The Play's The Thing

Behold! The consciousness of the king

We should count ourselves as uniquely privileged to have lived to see the spectacle of self-immolation now playing in Merka. The show, Bumbledicks (2024), is enhanced even further by the Universe’s profound sense of ironic timing, in that the show opened in such close proximity to the nation’s 248th anniversary of its seminal act of revolution.

This reviewer is wracking his brain trying to think of any other show ever, with the scale, the cast and the artistry of this production. Of course, with a budget of trillions of dollars, and 248 years in development and rehearsal, we should expect nothing less. Perhaps the Fall of Rome (410) comes close, but the memory of that production has long faded in the public’s mind, and production values have changed drastically since the Golden Age of Theatre. Modern audiences crave so much more in terms of effects and scenic technology, and Bumbledicks pays off with not one, not two, but multiple wars and thousands of extras in horrific battle scenes that reduce such classics as El Cid (1961) or Lawrence of Arabia (1962) to pale in the brilliance of scale.

It is difficult to say which performer stands out in this masterful ensemble cast. Each of them plays off the other with such deft skill and subtlety that were we to remove one player, the plot would vanish like a wisp of vapour in a stiff breeze, and the intricate web of intrigue would unravel.

The pageant takes place against the epic tapestry of socio-economic collapse on a global scale, and even though the tragedy plays out in a scene built of time and space itself, none of the characters is overshadowed against the backdrop of history and the kaleidoscope of sub-plots so elaborately woven by the troupe’s frequently overlooked and oft maligned Dramaturge Himself.

Perhaps we should begin by examining the characters to better appreciate what an incredible production this is.

The action centers around the machinations of the Bush, Clinton, Obama, and Biden crime families. The scene opens with an homage to another epic tragedy, Romeo & Juliet, with two gossiping servants, John and Jane Q. Publick, walking down an alleyway between the grand houses of the competing warlords, providing exposition on the chaos and complex plots within the households, as the houses try to outmanoeuvre each other to clutch at the reins of power.

We then shift to the Biden compound, where the master of the house has just gouged his eyes out in front of the entire planet, in a nod to the classic Oedipus Rex (1967). The scene of the family wringing their hands and rending their tunics borders on the melodramtic, but never devolves into insouciance, due in great measure to the masterful wordsmithing of the Dramaturge.

Instead, the overwhelming emotional interplay within the household is leavened by moments of pure parody so nuanced as to pull the action back from the precipice at precisely the right moment.

Swirling around the unfolding scene among the Biden clan are the competing interests of the other crime families, who by turn support the Bidens in the public sphere, whilst brandishing blades and sliding them slowly and cruelly between the clan leader’s ribs at opportune moments. The clans themselves are a veritable rouges’ gallery of perfidious murderers, swindlers, grifters, and just plain thieves. Even without conscious realisation, the audience is led to internalise the eternal question, “Who would Fardels bear?”

The Bush clan stays aloof, lurking in the shadows ensconced on their vast estate in Paraguay, waiting for the other clans to finish the dirty work of destroying each other, so that the Bushes appear to maintain clean hands, even though they initiated the plot some 61 years earlier in Dallas, Texas. The clan maintains a careful distance from the action, though the audience is well aware of their contrivances slipping through the cracks and crannies, oozing throughout the narrative.

The Clinton clan provides most of the comedic moments, being hillbilly trailer trash who rose to prominence in the drug trade as Step’n’Fetchits for the Bushes. Their ruthlessness is counterbalanced by their gross clumsy ineptitude and pretense to a station far above their intellectual capabilities, thus setting up the moments when the audience cannot help but laugh at their clownish antics and incompetence. Though they are low-class harlequins, we are always aware of their talons.

The Obama clan is perhaps the most devious of the central characters. The head of the house, married to a drag queen, is the product of Kenyan and Indonesian socialists, and the careful guidance of Merkin intelligence agencies. He was groomed and positioned to lead the coup de grâce for the coup d’etat, played to devilish perfection by newcomer Barry Soetoro. The clan’s fatal flaw is hubris, thinking they are the Puppet Masters, though in fact their own strings are just a bit longer than the ones they manipulate.

Although the Bush clan’s original intent was for the Hillbilly Queen herself to deliver the killing blow, their plans go wildly awry with tragic results, when an outsider enters the scene and sets up the first major plot twist in the story.

