Nature – bleak, benign or barmy – is on the agenda. Standup comedians are enjoying Mrs T’s conversion to greenery, ozone layer jokes are thick as fools and Scottish films set on faraway islands are in vogue. There was Gore Vidal, elegantly outlining his theories of the Green Giant at the book festival, Hesketh Williams attracted a huge crowd for his reading on elephants. In the meantime, Edinburgh – as good a shop window of ideas as any – is beginning to reflect the new awareness. Dammit, with a little adjustment, Enemy of the People with its poisoned water is environmental theatre Chico Mendes, the murdered Brazilian logger, would make a glorious subject. No one wants to write a bearded play, no one wants something that challenges no assumptions. The problem, I suspect, is that the worthiness of the subject stinks to most self-respecting writers who still thrive on emotional conflict, social manners and the tension of ideas. “Without a doubt.” End of subject.īut as environmental fever spreads, it is surprising that none of our major playwrights has really taken up the cudgel for the planet. Last year Arthur Miller, in London for the opening of Enemy of the People, his version of Ibsen’s play, was asked what subject he would choose for a play were he writing a major work today.
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