This House

The Houses of Parliament are probably more worthy of the title of National Theatre than the building that James Graham’s detailed world premiere takes place in, so it is no wonder that the high drama of politics has transferred the few hundred metres down the Thames so well.

Graham has successfully made a drama out of James Callaghan’s “crisis? What crisis?”, masterfully crafting a gripping two hours out of the seminal four and half years at the end of the 1970s that ushered in modern Britain.

Rae Smith’s set turns the Cottesloe into the Commons, with some of the audience sitting either side of the stage on what must be the most comfy theatre seats in London. Just as in Parliament, the setting creates a gladiatorial atmosphere for the machinations of the two whips’ offices – the engine rooms of British politics and, indeed, this production.

This was a period of horse-trading, of deals where no deals should have been done, of compromise, of a dying former imperial power, and a government in the midst of an existential crisis that threatened to bring it to a grinding halt. It makes the current government look like a shit storm in a teacup.

Graham captures this almost effortlessly – the ensemble cast play headless chickens running between whips’ offices, hamstrung by an archaic class system and yet sustaining themselves with a gallows humour.

His depiction of the Labour party as working class, predominantly northern bruisers and the Tories as effete toffs should seem cliched, but there is a feeling that the whole parliamentary system at that time was one struggling to adapt to the emerging modern world.

At the heart of this struggle to the death are the whips – played by Andrew Frame (understudying for Phil Daniels), Philip Glenister and Vincent Franklin on the Left, Julian Wadham, Charles Edwards and Ed Hughes on the Right. Their interaction belies a mutual respect beneath the macho animosity.

In particular, Glenister and Edwards play Walter Harrison and Jack Weatherill respectively as characters very much aware of the story that is emerging. For all Harrison’s brash, ball-busting exterior, Glenister allows him to subtly understand that his world, not just his time in power, is disappearing, while Edwards’ calm, collected approach to Weatherill depicts a man sharp enough to adapt to the coming age.

Perhaps the decision to have sundry characters played by the rest of the ensemble is an attempt to convey the idea that MPs outside the whips’ office are just their pawns. But it also slightly undermines the divisive, partisan nature of British democracy that contributed greatly to the inefficiencies of that period. However, having an ensemble allows the story to be the driving force of the piece – powering its way through the otherwise convoluted minutiae of the machinations of government.

This House, with its humour, its tension, its ability to subtly explain the complexities of the situation, is a masterclass in how to write political drama. In a vote of confidence in this production – wrapped in a tortured analogy that’ll never get on the poster – the ayes have it.