A Mirror 
Almeida Theatre

THIS show ought to be so good and indeed much about it is of intense interest and enormous relevance.

It takes us into an Orwellian world where an oppressive, dogma-driven totalitarian government controls all opinion and artistic endeavour, redefining truth and violently punishing all who question. We recognise the language of tyranny when the main action revolves around the Ministry of Culture, oaths of allegiance are sworn to The Motherland and dissidents are banished to “the camps” or assigned to a sinister Re-Education Programme. Masked and booted police carry out orders and in the background we hear of military engagements deliberately mis-reported and widespread poverty steadfastly denied. 

This is the stuff of dystopia but playwright Sam Holcroft exploits another influence as well as 1984, for the work draws too on Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author, thus giving us a play within a play within a play. By exploiting this theatrical artifice, Holcroft creates a fabrication that throws truth into stark relief and makes us yearn for it. 

The skill of a government, bureaucrat Celik tells us in the play, is not to report truth but to create a story. This is how nationalism is formed and why wars are fought. Stories are a prime motivator but also an essential system of control. And the play gives us stories in many forms. 

Firstly, we are at a wedding, then we are snatched from that reality and immersed in the Ministry where a young playwright and his work are under the scrutiny of censor Celik. Then the fun really begins as stories become plays and plays become stories. Then we find ourselves endlessly destabilised as the final scene turns all our assumptions on their heads.    

The play is a clever construct with top class performances. Lee Miller, always a star, delivers a gloriously deranged yet controlling would-be-minister Celik: ambitious, rule-bound, manic and sexually repressed. When accompanied by the easy charisma of talented Micheal Ward as the young playwright and by the slender frame and priceless comedy of Tanya Reynolds, all is good. And Geoffrey Streatfeild as the buoyant erstwhile playwright adds to the charm and energy.

There is a catch to all of this, though, for the actors play multiple parts depending on the story of the moment. Meanwhile director Jeremy Herrin creates then destroys reality after reality, wrecking each story just as we buy into it and glorying in power as manipulation.

At one point in the play, Celik asks the ardent, young playwright: ‘Yes but why are you writing this? What do you want the audience to feel?’

I would say the same. This play is a construct. It conveys things we already know about truth and power, freedom and censorship. But because it plays games with us and fractures our beliefs, it loses our investment. Scenes become rudderless and jokes wear thin. The final prank makes a point but leaves us cold.

A clever idea, beautifully performed but eventually we admire rather than love.  

Diverting though.

Runs until September 23. Info: box office: 020 7359 4404, almeida.co.uk