This play that caused a furore needs more fizz
Theatre Rare Earth Mettle Royal Court, London SW1
★★★★★
Al Smith’s satirically oriented new play concerns competing quests to obtain and exploit lithium in South America. And, true to chemical type, it has proved highly combustible in coming into contact with the oxygen of publicity – and scrutiny.
There was much outrage, initially online, at the name – Hershel Fink originally given to one of its lithiumpursuant protagonists, an entrepreneurial US billionaire in the Elon Musk mould. It was seized on as sounding Jewish, therefore open to an anti-semitic reading, even though the character wasn’t, we were told, Jewish.
The potential issue was missed by the Royal Court, despite Rare Earth Mettle having long been in the pipeline. That name got swiftly changed, to Henry Finn; there have been apologies, admissions of “unconscious bias”, and vows to do better, etc. Setting the incendiary backstage drama to one side, the main problem here is insipidity. The “Fink” debacle suggests a wider issue with the script and the evening, running at over three hours, feels under-edited.
The undeniably topical subject is little less than the future of the planet, the handling of its resources and the health (mental and physical) of those in the developed and developing world. Alighting on the surreal-sounding, yet in fact real, location of a “train cemetery” – a barren landscape full of old, decaying trains – on the edge of the world’s largest salt flats, in Uyuni, Bolivia, Smith attempts to crystalise a battle of wills and needs.
Doctor Who’s Arthur Darvill’s gung-ho and gawky Finn is first seen trying to strike up a conversation with a mistrustful local tourist guide, Carlo Alban’s Kimsa.
Finn is the archetypal (American) idiot abroad, but he’s got more than a fistful of traveller’s cheques. He’ll pay handsomely for lithium extraction rights, to enable the mass affordable production of a new electric vehicle. Already on site and attempting to obstruct his plans is a British health research centre director (Genevieve
O’reilly’s aloof Anna), tending to Kimsa’s sick daughter but angling for lithium herself, to sneak into the drinking water of depressed folk in Stockport ( just the start of her plan).
Bizarrely enough, scientific proposals of that ilk have indeed been circulating, while – evidently – the global stampede is gathering pace for lithium. But however well researched the evening is, and steeped in the ostensible complexity of mixed motives (self-advancement versus the greater good), an air of thematic contrivance prevails and the characterisation feels flimsy.
There’s too little sense of authenticity on the Bolivian side, which includes a rising and wily female politico, and even on the US side, with copious facile interactions between Finn and his jargon-spouting team of image-makers, ever more alarmed at his costly antics.
Darvill commendably proves his mettle, tilting between an assumed slacker levity and a madly obsessive fixity. He just about engages our sympathy, and – sporting some naff items – our gaze, but none of the cast is helped by a drab set that suggests locations using cut-out-style scenic items. Director Hamish Pirie keeps things motoring along – perking the mood up with concertedly quirky, between-scenes bouts of movement – but it still inclines to plod. Lithium may quieten people’s moods but it’s also renowned for effervescence. This could have done without that furore, but it badly needs more fizz.