Review: Life Raft, Bristol Old Vic

Written in exile from the Nazi regime as an allegory on human nature under duress, German Expressionist playwright Georg Kaiser’s The Raft of the Medusa (1945) was inspired by the chilling story of a handful of passengers who infamously survived a French shipwreck aboard a raft  by resorting to cannibalism and drowning the weakest.

That Kaiser originally wrote the play for a cast of children is a gift to writer Fin Kennedy and director Melly Still, who have reimagined this piece in a contemporary post-apocalyptic setting for a cast of young performers: Lord of the Flies set on a life raft. Each character represents a recognisable archetype – the resourceful leader, the caring altruist, the ruthless egotist, the reasonable humanist, the vulnerable weakling, the scapegoat outcast – so that the group becomes a microcosm for society at large, a society that is increasingly in conflict over diminishing resources.

There are 13 children on this life raft, and rations amount to no more than a few tins of biscuits, ham and fresh water: too many mouths, not enough supplies. One of the leaders holds the precious tin-opener, which takes on the aura of a sceptre. One child is badly wounded, one is mute, one has a bad stammer. All are hungry and thirsty, and swing between states of hopefulness and hopelessness, altruism and self-preservation.

The action is riveting precisely because it’s so contained, the confines of the raft and the desperate circumstances acting as a dramatic pressure-cooker. As the stakes are raised, the children become more ritualistic and superstitious: 13 is an unlucky number, especially at sea, so perhaps it’s time to get rid of a “useless” mouth or two?… And this is where this play truly packs a hugely resonant punch, asking big, uncomfortable questions about what it means to be human (“We’ll share our clothes because it’s the human thing to do.”).

The message of this production couldn’t be more on the button, coming at a time when our government continues to squeeze the weakest and most vulnerable in society, and the bodies of refugee children fleeing war are washed up on Europe’s beaches.

Seen through this lens, Finn Kennedy’s lines go off continuously like small powder-kegs ignited by sparks of indignation: “We’re only children – they wouldn’t just leave us!” “Whenever a child goes missing, it’s taken seriously.” “We’re not savages! We won’t let the strong take from the weak.” “It’s important to identify the weakest.” “As few mouths as possible – as long as I’m one of them.”

There are many outstanding elements to this show: the direction is deft and subtle, the script is dynamic and hard-hitting and the young cast is absolutely superb in both acting and delivery, leaping to meet the bar raised by having two adult professional actors on board. Also notable is the stage design, which is restrained but effective (who would have thought that plastic sheeting could be so versatile and beautiful under lights?), using the whole glorious depth of the BOV stage.

And this at a time when directors and designers are indulging in the worst sorts of excesses, to the detriment of writers and actors – the Barbican’s Hamlet being a prime example, if Michael Billington’s Guardian review is to be believed. Life Raft is much more accomplished than most plays performed by an adult cast, and thoroughly deserving of the standing ovation it received on its opening night.

Life Raft was at Bristol Old Vic from Thursday, September 3 to Saturday, September 5. For upcoming BOV shows, visit www.bristololdvic.org.uk/shows.html