★★★★★ A sharply observed, meticulously researched and often darkly funny portrait of Peter Mandelson, delivered through a performance of such precision that it becomes less an impersonation and more an act of political possession. Richard Stirling doesn’t just play Mandelson — he inhabits him.
Mandy: Prince of Darkness is a one‑man political biography told from inside the mind of one of the most enigmatic figures in modern British politics. Stirling structures the piece around Mandelson’s own recollections, justifications and rhetorical flourishes, anchoring each chapter of his career with projected headlines and dates behind him. It’s a simple device, but an extremely effective one: the audience is never left drifting. Every scandal, every comeback, every resignation is pinned to a moment in time.
The effect is cumulative. You begin to realise just how many times Mandelson fell, rose, fell again, and rose again — until finally, as the show concludes, he meets the one scandal he cannot return from.
Performance: A Masterclass in Political Mannerism
Richard Stirling’s performance is the engine of the show, and it is extraordinary. He captures Mandelson’s mannerisms with forensic accuracy: the sly, fox‑like half‑smile; the careful modulation of tone; the way he leans into a phrase as if it were a tool he’s about to use.
But the real brilliance lies in the switches. When Mandelson quotes Tony Blair, Stirling shifts instantly — a recognisable Blair arm‑and‑hand gesture, the slight lift in vocal timbre, the earnestness that borders on sermonising. It’s subtle, funny, and deeply effective. He doesn’t break character; he folds Blair into Mandelson, showing how the two men lived inside each other’s political space.
This is mimicry at its highest level: not caricature, but observation.
Language, Manipulation & the Limits of Persuasion
One of the show’s most interesting threads — and one that came through strongly in your reflections — is the tension between Mandelson’s linguistic brilliance and the public’s instinctive scepticism.
Stirling presents Mandelson as a master manipulator of language: elegant phrasing, polished argument, the kind of rhetorical charm that can make nonsense sound like strategy. But even at his most persuasive, there’s a sense that ordinary people can smell when something isn’t quite right. The show captures that beautifully. You hear the justification, you admire the craft, but you don’t buy the conclusion.
It’s a portrait of a man whose intelligence was both his greatest asset and his greatest blind spot.
The Epstein Irony
The final act of the show deals with the Epstein scandal — the moment that ends Mandelson’s long cycle of comebacks. Stirling plays it with a deliberate irony: the arch‑strategist suddenly presenting himself as naïve, manipulated, unaware.
The email exchanges shown on screen undermine that claim. They hint at a man who knew exactly what he was doing, or at least knew enough not to pretend innocence convincingly. It’s a quietly devastating moment, and Stirling lets the audience draw its own conclusions.
Private Life, Public Persona
Stirling also touches on Mandelson’s approach to his private life. He didn’t hide being gay, but he didn’t foreground it either. It was simply part of who he was, not a political tool nor a public performance. The show treats this with sensitivity, acknowledging the complexity without sensationalising it.
Verdict
Mandy: Prince of Darkness is a superb piece of political theatre: sharp, intelligent, and anchored by a performance of remarkable skill. Richard Stirling gives us a Mandelson who is manipulative, charming, brilliant, flawed, hardworking, private, and ultimately undone by the one scandal he could not outmanoeuvre.
It’s a portrait of a complicated man, delivered by an actor who understands that complexity down to the smallest gesture.
A compelling, thoughtful and thoroughly engaging show.
★★★★★ Set in East Belfast, The Pitch centres on three teenagers whose lives intersect on a contested local football field. Robbie, a soccer‑mad loyalist kid, has spent his whole life practising on the same patch of grass. His sister Melissa is curious, open‑minded, and still figuring out where she fits. Deren, a GAA player raised in the same streets, has never had a home pitch of his own. When plans emerge to convert Robbie’s football field into a Gaelic pitch, the trio collide over sport, culture, identity, and the shifting political landscape around them — all against the backdrop of a looming United Ireland referendum.
Northern Irish theatre has always excelled at interrogating identity through the everyday, but The Pitch arrives at the Edinburgh Fringe with a particular urgency. As one of only five productions selected nationwide for the Pleasance Edinburgh National Partnerships programme, it stands as a flagship example of regional work that speaks directly to the realities of young people in a changing Belfast. This is not a play about “the past”; it is about the present — and the future that is rapidly approaching.
Philip Catherwood’s writing is sharp, funny, and politically literate without ever becoming didactic. The central dispute — whether the pitch should remain a soccer field or become a GAA ground — is not a contrivance. It is a precise metaphor for the cultural shifts happening in East Belfast today. The expansion of Gaelic games into traditionally Protestant areas has become a genuine flashpoint, and the play captures that tension with clarity and nuance.
Robbie’s fear of cultural displacement is rooted in lived experience. He is not a caricature of unionist defensiveness; he is a teenager terrified of losing the one place that feels like his. Deren’s frustration at being treated as an outsider in the community he grew up in is equally grounded. Melissa, caught between the two, embodies the emerging generation — less doctrinaire, more fluid, but still shaped by the legacies around her. The play avoids the tired “two tribes” framing and instead shows how identity is negotiated in mixed communities where lines blur and loyalties shift.
The humour is quintessentially Northern Irish: dry, sharp, and often deployed at moments of tension. Jokes about Tayto crisp packets, Irish street signs, and the semantics of “soccer” are not throwaway gags; they are cultural markers, reminders of how the smallest details become battlegrounds in contested spaces. The comedy never undermines the seriousness of the themes — it humanises them.
The emotional arc is clean and convincing. The characters begin in conflict, move through misunderstanding, and arrive at a fragile but genuine recognition of each other’s fears. The subplot involving Deren’s feelings for Robbie could easily have felt tacked on, but instead it deepens the stakes. It shows how personal vulnerability sits alongside political anxiety, and how the two often inform each other.
The production craft is strong across the board. Director Thea Mayeux keeps the 70‑minute running time tight, with pacing that mirrors the shifting emotional terrain. The staging makes clever use of the pitch as both literal and symbolic space — a place where lines are drawn, erased, and redrawn. Danae Crawford’s technical design supports the transitions without overwhelming them, and Rebekah Fitch’s sound work adds texture, particularly in moments where humour gives way to tension. The ensemble chemistry is exceptional; the three actors feel like real teenagers negotiating real stakes.
James Grimm’s Robbie is all brittle loyalty and jittery defensiveness. Jake Douglas brings warmth and quiet resilience to Deren, grounding the character’s frustrations in something deeply human. Dión Di Maio’s Melissa is a standout — perceptive, funny, and entirely believable as someone navigating mixed loyalties with more maturity than the boys around her. Their dynamic is lived‑in, messy, and convincing.
What ultimately makes The Pitch so effective is its understanding that constitutional debates are not abstract. They filter down into friendships, families, and the small patches of grass where young people define themselves. The play recognises that fear is not irrational when it has precedent, and that hope is not naïve when it is grounded in shared humanity. It offers a vision of common ground that feels earned rather than sentimental.
A witty, moving, and politically intelligent piece of theatre — one of the most thoughtful Northern Irish productions at this year’s Fringe, and a deserved flagship for the Pleasance National Partnerships.
