THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
By Howard Brenton
Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond until March 8, 2025
Deservedly named Theatre of the Year in The Stage Awards, the Orange Tree in Richmond just gets better with productions by Tom Littler that have the finesse, and casting, you’d expect in the West End, all in a wonderfully intimate space and without a penny of subsidy from the Arts Council.
The latest is a world premiere of a new play by the acclaimed veteran Howard Brenton (Bloody Poetry, Pravda). Set in the Kremlin on a hot night in August 1942 it recounts a top-secret meeting which took place between Churchill and Stalin and which proved pivotal in the course of World War II, when the two mercurial giants bonded over a shared love of booze and ruthlessness, while their diplomats struggled to control the escalating chaos of the War and two interpreters found themselves caught in the eye of the storm.
The meetings lasted 3 days and the purpose was for Churchill to deliver, in person, the news that America and Britain would not be launching a second front in France until 1943 at the earliest. This infuriated Stalin as the Nazis were at the doors of Stalingrad and the British promise of support convoys in the Arctic had partially failed as many of the ships were bombed.
The play is a great vehicle for Roger Allam, who couldn't be more perfect as Churchill. He avoids impersonation and yet perfectly captures the man’s dry wit and aristocratic hauteur. This, of course, rankled with the gruff, Georgian peasant that was Stalin, who’s played with great twinkle eyed gusto and a clever West Country accent by Peter Forbes.
Brenton’s dialogue bursts with playfulness and wit and although the play is a history lesson, even more it’s an insightful exploration of the dark arts of the interpreter. With so much at stake here misrepresenting an unfamiliar idiom could be fatal and Brenton has fun with this. The actual interpreters on that trip were men but Brenton, in a wise bit of poetic licence, makes them two young women, Sally Powell (Jo Herbert) and Olga (Elisabeth Snegir), both officers of their respective Secret Services. The two perfectly embody how the initially frosty culture clashes between the two slowly thaws into a deep mutual respect.
A subplot featuring Stalin’s teenage daughter Svetlana (Tamara Greatrex) provides further distraction from the Great Men – she of course had a fascinating life, ending up defecting to America. Great support also comes from Julius D’Silva as the menacing, thuggish, Molotov and Alan Cox as his counterpart, the urbane and wise British Ambassador, Archie Clark Kerr.
An initial bruising encounter where Stalin accuses the British of cowardice riles Churchill so much that he decides to up sticks but Archie convinces him to stay on for a final dinner. This turns into a typical Russian macho last-man-standing all night booze fest. Things only happened late at night in Stalin’s Kremlin.
Later on, Stalin invites Churchill to join him for more drinks in his private room, but without interpreters. Here, director Tom Littler has great fun with the sort of drunken charades which unfold, ending with both of them legless, yet it was crucial to how trust was built between the two, which of course paid dividends later on.
Cat Fuller designs and Johanna Town’s lighting are wonderfully judged, having the luxe quality of a much bigger production. Littler’s direction is solid and assured throughout and it all coalesces into one classy, illuminating, and utterly captivating evening.
