Heisenberg's shadow: a nuclear past haunts the present stage
The anxieties of 1941, when the world teetered on the brink of atomic devastation, feel chillingly relevant tonight. Michael Frayn’s 1998 play, Copenhagen, currently revived at Hampstead Theatre, isn’t just a historical drama; it’s a mirror reflecting the uneasy echoes of contemporary political extremism, a point amplified by Paapa Essiedu’s recent assertion that theatre must engage directly with the present moment.
A meeting of minds, a world at war
At its core, Copenhagen recounts the perplexing 1941 encounter between Niels Bohr, the celebrated Danish physicist (played with a weary gravitas by Richard Schiff), and Werner Heisenberg, his former student and now a leading figure in Nazi Germany’s nuclear program, portrayed by a somewhat youthful Damien Molony. The backdrop: a Europe engulfed in war, and the terrifying prospect of Hitler acquiring the ultimate weapon. The play doesn’t offer easy answers, instead presenting a series of conflicting recollections and speculative dialogues, anchored by the historical reality of these two brilliant minds confronting each other amidst unthinkable stakes.
The resonance with today's political climate is undeniable. While Hitler remains the immediate threat depicted onstage, the unsettling parallels to figures like Donald Trump – particularly his recent, deeply disturbing rhetoric regarding conflict with Iran – hang heavy in the air. Michael Longhurst’s production masterfully capitalizes on this contemporary anxiety, further underscored by the theatre's concurrent presentation of ROI (Return on Investment), a piece also grappling with the ethical implications of scientific advancement.
Visually, the production is striking. Joanna Scotcher's set design—a circular stage surrounded by water—is a triumph, both aesthetically pleasing and conceptually rich. The water subtly alludes to “heavy water,” a crucial element in Nazi bomb-making, as well as the tragic boating accident involving one of Bohr’s sons, adding layers of emotional complexity. However, the dense scientific jargon that peppers the second act, while more accessible than Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia, occasionally obscures the play’s deeper metaphorical significance. The emotional undercurrents, particularly Heisenberg's conflicted feelings toward his homeland, don't always surface with the force they deserve.
Perhaps the most significant misstep lies in the portrayal of the relationship between Bohr and Heisenberg. The age gap, meant to create a dynamic between mentor and mentee, instead feels overly pronounced, diminishing the sense of shared history and intellectual rivalry that should pulsate between them. Schiff occasionally falters with his lines, further disrupting the flow. Alex Kingston, as Bohr’s wife and editor, Margrethe, provides a much-needed dose of humanity, often carrying the emotional weight of the production.
The play’s central mystery — the purpose of Heisenberg’s visit — remains tantalizingly elusive, mirroring Heisenberg’s famed uncertainty principle. But despite the visual splendor and the compelling premise, Copenhagen occasionally drifts into a languid pace. A glaring omission—the devastation of Nagasaki and Hiroshima—dates the work, especially given the resurgence of US military aggression worldwide. The production avoids confronting this historic irony, leaving a lingering sense of incompleteness. It’s a play about the potential for friendship across ideological divides, about the moral responsibility of scientists, but ultimately, it feels like a missed opportunity to fully grapple with the catastrophic consequences of unchecked scientific power.