One leading scientist said last night, “This trend has been evident for some time now. It was hitherto mostly confined to low population areas such as the Cottesloe where only a handful of people were affected but now it’s spreading to the Lyttelton.
“It looks like a hockey stick. I could show you on a big chart if you like although it wouldn’t be inherently dramatic – more like a lecture -and I might as well just beat you about the head with the hockey stick instead and achieve the same degree of subtlelty”.
Another scientist warned: “And just look at how many writers it takes to change a low-energy light-bulb, I mean, write a play these days. There was that thing with the long title at the Lyric Hammersmith and Love Never Dies and now Greenland which took four people to write it: Moira Buffini, Matt Charman, Penelope Skinner and Jack Thorne. We predict that in the future it will take 750 people to write a play, even one as bad as this”.
The first scientist then warned: “And in the future all productions will try to look like they are directed by Rupert Goold but come across as TIE with a budget”.
The second scientist explained patiently and with only a hint of exasperation that climate change is a really, really big and important topic but that that doesn’t mean you can get away without bothering to write something decent around it. “We had all this out with Earthquakes In London,” the scientist sniffed.
A scientist – can’t remember which one – was saddened at the lack of balance in the writing. “What no-one has considered is the benefits of climate change. Rising sea levels mean that one of the first things to be swept away when the Thames bursts its banks will be the National Theatre. Every cloud…”
One scientist considered saying something along the lines of “”Global warming? Global yawning more like!” but thought better of it.
Both scientists were reminded that there is usually a very good reason why a production is staged without an interval and in retrospect the team may come to regret including a noisy, ten minute rain storm using real (presumably recycled) water 90 minutes in. Even Phil (who is quite fastidious in visiting the toilet 30 seconds before curtain up and shaking out every last drop) was very nearly caught short.
All the scientists (including this one and this one) gathered at yesterday’s post-show symposium were unanimous in the view that the appearance of a polar bear was a breathtaking coup de theatre of Danton’s Death by guillotine proportions and that it alone was worth the price of admission but that the rest of the play could be completely cut.
The only other ray of hope for the future was the poster which by recent National Theatre standards is quite imaginative. One scientist (Phil) describe it as “evocative”, claiming that it hinted at a baby in the womb, or genitalia, or something created after playing with a Spirograph. Phil certainly never found his borealis despite many youthful happy hours fiddling with his (Spirograph, not genitalia).
Scientists concluded that the best course the National Theatre could adopt to help combat climate change would be to leave the Lyttelton dark for the next few months.
This was a first preview but all the scientists agreed that if it walks like a dog and barks like a dog and wags its tail like a dog on the first preview then it will almost certainly still be a dog when it opens despite what the “ghastly” Michael Codron might think.
If however, it walks like a duck and quacks like duck, then that’s probably Phil you’re looking at.
(one of which was purely for the polar bear)