Mike Bartlett's new play is a sprawling companion to Earthquakes in London, which was staged at the National Theatre last year, and it addresses familiar themes: protest, justice, conflict, coincidence and the malaise of contemporary Britain.
But the main concern of 13 is belief and the questioning of belief: in traditional forms of religion and radical alternatives, atheism, family, the rewards of books, the democratic possibilities of the internet, capitalism and political conviction. The last of these is embodied in the values of Conservative prime minister Ruth - who has to decide how to deal with the prospect of Iran acquiring a nuclear warhead - and in the strident opposition she faces.
This antagonism is coolly articulated by John (the excellent Trystan Gravelle), a young man returning home after a period of self-imposed exile.
Initially looking like a grubby nonentity, he turns out to be an inspiring evangelist. His
new gospel promotes belief in the idea of belief itself, and around him there forms a body of 12 disciples, whose fundamental connection is a shared nightmare. Together they make 13. The seductions of John's speeches are an apt reminder of the dangers posed by messianic figures. At the same time we're challenged to ask whether belonging to a group or a tribe is a dereliction of individual responsibility.
There is a huge amount to admire in Bartlett's writing. But its disparate strands don't coalesce satisfyingly. The first half is intriguingly complicated; in the second, which almost feels as if it is a different play, the intricacies are resolved in a fashion that's too static and reliant on discursive rhetoric.
Director Thea Sharrock marshals a large cast effectively. Her production, featuring a spectacular design by Tom Scutt, makes generous use of the Olivier's revolve to create a whirl of activity. Yet it's less audacious than it should be, and often the action feels too remote.
There's some nice work from Geraldine James as the PM, steely but with vulnerability underneath, and from Danny Webb as her guru, while Adam James excels as an obnoxious solicitor surprised by the power of prayer.
The result is a memorable essay in widescreen theatre. Politically, it feels naïve. Some of the material appears overstretched, and some seems underdeveloped. But Bartlett's ambition is distinctive and immense.
Until January 8 (020 7452 3000, nationaltheatre.org.uk)
13
National Theatre: Olivier
South Bank, SE1 9PX