Woody Sez is a warm, engaging tribute to Woody Guthrie, built around his songs and the stories that shaped them. The show blends biography, politics, humour and hardship into a fluid, fast‑moving piece of musical theatre. It’s presented with an easy, unforced charm that draws you in from the start.
I arrived knowing Woody Guthrie largely through his better-known songs, particularly the union anthems that have echoed down the decades. I left with a far richer appreciation of the man, his extraordinary catalogue and the experiences that shaped him. The production introduces audiences to songs that deserve to stand alongside the classics, performed with such conviction that they feel as fresh today as when Guthrie first wrote them.
The staging could hardly be simpler. Four musicians, a backdrop of photographs drawn from Guthrie’s life and the turbulent times through which he lived, and very little else. There are no elaborate sets or distracting theatrical flourishes. None are needed. The music, the words and the performances tell the story.
Although one performer remains Woody throughout, this is emphatically an ensemble piece. David M. Lutken reprises the role of Guthrie for this production, devised Woody Sez: The Life & Music of Woody Guthrie with original director Nick Corley. Cast members for this production are David Finch, Nyssa Grant and Raquel Chavez. The other three musicians step naturally into the voices of those around him, including members of his family, before returning seamlessly to the music. They play more than twenty instruments between them – and the spoons. No one dominates.The result is a genuine collaboration in which every performer makes an indispensable contribution.
The musicianship is exceptional. Every instrument is played with assurance, every harmony feels earned, and there is a warmth to the performances that draws the audience into Guthrie’s world. It never becomes a concert interrupted by biography, nor a play occasionally broken up by songs. The two are woven together so skilfully that each strengthens the other.
What surprised me most was how much of Guthrie’s life I didn’t know. I was aware of the Great Depression, of the poverty that scarred so many American families and of the political climate in which he found his voice. I knew far less about the personal tragedies that marked his life, the devastating fires that affected his family, and the cruel progression of Huntington’s disease that ultimately silenced one of America’s greatest songwriters. Understanding those experiences made his lifelong commitment to ordinary working people feel even more authentic. His politics were not abstract theories but convictions forged through hardship.
Yet the production wisely refuses to turn Guthrie into a solemn political icon. His mischievous streak is always present. There are moments of gentle humour and sly observations that reveal someone who could laugh even while confronting life’s harsher realities. That balance gives the evening its humanity.
The audience responded in kind. They listened intently throughout, joining in enthusiastically when familiar songs invited participation. By the end, the standing ovation felt entirely deserved.
One aspect particularly caught my attention. Listening to Union Maid, I could hear striking echoes of the Strawbs’ Part of the Union. Guthrie’s Union Maid uses the defiant refrain “I’m sticking to the union” as a straightforward declaration of solidarity. Strawbs’ Part of the Union echoes the same cadence and sentiment, but turns it into a wry, satirical take on 1970s British labour politics. One is earnest and rooted in American folk activism; the other is a pop‑rock pastiche that knowingly plays with the same idea.
The production touches briefly on Guthrie’s influence on figures such as Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan, but wisely keeps its focus on Guthrie himself. There is more than enough in his own remarkable life to sustain the narrative.
Perhaps the most powerful moment comes not in a song but in one of Guthrie’s newspaper columns, Woody Sez. Reflecting on war, he writes that a bomb is a bomb and a kid is a kid. It is an observation of disarming simplicity and enduring humanity. Decades later, with civilians still paying the price for conflicts across the world, those words retain their moral force.
That, more than anything, is why Woody Sez succeeds so completely. It is not an exercise in nostalgia. It reminds us that Guthrie’s compassion, wit and unwavering belief in the dignity of ordinary people still speak with remarkable clarity.
Some revolutions begin with manifestos. This one begins with two performers who are absolutely convinced they’re leading one. The Movement follows Ethan & Gigi — self‑appointed liberators, overconfident artists, and, depending on who you ask, either visionary or “legitimately unwell in a mental sense” — as they attempt to reshape the world through theatre. Their show is a chaotic, high‑energy act of political clowning that insists the revolution won’t be televised, it’ll be live.
In this interview, we talk about why they built a piece that blurs satire, activism and sheer unhinged commitment; how comedy can still connect people in a fractured moment; and what it means to ask an audience not just to watch, but to move, react, and become part of the disorder they’re staging. It’s theatre as provocation, theatre as mischief, theatre as a dare — and Ethan & Gigi are more than ready to break a few legs along the way.
You describe yourselves as artists who genuinely believe they’re leading a revolution. What’s the creative spark behind playing characters who are both delusional and completely committed?
GIGI: I gotta say…the spark behind playing people who are delusional and completely committed? That’s clown, baby! That spark comes from an urgent need to feel free in an ever-oppressive world. The clown has this big, beautiful dream about themselves and they either A) fail and it’s funny and the audience loves them for trying and everyone becomes connected through that particular access point of the recognition of your humanity or B) they succeed and it’s beautiful and they win. I cannot imagine a better use of my time! I mean what else is there but to be delusional and committed to the idea of a better world? We either fail and it’s funny and sad and we become more deeply connected …or we win.
ETHAN: I wouldn’t say we are playing characters, but more so, caricatures of ourselves, the essence is completely: us. That’s our clown. What makes us the unique humans we are is what we put on the stage. Gigi and I genuinely want to participate in a revolution in real life, but we honestly don’t know how to do that. But what if we believed we could be the leaders of this revolution, and committed to this role 110%? THE MOVEMENT is the result of that delusion/vision.
The show sits between clowning and revolutionary politics. How do you strike the balance between satire and sincerity without tipping too far in either direction?
GIGI: This is a great question and something we often check in about. There’s a part of the show that is undeniably satire, that we made not as clowns but as clever improvisers hungry to create a searing indictment of the American empire. At the end of the day, we wanna make sure we come across as idiots. Satire is more in the world of the bouffon which we do love to play with, but our pleasure in this show is wrapped up in being losers, not clever winners.
ETHAN: It’s completely a tight-rope balancing act, and what keeps us on the high wire is the sensitivity and vulnerability we lean into while we perform. Giving people permission to laugh AT YOU opens up a kind of a magical portal. The target of the humor in the show is always us, we are complete fools that believe ourselves to be competent, highly-skilled, and have all of the qualities of charismatic revolutionary leaders, when this isn’t quite the case.
You mention themes of artistic delusion, oppressive systems and the power of community. Which of those became the backbone of the show, and which emerged unexpectedly during development?
GIGI: Oppressive systems were the backbone. This might seem like a joke but we’re activists first and foremost. We want to burn it all down. As for artistic delusion…we don’t have to try for that to be a theme, that’s just an organic byproduct of our delusion: we are doing a clown show that we believe will radicalize people. But the power of community was discovered as we were struggling to find an end to this show and to answer the question, “How do you start a revolution?”
ETHAN: When you make a show, sometimes it feels like wandering through a foggy forest, you can’t see, and it’s the artistic delusion that keeps you stumbling forward. You’re following the initial impulse that sent you out into the woods, and where you end up is often a total surprise. “How do we start a revolution?” was the impulse, and the power of community is where we ended up. When you want to dream big (like overthrowing and dismantling oppressive systems) – you can’t do this alone.
