THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
It's the hubris of Boris Berezovsky that most astonishes, and which is central to this utterly compelling new drama by Peter 'The Crown' Morgan, which receives its world premiere at the Almeida. There was Berezovsky, just after the drunken Yeltsin had been shuffled off stage. He was the key adviser to Yeltsin and at the same time King of the Oligarchs, that small well-connected, clique of tycoons who helped themselves to the spoils of the state industries following the break-up of the Soviet Union. But then, all changed, and Vladimir Putin was suddenly President and the first thing he did was summon all the oligarchs to his dacha to inform them that the game was up. He reminded them he was now in charge and would brook no challenge to the state's – i.e. his – authority. The wheeler dealer Berezovsky didn't even turn up for it, such was his cockiness. Instead, he later barged into Putin's presence to berate him for even doing it. He reminded Putin that he was nothing, that he'd created him by plucking him from obscurity in St Petersburg and that his role was to shut up and do what he was told. The fact that someone as bright and accomplished as Berezovsky did not see the sheer folly of humiliating someone as thin skinned and dangerous as Putin was astonishing, and something he would later bitterly regret from his lonely exile in London.
It all makes for fantastic drama and of course is now blessed with topicality. While it must have been commissioned before the Ukraine invasion, the war has managed to bring all these issues into even sharper focus. There are of course sighs of knowingness from the audience, but it reminds us all that we were all complicit in ignoring Putin's obvious flaws for twenty years and that is now why we are in the mess we are in.
Patriots gleams with all of Morgan's trademarks. It has sparkling dialogue which manages to deftly impart lots of politics and history without boring and it has short, beautifully honed, scenes which crackle with dramatic energy, all under the high-octane direction of Rupert Goold. Miriam Buether's set is also perfect, with the stage transformed into a glossy, crucifix shaped, bar counter – all shiny gilt and trimmed in red neon – on which the action takes place and at which various characters will often perch on barstools to drown their sorrows, as if they were in a ritzy Moscow nightclub at 4 am.
The play is about a big alpha-male bully, albeit a witty one, and Tom Hollander is mesmerising as he relishes the dark comedy in every scene. He's great on Berezovsky's obsession with phones, his utter impatience with his intellectual inferiors (everyone) and his fidgety restlessness. The man started off as a childhood math prodigy and it's only in the calmer scenes with his childhood mentor, Professor Perelman (Ronald Guttman), that we get a glimpse of his hinterland.
Will Keen is chilling too as Putin, evolving from the awkward apparatchik in cheap, ill-fitting, suits to the imperiously cold tactician, growing more remote in his palace of mirrors. He also has that walk down perfectly.
Luke Thallon is particularly memorable as the boyishly confident Roman Abramovich, who is at first starstruck by Berezovsky but whose more pragmatic compliance with Putin means he ends up more powerful than his Svengali. Abramovich used Berezovsky as his 'krysha' or his inside man in the Kremlin, who would ensure his business interests were protected from rival thugs. When the two end up in a London court Berezovsky loses as he has no proof, of course, of his 'investment'. Abramovich accuses of Berezovsky of dressing up his indignation as patriotism when it was merely pride.
Also impressive are Jamael Westman and Yolanda Kettle as Alexander and Marina Litvinenko, whose very human story grounds the piece, contrasting with the high-level palace intrigue. Alexander's journey from FSB loyalist to chief bodyguard for Berezovsky is very poignant.
