I Object, Mr. Monkey

Inherit the Wind, The Old Vic, 27/09/09

This play is a clumsy beast, with a raft of flaws. The standing ovation to which the curtain fell was undoubtedly for the big names, not for the quality of the performances.

First, the play is poorly chosen. The Creationism versus Darwinism debate arouses passion and tension in the United States; in the UK, particularly in front of a secular theatre-going audience, the question has long been settled. The director may make the cartoonish Chicagoans as arrogant and self-involved as he wishes, and the audience will still side with them. It does not help that the author spends all his time attacking literalist Creationism, rather than the somewhat more intellectually robust (if still wrong) Intelligent Design.

Second, the play is riddled with the clichés of the courtroom drama. Someone shouts “I object!” every ten seconds. The judge says “Mr. Drummond, this is highly unorthodox.” Everybody complains of the heat. Midway through, the great liberal lion of a lawyer gives his Great Liberal Speech affirming his faith in humanity. In all this, nobody denies that the defendant has indeed done what he is accused of doing – it would have been a greater travesty of law if he had been cleared.

There are other flaws. There are rather too many scenes illustrating the charming colour of small town American life – cute blonde girls selling lemonade, and hymn singing and banjo playing. There is a pretty, frightened love interest, her delicate spirit crushed by her tyrannical preacher father.

There are a few higher points. Kevin Spacey’s performance is baggy and unfocused, but it is certainly not uncharismatic. Bailiff Horace Meeks is tightly drawn and sympathetic for his perhaps thirty or forty lines. Arrogant Northern journalist E.K. Hornbeck is one-note, but he gets all the best lines and delivers them well.

In the final scene, there is some suggestion that the play may complicate itself a little, as our liberal hero defends his old adversary. In the end, though, the impulse is abandoned, and the play collapses under the weight of its own self-righteousness. The final image is of Spacey posing as a set of scales, holding the Bible in one hand and the Origin of Species in the other, looking profound.