One of your supporters called the show “deeply stupid” in a complimentary way. What does “stupid” mean in your artistic vocabulary, and why is it useful?
GIGI: “Stupid” means to use your gut, not your brain. It means to let your body lead even if you have no idea what is going to happen. It means to allow yourself to be illogical and to make mistakes. It’s useful because it’s freeing! We use “stupid” as our North Star and sometimes we ask ourselves, “How can we make this more stupid?”
ETHAN: When we take the stage, we are in pursuit of the quality of laughter that makes your belly hurt because you can’t stop, that type of laughter comes from the “stupid” place, not the “clever” one.
You’ve been described as brave, hardworking and possibly a bit unhinged. Do you think good clowning requires a willingness to push past normal social or theatrical boundaries?
GIGI: I think more than anything good clowning requires a willingness to push past your own limiting ideas and narratives about yourself and the world and if that happens to also result in pushing past normal social and theatrical boundaries, great! But sometimes people do things just for the sake of provocation, with no humanity or sensitivity behind it. There’s no sense of self in that. Good clowning allows us to see *you*. Sometimes that leads to pushing past normal social and theatrical bounds but it’s not needed. Sometimes you end up doing something very safe, polite, normal and everyone relates to it and it’s the funniest thing.
ETHAN: Where you are in life is where you find yourself on the stage – especially as a clown. It’s a total reflection of your humanity, neuroses & all. It’s less about pushing social norms or theatrical boundaries, and more about where you’re willing to go within yourself. “Good” clown to us is when you see someone onstage, and as an audience member you feel & think: “Oh there you are. That’s you. You’re not hiding.” It’s more of a feeling than an intellectual thing, but you know when you experience it. Your standards for anything short of that level of vulnerability become extremely high.
You’ve said laughter can be an act of resistance. What do you think audiences are resisting when they laugh with you rather than at you?
GIGI: Wonderful question! Sorry to clarify, we DO want you to laugh at us. There is a freedom that comes with having a sense of humor about yourself and when others witness you bask in that freedom, it can be really inspiring.
ETHAN: Peeing.
You talk about the show being created through a “village” of mentors, teachers and friends. What did collective creation allow you to do that a traditional rehearsal process wouldn’t?
GIGI: Collective creation allows us to work our material in real time to see what works and what doesn’t.
ETHAN: What THE MOVEMENT means to us versus others is different, we all have our own unique experiences of the show. We love getting feedback from the audience and our community, and our show has been seen and passed through many hearts and minds. Everybody that has contributed their feedback, ideas, and direction has left their own imprint in the DNA of our show- and that can’t replicate that in a vacuum.
You’ve staged large‑scale stunts, including marching an audience through New York to perform in front of an LED truck. What attracts you to theatrical disruption outside conventional spaces?
GIGI: Referring back to the clown, we want to push ourselves to dream as big as possible so that other people feel pushed to do the same — did you hear about the couple that scaled the Empire State Building, waved a banner from the highest point, and got engaged while police helicopters swarmed around them? Way to dream! It got everyone’s attention and surely some folks thought to themselves, “I want to do that.”
ETHAN: The theatre is a place where we can shine a spotlight, and everyone looks exactly at that spot on the stage. The power of theatre is being able to shine that spotlight at ourselves and the world we live in, so we can illuminate and examine the unseen. That experience shouldn’t end when the show is over and the audience leaves. Staging performances outside of the theatrical container reminds us that we always have the power of the spotlight – life can be theatre. Also, when you step outside, the sun is in the sky, and that’s the biggest spotlight of all.
Your SoHo Playhouse performance on the anniversary of 9/11 was deliberately provocative. How do you navigate the line between meaningful provocation and empty shock?
GIGI: Always punch up.
ETHAN: In our world, there’s no shortage of bastards to kill.
You say you’re not here just to make people laugh — you’re here to make people free. What does “freedom” look like inside a one‑hour Fringe show at 11pm?
GIGI: It looks real stupid — you gotta come to find out!
ETHAN: There was your life before you joined THE MOVEMENT, and life after. Our show is what happens in between.
Alice Hawkins – Working Class Suffragette — a powerful spoken-word tribute presented by her great-grandson Peter Barratt, with “sister suffragette” Ruth Pownall
From the moment Peter Barratt took to the stage, it was clear: his passion for Alice Hawkins, his great-grandmother, is not just historical—it’s heartfelt. With warmth, a sprinkle of humour, and steadfast pride, he guided us through her extraordinary life, sharing family archives, letters, and stories that felt both personal and universally stirring. His delivery felt like a chat with kin—welcoming, sincere, and deeply human.
Peter Barratt
Ruth Pownall, as “sister suffragette,” breathed theatrical life into Alice’s voice. With words drawn from real letters and speeches, and with suffragette songs woven into her portrayal, Ruth added another evocative layer that helped transport us back to those fervent years. Her singing gave a poignant rhythm to the fight, reminding us that the suffragettes’ struggle was not only political, but deeply emotional.
Alice Riley Hawkins—born in 1863 in Stafford—became a leading suffragette in Leicester. A machinist at Equity Shoes, a devoted socialist, and a mother of six, she lived the daily grind of working-class life while pushing a suffrage campaign. Through the cooperative structure at her factory, she accessed education and socialist ideas—precisely the foundation that fired her activism. In 1894 she joined the Independent Labour Party, and by 1906 she was in correspondence with Sylvia Pankhurst. When Sylvia came to Leicester in 1907, Alice helped organise and launch a WSPU branch there, alongside Mary Gawthorpe.
Alice was jailed five times for militant actions on behalf of the WSPU—a testament to her courage and dedication. In February 1907 she was arrested after a Hyde Park rally turned violent, when police on horseback charged the protesters. She was sent to Holloway Prison, where a lawyer remarked that “in no other civilised country would women be dealt with in this manner.” In 1909 she attempted to enter a Winston Churchill meeting from which suffragettes had been barred. Arrested again, she went to prison and took part in a hunger strike. In 1911 she smashed a Home Office window with a brick in full view of police. In 1913 she poured ink into a Leicester postbox and was suspected, though never proved, of the famous “no votes, no golf” slogan written in horse dung on a golf course. Alice also received a Hunger Strike Medal from the WSPU and was among the working-class women selected to meet leading politicians like Lloyd George and Sir Edward Grey to press their cause directly.
Ruth Pownall
Alice’s husband Alfred was no bystander—he actively supported her. When he was assaulted and had his kneecap fractured after questioning Churchill at a Liberal Party meeting in Bradford, the court awarded him compensation. That wasn’t just solidarity—it was bravery in its own right. His backing allowed Alice to keep campaigning, even while raising a family of six children.
Peter’s storytelling shone with a warm confidence and touches of humour that made history feel alive—not dusty. We sensed the pride in his family history, the importance of sharing it, and his belief that Alice’s story still resonates today. Ruth’s performance, rooted in real letters and speeches, gave voice to the suffragette soul—and the songs and her stagecraft made it unforgettable. For many in the UK—even today—these stories of suffragette violence and state repression remain poorly known. The police charges, the arrests and imprisonment, the force-feeding, the property damage—all were radical but essential tactics of a desperate, determined movement. Sharing those stories matters: it highlights how hard-won women’s rights were—and how easy it is to take them for granted.
