15.06.1995

A world divided

Helen Ellis reviews 'Pentecost' by David Edgar, directed by Michael Attenborough

AT FIRST sight Edgar’s Pentecost may seem to deny the possibility of a new society being constructed on the basis of need. It is a very real and unrelenting look at the political landscape today. It does not offer easy answers and yet it is certainly a deeply human, and in that sense, ultimately optimistic play.

It is set in an “unnamed south-east European country”. The collapse of the bureaucratic regimes of Eastern Europe and the subsequent fragmentation of nations, peoples and society provide one of the many backgrounds which Edgar uses to explore both contemporary events and human history.

The action throughout the whole play takes place inside an abandoned church in front of a fresco which is gradually revealed. The church and the fresco itself have their own history of invasion, domination, occupation, capture and torture. They themselves tell the story of a human world divided.

Gabriella, an art curator from the local area, discovers the fresco and a British and American art historian, the catholic and orthodox church and the state are brought together to determine its history and heritage.

The characters here may seem immediately recognisable, but Edgar breaks down all our expectations and produces a powerful and shifting dialogue between them on the origins of the painting which encompasses the origins of civilisation and ‘rational man’ or whether there is such a thing as ‘universal human values’.

The British art historian, Oliver, argues that all art is of equal value. The American, Leo, wants to let art live in its historical setting. Gabriella is desperate to find some cultural value and roots in the East.

At the end of the first half Gabriella defends her attachment to the fresco since it tells the story of “How our country through all history will be betrayed. By occupying - oh sorry - by protecting power. By our own High Priest and screaming mob. By seeming friend and now by you.”

Leo shouts his reply in frustration, not anger or despair:

“Where you had the chance to build the world anew, you built a prison camp. And now the walls are down, you shut out all the other voices in the world - in all their rich variety - you throw up the portcullis and you sell yourself to fucking Disneyland.”

But here the first half is interrupted by a group of refugees demanding sanctuary: Afghan, Palestinian, Kurdish, Russian, Sri Lankan and Bosnian.

Different cultural influences among people have already been set up as a theme at the beginning of the play, with the attempt to find the origins of the fresco.

The refugees bring a multitude of languages with them and they try to communicate to each other their own very different experiences. Through story-telling they begin to come to some shared understanding. Not a ‘universal human culture’, but a patience and willingness to listen and to try to understand each other’s different language, culture, experience and ideologies.

This moment is fiercely broken as the real world again intrudes: the strong arm of the state intervenes and promises only some of the refugees asylum, and divisions are immediately sown.

Thoughtful and engaging performances as well as staging ensure that the explorative nature of the play is human in all its complexity.

There is no moral messenger in the play, but it does have an underlying morality, which starts to explore the truth behind the so called ‘rational’ West and the fact that human diversity is not the problem. The mixed bag of ordinary people thrown together in the church have a keen interest and patience with each other, which is not sentimental, but certainly passionate.

Edgar’s Pentecost, when “...all that believed were together, and had all things common” may seem a long way off, but somehow this has to be the solution.

Helen Ellis