Despite their obvious similarities, adapting between stage and screen is not as straightforward a process as it may seem. Though both are essentially driven by dramatised action, the languages with which they do this differ in subtle ways that do not necessarily translate easily from one medium to another. There have been a number of successful adaptations from theatre to cinema, but the reverse is much trickier, in particular the ways in which theatre struggles to replicate the rhythm of editing and the realist nature of film environments. Something needs to shift and change in the process, but the trick is creating something that feels uniquely theatrical without relinquishing the core principles of the original.
In this regards, the National Theatre's 2024 stage adaptation of Stanley Kubrick's legendary 1964 comedy 'Dr. Strangelove: or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb' (shortened for stage to 'Dr. Strangelove'), is a failure on every front. Its theatricality is perfunctory and without surprise, it uses the original film and screenplay as a map rather than a blueprint and, by the end, seems to have even less to say than the film does, even 60 years later. What's all the more frustrating, coupled with this missed opportunity, is the calibre of the artists involved. You can't shake the feeling that they should have known - and done - better.
'Dr. Strangelove' maintains the original story, that of a rogue U.S. Brigadier General, Jack D. Ripper (John Hopkins, 'Masters of the Air'), ordering a nuclear attack on the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Thanks to an endless stream of bureaucracy and arms race-led one-upmanship, the U.S. struggles to call back the planes, bringing the world to the edge of nuclear catastrophe. As with the film, following in the intimidating footsteps of Peter Sellers, the central star (in this case, beloved comic actor Steve Coogan) takes on multiple roles. Not only does Coogan play Sellers' roles of Group Captain Lionel Mandrake (the British officer trying to talk Ripper from the edge), U.S. President Merkin Muffley and ex-Nazi scientist Dr Strangelove, he also (in a little nod to film history) takes on the role Sellers refused to play, that of bomber pilot Major 'King' Kong.
It should be an inspired choice casting Coogan, easily a successor to Sellers - and to his credit, he in no way attempts to replicate Sellers' iconic performances. He finds his own tone and rhythm into the characters, and with Dr. Strangelove in particular, this works nicely. The problem is that so much of this adaptation, from writing to directing to design, gets so thoroughly in his way.
'NT LIVE: DR. STRANGELOVE' TRAILER
The script is co-adapted by the director Sean Foley and award-winning writer Armando Iannucci, creator of 'The Thick of It', 'Veep', 'The Death of Stalin' and 'The Personal History of David Copperfield'. Iannucci's involvement in particular makes this adaptation an exciting prospect, with his past work delivering some of the sharpest, meanest and most astute political satire of the last 20 years. It's intriguing to consider what he might make of Kubrick, Terry Southern and Peter George's legendary screenplay. Unfortunately, the answer is... not much. What becomes apparent very quickly is that Iannucci is not in his comfort zone here. Most of his previous work is built on a foundation of improvisation, creating a sense of controlled chaos that results in unexpected, immediate anarchy. Ironically, this isn't that dissimilar to how Kubrick approached the film. With a production this technical though, with so many moving parts and the necessity to cover Coogan's elaborate costume changes, there's no room for improvisation and anarchy.
Instead, what we get is a stilted, obvious script, where the subtleties of the film's humour and its embrace of the maniacal are watered down to nothing. A perfect example is the names of the characters. They are all ridiculous, but at no point does the film point this out. The most ridiculous is the hapless Colonel 'Bat' Guano, who mistakenly tries to arrest Mandrake. In the film, all we get from Sellers as a reaction to the name is a confused look. In the stage production, the name is not only explained, the explanation is repeated as nauseam by a number of characters. This happens time and time again, the script feeling the need to unpack and explain jokes that never needed to be unpacked in the first place. This might seem like a petty complaint, but it's indicative of two bigger issues with the production - that comic timing and rhythm is wasted on unnecessary moments of exposition and the insistence on dragging a joke out until it's done to death, and that the production inherently does not trust its audience to understand what is happening in front of them.
Again, to give credit where it is due, the script doesn't simply recreate the structure of the screenplay. The reveal of Major Kong is saved until the start of the second act, with the first moving between Ripper and the War Room, but this does also rob the script of its immediacy. We aren't aware of the additional mechanisms making the possibility of cancelling the mission impossible, the sense of a ticking clock. In fact, there's almost no immediacy in the script at all, the sense of impending doom. We're still watching a bunch of idiots throw petty fist fights at one another while they bring about the end of the world, but the danger is absent.
There's also a strange stiltedness about the performances, almost all of which seem like deer caught in a headlight. Most lines are delivered to the audience, bodies stiff as boards, with little suggestion of connection or relationship between the characters.
It's here that the production inherits the problems of the script and doubles down on them, Foley setting a laborious pace where there seems to be a pause for a laugh after every line, let alone every joke. With each passing pause, we fall further and further into a stupor, forced to be a few steps ahead of the comedy. There's also a strange stiltedness about the performances, almost all of which seem like deer caught in a headlight. Most lines are delivered to the audience, bodies stiff as boards, with little suggestion of connection or relationship between the characters. What is so breathtaking about the film are the sparks erupting between the cast as they smash into one another. It's rare for any character in this production to be less than a metre away from everyone else. It's clear that Foley and Iannucci are going for a different tone here, something more akin to 'Dad's Army', but it lacks the rigour to even make that work.
Perhaps what is most disappointing about this 'Strangelove' is that it never justifies why this perfect film needed to be adapted to stage. In fact, the worst thing about this production is that it proves there is a great stage adaptation of the film possible, but this isn't it. The modern resonances are made thunderously obvious when they would have been clear without spelling them out, replacing the sense of impending doom with an induced knowing chuckle from the audience, the equivalent to giving them a nudge and a wink. We aren't being faced with anything, just handed it on a platter, making us a wholly inactive audience rather than an invested, active one. And then there are the direct nods to the film that make no sense at all, in particular the music. Why on earth start with a rousing performance of 'Try A Little Tenderness' if you aren't going to give us a series of visual sexual innuendos to justify the use of the song, the way the film uses the song over the footage of planes refuelling mid-air (A.K.A. having sex)? Without replicating its intended use, the song feels incongruous and irrelevant. The same can be said of the ending, where 'We'll Meet Again' seems to come from nowhere rather than being one last sardonic punchline. This adaptation commits two of the most grievous sins of an adaptation - to make changes to the original work that do not justify it, distinguish it or offer a new perspective, and to simply replicate things from the original because.
When reviewing these National Theatre Live recordings, one has to ask oneself whether the experience would have been better in the theatre itself, the production a living and breathing entity in front of you. In the case of 'Dr. Strangelove', I doubt even that could have improved the experience. The original 1964 film is a masterpiece of satire, an outrageous comedy about the end of the world where you have to laugh in order to stop yourself going mad. It's a furious, angry, terrified, maniacal, borderline insane work of art. All those qualities could have been reimagined here for the stage if this adaptation had something new to say or some immediate reason to bring this work of art to the stage. Unfortunately, everything about this production is so perfunctory, so inert, so unimaginative, that not only does little of the power of the original carry over, but you're left feeling wholly apathetic.
This is a production that has nothing to say other than how silly people in power can be and to poke fun at them. That isn't what Kubrick intended in 1964, and as we now sit watching the world slide towards a new oblivion, where in the process of laughing at our own silly men in power, we ourselves gave them the means to blow up the world, this pointless adaptation of 'Dr. Strangelove' feels all the more misguided.