Ultimately, their efforts prevailed. Women secured the vote—gradually, starting in 1918, and fully by 1928. Today, a bronze statue of Alice Hawkins, seven feet tall, stands in Leicester’s Market Square—her arm raised, mid-speech, a commanding presence recalling that she once preached change in that very spot. The unveiling in 2018 was a community moment, with thousands watching, including members of her family who had fought for years to have her commemorated.
This was a moving, inspiring experience. Peter Barratt’s passion and pride bubbled through his every word—his warmth and humour made history feel close. Ruth Pownall’s theatrical presence, singing, and faithful voice-of-Alice made it vivid. Alice Hawkins deserves to be known—not just as a suffragette, but as a working-class mum, machinist, socialist, and fighter. Her story speaks to what it takes to change the world—and why we must remember.
“The Communist” is an intriguing publication that offers a distinct and thought-provoking perspective on contemporary political and social issues. Issue 22, dated 26th February 2025, delves into a range of significant topics, each analysed through a lens that challenges mainstream narratives.
“The Communist” – A thought-provoking read
One of the central discussions revolves around Britain’s financial support for Ukraine. The newspaper raises critical questions about whether the substantial financial aid, amounting to £13 billion so far and a promised £3 billion annually, truly serves the interests of working people in the UK. It contrasts this with the rising cost of living, noting increases in essentials like water, energy, and council tax. This juxtaposition serves as a reminder of how foreign adventures can adversely impact domestic welfare.
The paper also delves into the rise of the Reform Party, exploring why segments of the working class might be drawn to it. Yet, it cautions against the division along racial lines, arguing that such fractures weaken the collective power needed to fight for better economic conditions. This aligns with its broader critique of how societal divisions can distract from economic struggles. It should be noted that thus far the ‘Left’ has had little success in refocusing many working class people in the UK away from a very deep hostility to woke or overcoming a very deep nationalist instinct. My own view is that one problem the ‘Left’ has had in connecting to working class people is their failure to listen to their concerns.
In addressing the concept of “woke,” “The Communist” advocates for rejecting cultural battles in favor of systemic change. It posits that the exploited and oppressed should focus on class struggle against the billionaires and bankers, rather than getting entangled in what it views as a “reactionary war on woke.”
A particularly compelling piece in this issue is the review of Mussolini: Son of the Century. The newspaper highlights how fascists historically rallied the middle class and landowners by exploiting their fears during times of economic crisis and revolutionary turmoil. The review notes Mussolini’s rhetoric, such as “Against the red beast, let us make a ram of all our lives,” to illustrate how fascism can gain momentum by manipulating public anxieties. The conclusion of the review warns not merely of the threat posed by ‘strong’ leaders but rather the fragility of “bourgeois democracy” and how the ruling class, when faced with a choice between socialism and fascism, might favour the latter to protect their own interests. I also reviewed this programme myself and found it deeply insightful. As cuts in services bite in the UK and costs rise we may see a further increase in support for non-mainstream or populist parties and movements. As of now it seems this will favour the ‘Right’ rather than the ‘Left’.
Unfortunately, “The Communist” is not easy to purchase. I obtained my copy at the excellent Housmans bookshop near King’s Cross, and it is also available by subscription (details can be found on the web at communist.red).
In sum, “The Communist” is a publication that challenges readers to think critically about societal structures and the power dynamics within them. It encourages a re-evaluation of priorities, urging a focus on class unity and systemic change over divisive cultural battles. I’ve only just scratched the surface of the articles in this issue, as it offers a wealth of thought-provoking content. Despite its title, the newspaper provides valuable insights that are relevant across the political spectrum, making it a worthwhile read for anyone interested in a deeper understanding of contemporary issues.
By Patrick Harrington
Pat Harrington reviewed Mussolini: Son Of The Century here
Exodus has been described as satire but it should more properly be viewed as part of the great tradition of the British farce. As Wikipedia defines it:
Aryana Ramkhalawon and Sophie Steer play the Home Secretary and her Spin Doctor. Photo credit Tim Morozzo.
“Farce is a comedy that seeks to entertain an audience through situations that are highly exaggerated, extravagant, ridiculous, absurd, and improbable. Farce is also characterized by heavy use of physical humor; the use of deliberate absurdity or nonsense; satire, parody, and mockery of real-life situations, people, events, and interactions; unlikely and humorous instances of miscommunication; ludicrous, improbable, and exaggerated characters; and broadly stylized performances.”
That certainly sums up Exodus to me. A Home Secretary, Asiya Rao (a caricature of Priti Patel), is at a photo shoot in Dover, standing in the water to underline her desire to prevent illegal migrants from entering the country. It’s in preparation for the launch of Operation Womb, to separate Britain from the rest of the world with the slogan “Look inward”. All starts to go wrong when a living baby is washed up between her feet, and, instead of handing the baby in to the police, she stuffs the baby into her expensive handbag. On the train back to London St. Pancras an actress paid to play her mother, and a journalist interviewing the Home Secretary create a chaotic situation full of misunderstandings and miscommunication.
The performances are great. My favourite was Sophie Steer playing the scheming amoral advisor/spin doctor Phoebe. The show is very enjoyable. If you view it as a farce and don’t consider the underlying political message too critically there are many laugh-out-loud moments. You have to either suspend disbelief and treat this as pure entertainment or look at the message behind the play analytically. If you take the second route it raises difficult questions about what our immigration rules should be, how we became a wealthy nation, and what integration means. On top of that, you would have to consider what British identity is (to me Exodus put this in an overly simplistic and negative light). Perhaps you can view it as both entertainment and consider its message too – I found that difficult.
It’s also my view that the villain should get some good lines. That didn’t happen here perhaps because it was in a farce format. Aryana Ramkhalawon playing Home Secretary Asiya Rao had few persuasive arguments in the script or even any half-way convincing points or rebuttals. It also dodges the question of how a second-generation immigrant has adopted such a hard-line stance on migration and asylum. The only answer put forward is opportunism and a lust for power but is it that simple? Real life is not so cut and dried. Sometimes the villains have good (or at least seemingly convincing or popular arguments) – that’s one of the things that makes them so dangerous.
The play ends with footage of people in Glasgow preventing the deportation of a migrant while chanting “The People united will never be defeated”. Of course, people have never been united on the subject of immigration. Perhaps Exodus will contribute to a debate where we can reach a consensus on the many thorny issues it raises. Here’s hoping!
Reviewed by Pat Harrington
Venue 15 Traverse Theatre – Traverse 1 Aug 23-28 1 hour 25 minutes Group: National Theatre of Scotland https://tickets.edfringe.com/
Can’t see it in Edinburgh? The check-out tour dates on the website.
Hillbilly Elegy is a film based on the novel of the same name by J.D. Vance.
Hillbillies in popular culture have usually been represented as figures of fun, even ridicule. Older readers will remember “The Beverly Hillbillies”, a TV comedy series based on a family from the Appalachian Mountains when oil was struck on their land, producing untold riches. They moved to California and continued to live like hillbillies in, of course, Beverly Hills. More affectionately, Don Macleans “Good ol boys drinkin` whiskey and rye” were clearly hillbilly types, albeit from further south. The hillbillies represented in this film could scarcely be more different.
