Read time: 3 mins
Have you ever imagined yourself as a guard in a concentration camp? Have you ever thought about what would have to happen, the intellectual and moral corruption that would have to be inflicted upon you and that you’d have to inflict upon yourself? Have you ever considered under what circumstances you would feel able or compelled to participate in evil?
Good is a play about that. It follows the story of John Halder who is a novelist and literary professor in Frankfurt at the beginning of Hitler’s rise to power. It’s told through the lens of his relationships – with his mother, his wife, his best friend, his lover and the members of the national socialists he encounters.
At first glance, Halder is a good man. He is patient and loving. He is understanding and listens. Whether it’s his compassion towards his senile, sometimes suicidal ramblings of his blind mother, or his reiteration of his love for his wife in the face of her airy aloofness and mental illness, or the soothing of the anxiety of his persecuted friend Maurice, a German Jew – he seems to be present and attentive. Except for one thing. Halder has a running soundtrack in his mind, one of classical music that changes based on his context. This soundtrack accompanies him and the audience throughout the play).
“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” – Henry David Throeau
As the play continues, we begin to meet more people. Firstly, Anne, an avid student. She is young, intelligent and seductive and Halder falls for her. Then, an “Oberleader” of the Nazi Party, interested in Halder’s novel (which, it transpires, is a book in support of euthanasia and one potentially motivated by the suicidal tendencies of his mother). Halder is inspired to join the party. At a decadent rally, he meets Freddie, a strong and motivational member of the SS.
The play is an examination of how Nazism played on people’s weaknesses, our preference for status quo, our desire for love, for fulfilment, for approval and status. It used these very human weaknesses to turn otherwise intelligent people towards tyranny. The play shows this by contrasting Halder’s initial dependent relationships (his mother, friend and wife) at the start of the play with seductive and powerful characters we meet later on. Halder begins the play a committed and dutiful character. He is self-absorbed, true, but he understands commitment, love and friendship. Then he is seduced. The new characters begin by undermining his personal relationships – the buxom Anne who steals Halder away from his family with high fantasy of living in a cabin the woods. Then, he is seduced further – the “Oberleader” in the Nazi party who flatters Halder, sharing handwritten notes from the Fuhrer and Goebbels about his books. He is asked to weigh in, to ensure that there is “humanity” included what is evidently the initial stages of the holocaust. Then, he meets Freddie, a charismatic and powerful member of the SS who appeals to Halder’s desire for status and encourages him to join up. Eventually Freddie tells him to destroy the very things that bought Halder comfort and notoriety in the first place – his books.
Together, the new characters undermine his core values. These moments are depicted in the play with the stage equivalent of a “smash cut” – from casual meetings about how Halder can help in the Nazi’s euthanasia process (an obvious euphemism for the final solution), to his progressively more distant and panicked meetings with his “only real friend” and source of morality in the play – the German Jew Maurice – who begs for an illegal travel pass for him and his family – to no avail. Halder is soon asked by Freddie, who always sits powerfully, legs set firmly spread apart, to lead a book burning. The books spill out from a hole on the side of the wall, all over the stage, where they are vigorously thrown into a blazing furnace. The books remain on the floor for the rest of the play; the actors slowly burning more and more of them as Halder sinks further into his new ideology.
Throughout the play, the audience follows Halder’s self-absorption. His reluctance is evident at first, but slowly is replaced by indifference. The finale of the play, Halder and his new wife casually discuss the pogrom that is planned for that night (a reference to the night of Broken Glass). Halder speaks about trying to keep an eye on things, to make sure that things don’t go too far, while Anne helps him dress – black trousers first, followed by knee high boots, a brown shirt and black tie. Finally the unmistakable silhouette of an SS officer’s coat and high brimmed hat. Finally, Halder is tasked to Auschwitz (also the destination of his unfortunate friend, Maurice). As he arrives, classical music begins to play once again. Except this time, the stage opens up and we see a group of prisoners, in striped pyjamas, playing classical music – the only time in the play the audience is able to see the orchestra.
The play is shocking because, for the audience, the descent into evil is so banal and subtle. David Tennant, who plays Halder, fraternizes with evil with a slight anxiety and occasionally cold indifference. But never with outright shock or consternation. He seems keen only on securing an easy life, at all costs.
In terms of the play itself, it’s a master class. There are only 3 actors. David Tennant is Halder throughout, while Elliot Levey and Sharon Small dance between the other characters with grace and ease. There are no costume changes, other than Halder’s donning of the grimly iconic SS officer’s uniform. This means that Levey and Small must portray the intricacies of their characters with acting alone. And they do so wonderfully. Dominic Cooke’s direction sees the use of light and shadow to create a sort of real time “smash cut” effect, interweaving different, often entirely contrasting moments of the story. The warm orange lights at the beginning of the play when Halder is meeting his friend, or the cold, clinical white-blue light when Halder is discussing the “humanity” of the euthanasia process or the flickering flames of the books burnings and Kristallnacht. The final product is an intimate, slightly abstract but uniquely perturbing story.
The play couldn’t be more timely. It’s a warning against the banality of evil. The slow erosion of a society and an individual’s values, a deadly pill coated in seduction, denial, indifference and flattery. Halder’s character is likable. He’s funny. He’s almost childlike and you can’t help but feel for him.
And then the play finishes. And you realise that that guy you liked, the guy who’s jokes you laughed at, the guy who you felt sorry for, the guy you felt compassion for, the guy who you perhaps saw little slithers of yourself in as he traversed the struggles of his life – that guy is actually evil.
In November 2022, KFC ran a promotion. Their message read “It’s memorial day for Kristallnacht! Treat yourself with more tender cheese on your crispy chicken. Now at KFCheese!” The error was corrected within an hour, but is a chilling example of how easy it can be to forget the poignancy of tyranny. You can read more about the story here.
For more on how we can protect ourselves from Tyranny, you can read the summary of Timothy Snyder’s book – On Tyranny, 20 lessons from the 20th Century here.
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