The Stage

Emperor and Galilean

Published Thursday 16 June 2011 at 11:31 by Heather Neill

There is a Roman ambition about this production. Ibsen’s nine-hour, two-part “world-historical drama”, intended to be read rather than staged, has been trimmed by Ben Power into a still-coherent play.

Andrew Scott (Julian), Alexander Vlahos (Maurus), Genevieve O’Reilly (Helena) and Prasanna Puwanarajah (Oribasius) in Emperor and Galilean at the Olivier, National Theatre, London Photo: Catherine Ashmore

Coming between the epic verse dramas and the realism of the later plays, it took years to write and deals with the most fundamental questions of human existence. Ibsen thought it his most important work.

Julian, Emperor from 361 to 363, attempted to renounce Christianity, the religion of the Empire since Constantine, and return to the gods of the Greeks. Battles, intrigues, torture and murder - these are the stuff of historical epic and Paul Brown’s design, making copious use of the drum revolve and screen projections, Jonathan Dove’s music and a cast of more than 50 show what can be done on the Olivier stage.

At the centre is a flawed young man, power-hungry yet genuinely seeking how a person should live. While exploring his psychology, Ibsen also considers the opposition of free will and destiny, of the body and the spirit, the arbitrariness of history (Western civilisation might have worshipped Zeus for millennia), discipline versus joyful creativity (Ibsen was partly reacting against the stultifying mores of his own society) and the dangers of intertwining politics with religion. The continuing relevance of these ideas, as the land over which Julian tramped - the modern Middle East - is in uproar, is clear enough without the underlining by background bombers.

Andrew Scott, scarcely off-stage, brings brilliant, infuriating, brutal Julian to life, while Ian McDiarmid as his mystical advisor Maximus allows full scope for philosophical wrangling. Jonathan Kent’s focused direction justifies this daring enterprise, part of the National Theatre’s Travelex season. Twelve pounds is a small price to pay for this neglected masterpiece.