It is at this point that the story careens wildly out of control of any of the main players. Like something out of Die Dreigroschenoper (1928), a deus ex machina arrives on the scene, in the person of the Court Jester, called Trump in a delicious play on the trumpets of the Heralds, who themselves play a pivotal role in propping up the clans. Seemingly a minor character during the entire first act, Trump bursts onto the scene in Act Two, stealing thunder from the Hillbilly Queen, mirroring Aeschylus’ Prometheus Bound (c. 430 BC) and the quest for fire.

The genius of the script is that there are no “third spear carriers from the left”. Every character, no matter how minor, has a vital role to perform in the unfolding plot.

The turn of events sends the clans into an existential panic in a Burnsian montage, as they take turns knifing and defending each other in their blind fury and bloody orgy of fear over being upstaged by the Jester. At the end of Act Two, the clans contrive to oust the Court Jester, and throughout Act Three, they weaponize every tool at their disposal, sending the Crown Prosecution Service on a malicious lawfare campaign, which incredibly provides both intense dramatic tension, as well as moments of high farce as one by one the contrivances backfire.

The Royal Fisc is unleashed to track every coin ever earned or spent by the Court Jester. Even the lowly Heralds, whose shrill horn-blowing and fawning praise on behalf of the clans reaches such a state of cacophony that it teeters on the edge of genius, trade every shred of credibility they have in service of destroying the Court Jester. However, a tragic note of uneducated simpletonry prevents the Heralds from attaining their greatest prize of saving the clans and the patrician class from yawning doom.

The action reaches it pivotal turn with a seemingly insignificant moment when the Biden clan leader confronts the Court Jester in the public square. Billed as the key point where the clans triumph over the Court Jester, the tragic and vaguely comic antics of the Biden warlord explode in his face, hinging on his tragic flaw exposed decades earlier: his utter inability to say anything remotelly truthful.

Though largely ignored until it becomes glaringly obvious, the tragic warlord is revealed have no clothes to speak of. The scene lingers for a beat with the warlord’s flaccid and withered manhood on full display, then fades to black, leaving the audience in stunned silence.

Act Three opens with all of the clans’ carefully fostered allies suddenly and dramatically turning against them. The action unfolds with astonishing plot twists, alliances in full disarray, murderous schemes revealed, and full-on looting of the public trust. In one dramatic beat, the social contract is seen lying in shreds on the stage as the lights fade to a single downspot, bringing the audience literally to edge of their seats in breathless anticipation of what comes next.

At this point, dear reader, this reviewer will not spoil the shocking and cathartic resolution. This show must be experienced to be believed and fully appreciated. Anything this reviewer exposes would diminish the flabbergasting conclusion of this magnum opus and tour de farce. Suffice it to say that the seemingly stalwart confederates turn on each other in a feeding frenzy that would make sharks envious.

This review would be remiss if it praised only the leading performances. The ancillary characters are drawn with such fascinating detail, and performed with such delicate mastery (a la Laurence Olivier) as to not waste a moment of the audience’s time and attention. The result is the viewer feeling both exhausted and satiated at the curtain call. On the night this reviewer attended, there was a rousing standing ovation and an unprecedented five curtain calls.

This reviewer would be truly shocked if this remarkable event did not sweep awards season. Every aspect of the production, down to the scene changes, is so nimbly choreographed and executed as to have left this reviewer in awe of the sheer spectacle of it all.

This reviewer does not heap praise lightly. Having witnessed first hand such mind-bending and legendary productions as Vietnam (1966), Man on the Moon (1969), and Watergate (1974), the current event leaves them all in the dust with its social and cultural significance, historical and political intrigue, and its brilliant artistic achievement. The reader is exhorted to secure tickets to this event by whatever means possible, especially with the original cast. One suspects that this drama will eventually make its way to the big screen, but it will, without a doubt, pale in comparison to witnessing the original production.

It should be noted that this event is the pinnacle of environmental theatre, and as such, is now playing everywhere one looks, if one has the presence of mind to see it. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, the epic breadth and profound depth of this masterpiece is of such acumen as to form the stuff of legends, told to grandchildren on the knee for generations to come.

This reviewer will rate this event in a way never before attempted: 6 stars out of 5. Whilst this rating may seem nonsensical, it is the only way this reviewer can impress upon the reader the cultural and literary significance of this drama.

Do not let the final curtain drop on this show without having witnessed it first hand.

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