If I had to weather a nuclear explosion anywhere in Malta, St James Bastion in Valletta strikes me as the perfect place. Now housing Spazju Kreattiv, it’s a wonderfully appropriate setting for the forthcoming screening of NT Live: Dr Strangelove, an iconoclastic black comedy about the merits of the atomic bomb and similar weaponry. Pacy and packed with one-liners, it’s an explosively funny satire, exposing the lunacy of the cold war thinking around Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD), a military strategy that assumes that if one country uses nuclear weapons on another, that country will respond with nuclear weapons of its own, resulting in the destruction of both countries.
You might think that watching theatre on a screen takes away from the physicality of live theatre, rather defeating the point of going to the theatre rather than the cinema. But don’t scoff until you’ve tried it, because it works brilliantly. Suspend belief as the curtain lifts, and you’re right there, watching the world class theatre direct from top London stages as if you’re in the best seats, your finely-tuned opera glasses trained on the action for close-ups that capture even the tiniest nuances and flickers of emotion.
Adapted for stage by Emmy Award-winner Iannucci and Olivier Award-winner Sean Foley, Dr Strangelove is the world premiere theatre production of Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 masterpiece, a film was shot hot on the heels of the Cuban Missile Crisis. It in turn was based on book, ‘Red Alert’ by Peter George, in which a rogue U.S. General triggers a nuclear attack, and the story begins at a US air base in Britain, where the first of Hildegard Bechtler’s impressive sets is revealed—a modest hut with oversized Venetian blinds, just waiting to be dramatically disrupted.
The star of the show is seven-time BAFTA award-winner Steve Coogan who offers a sterling performance in four different roles. The first, and arguably the finest, of these is RAF Captain Mandrake, a model of British reserve, bewildered by the madness of General Ripper (a hilarious, cigar-chomping John Hopkins), who has launched an unauthorized nuclear attack on Russia.
You might wonder whether a 1960s film about nuclear war still holds up as a comedy today. The answer is yes: the show is funny and more relevant that you might think. The threat of nuclear war continues today with nuclear codes in the hands of Trump, Putin, Xi Jinping and Kim Jong Un and so the show serves as timely reminder of how small number of influential characters can cause global catastrophe. It’s a sobering thought.
Rather more fun, however, it also serves as a showcase for Coogan’s clever comic brilliance, as he juggles multiple roles, pitching the humour perfectly to avoid overexaggeration and slapstick. He’s rarely offstage, constantly switching costumes and personas, and delivering most of the laughs with impeccable timing and energy.
The narrative then moves to the iconic War Room, dominated by a massive electronic map—the ‘Big Board’—which tracks impending destruction. Here Coogan reappears as President Muffley, the voice of reason amid a pack of war-hungry generals, the most notably stiff-backed of which is that excitable General Turgidson (played by Olivier Award winnerGiles Terera). Here too Tony Jayawardena plays the Russian ambassador, whose swagger dissolves into panic as he sees the fate of the world in the unpredictable hands of his leader.
Coogan’s transformation into Dr Strangelove, the ex-Nazi scientist masterminding America’s nuclear strategy, is chilling and darkly hilarious: his struggle to suppress an involuntary Nazi salute—reassuringly muttering, “I hated that”—is particularly memorable.
His fourth role is as Major T.J. Kong, the desert-yellow-suited cowboy pilot complete with Stetson, in the cockpit of a bomber plane. He is determined to carry out the mission whatever objections and obstacles he meets – but can he be stopped?
One of the funniest scenes comes when Coogan, as Mandrake once more, struggles to call the President as he doesn’t have the right coins for the payphone. His desperate attempt to convince a US soldier to commit the sacrilegious act of shooting open a Coca-Cola vending machine is a brilliant moment of absurdity.
It’s not a musical, the shows starts and finishes with a chorus of military personnel dancing to popular songs, including Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again. It’s good to know we’ll live to see another day.
Screenings of Dr Strangelove are taking place at Spazju Kreattiv on March 27 at 7.30 pm (first screening) and April 6 at 6.30pm (the Encore edition).
