A powerful drama about the discovery of a wall painting in a church in an unspecified Balkan state shortly after the Balkan War. The painting may or may not be the inspiration for Giotto, or it may, less excitingly, simply be a modified copy of Giotto. The play opens as Gabriella Pecs of the National Museum and Oliver Davenport, a visiting art historian, are inspecting it. Each has their reason for wanting to be involved with its recovery, she for personal and nationalistic reasons, Oliver mostly because the discovery of a work that may have inspired Giotto would stand to enhance his credibility in the art world.
They are not, however, the only people who have an interest in it. Two local priests (one Orthodox, the other Catholic), the Minister for the Restoration of National Monuments, a right-wing nationalist politician, an American professor of art history specialising in international controversies and the acquisition of art works, and a member of the State Judiciary also want their say in the painting’s fate. Thus part of the play is about the ownership of works of art and the relationship between art and a sense of nationhood and a sense of religious hegemony. It also offers some insight into the specialist world of art history and the controversies associated with provenance and dating.
But at the end of Act 1, the play introduces a second element into its area of concern, that of the plight of refugees and asylum seekers displaced by economic desperation, political persecution, war, a sense of alienation, of people looking for a safe haven and a less uncertain life. Into the church come a party of such people: a Turkish-speaking Afghan, a Palestinian, a Bosnian, a Kurd, a Russian, a Sri Lankan, a gypsy man and a gypsy girl (who speak Russian and a kind of Polish) who may or may not have Hungarian or Serbian nationality, and a couple of fluent Russian speaking men who may or may not be Russian. They have no interest in the painting unless it can be used as a bargaining chip for their being given sanctuary or asylum.
These situations produce plenty of confrontational drama, but also address serious political questions about part of the world which, to UK audiences, is unimaginably complicated. This is dramatically demonstrated partly by the use of multiple languages – I don’t know if the production was surtitled – and partly by several well integrated passages in which the country’s and region’s history is spoken of. Several passages give the different nationalities a chance to describe their difficulties and to dispel Western Europe’s prejudices and ignorance, often with tolerant, but heavy irony.
The Tower of Babel, unsurprisingly therefore, features as a central image in the play, and the title, ‘Pentecost’ refers of course to the occasion when Christ’s disciples were visited by the Holy Spirit and filled with the gift of tongues. The painting being uncovered depicts the descent from the cross, the preface to the resurrection. But in this play, there is little sign of resurrection or the unifying strength of religion as proposed by Pentecost’s resolution to the Babel problem. Understanding between peoples remains an ongoing human project.
I found it difficult to warm to any of the characters apart perhaps Gabriella, and, for his realism, Czaba, the Minister. Leo Katz, the bullish over-confident American, I took a dislike to, and the refugees, being desperate, were not in a position to present themselves to their best advantage. What Edgar did do well for me was to engage me in following a complicated set of circumstances and a complicated variety of points of view. The language problem also throws up several moments of comedy, and the text smacks of the same kind of intelligent intensity that you get with Stoppard, but, for me, it was a more easily accessible script.
A really impressive piece. A small nightmare for actors who are not native speakers of Slavic languages, I imagine. The original cast must have enjoyed a mega-party at the end of their run.