A satire by a Ukrainian-born writer in which Russians trust a chancer who cruelly tricks them has obvious topicalities. The programme for Gregory Doran’s revival of Nikolai Gogol’s The Government Inspector (1836) includes a letter from a Ukrainian academic bemoaning Putin’s attempts to claim Gogol as Russian, although the Kremlin dictator could not sit with any comfort through a play about the stupidity of rulers.
Nor, though, could Donald Trump or most leaders. In a show premiered, deliberately or not, on local election day in England (May Day in Russia), Doran strongly brings out how power can be a confidence trick in which both sides consent. The citizens of a provincial Russian town submit to the authority of a penniless nincompoop because guilt at their corruption has led them to think they deserve him. But Khlestakov, who they falsely believe to be their governmental nemesis, finds, as unsuitable overlords often do, that he enjoys control. In our context, the play can also be seen quietly to question whether the reflex sending of inspectors – into schools, hospitals, prisons – is distraction rather than action.
However, even Doran’s signature swiftness, each speech pursuing the last, can’t overcome the original’s blunt structure. It has a setup of exemplary economy – the opening line announcing “a government inspector is on the way” – but the subsequent misunderstandings are linear with no twists. And, of the corrupt town officials, only the Postmaster (brightly played by Reuben Johnson) behaves badly in a way that impacts the narrative. If only more were made of the Head of Schools, the Chief of Police or the Charity Commissioner, given their modern significance. Unfortunately, Phil Porter’s adaptation always favours lighter jokes, such as anyone speaking a long Russian patronymic being blessed for sneezing.
Khlestakov is an unusual central role in that the character is only on stage for the middle three of the five acts. That means the actor must satisfy anticipation with his entrance and leave a tangible gap after exiting. Achieving both, Tom Rosenthal brings the easy stage command of a practised standup to a performance of energetic inflections and physicality that suggests a route to Shakespearean and Restoration comedy clowns. Miltos Yerolemou and Paul Rider double-act nicely as Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, landowners as interchangeable as Rosencrantz and Tweedledee.
But, for all the efforts of the director and cast, it made me want to see two later, darker plays that knowingly used Gogol: JB Priestley’s An Inspector Calls and Dario Fo’s Accidental Death of an Anarchist. We now demand tougher inspection of government.
• At Chichester Festival theatre until 24 May
