The greatest flaw of British post-war drama is arguably its unabating commitment to realism. While on the continent dramatists such as Samuel Beckett, Berthold Brecht, Eugene Ionesco or Jean Genet were breaking the boundaries of drama with radical new forms and theories, Britain was already unsettled by the likes of Osborne. Even as innovations such as the Verfremdungseffekt and Theatre of the Absurd were challenging theatrical conventions, the most revolutionary thing to hit the British stage was kitchen-sink drama.
There have of course been notable exceptions. Beckett—though Irish—is hugely influential and highly acclaimed in Britain. Beckett, though, does not easily fall into the category of realism, so he is simply placed outside the canon and taught as a “modern classic”. Waiting for Godot, Endgame and Happy Days are constantly revived; no doubt because they are his most realist plays. But when was the last time you saw a production of Not I or Ohio Impromptu?
Pinter falls into the same category. His early, more realist pieces are a respected part of British theatrical history, but the shorter, more experimental and extremely political plays are either ignored or misunderstood. Pinter seemed to lose appeal as “In-yer-face theatre” (yet another “dangerous” and groundbreaking era in British theatre that is at best another rehash of kitchen-sink realism with more swearing and dead babies) arose. He was relegated to the sidelines as Ravenhill and Kane made headlines. At the same time, he became increasingly critical of American foreign policy and New Labour, something the theatre establishment did not want to hear. When Pinter won the Nobel Prize in 2005, it put British theatre in an uncomfortable position. As a result there has been a notable increase of Pinter revivals across the country. What is being put on? The Birthday Party, The Dumb Waiter and The Caretaker, of course.
It is in this tradition that I would place Caryl Churchill. Most of her early work, such as Cloud 9 and Top Girls, was already challenging many theatrical conventions still prevalent in British theatre in the 1960s and ‘70s. She too is granted the dubious status of “modern classic”: not quite a part of the canon but undeniably influential and therefore even taught in schools. Churchill is generally regarded as a socialist feminist, with the politics of power—especially in regard to women’s equality—a theme in almost all of her plays.
Yet Churchill only becomes really interesting after 1990. Along with more extreme theatrical experimentation, she begins to become more political. With the fall of the “Iron Curtain”, many left-wing intellectuals’ dreams of an alternative to capitalism faded. For Churchill, it marks an important change in her dramatic writing. Her first play post-1990 was Mad Forest, a three-act play focusing on the fall of the communist regime in Romania. While much of the play is naturalistic, Mad Forest also has some completely surreal sequences, unlike most of her early plays. A scene that best exemplifies her use of surrealism is one in which a dog meets a vampire.

VAMPIRE
I came here for the revolution, I could smell it a mile off. […] Nobody knew who was doing the killing, I could come up behind a man in a crowd.

DOG
Good times.

VAMPIRE
There’s been a lot of good times over the years

What at first seems to be a rather abstract master/slave narrative takes on entirely new meanings when set in the Romanian context: Dracula is the founder of modern Romania and a national hero. The abstract—i.e. non-realist—symbolism is easily decoded. The dog represents the Romanian people, looking for a new leader after the old regime has been toppled. Tragically it chooses a parasitic leader, not so different from its predecessor.
While much of Churchill’s earlier work is indebted to Brecht—both politically and theatrically—I would argue that Mad Forest can be regarded as “post-Brechtian” in its subversion of the scene headings pioneered by Brecht. An opening stage direction instructs: “Each scene is announced by one of the company reading from a phrasebook as if an English tourist, first in Romanian, then in English and again in Romanian”. Some of these headings are straightforward Brechtian summaries of, or introductions to, the scene, while others seemingly have nothing to do with what follows. For example, a scene in which there is a stereotypical eastern European queue for food is entitled, “We are buying meat.” The irony is that no one is in fact buying any meat; it instead becomes a scene of rebellion. In another chilling scene, when the Securitate (the Romanian secret police) are interrogating the father of one of the two families at the centre of the play, the heading is “Two men sitting in the sun.”
It is precisely this irony that defines Churchill’s subversion of Brechtian convention and politics. The point of the headings, as argued by Brecht, is to summarise and explain the scene so that the audience is not distracted by the plot and can be critical of the characters and their actions. However, Churchill also highlights the tension between scene heading and scene. Thus, when the scene heading has seemingly nothing to do with the actual plot, the audience begins to question the subtext of the scene that follows.
In 1999, Churchill took this concept even further with This Is A Chair. Consisting of eight stand-alone scenes, each again with a heading that at first seems to have no connection with what actually follows. This is an entire scene:

Pornography and Censorship

FATHER, MOTHER and MURIEL at dinner.

