The tribulations of establishing the principle of free speech are hilariously dramatised in Hislop and Newman’s new comedy Trial By Laughter at the Richmond Theatre until February 23. Simon Collins reviews.
DETAILS
Venue: Richmond Theatre, Richmond
Dates: 18 February – 23 February (book here)
OUR VERDICT
This a very amusing play about a serious subject. Two witty satirists of the present day, Ian Hislop and Nick Newman, tell the story of a predecessor in the early 1800s, the satirist William Hone who risks transportation to Australia for bringing to ridicule the vice and folly of the Georgian establishment. Ian Hislop remarked to me (see my interview with the writers) that though often put on trial himself he has never faced the possible punishment of transportation nor, unlike Hone, the dubious pleasure of a honey trap – not yet.
One of the characters, Hazlitt, vividly played by Dan Mersh, merrily observes to Hone that he should not fear the snakes and flies and heat and natives of Australia since the chances of surviving the perils of the passage are extremely remote.
In effect put on trial for his life, Hone was forced to fight three separate court cases on three successive days in the Guildhall, facing a paid jury directed by a biased judiciary in cahoots with the government and the Prince Regent. The play presents in condensed form these court battles, the charges based on Hone’s parodies of Christian prayers and creeds.
Managing his own defence Hone asserts that he is provoking laughter at the nation’s rulers: “ I merely used the language of the Church because it is familiar to the vast majority of the people. There was no intention to bring religion into contempt.” He endeavours to justify himself by showing there were numerous parodies of scriptures in the past. The judge, Ellenborough, tells him: “Crimes committed by other persons do not excuse yours. I declare such evidence as judicially inadmissible.”
In his desperately weak position, Hone falls back on comedy. Having no other option he reduces the court to a mockery of the law putting his faith in the humour of the jury. Frequently he addresses the jury – who are not on stage but represented by the audience in the theatre. Likewise, the court sheriffs threaten audience members into quiescence with their truncheons. Whether this dramaturgical device is apt may depend on the mood of the night.
Nick Newman told me that during the four months the play has been on tour before arriving in London, audience responses have varied considerably depending on the evening and the place. This idiosyncrasy of local audiences is the excitement of live theatre. Last night the best laugh was at an imitation of Prince Charles by the Prince Regent (the future George IV) waiting many decades before inheriting the crown.
Yet launching the audience into guffaws or not, the play romps along happily brimming with witty banter. Sometimes, too quickly to register with a typically mature audience. Incisive expressions are blunted or lost. The remarkably young actors should slow down and relish the excellently articulate lines written for them. Instead, after so many performances, they are too practised, too slick.
This, however, is a minor cavil at an otherwise very entertaining production of a thoughtful play that focuses on a moment in modern democratic history when the tide turned in favour of a free press.
Late in the play Hone demands of the jury – the audience – as he did in the real trial, with a crowd outside the Guildhall of many thousands: “Is laughter treason?” To this rhetorical question there was only one answer.
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