INTERVIEW: Anders Lustgarten
British playwright Anders Lustgarten, 38, whose searing political plays such as Lampedusa and Black Jesus have gained him wide critical acclaim, makes his RSC debut with The Seven Acts of Mercy. He spoke to Herald arts before opening night
The play is inspired by Caravaggio — how did you first come across him? “When I was about 17 I went on an athletics training trip to Malta — I was semi-professional, running 400 meters. One of the lads in the squad said he’d heard about this famous painting in the cathedral — The Beheading of St John the Baptist, one of Caravaggio’s later paintings. I went and saw it, it’s an incredibly intense, beautiful picture. I fell in love with Caravaggio there and decided to find out more about him.
Obviously the story he has behind him is pretty entertaining as well. He gets in a ruckus and turns the world upside down — making art for the people rather than the traditional financial elite. That’s important, and a very good framing device to look at modern society.
The actual painting of The Seven Acts of Mercy hangs in the Pio Monte della Misericordia Church in Naples, did you make a pilgrimage to see it? And did you know you would write a play based on it? I went to see it two or three years ago before I wrote the play. Naples is a brilliant city, a tough place but with great energy. The intention was always to write a play about this painting. It has incredible scale, and it was the first painting he did after he had killed somebody. It was an interesting point in his career and the style is different: raw, bleak and intense. The painting is naturally dramatic, and he used life models that he interacts and connects with. Again it’s a brilliant framing device — the idea of the seven modern acts of mercy which animates the contemporary heart is a powerful story.
When we first meet Caravaggio in the play he’s a sweary Scouse bloke. It’s funny and shocking, are you being deliberately provocative? Definitely, and it’s deliberately anachronistic. If you are doing something historical… what’s the point in putting it behind glass or making it safe? We tend to sanctify figures from history and make them heroic but obviously Caravaggio is a roughneck; a feisty somewhat scared guy trying to make a new life for himself. You want to make it as immediate and as visceral as possible — and humorous.
Your plays have a message, how do you make sure they are entertaining as well? I don’t really make a plan. Which is probably why I haven’t written for TV or film; there they are very keen that you plot everything out, it’s all controlled because there’s a lot of money at stake. I don’t like to work like that, I like the play to surprise me. I write in drafts; so in subsequent drafts you flesh things out.
The best way to write a play is obviously to have a great story with good characters, humour and interesting dialogue — all the things you want to say are then much more amenable. People don’t just want to listen to a message, they want to be entertained.
How is it working at the RSC? It is by far the best support I’ve ever had. The cast is incredibly committed, and Erica Whyman is the best director I’ve ever worked with. The RSC isn’t somewhere I thought I would end up working; it’s not the obvious space for my kind of work, but they are definitely trying to do new writing that has a purpose. I think that is what is needed right now. Unlike TV and film, which is bureaucratic, with theatre you can just get it done, it has an immediacy. And you can do and say things with relatively little intervention.
We are feeling pretty lucky all of us working on the play right now. The day after the Trump election there was a lot of hugs; it’s a privilege to be working on a play about compassion at a time when compassion is not high on the agenda.
Can drama make a difference? Oh yes. Drama can make a massive difference. Because of the immediacy of the story in front of you, it’s a form of testimony. If there is a story where people are going to food banks, it’s hard for you an audience to ignore that, whereas you can skim over a report in a newspaper. Drama can make more of a difference than politics can at the moment — which is so negative, pessimistic and nasty. Drama is more important now than it’s ever been.
You’ve been hailed by some critics as the next great provocateur playwright, is there a pressure that comes with that? Not at all. I am surprised nobody else is writing plays like this — overtly political plays but that have heart and are quite funny. I’m surprised to have got this far, it wasn’t a masterplan to be a playwright, but as people seem to be enjoying the plays, I’m just going to keep going.
Finally, what was your last act of mercy? Two days ago we were outside the Church Street Townhouse after rehearsals and a lady fell over in the street. She had early onset Alzheimer’s, and was losing control of her physical functions. She was scared and also ashamed to be asking for help, she kept apologising and was crying. So there were a few of us telling her it wasn’t her fault and keeping her calm, telling her people cared. We got her a wheelchair and took her into The Falcon for a cup of tea. It feels nice when you can do that for other human beings.
The Seven Acts of Mercy runs until 10th February. Book tickets here
