Why do Jews have to choose between pushy and humble?’ ‘Today’s modern is tomorrow’s nostalgia: we missed Mahler when we heard Schoenberg.’

The scene moves to 1924 where the younger generation are planning their futures in a mood of innocent optimism which the audience watches with foreboding. Another jump to 1938 shows the family being evicted by a creepy Gestapo officer who punctiliously obliges Hermann to initial a certificate assigning all his wealth to the German state. Thanks to an ingenious plot twist the validity of Hermann’s signature comes into question. The final scene, in 1955, shows the survivors meeting after the war. Included is a grandson who escaped to England and now works as a comic novelist. (Stoppard’s self-portrait, of course.) The character is named Leo Chamberlain. Why? Perhaps a homage to the Briton who declared war on Hitler.

This play is a vast undertaking, artistically and commercially, and it won’t make much profit because the 40-strong company is exceptionally large. Revivals are unlikely to follow for the same reason.