FATHER
Is Muriel going to eat her dinner?

MOTHER
Yes, eat up, Muriel.

FATHER
Have a special bite of daddy’s.

MOTHER
Yes, eat up, Muriel.

FATHER
Muriel, if you don’t eat your dinner you know what’s going to happen to you.

MOTHER
Yes, eat up, Muriel.

The heading seems to have absolutely nothing to do with the scene, but the juxtaposition of the scene and heading raises certain questions: who is being censored? The girl or the mother? Is “pornography” alluding to the father’s threat in some way? What makes it even more confusing is that the same exact scene is later replayed, but under the heading “The Northern Ireland Peace Process.” It is only when the scenes are re-examined in relation to the headings that the political connotations become apparent. Churchill is using what I call a post-Brechtian technique to present the macro political in the micro political. However, unlike Brecht who was following a clear socialist agenda and wanted to make audiences politically aware, Churchill simply shows that politics are a part of everyday life. What those politics may be is left open for interpretation. Thus it is precisely Churchill’s non-realist—post-Brechtian if you like—theatricality that conveys political awareness. Her plays go further than Brecht’s, both theatrically and politically.
Churchill also increasingly began to experiment with language after 1990. The Skriker (1994) is a surreal look at English myths. The fairies’ underworld and our world are inextricably linked—the environmental damage humans have done is destroying their world too. Motivated by revenge and a lust for human blood, the Skriker, a shape shifter, lures first Josie then Lily to the underworld. Just as the Skriker is described as “ancient and damaged”, so too is its language; a Joycean word association stream of consciousness that even the Skriker seems unable to control.

SKRIKER
Wars whores hips hip hoorays it to the ground glass. Drought rout out and about turn off. Sunburn sunbeam in your eye socket to him. All good many come to the aids party. When I go uppity, follow a fellow on a dark road dank ride and jump thrump out and eat him how does he taste? toxic waste paper basket case, salmonelephantiasis, blue blood bad blood blad blood blah blah blah.

Here too, Churchill uses theatrical innovation, creating a unique language to convey politics. In its surrealism, The Skriker is at once a critique of environmental, family, mental health and feminist politics. Blue Heart (1997) continues her linguistic experimentation. Comprising two short plays, Heart’s Desire and Blue Kettle, it deals with family politics and identity. In Heart’s Desire, a short scene in which two parents wait for the return of their daughter is replayed over and over again, with slightly alternative endings. At the end of each version, the scene is reset. In Blue Kettle a con man tricks old women into believing he’s their son. Over the course of the play the words “blue” and “kettle” are substituted for other words, then reduced, until all that is left is an explosion of plosives:

MRS PLANT
K k no relation. K name k John k k? K k k dead k k k believe a word. K k Derek.

DEREK
K, t see blue.

MRS PLANT
T b k k k k l?

In 2006, Churchill returned from family to global politics with Drunk Enough To Say I Love You?, a play about the stages of a couple’s relationship in the language of British and American foreign policy:

JACK
explosion at the embassy

SAM
fuck, fuck do something

JACK
stop shouting at me because

SAM
on my side?

In Drunk Enough To Say I Love You?, Churchill uses formal experimentation as a dramatisation of political discourse more overtly than in any of her previous plays. However, I believe that Churchill— more than any other active playwright of her generation—breaks free from the prevalent and restrictive mode of realist playwriting. Unfortunately, the plays that are revived most frequently are her early plays; precisely the plays that I would argue are far less experimental and provocative. Unlike many other writers, Churchill constantly challenges the theatrical status quo with her innovations. Rather than shocking for the sake of shocking, Churchill challenges the audience’s preconceptions and complicity. In doing so, she not only pushes the boundaries of theatre further, but also takes political discourse into the theatrical space, which—at least in Britain—has become so rare.