Theatre

Perdition (Conway Hall) One Way Pendulum (Old Vic)

A finger on the scale

Christopher Edwards

You will probably recall that Perdi- tion, by Jim Allen, was the play withdrawn by the Royal Court at the last moment in January 1987. Stafford Clark explained his decision in the Guardian ('Why I axed Perdition'). He rejected suggestions that Zionist pressure had forced his hand (the play is profoundly anti-Zionist and ques- tions the conduct and motives of certain Jewish leaders in Hungary during the last war; in a word, it accuses them of collabor- ating with the Nazis). Stafford-Clark said he lost confidence in the play's historical credibility. Jewish historians had criticised Allen's play as inaccurate, partial and lacking in balance. The playwright stood by his partiality and lack of balance (`this is a play not an essay'), but denied that his account of the collaboration was inaccurate or that the play was anti-semitic. Allen claimed that the play was based on evidence that sustained a number of damn- ing indictments. Zionist leaders, in the last war, blocked rescue attempts of Jews which did not include entry into Palestine. Their overriding priority was the creation of the state of Israel. Rich Jews and those with status were given preference on escape trains allowed to leave Hungary with Eichmann's consent. Information that might jeopardise Eichmann's approval was

suppressed, even though it cost Jewish lives, Culpable silence was maintained by Jewish leaders who knew what was hap- pening in Auschwitz, but failed to inform those herded docilely together in the ghet- toes of Budapest. There may be other specific charges as well, but certain pas-

sages from the published text have been excised pending legal action. The debate carried from Sloane Square to the press ('Why are you dancing on the graves of the victims?'). Perdition was withdrawn, and until now no management has appeared willing to stage it.

Based around an actual Israeli libel action of 1953, the play takes the form of a High Court libel suit brought by Dr Yaron against Ruth Kaplan (both characters are fictitious). The alleged libel — that Dr Yaron, amongst others, collaborated in Hungary in 1944 — is based upon diaries discovered by Miss Kaplan while carrying out research in a Budapest library. Her defence is justification, and as usual with libel'trials of this sort, while Miss Kaplan is the defendant, it is actually the plaintiff, Dr Yaron, who finds himself — and by extension his Zionist beliefs — on trial.

The play certainly suffers from all the limitations (and manipulations) of a court- room setting. This is hardly the kind of forum you choose to body forth life in a disinterested Way, without pressing your finger on the scale. And Jim Allen's finger remains firmly on the scale, although he does seem to have taken account of many of the detailed criticisms levelled at the

work during the original controversy. Perdition remains static and wordy. Ex-

amination and cross-examination take their usual course, only here they seem, more than ever, invitations for set speeches and anti-Zionist argument. Characterisa- tion is wafer-thin. The production also shows signs of its hasty preparation. By all the usual canons of dramatic judgment the work is leaden.

But the arguments have their own force. Members of the audience in the Conway Hall gasped when Defending Counsel was

allowed to quote David Ben-Gurion's re- mark that he would rather save half the

children in Germany by bringing them to

Israel, than all of them by bringing them to England. The play can certainly be seen as

a piece of pro-Palestinian, left-wing re- visionism. But it has points to make about the history of Zionism, and it makes them

in as inflammatory a manner as possible. Remaining performances of Perdition at the Conway Hall, Red Lion Square, can be seen on •12-14 May only.

It is a long imaginative leap to the world of Monty Python. N. F. Simpson's seminal Absurdist piece, One Way Pendulum, first

performed in 1959, was, by John Cleese's own admission, the unconscious source for much of their 'intellectual' lunatic inspira- tion. Relying upon free association and non sequiturs, Simpson's piece opens in an impeccably recreated Fifties suburban

household. The son, Kirby Groomkirby, is trying to teach speak-your-weight machines to sing. His father, Arthur, is preparing to recreate the Old Bailey in his parlour. Aunt Mildred, old and wheelchair-bound, fantasises about foreign travel while Myra Gantry, a neighbour, drops in to eat up piles of uneaten Groom- kirby groceries. Some of this is still funny, but the longueurs become increasingly longer. In Act Two the Old Bailey rises before us and a murder trial commences. Young Kirby has bumped off 43 people. The humour continues to be self-conscious and mannered until one glorious sustained flight of nonsensical probative fancy from John Savident's cross-examining Counsel which is simply brilliant. The remainder of the work has, I fear, dated. Jonathan Miller directs.