So who were the hillbillies? Descended mainly from Scotch and Irish Protestant settlers who had ventured westward into the Appalachian Mountains from the 1750s onwards they had lived primitive lives in small, isolated mountain settlements with a good deal of in-breeding. The Appalachian Mountain chain stretches north to south from the Canadian border to the northern counties of Alabama and Georgia, but the hillbilly heartland is centred on West Virginia and the eastern areas of Kentucky, Tennessee and Ohio. The discovery of coal in the 19th century led to major industrial developments in this still mainly rural and scenic region, but they were concentrated in small towns and villages. To this day the region has no large cities. Marked by violent industrial strife, impoverished by the Great Depression and, after a brief period of prosperity, suffering from the effects of post-industrialisation from the 1980s it has the lowest living standards of any region in the U.S.A. In racial terms it has remained overwhelmingly white. This is the Hillbilly country depicted in the film – poor, white, backward and devastated by an opioid epidemic. The film is set around Jackson, eastern Kentucky, and the small industrial town of Middletown, Ohio. A review in AP News described the book on which the film was based as “an election year explainer (2016) to liberal America about the white underclass that fuelled Donald Trump`s rise”
The film is autobiographical, based on the experiences of 3 generations of one family. Mamaw (Glen Close), the grandmother who holds the family together, Beverley (Amy Adams), her daughter and J.D. (Gabriel Vasso) Beverley`s son and the author of the novel. J.D. has progressed from a troubled childhood, enlisted as a Marine and used the money earned to work his way through Ohio State University. His scheduled interview for a post in a prestigious firm on Wall Street is jeopardised by an emergency call from his sister back home – their mother has succumbed yet again to an overdose of drugs. The family story is told through a series of flashbacks to his childhood and adolescence. It is moving and, at times, frightening. The film had a mixed reception, with nominations for both the Golden Globe and the Golden Raspberry (Close became the third performer in history to be nominated for an Academy Award and a Golden Raspberry for the same performance). The film was criticised for perpetuating stereotypes about the poor and praised for its realism.
J.D. Vance himself is an aspiring Republican politician considering a run for the United States Senate in 2022 representing his home state of Ohio. A successful venture capitalist, he is being tipped as a future Presidential candidate (he will be 44 in 2028). Indeed some regard “Hillbilly Elegy” as a promotional film with this in mind. Watch it (it`s on Netflix) and see for yourself!
Reviewed by Henry Falconer Director: Ron Howard Writers: J.D. Vance (based on the book by), Vanessa Taylor Stars: Amy Adams, Glenn Close, Gabriel Basso
Kevin Brownlow was only eighteen years old when he began work on what would become the low-budget, cult-classic, Alternative History movie It Happened Here. Already a keen amateur student of the history of cinema, he had only a single 16mm camera to his name as his project commenced.
It was 1956 and Brownlow’s native London still showed much evidence of the effects of the brutal world war that had ended a mere eleven years earlier. For him growing up, as for so many of his age group in every major town and city in the country, bomb sites had seemed to be a permanent feature of his physical environment. Now, although the speed of post-war reconstruction was gathering place, it was these physical reminders of the horrors of war that gave Brownlow the subject for his film. The question he pondered as he began work was a question that had already been explored by many, and would be explored by many, many more, through the mediums of both film and literature: That is, what if Hitler had won the war and Britain had, like so many European countries, been invaded and occupied by the Nazis?
We should perhaps state that initially, Brownlow was under no illusion that, given the extreme limitation of his resources, he could produce a whole, professional-looking movie alone. The best he hoped for at this stage was that he would be able to produce a few reels of sufficiently interesting quality to be able to hawk them around various film studios, impressing enough of the right people to make his dream of seeing his project reach the big screen into a reality.
His early efforts, by his own admission, were not great. For actors, he used friends, friends of friends, relatives, and any passers-by he came across who looked right and were willing to give their services for free. For costumes and props, it was very much a DIY, make-do-and-mend aesthetic. For example, Nazi uniforms were made by the simple expedient of sewing swastikas onto a job lot of American army uniforms that Brownlow had acquired cheaply from a local theatrical costumier.
Everything changed, and work on the film properly begun when, whilst buying German war-time helmets on Portobello market, Brownlow was introduced to somebody whom it was felt might be able to assist him with his project. That person was Andrew Mollo who, at mere sixteen years of age, was even younger and more precocious than Brownlow. As luck would have it, it was to the subject of military history and to the collection of military artifacts that young Andrew had decided to dedicate his time and single-focused dedication. Intrigued by what Brownlow told him about his nascent movie, he agreed to take a look at what progress had so far been made.
Crammed into Brownlow’s small flat, surrounded by rolls of film, empty film canisters, and Fascist magazines that had been bought purely for the purposes of research, Mollo was not at all impressed with what he saw projected onto a white sheet affixed to a wall. Calmly but firmly, he told Brownlow that almost every single detail as regards the military aspects of the film was wrong. He then went on to amaze Brownlow with his detailed knowledge of the work of Eric Von Stroheim.
Stroheim had been an Austrian-American filmmaker of the silent era who had acquired legendary status through his obsessive attention to detail. For instance, in period pieces, he would even insist that his actors wear underwear appropriate to the time in which the movie was set, even if there was never any intention that any of this underwear would ever be seen on screen. The original version of his classic 1924 movie Greed originally ran to more than nine hours, a length which was unsurprisingly cut to a little over two before Metro-Goldwyn Mayer deigned to release it. Stroheim was considered to be so difficult to work with that his career as a filmmaker effectively ended in the early 1930s, and he spent the remaining thirty or so years of his life as a well-regarded but little-known Hollywood character actor.
That Mollo had even heard of Stroheim hugely impressed Brownlow, and Andrew was soon on board as the joint Producer/Director of the film, on the mutually agreed understanding that as close to a Stroheim-like degree of accuracy would be applied to their joint creation as possible.
The film would take eight years to complete, and it would be a further two before it would gain a full cinematic release.
Though both have since admitted to there being some degree of ongoing creative tensions between the two of them, Brownlow and Mollo clearly complemented each other as far as their skills and areas of special interest were concerned. Whilst Mollo brought to the movie a degree of authenticity that lifted the film well beyond that of being a mere home-made curio, Brownlow brought to it a political dimension that made it different from anything else in the ‘What if Hitler had won’ cinematic, or literary canon, either before or since.
By 1956, just over a decade after its conclusion, many film adaptations of major events of the Second World War had already been made, including many which are rightly still regarded as classics to this day. But one thing, in particular, struck Brownlow about these films, and that was that ideology had essentially been removed from all known portrayals of the conflict. The German army, and even elite Nazi forces such as the SS, tended to be depicted as little different to any other generic movie bad guys. But, considered Brownlow, wasn’t the Second World War essentially a battle of competing ideologies, in a way that no other war had ever been? On the one side, we had the Allies, comprised as they were of an uneasy, and as it turned out unstable, between Western Democracy and Soviet Communism. On the other were the similar, though not identical ideologies of Japanese militarism, Italian Fascism, and most importantly of all, in the vanguard of the Axis powers, the philosophy of Hitlerite National Socialism. For Brownlow, as both a filmmaker and as a committed leftist, a clear understanding of what National Socialism was and what it was that National Socialists believed was essential.
