The Illustrious Corpse

The Illustrious Corpse
Soho Theatre, London

Stuart Simpson

Tariq Ali is a well known writer, intellectual and radical. But I was surprised when I saw that he was the author of an intriging sounding play called 'The Illustrious Corpse'. I was even more surprised to read that this wasn't Ali's first play.

It is an interesting thing to see what a writer, more used to having his work read by people he never meets, does with the immediacy of theatre. It doesn't necessarily follow that the theatre itself will be interesting.

The Illustrious Corpse deals with what comes to light when the Home Secretary is found dead in his home. I was thinking An Inspector Calls for Blair's Britain. I really should have known better. In fact Ali's take on the immediacy of theatre seems to be that he assumes he does not need to create character or to justify his thinking; the immediacy of Ali's theatre shows itself in the unmediated presentation of Ali's thoughts. This is a real shame, as The lllustrious Corpse ends up as a catalogue of interesting but missed opportunities.

The show starts promisingly enough. Huntley, the son of an immigrant, is a Labour politician. We are taken back to the 70s, and Huntley is addressing an anti-Apartheid rally, being booed for his trouble. Is Ali showing us something that those few who idealise Old Labour seem to forget, that Old Labour's political philosophy amounted to little more than destroying any truly radical sentiment? No, Huntley's sincerity quickly wins over the crowd. The next scene, and the remainder of the play, takes place in Blair's Britain. Huntley is no longer dressed in a soft brown leather jacket (read radical) but in a sleek expensive suit (read sleazy).

Still there is the chance for a look back on Huntley's, and Labour's, rise to power. What were the characteristics already present in this idealistic and passionate young man that drove his fall from grace, and in what ways has he changed? Well, he sold out is all. Blair was useful to win the election, followed by 'you have to be realistic' and 'thanks for the knighthood Ma'am'. And then Huntley is out of the picture.

Not only is he dead, but he is survived by a daughter who would have nothing to do with him and a wife who has no time for anything other than the sound of her own voice.

Ali the intellectual would, one hopes, never be so crass as to explain the end of Old Labour and the rise of New Labour as no more that the loss of youthful idealism. We may be generous, give Ali the benefit of the doubt, and say that he is not trying to explain the rise of New Labour, but merely describe one man's fall. But even on this level, Ali's characterisation fails. Huntley is no more than a fall guy.

The play is really concerned with hatred of New Labour. The heart of the play is not Huntly but his New Labour-hating wife. This is an odd approach for a play which is billed as a cutting political satire, but still there is still room for a social satire. Perhaps something comparable to An Inspector Calls; what will the investigation into Huntley's death tell us about his wife, an all too familiar character?

What is it that she really hates, given that she has no real engagement with politics? (You can imagine that the silk dressing-gown she wears throughout the play has been her entire wardrobe since the 70s.) Well this approach could only work if Mrs Huntley were actually a character; an invented personality, defined by the play and distanced from the author. But Mrs Huntley is merely an outlet for all the pent-up frustrations and petty prejudices of Tariq Ali.

You can imagine Ali rehearsing many of Mrs Huntley's lines at some dinner party, surrounded by adoring radical groupies. At least this is how it feels as part of the audience. If you are an Ali groupie then then this play is for you. If you like to be entertained and engaged by theatre, then steer well clear.

Till 27 September