Having premiered at the Royal Court Theatre during the mid-election fervour of 2010, this fresh adaptation of Posh, a satirical reflection on elitism, now seems all the more timely, as tax credit reductions and questionable pork-based activity have urged us to scrutinise our politicians’ behaviour more closely. The play focuses on The Riot Club, a parody of Oxford University’s infamous Bullingdon Club (whose past members include David Cameron and Boris Johnson), and their ‘Dinner’, the termly event that sees carnage and debauchery covered up by cash. However, this particular ‘Dinner’ is different. Having had their antics exposed in the tabloids, the club is forced into even tighter secrecy, and it is precisely this suppression that causes the burst of outrageous, shocking hilarity that are played out on stage.
The play opens with an impressive physical scene, the soundtrack cutting crudely between club music and patriotic classics with the ten Riot Club members mirroring the changes, flicking between party animal and respectable gentleman. This is only the first hint of the contrasts embedded in these elite, male characters, and the cast make an excellent job of exposing this ridiculousness. The audience is forced to question the validity of the characters’ beliefs, and how far wealth and status align with intellect. That said, some of the performance’s stand-out comic moments come directly from when the intellect wains. As wine glasses are downed, refilled with urine, and then re-downed, it’s hard to believe that these men are destined to run the country. Ritualistic shaming features throughout the play, and you can’t help but notice the air of preparation that accompanies these scenes; the aspiring politicians need toughening up and, as one of the members quips, the experience is “a three-year initiation”.
Another of this production’s evident successes is its scrutiny of student life, and there are certainly moments that are relatable for a university audience. Albeit based at a rather different university, this impressive cast achieve that rare balance of empathy and scepticism. The first act concludes with a climatic, snarling monologue that reveals the kind of elitist views we might normally associate with Victorian politicians, topped only by the excellently-portrayed Alistair, whose “we’ve got the finest sperm in the country” epitomises the incensed attitudes of these characters. Yet so blind is the hatred (“I’m sick to f*cking death of poor people”), so intense the belief in entitlement, that the performance squeezes sympathy out of its audience. The naivety on display here is corrupting and Joe Gilmour-Rees’ effective direction succeeds in using this to conjure pity.
Ultimately, there is something deeply compelling about witnessing a world we’re not privy to, however repellent that world is, although this surely isn’t the only reason for this production’s sell-out run. What’s concerning – as the play illustrates – is this world’s monopoly on power. The final scene, depicting a sentenced Riot Club member being let of the hook, is the conclusive condemnation of elitism, an earlier line ringing true in this ludicrous, depraved depiction: “This is not a democracy!”
William Rees-Arnold
Image: LUU Open Theatre