This determination to show Nazism as a real live ideology, for which people were prepared to fight and, if necessary, to die, led Brownlow to make a decision that was to prove to be highly contentious: This was the decision to allow real-life, modern-day Nazis the opportunity to describe their own belief system, without the mediation of actors, or even of properly scripted dialogue. We will return to this subject shortly. Through sheer necessity, despite their determination to apply the greatest possible degree of historical accuracy, the low budget/homemade ethos of the film remained. Only three professional actors would be included in the finished product, each of them agreeing to work for the minimum scale of Equity pay, on the understanding that their parts would be relatively small, so that they could fit in other work around the filming schedule, and that they would be paid properly in the unlikely event that the movie would receive a cinematic release. The remainder of the roles continued to be played by amateurs, some of whom were enthusiastic battle reconstructionists, and some of whom were former members of Mosely’s British Union of Fascists, temporary actors who no doubt relished the opportunity to dig their old Blackshirt uniforms out from their guilty hiding place at the back of their wardrobes. The rest of the uniforms came from Mollo’s ever-expanding list of contacts in the sub-culture of collectors of militaria. These were supplemented by the cast-offs from mainstream movies, as Mollo started to get paid work in the props and art departments of various movies.
Brownlow and Mollo found their lead actor in Pauline Murray, a middle-aged, Dublin-born woman who at this time was living in Wales. Murray was introduced to Brownlow by his friend, the film critic, and journalist Derek Hill. She was a working nurse who had a passion for amateur dramatics, though she had also had a small amount of paid acting experience as a background artist in a handful of little-known British films. Extra layers of realism were added to the movie by the fact that the character she portrayed on-screen would also be called Pauline, and that the character would also be a nurse by profession.
Although a strictly part-time actor, Pauline Murray apparently put the professionals to shame when it came to the seriousness with which she applied herself to her role, turning up on set early each time she was required, despite the long journeys from Wales to London, and always word-perfect.
Despite the resolutely DIY nature of It Happened Here, the film would not have been completed without the assistance of two major cinematic figures. The first was the film director Tony Richardson who had just enjoyed success with one of the earliest, and best, examples of what came to be known as ‘Kitchen Sink’ British movie dramas. This film was called Saturday Night, Sunday Morning. Intrigued by what he had heard of Brownlow and Mollo’s project, Richardson asked to see what progress had been made so far. After reviewing the raw footage, he asked that it be expanded from 16mm to 35mm so that he could get a clearer idea of what a finished product might look like in the cinema. Liking what he saw, he agreed to bankroll the movie on three conditions: Firstly, that it could be completed for £3000 or less; secondly; that the rest of the film be shot using 35mm film; and thirdly, that the filmmakers provide a workable script. Up until this point, they had been working without one, improvising scenes when and where they could, using what would later be called ‘Guerrilla filmmaking’ techniques around general themes and ideas.
This last point was no real problem. Brownlow and Mollo had enough of an idea of the general shape of the story to be able to formalise it into a decent enough script. The problem lay with the first and second points. 35mm film was expensive, and paying for that alone would undoubtedly take Brownlow and Mollo way over Richardson’s kindly given but limited budget.
It was here that another established filmmaker came to their rescue, the already well-respected and later legendary director Stanley Kubrick. Brownlow met Kubrick, rather ironically, at a showing of Von Stroheim’s Greed, and took the opportunity to tell him how much he’d enjoyed his recent film Paths of Glory, which was set during the First World War. At this time, Kubrick was in London working with Peter Sellers on the classic Cold War satire Dr. Strangelove. Hearing about It Happened Here, and like Richardson intrigued by what he heard, and also remembering the struggles of his own early attempts at film making, Kubrick agreed to provide Brownlow and Mollo with the 35mm ‘short ends’ (film left unused at the end of a roll) from his new work-in-progress free of charge.
Through the help of Richardson and Kubrick, the goodwill of all of those who gave their services freely or cheaply, the contacts of Mollo, and the ‘beg, borrow and steal’ dedication of both he and Brownlow, the movie was finally completed by the autumn of 1964, and a mere £3000 over the sum allocated to them by Richardson. It received showings at a couple of film festivals, and the reviews and word of mouth grapevine from these was positive enough to alert the interest of United Artists. Thus began two years of tortuous negotiation before the film would finally get its proper cinematic release.
The main sticking point in these negotiations was the filmmaker’s determination to proceed with the inclusion of the real-life British Nazis. United Artists insisted that this footage be cut.
The scene in question was a six-minute segment during which Pauline is undergoing ideological training through the Immediate Action Organisation. The IA, as it is generally known, is a kind of British equivalent of the Nazi-controlled German Labour Front, membership of which is required before workers are allowed to begin, or to continue with, their chosen profession, in the case of Pauline, that of nursing. As part of this training, she and a small group of others are shown discussing with three British SS officers. These officers are played by former members of Mosely’s BUF, and who at that time of filming, in the early 1960s, were current members of the National Socialist Movement, a small party that included amongst its leadership would-be British Fuhrer Colin Jordan (a few years before he was convicted of stealing women’s underwear), and future National Front and British National Party leader John Tyndall. The scene is largely improvised and, prompted by the questions of Pauline and her fellow trainees, the Nazis had the opportunity to put forward their views on such topics as the superiority of the ‘Aryan’ over the Jewish race, and the need for methods of ‘humane’ euthanasia to be used against the disabled, or ‘useless eaters’ as they are described. The scene was accused by United Artists of allowing Nazi propaganda to be put forward virtually unchallenged. The British Jewish Board of Deputies would go further and accuse the filmmakers themselves of being anti-Semitic, despite Brownlow’s (Mollo was and is, by his own testimony much less of a political animal) impeccable Leftist, anti-racist credentials.
This part of the film has also, perhaps more plausibly, been criticised on purely aesthetic grounds, including by Brownlow’s film critic friend Derek Hill. Hill believed that, though fascinating it its own right, the scene unnecessarily interrupted the narrative flow of the movie. It is indeed true that the scene does seem to be rather shoe-horned into place, and perhaps a bit more scripting may have proved useful in integrating it into the film as a whole. But, like Brownlow, I would argue that the segment simply has to be there. Its inclusion, particularly given the added knowledge that these filmic Nazis really are Nazis who are articulating their own true beliefs, rather than actors simply speaking words that have written for them by others, is a big part of what makes It Happened Here special; and what better indictment of National Socialist ideology could there be than to hear one of its advocates declare that not only is he in general approval of a law allowing for the ‘putting down’ of disabled children but that he would happily take matters into his own hands as regards to a disabled child of his own, should such a law not exist?
In the end, through a sheer desire to see their long and difficult creative journey come to a successful conclusion, Brownlow and Mollo let United Artists have their way, and the controversial scene was cut. This was a decision that Brownlow, in particular, seems to have always regretted; and it should almost go without saying that the scene has been restored to its rightful place in all subsequent media releases.
