The Royal Hunt of the Sun (review)

Four decades after a premiere that launched England's fledgling National Theatre, Peter Shaffer's epic drama The Royal Hunt of the Sun still gives directors pause. Only a fearless director, possessed of limitless theatrical ingenuity, could confidently tackle Shaffer's overflowing text, relying on techniques from Total Theatre. In 1964, at London's Old Vic Theatre, Shaffer's provocative work sprang to vivid life, directed by the brilliantly inventive John Dexter. That extraordinary production has since remained the gold standard.

A revival of Hunt opened 12 April 2006 at the current National's Olivier Theatre—the National's first return to the work in forty-two years. With the playwright in the audience, director Trevor Nunn led a cast of thirty-three in an impressive though not flawless production. Nunn, formerly artistic director and chief executive of the Royal Shakespeare Company, as well as artistic director of the National, was Shaffer's choice to lead this Hunt.

Shaffer's earlier drama leaned heavily on naturalism. Hunt was first to display Shaffer's subsequent prototypical themes and techniques: large-scale philosophical conflicts between contrasted antagonists and cultural values. In Hunt, the contrasts are represented by 167 invading Spanish conquistadors (led by Juan Pizarro) and by a subservient Incan empire of 24 million (ruled by the Sun God-King Atahuallpa).

The plot, drawn from Pizarro's historical expedition to the New World in search of gold, expands to include Pizarro's personal hunt for a "truth" or deity to mitigate death in the human condition. Once in Peru, the Spaniards capture the monarch Atahuallpa and discover a socialist culture built on absolute obeisance to the sun-god sovereign. Atahuallpa is held for gold ransom that, once paid off, forces Pizarro to choose between his oath to free Atahuallpa or sacrifice him to save his soldiers.

Hunt requires an involved-audience imagination. Straightforward realism will not work to depict a band of soldiers painfully trekking over the rugged Andes Mountains. The slaughter of hundreds of natives by the conquistadors does not lend itself to stage realism. Stylized theatricality is needed, and was superbly realized in 1964 by Dexter and his designer Michael Annals.

Comparable theatrical magic was only partly achieved in Nunn's version. Shaffer's provocative notions regarding rapacious colonial exploitation were effectively retained. The fine script, overflowing with stimulating themes concerning human life, death, ambition, and honor, emerged wonderfully expressive today, even with "too many words." In our London conversations during previews, Shaffer detailed his insistence that the play not be refashioned as a cautionary tale about the Iraq War—despite his ardent personal criticism of that conflict. Nunn successfully focused on the play's inherent values, Shaffer stated, leaving any parallels between sixteenth-century Peru and modern-day Iraq to today's audiences.

Shaffer expressed satisfaction with Nunn's cast. Alun Armstrong's portrayal of Pizarro gave impressive form to the former pig-herder described in Shaffer's script. A raspy yet clearly projecting voice helped define Pizarro, while Armstrong's uneven gait convincingly mirrored the Spaniard's painful life. Equally exceptional was Paterson Joseph, who played Atahuallpa with enormous élan and kinetic energy. Shaffer admitted that Joseph, unknown to him beforehand, was not his first choice. But upon hearing him read, Shaffer enthusiastically supported his casting, calling it a coup.

The short, slim, and athletic Joseph made the god-king's role his own. Whether standing completely still or moving stealthily around the spacious stage, he held the audience riveted. His clipped words resounded throughout the hall, creating an alien aura. In conversations, Shaffer elaborated that, because Joseph was black, Nunn chose to cast black performers in the other Incan roles...