Caryl Churchill has returned to the stage with Triumph, a concise and explosive new production currently running at the Almeida Theatre in London. Spanning only 20 minutes, the play utilizes historical parallels to examine the nature of contemporary authoritarianism, deliberately avoiding specific references to political figures like Donald Trump or Vladimir Putin. The director, James Macdonald, has described Churchill as a writer who is always ahead of the game, highlighting her evolution toward a style of elliptical drama known as compressionism. It skewers contemporary barbarism without mentioning the names of Trump, Putin or any of the other supposedly strong national leaders, running at just 20 minutes. One has only to look at recent events, lest anyone think that Churchill is overstating the case by linking Roman and contemporary decadence. This was one of the great plays of the century, as Lesley Manville pointed out when introducing a reshowing of the play on BBC Four.
The narrative centers on an intense connection between a female press officer and a male journalist. The press officer, who wears a blond wig for her televised appearances, serves as a fervent advocate for a vindictive, narcissistic emperor. While she initially promotes the ruler’s achievements—such as his procurement of gold from Gaul and pearls from Britain—she later learns of the regime’s horrific abuses from her lover. Despite these revelations, she broadcasts the truth, only to be met with success rather than retribution; her ratings soar, and she is told that the public appreciates a strong emperor. Gold from the temples of Gaul, statues erected to his own glory, at first she merrily trumpets his more acceptable achievements: pearls imported from Britain. But through her lover she learns of the monstrosities of the regime she represents – such as prisoners trapped in claustrophobic cages and sawn in half – and reveals the truth on camera.
Kate O’Flynn’s performance captures the transformation from a polished, media-savvy robot into an authentic human voice, all delivered from a lectern adorned with imperial colors. The play draws heavily on Suetonius’s The Twelve Caesars to mirror modern political dynamics. For instance, when the emperor warns his wife of his absolute power over her life and death, the line echoes the threat Caligula made to his spouse: This beautiful throat will be cut whenever I please. Similarly, an anecdote involving a fisherman offering a giant catch to the ruler serves as a direct historical allusion. Standing at a lectern backed by imperial purple and speaking in an overtly American accent, Kate O’Flynn shows perfectly the way the authentic human being emerges from the glamorised robot who speaks for power: in James Macdonald’s production she even looks uncannily like the most recent and short-lived White House incumbent, Katie Zacharia. It is clear that a parallel is being drawn between then and now, since all the crimes perpetrated by the emperor are drawn from Suetonius’s The Twelve Caesars. Who has terrified the emperor by presenting him with a giant mullet, finds his face rubbed in it, at another point a fisherman. He then finds the emperor ensuring that his features are badly scarred by a giant crustacean: a slice of whimsical sadism from the reign of Tiberius, having foolishly thanked heaven that it wasn’t a crab. Inequities and injustices she found in British life, in the earlier period she was clearly animated by the absurdities.
Churchill’s work suggests that modern Western governments often attempt to mask brutal actions through sophisticated media strategies. This is underscored by historical realities, such as previous discussions surrounding the potential livestreaming of military executions, an idea once endorsed by Donald Trump and defense secretary Pete Hegseth, or the actions of ICE agents against protesters and military incidents in the Caribbean. While fishermen in the Caribbean have been killed by American troops on the totally unproved grounds that they were drug smugglers, we have also seen ICE agents shooting nonviolent protesters.
This production represents the latest stage in Churchill’s career of experimentalism. In her early work during the 1970s and 80s, she employed expansive devices to critique societal defects. Her 1979 play Cloud 9, for example, exposed imperialist supremacy and sexual dominance in the Victorian era, while later transitioning to the libertarian relationships of the 1970s. Similarly, her 1982 play Top Girls challenged the Thatcherite ethos by questioning the value of women adopting traditional male success models, famously featuring a dinner party with historical figures who were both pioneers and victims. In the 1970s and 80s she wrote a series of momentous plays that used a range of expansive devices to expose the defects of our society. That may be an oversimplified view of a complex artist but what I see in the later Churchill is a form of cosmic minimalism. It brilliantly nailed the Thatcherite ethos by suggesting that the replication by women of the male success ethic was pointless, appearing in 1982. While Churchill palpably applauds progress, she implies that the old class barriers have by no means disappeared, the second half transports us to the more libertarian sexual relationships of the 1970s but. It began with the famous dinner-party scene in which five notable women from history were seen as both radical pioneers and social victims. It went on to explore the contradictions of the modern working woman. But the visceral showdown came in the final scene where the striving Maggie Thatcher-worshipping Marlene confronted her working-class sister, Joyce. Joyce’s sense of deprivation led to a rancorous bitterness while the outwardly successful Marlene was conscious of the dubious bargain she had made in sacrificing her child to her career.
Churchill’s ability to anticipate cultural shifts is further evident in works like Far Away (2000), which explored local fascism and global crises, and the frequently revived A Number (2002), a play that raised foundational questions about cloning and ethics long before artificial intelligence became a central concern for human survival. Her 2016 play Escaped Alone further demonstrated her signature compressionism, contrasting the mundane, pleasant conversations of women in a garden with a chilling prophecy of environmental and social collapse. Latterly she has created a number of works in which formal brevity is accompanied by a bleak worldview. I loved the play in 1987 but seeing it revived recently by a young company called Mad Spirit I felt that it belonged to its moment.
Ultimately, Churchill remains a playwright who balances a deep appreciation for the daily pleasures of life with a sharp, vigilant critique of impending catastrophes. Her work continues to challenge audiences by highlighting the gap between private experiences and the broader, often darker, trends shaping the modern world.