Perhaps surprisingly, given its origins and the struggle to get it made, It Happened Here was something of a success. Extras in the Blue Ray release show queues outside a cinema in the West End, and examples of giant billboards advertising it that had been erected at strategic points around the capital. The idea that the film was a ‘lost’ low budget masterpiece that disappeared without trace after its release, only to be discovered later by dedicated British film buffs, is simply wrong. In the six weeks of its initial run in the West End, it made a gross profit of £26000, not quite Hollywood blockbuster material by modern standards, but a still not insubstantial amount in 1966.
Unfortunately for Brownlow and Mollo, this money was swallowed up entirely by United Artists’ advertising campaign, a campaign which included expensive cinematic trailers in addition to the billboards, plus the belated payment of the professional actors, and other assorted ‘expenses.’ Despite being shown at many venues across the UK, and also in several countries outside the UK, the two people who had dedicated ten years of their lives to the realisation of the project made not a single penny from its relative success. So, what of the movie itself? I won’t give away too many spoilers as regards the plot. Suffice to say, that the action takes place in the period of 1944-5, in a universe where Britain has been occupied by the Germans following the surrender of the British armed forces after their military defeat at Dunkirk in 1940. It is never explicitly stated, but a background photograph of Oswald Mosely next to a portrait of Adolf Hitler suggests that the government is now in the hands of the British Union of Fascists under Mosley’s leadership, with guidance from the German occupying forces.
A full-scale armed resistance movement is under way, and one of the most powerful moments in the movie, in another scene that some have criticised on the grounds of being anti-Semitic Nazi propaganda, is the fiery oration delivered by a British SS officer at the torch-lit funeral for one of his comrades, a comrade murdered in an ambush by ‘Jewish-Bolshevik’ members of the resistance.
For me, two themes stand out most strongly in the film: Firstly, the explosion of the myth of British exceptionalism, the idea that, unlike our less than courageous allies on the other side of the Channel, ‘we’ would never have accepted defeat and collaborated with our conquerors, had the war been lost. In the world of It Happened Here, the British people behave exactly like the French, the Dutch, the Danish, and indeed the residents of the Guernsey Islands, the only British territory that actually did fall to German occupation. That is, some collaborate enthusiastically with the Nazis, some fight actively for their nation’s liberation, and the vast majority in the middle simply accept the reality of their predicament and make of it the best that they can, perhaps resisting in small ways, as shown by the dirty looks that Pauline receives on the bus the first time that she ventures out in her IA uniform. The second theme concerns the moral compromises that ordinary people are forced to make when faced with extra-ordinary situations, simply to get by, to earn a living, to survive and to support their families, compromises that, as is the case with Pauline, can lead them into the kind of actions that they would never have contemplated should the world they had known not been brought to a shocking halt.
These extra-ordinary actions of course apply equally to those who resist as to those who reluctantly collaborate, a point that is well illustrated close to the end of the film, when a resistance leader, following the brutal and summary execution of a group of British SS members, comments: ‘Sometimes in order to fight fascism, you must use fascist methods.’
Another high point of the film, and another moment of uber-realism, is the faux-German newsreel extolling the brotherhood of the German and British people, and the glories of the new National Socialist Britain. In the creation of this segment, Brownlow in particular was heavily influenced by Orson Wells use of a similar device in Citizen Kane.
The It Happened Here ‘Mirror on the World’ newsreel was in fact so real that an Italian documentary film in the 1970s took it to be an actual German propaganda film explaining what a glorious opportunity for Britain an alliance with Germany would be. Within it, we see faked footage (and all of the footage in the movie was created by Brownlow and Mollo, as they took a conscious decision not to use any stock footage) of the Christmas Truce of 1914, and of occupying German soldiers behaving not as cartoon-villains or as brutal conquerors, but as living, breathing young lads on an adventure, posing for photographs at famous London landmarks, drinking in cafes and bars and flirting with local girls.
One particularly believable touch in this section is provided by a brief shot of young British boys laughing as they jokingly imitate the Nazi goosestep. If the film has a weakness, it is one caused simply by the budgetary limitations placed upon its creators. Chief amongst these is that Pauline is the only constant character in the movie. Other characters are either extras, or else they appear briefly in order to fulfil a narrative function, to illustrate a ‘type’, be it an enthusiastic Nazi, a reluctant collaborator, or a determined, politicised resistance fighter. These were the roles that were played by the three professional actors, the structure of the film and the brevity of their role designed specifically to allow them to do their bit and move on to more immediately remunerative work.
But if this is a quibble at all, then it is a very minor one. It Happened Here is a one-off, perhaps the best Alternative History movie ever made, and one of the best British films ever made. Given its humble beginnings, the extreme youth of its creators, and the shoe-string nature of its budget, it is a truly remarkable artistic achievement. Actually, to say that It Happened Here is a one-off, is not quite accurate. Brownlow and Mollo were to work together once more, on the film Winstanley, released in 1976, about the 17th Century writer and social reformer Gerrard Winstanley, one of the leading figures in the proto-communist Diggers movement during the English Civil War. This film also took a decade to make; was also made for next to nothing using a mostly amateur cast, and also made virtually nothing for its makers. It is a worthy companion movie to It Happened Here. Since this film, Brownlow has devoted himself to the silent movie era that is his abiding passion. He has written books and made documentary films on this subject, and most notably he played the primary role in restoring Abel Gance’s classic 1927 film Napoleon, the five-hour epic about the early life of the future French Emperor. Andrew Mollo has continued to be much in demand as a cinematic Art Director and advisor on matters military, in recent years working on such high-profile movies as The Pianist and Downfall.
The 2018 Blue Ray release of It Happened Here includes, as well as a the beautifully restored main feature, an excerpt from a documentary on the making of Winstanley, early unused footage from It Happened Here, a longer version of the ‘Mirror on the World’ newsreel sequence, and a brilliant hour-long interview with Brownlow, during which he goes into much greater detail about the making of the film than has been possible here. It is fabulous value for money.
Directors: Kevin Brownlow, Andrew Mollo Writers: Kevin Brownlow (story and screenplay), Andrew Mollo (screenplay) Stars: Pauline Murray, Sebastian Shaw, Bart Allison
Anthony C Green’s latest novel Better than the Beatles! is available as both a paperback and an eBook
This three-part PBS documentary explains how and why the ill-conceived state of Yugoslavia descended into chaos and barbarity not once but twice, first in the 1940s and again in the 1990s.
The Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, re-named Yugoslavia in 1929, was established in 1918 at the end of the First World War. It brought together Serbia and Montenegro, which had been independent before the War, with Croatia, Slovenia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, which had been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The King of Serbia became Head of State and both the army and administration were dominated by Serbs. There were problems from the beginning. Serbia and Montenegro had fought on the Allied side in the War, the other nationalities on the other. Serbs and Montenegrins were Orthodox in religion and used the Cyrillic script, Croats and Slovenes were Roman Catholic and used the Latin. Although Bosnia-Herzegovina contained large numbers of both Serbs and Croats they were outnumbered by Bosnian Muslims (known as Bosniaks). In addition the Kingdom had large Hungarian and Albanian minorities. Not exactly a recipe for stability, as was demonstrated when on a state visit to France in 1934 the King was assassinated in Marseilles by Croat separatists.
