The Banality of Evil,
The Arcola Theatre, London,
Written and directed by Julia Pascal
Cast: Ariella Barnett, Pat Dynowska, Anna Eckhard, Helen Goldwyn, Mai Weisz
Musical composition and arrangement: Anja Fahlenkamp
Dates of run: Until November 7
Running time: 90 minutes
“The banality of evil” is a concept expounded by Hannah Arendt in her 1963 book on Adolf Eichmann, one of the organisers of the Nazi Holocaust.
It refers to the theory that evil is committed not out of malice but out of thoughtlessness and it is highly relevant to our polarised times when people blindly follow trending ideas and theatre security has to be elevated around the staging of a Jewish play.
The resonance was, however, muted under the direction of Julia Pascal. Pascal also wrote the play on the basis of research inspired by an American cousin who told her about the prison camp in Gurs, France.
Situated near the Spanish border, the camp was where German and Austrian Jews and some anti-Nazis were imprisoned under the Vichy regime and subjected to appalling conditions. Hundreds died of diseases such as typhoid and dysentery or were sucked into lethal mud on the way to the latrines.
Central to the play is a trial of Trude (Pat Dynowska) for stealing a crust. Mai Weisz, as the formidably intellectual Hannah Arendt, sits in judgment and Ariella Barnett, as the student communist Eva, reluctantly pleads the defendant’s case.
The tension mounts, but not quite enough to make the title feel organic to the play.
Part of the issue is that the unleavened texture inures the audience too and pain that could be cumulative serves to deaden our sensibilities. The play’s dry-eyed unsentimentality is on one level laudable, but it misses opportunities for sisterly solidarity that could add the warmth we crave.
The most relief we get is from Anja Fahlenkamp’s stark, well-executed music, while the closest we get to humour is: “Are they Jewish fleas? Let’s measure their noses”. Somehow, the line doesn’t quite land.
The play is at its most compelling at the start when the terror of being whizzed through Paris to we know not where in a bus with blackened windows is powerfully conveyed. We feel the pain of the passengers cruelly denied a final glimpse of all the pleasures they are being denied, perhaps only thoughtlessly.
Barbara Lewis © 2026.
The Banality of Evil,
The Arcola Theatre, London,
Written and directed by Julia Pascal
Cast: Ariella Barnett, Pat Dynowska, Anna Eckhard, Helen Goldwyn, Mai Weisz
Musical composition and arrangement: Anja Fahlenkamp
Dates of run: Until November 7
Running time: 90 minutes
“The banality of evil” is a concept expounded by Hannah Arendt in her 1963 book on Adolf Eichmann, one of the organisers of the Nazi Holocaust.
It refers to the theory that evil is committed not out of malice but out of thoughtlessness and it is highly relevant to our polarised times when people blindly follow trending ideas and theatre security has to be elevated around the staging of a Jewish play.
The resonance was, however, muted under the direction of Julia Pascal. Pascal also wrote the play on the basis of research inspired by an American cousin who told her about the prison camp in Gurs, France.
Situated near the Spanish border, the camp was where German and Austrian Jews and some anti-Nazis were imprisoned under the Vichy regime and subjected to appalling conditions. Hundreds died of diseases such as typhoid and dysentery or were sucked into lethal mud on the way to the latrines.
Central to the play is a trial of Trude (Pat Dynowska) for stealing a crust. Mai Weisz, as the formidably intellectual Hannah Arendt, sits in judgment and Ariella Barnett, as the student communist Eva, reluctantly pleads the defendant’s case.
The tension mounts, but not quite enough to make the title feel organic to the play.
Part of the issue is that the unleavened texture inures the audience too and pain that could be cumulative serves to deaden our sensibilities. The play’s dry-eyed unsentimentality is on one level laudable, but it misses opportunities for sisterly solidarity that could add the warmth we crave.
The most relief we get is from Anja Fahlenkamp’s stark, well-executed music, while the closest we get to humour is: “Are they Jewish fleas? Let’s measure their noses”. Somehow, the line doesn’t quite land.
The play is at its most compelling at the start when the terror of being whizzed through Paris to we know not where in a bus with blackened windows is powerfully conveyed. We feel the pain of the passengers cruelly denied a final glimpse of all the pleasures they are being denied, perhaps only thoughtlessly.
Barbara Lewis © 2026.
By Barbara Lewis • added recently on London Grip, plays, theatre • Tags: Barbara Lewis, plays, theatre