Culture Shock: Random, plotless, dull. It’s just what George Bernard Shaw had in mind

The horrible thought that ‘Heartbreak House’, at the Abbey Theatre, pushes us towards is that there is no entertainment on stage because offstage, with the Great War, the world is preparing to entertain itself to death

Strange creation: Lisa Dwyer Hogg, Barbara Brennan, Marcus Lamb, Nick Dunning, Mark Lambert (seated), Chris McHallem, Kathy Kiera Clarke, Aislín McGuckin and Don Wycherley in Róisín McBrinn’s production. Photograph: Aidan Crawley

Strange creation: Lisa Dwyer Hogg, Barbara Brennan, Marcus Lamb, Nick Dunning, Mark Lambert (seated), Chris McHallem, Kathy Kiera Clarke, Aislín McGuckin and Don Wycherley in Róisín McBrinn’s production. Photograph: Aidan Crawley

Sat, Aug 30, 2014, 01:00

In Babbitt, a novel by Sinclair Lewis, a bumptious English visitor complains to some Americans about their image of Bernard Shaw. “How do you Yankees get the notion that writing chaps like Bernard Shaw . . . represent us? The real business England, we think those chaps are traitors.” The date of Babbitt’s publication is interesting: 1922. Ten years earlier, even a philistine Englishman would have been unlikely to call Shaw a traitor. “GBS”, the persona he had created and honed, was of course a pugnacious critic of the English establishment. But he was also the insider’s outsider, the acceptable face of radical ideas. His wit and playfulness had made him England’s licensed jester.

And then the licence was withdrawn. In November 1914, when ecstatic patriotism was not yet dampened by the horrors of the Great War, Shaw published Common Sense About the War, suggesting that the conflict had been fomented not just by German militarists but by English ones too. In taking this extraordinarily courageous public stand Shaw identified himself more strongly than ever as a foreigner in England: “I shall retain my Irish capacity for criticising England with something of the detachment of a foreigner.”

English society – even literary society – took up this invitation to see him as a foreigner. He was snubbed by many in his own circles; even the left-wing New Statesman, which he helped to finance, stopped publishing him. That isolation largely ended as the war ground on and perceptions of it grew more complex, but it was a rough experience for a man who revelled in the limelight. And Shaw’s trick of appearing at once deeply subversive and harmlessly entertaining would never work again.

Under this pressure Shaw wiped off his clown’s make-up and dropped the guise of the playful reformer who will keep you entertained while he’s hitting you with uncomfortable ideas. During the war years he wrote Heartbreak House, a play with a lot of the old Shavian devices and ideas but almost no interest in entertainment. It is an important work because it is one of the first by a major dramatist to try to deal with the aesthetic effects of the cataclysm. Shaw grapples with the consequences on his own art of the reality that everything has changed and that maybe well-made stories just don’t work any more. What makes Heartbreak House such a strange and intriguing piece is its basic proposition that the people we are seeing on stage no longer matter. It defies the first proposition of a drama: you should care about these people. Maybe, Shaw suggests, you shouldn’t; maybe their world has gone and everything they say and do is irrelevant.

“In this house,” the industrialist Mangan complains of Captain Shotover’s chaotic country villa, “a man’s mind might as well be a football.” But if the mind is indeed kicked around like a football here, there is no beautiful game. On the contrary, Heartbreak House is a consciously ill-made play. It has no real plot. Nobody is really motivated to do anything: inaction is much more salient than action. Entrances and exits are chaotic to the point of seeming almost random. The characters are either ludicrously trivial or, in the case of the captain, madly apocalyptic. There are flashes of wit, but the play is not really funny. Heartbreak House is not a tragedy. Not enough is at stake for that. It is an anti-comedy. It takes comic devices – mistaken identity, sudden exposure, instant falling in love, slapstick, even the inevitable wedding – and deliberately sucks the air out of them. Comedy gathers energy. Heartbreak House is all deflation.

Sign In

Forgot Password?

Sign Up

The name that will appear beside your comments.

Have an account? Sign In

Forgot Password?

Please enter your email address so we can send you a link to reset your password.

Sign In or Sign Up

Thank you

You should receive instructions for resetting your password. When you have reset your password, you can Sign In.

Hello, .

Please choose a screen name. This name will appear beside any comments you post. Your screen name should follow the standards set out in our community standards.

Thank you for registering. Please check your email to verify your account.

We reserve the right to remove any content at any time from this Community, including without limitation if it violates the Community Standards. We ask that you report content that you in good faith believe violates the above rules by clicking the Flag link next to the offending comment or by filling out this form. New comments are only accepted for 3 days from the date of publication.