The German and Italian invasion of Yugoslavia in 1941 led to its disintegration. An independent state of Croatia was established controlled by the Ustase, an extreme Croat nationalist movement led by Ante Pavelic, whose aim was to produce an ethnically pure Croat state targeting Serbs, Roma and Jews. Concentration camps were set up, the most notorious being Jasenovac. The Serb minority in Croatia, concentrated in the Krajina and Eastern Slavonia, was terrorised and massacres took place, with as many as 200,000 Serbs killed. The northern Serb province of Vojvodina was occupied by Hungary. Civil war erupted in Serbia and Bosnia between a collaborationist Royalist regime, Serb nationalists (known as Chetniks) and Communist partisans led by Tito. Communist support grew as the War progressed and when German and Italian forces withdrew in 1945 Tito`s forces took control of the whole country and carried out violent reprisals against collaborators, Ustase and anti-Communists.
Tito ruled Yugoslavia until his death in May 1980. Under the slogan “Brotherhood and Unity” he hoped to overcome national divisions by establishing Communist administrations in Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro, Macedonia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia, under the authority of a central government in the Serb capital Belgrade. Serb influence was further diluted within Serbia itself by the creation of separate administrations in Vojvodina and Kosovo. Under Tito`s iron hand this appeared to work well. Having broken with Stalin in 1948 Tito assumed leadership of Non-Aligned countries affiliated with neither the U.S.A. nor the Soviet Union, thereby giving Yugoslavia a prominent role on the world stage. Industrialisation, worker participation in state-run companies and the rapid growth of a tourist industry on the Dalmatian coast of Croatia produced apparent stability and relative prosperity in the 1960s. The re-emergence of nationalism in the Croatian Communist Party in the early 1970s was countered by the imprisonment of its leaders. However the economy faltered in the 1970s. Prosperity was unevenly spread, with Slovenia and Croatia resenting subsidising the other republics. Albanian unrest simmered in Kosovo. There were growing fears that Yugoslavia might not survive after Tito`s death.
Tito
Was its collapse inevitable? I do not think so, but the circumstances certainly existed for ambitious nationalist politicians to exploit. The atrocities committed in the 1940s were well within the living memories of millions and passed on to their children and grandchildren. As economic problems grew worse in the 1980s it was Yugoslavia`s tragedy that such politicians emerged, notably Slobodan Milosevic, who became Head of the Serb Communist Party in 1986, and Franjo Tudjman in Croatia. The first crisis erupted in Kosovo, where demonstrations by the Albanian majority against discrimination by the Serb-dominated administration led to counter-demonstrations by Serbs. Milosevic visited Kosovo and championed the cause of the Serbs, making him a nationalist hero not only in Serbia itself but amongst the large Serb minorities in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia. Predictably, this in turn produced a counter-reaction. By mid-1990 both Slovenia and Croatia were threatening to secede from Yugoslavia, followed shortly afterwards by Bosnia-Herzegovina. Albanians in Kosovo demonstrated for the right to secede from Serbia. Old hatreds were being re-kindled. The result was a decade of warfare and ethnic cleansing involving the deaths of hundreds of thousands and atrocities not seen in Europe since the end of the Second World War, ended only by the intervention of NATO forces in 1995 to end the war in Bosnia and again in 1999 to bring hostilities in Kosovo to an end.
Why was this? Slovenia`s secession in 1991 was almost bloodless because it was homogenously Slovene, but this was not the case in either Croatia or Bosnia. Almost 40% of Serbs lived outside Serbia as minorities in either Croatia or Bosnia. This didn`t matter as long as they remained all together in Yugoslavia However, when in 1990 Croatia elected a government led by Franjo Tudjman`s HDZ party committed to independence, Serbs who formed a majority in the Krajina region of Croatia, backed by Milosevic`s government in Belgrade and the predominantly Serb Yugoslav Army, declared their own secession from Croatia. For them, Croat nationalism meant the Ustase, and the hatred and fanaticism can only be understood in the context of memories of the 1940s. Sporadic fighting in that region continued until August 1995, when the Croatian Army, trained and equipped by the U.S., recaptured the region in Operation Storm. The Serb population fled in their cars and tractors and were eventually re-settled as refugees in Serbia proper. There was also extensive fighting between Serbs and Croats in the Eastern Slavonia region of Croatia, eventually settled by the Dayton Peace Agreement (see later) in December 1995.
Milosevic`s aim was to bring together all Serbs in former Yugoslavia in the same state. Inevitably this involved conflict with non-Serbs in both Croatia and Bosnia, which declared its own independence in April 1992. Fearing minority status under Bosniak (Muslim) rule, Bosnian Serbs set up their own state, Republika Srpska. elected their own President, Radovan Karadzic, who in turn appointed Ratko Mladic as commander of a Bosnian Serb Army which commenced a 3 year bombardment and siege of the Bosnian capital Sarajevo (where a memorable Winter Olympics had been held as recently as 1984). Some 20% of Bosnia was predominantly Croat. For a year Croats and Bosniaks fought side by side against the Serbs, but in the spring of 1993 the Croats changed sides, Tudjman and Milosevic plotting together to divide Bosnia into Serb and Croat regions at Bosniak expense. In 1994, under U.S. pressure, the Croats changed sides again in return for U.S. backing for an independent state of Croatia. Finally in August 1995, after the massacre of some 8000 Bosniak men and boys by Mladic`s Serb forces in Srebrenica, NATO decided that enough was enough and intervened militarily to bring the siege of Sarajevo to an end and force the warring factions to the conference table at an airbase in Dayton Ohio.
Milosevic
Dayton brought the wars in Croatia and Bosnia to an end. Yugoslavia was no more, replaced by Independent Republics in Serbia, Slovenia, Croatia, Montenegro and Macedonia (recently re-named Northern Macedonia). Bosnia was divided into two regions, Republika Srpska and a Bosniak-Croat Federation. It did not, however, deal with the problem of Kosovo. For Serbs it was their historic heartland which for them had an almost mystical significance. The Albanian majority, however, had had enough of Serb repression. A guerrilla force the K.L.A. carried out attacks on Serb targets, to which Milosevic`s forces responded with increasing ferocity. Historically Serbia had always looked to Russia for support, but Boris Yeltsin`s Russia was at a low ebb in the 1990s and humanitarian demands for western intervention against Serbia grew. NATO bombardment of Belgrade and other Serb targets in the spring of 1999 again brought Milosevic to the conference table and an independent state of Kosovo was set up. Thus by 1999 what had been a united Yugoslavia in 1990 had been replaced by seven separate states.
The three-part PBS documentary covers all of this in graphic detail and provides a valuable and objective guide to this complex unravelling of a country. German re-unification and the collapse of Communist regimes in the Soviet satellite states had been almost bloodless. The reason why this was not the case in former Yugoslavia is a combination of historic conflicts, populist nationalist politicians and the indifference of the rest of Europe until it was almost too late.
Slovenia and Croatia are now members of the European Union. Serbia, Montenegro, North Macedonia and Kosovo are all candidates for accession. Bosnia has not yet met the conditions for membership and its future is uncertain.
Henry Falconer
Tito photo credit: Unknown authorUnknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
