When Rock ‘N’ Roll premiered at the Royal Court in 2006 it seemed to pull together all the ideas that have ever preoccupied Tom Stoppard, from free speech and music to Sappho and the nature of existence.
Now, 17 years later, Nina Raine’s revival reveals a play that’s prescient – how could it not be, the amount Stoppard stuffs into it – but also dated. In politics, as in everything else since 2006, the world’s swirled around a few times.
Some moments chime – the circulation of endless open letters among Czech dissidents, dismissed as "moral exhibitionism" by Jan, fascinatingly pre-empts the idea of virtue-signalling – while others clang.
It’s definitely one of his more complicated plays: we’ve got an old grizzled Communist called Max (Nathaniel Parker), lecturer at Cambridge, devoted to the cause despite, well, Stalin etc ("It was the right idea in the wrong conditions for 50 years and counting").
We’ve got his Czech student Jan (Jacob Fortune-Lloyd), less fussed about politics and more devoted to his vinyl collection. From the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968 we shuffle between Cambridge and Prague, up to the Velvet Revolution of 1989 when communism was overthrown.
Meanwhile there are subplots about the real-life Czech rock band The Plastic People of the Universe, arguments about the body versus the mind, love and materialism, and a strange character called The Piper (Brenock O’Connor) – possibly something to do with the ghost of Syd Barrett – pops up occasionally in the guise of the god Pan.
So, yes, it’s a big, weird, fascinating play, qualities which Raine’s stiff production suppresses far more than it ignites. Aside from a bitter, bear-like turn from Parker, the cast – each playing a vast range of ages – give polite repertory theatre more than rock 'n' roll. It’s all a bit staid: when eruptions of rock music play between scenes, the characters dance like there’s 400 people watching.
What makes it all worth it is the enduring quality of some of the writing. There are moments where Stoppard settles in and lets rip: big battling speeches about politics and humanity and all that good stuff. Zinging lines. Even emotion, bucking the received wisdom about Stoppard’s plays that head always beats heart.
We’re all trapped in some political system, seems to be the conclusion, and freedom is never absolute, so thank goodness there’s nice things like music and love to distract us. Problem is, the play itself seems similarly trapped by its own production, a constraining revival, rather than one that liberates the play. Still rock ‘n’ roll, sure, but someone’s just turned the volume down.Hampstead Theatre, to January 27. Book tickets here
