We all enjoy a good story. Theatregoers especially: theatre
is, at its core, storytelling. And few stories have been retold as many times
as Saint George and the Dragon. For us Brits, it’s a story of national pride.
But for his new play Saint
George And The Dragon, playwright Rory Mullarkey equally takes inspiration from
Russia. The Dragon was written in
1943 by Russian playwright Evgeny Schwartz, in which a knight battles a dragon
to free his people only for that dragon to be replaced by a tyrannical and
oppressive dictator a year later. It’s a clear parallel to Stalin and here
Mullarkey follows a similar formula to comment on both British history and its
present.
We begin with a medieval tale of the titular George (a jolly
John Heffernan) who defeats a dragon who is evil personified (Julian Bleach, in
deliciously snake-like form) to save his hometown and win the affections of the
maid Elsa (Amaka Okafor). The script initially begins in rhyme and it’s all
presented on a set designed by Rae Smith like a miniature diorama, with country
cottages overshadowed by brooding clouds on a landscape that stretches upwards
in faux-perspective. It lends the drama a light-hearted, leg-slapping feel that
replicates a fairytale – albeit one with a serious moral about community and
politics. There are brilliant touches from director Lyndsey Turner too: the way
the battle with the dragon occurs in the far distance over our heads before
huge dragon heads come tumbling down to the stage; the way blood spills on
George’s shirt in a cross shape that becomes the flag. It’s whimsical and fun.
The dragon defeated, we move forward in time, the diorama
morphing into a Victorian-esque industrial cityscape with steam erupting from
miniature factories and a clock tower that looks suspiciously like Big Ben.
George returns to his homeland after all this time, only to find the dragon has
returned – here as a greedy and corrupt industrial leader. The drama cleverly mimics
the first act, culminating in a different sort of dragon battle in which George
rips up a map of the area to metaphorically return the land to its people. It’s
a smart twist on the origin story with a heady, darker atmosphere.
All that, though, is just a preamble to the main event in
the play’s final act now updated to – when else? – present day. The set morphs
once more, this time to a neon lit metropolis, Grant Olding’s music also
updating from brass and fiddles to synths and guitars. And yes, the story
repeats all over again: this time the dragon has evolved further. He’s present
in us all, in the paranoia and anxiety and fear that’s sweeping the nation.
When George returns, he’s less a hero and more a symbol of a simpler past now
faded from memory. He’s over-privileged and arrogant. He’s out of touch with
his people. He can no longer help them – the people must rise up and help
themselves.
The parallels to current politics are far from subtle,
though in this final act the play does capture the state of our nation,
enraptured in political turmoil, downbeat and miserable. And along with its
themes of heroism, storytelling and the cyclical nature of politics and its
long history of tyrannical dragons, the play ultimately has a positive message
that looks to a brighter future. It’s just this epic is so long-winded! Even during the
first act, it’s painfully obvious the direction the story is heading and
fatigue has set in long before the finale. When we reach the end, the play’s
call to arms has been somewhat laboured.
Even if its climax isn’t all that satisfying though, Saint George And The Dragon remains an
engaging piece of storytelling thanks to its stellar cast and set design. The
journey is an enjoyable one, even as it takes us down a dark and pessimistic
road.
3/5
Watch: Saint George
And The Dragon runs at the National Theatre until 2nd December.
Photos: Johan Persson
