Noel Coward Theatre, til 25 January 2025 

⭐⭐⭐

A perfectly entertaining show that doesn’t quite live up to its potential.

There’s an old thought exercise around the psychology of expectations that goes a little like this: say you walk up to a stranger on the street and give them one £5 note. Then, you walk up to a second stranger and give them two £5 notes, but a few minutes later return and demand one of the £5 notes back. Both strangers end up with £5, but which is the happier? Common wisdom says the first stranger, because when you expect nothing, £5 is a blessing, but when you expect £10, half that is nothing short of a total rip-off. The lesson of this little morality tale is that our levels of happiness and satisfaction in relation to any given experience are largely pegged to our expectations of what we’re going to get. 

In my usual roundabout way, I’m slowly getting to a point here. Last night I was fortunate enough to see the much-anticipated (by me, at least) stage adaptation of Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 satirical classic Dr Strangelove. Not only was I excited to see comedy great Steve Coogan’s turn as four lead characters, I was eager to experience my second London show brought to the stage by beloved satirist Armando Iannucci. (Iannucci co-adapted the story alongside director Sean Foley.) With Iannucci the mind behind national treasures such as Alan Partridge (brought to life by Coogan) and one of my own favourites, sweary political comedy The Thick of It, my hopes were high. So when the play turned out to be good – maybe even very good – but not quite great, it did feel like a tiny bit of a letdown. 

On paper Iannucci should be the perfect writer to take on Dr Strangelove, a story essentially about how morons run the Western world. When air force commander and certified nutjob Jack D Ripper becomes convinced the Russkis are on the cusp of American invasion, he activates a little-known protocol that not only sends hydrogen bombs screaming towards Soviet airspace, but removes all possibility of an override (even from the highest echelons of government). Unsurprisingly, chaos ensues. We follow the action as increasingly desperate attempts are made to avoid all-out nuclear warfare, flitting between the four leads played by Coogan: a bumbling British second-in-command at the air force base, a lively Texan pilot, POTUS and Dr Strangelove himself, an eerie-yet-camp mad scientist and ex-Nazi. The panic and ineptitude of politicians and military men should be perfect fodder for Iannucci, given his usual themes. Indeed, as someone completely unfamiliar with Strangelove, it struck me how much Iannucci’s film In the Loop owes to this story of how a world on the brink is tipped over into battle by incompetence, egotism and good-old-fashioned warmongering. 

But where In the Loop has the biting satirical edge Iannucci is known for, Dr Strangelove is essentially an all-out farce. Of course, it’s effectively done, and there’s no doubt it’s funny – I laughed along with the rest of the audience at Strangelove’s Nazi robot hand and Ripper’s diatribe on his ailing spermatozoa. Iannucci has proved he’s a master of slapstick as much as satire – the brilliant Pandemonium he put on this time last year was a truly excellent example of how u can get u a play that can do both. But Dr Strangelove seems to really rely on that level of more obvious humour, without ever being particularly clever – or allowing the audience to be clever either. 

If you’ll permit another tangent, dear reader, one of my favourite notes on comedy came from prolific Simpsons writer and author John Swartzwelder. Famously reclusive, he gave a surprising interview to the New Yorker Magazine a few years ago, in which he reflected on writing and performing a play for his family as a young child: 

“But then I got to the second-to-last line, which was supposed to set up the big joke at the end. The setup line was: ‘This play has been brought to you by the Trash Can Airplane Company,’ which—since this was Boeing country—got a huge, possibly undeserved, laugh. Baffled, but feeling that I finally had my audience in the palm of my hand, I leaned back and practically screamed the big finish: ‘P.S. It stinks!!!’ More supportive smiles and nods. Plainly, there was a trick to comedy, and I didn’t know what it was.”

The point is, sometimes the punchline to a joke is already revealed in the set-up, so if you trust your audience, you don’t need to double-down. I’ve often noticed this tendency in comedies I don’t like (usually American) – a need to follow through with the punchline regardless, as if not believing the audience is smart enough to understand on their own. I was really reminded of this by the sense of humour in Dr Strangelove, with one joke in particular following this exact format (“How did he know it was called ‘the big board’!?” “Maybe because it’s big and a board?”). Other jokes, though funny enough, seem to appeal to the lowest common denominator. The national stereotypes in particular I found to be outdated – not offensive, just tired; there’s only so much you can laugh at a German man saying “I’m as American as apple strudel.” Again I’ve taken a roundabout way to get to a very simple point: I just didn’t think the comedy was that clever (certainly not as clever as what I’ve come to expect from Iannucci). 

Of course, there is one shining element of this play that can’t be ignored, and if I were the type to give half-stars I would add one just for this. (I don’t give half stars in a vague attempt to cure my own indecisiveness, and also because I don’t know how to cut an emoji in half.) It’s undoubtedly Steve Coogan. There’s no questioning the man’s comedic talents and acting chops. Following the tradition set by Peter Sellers in the Kubrick film (and indeed one-upping him), Coogan plays all four leading roles. He’s absolutely seamless moving from one to the other. When he arrives in act two as his fourth and final character, I must admit it took me several minutes to even recognise him. His accents, as we know so well from The Trip, are flawless (and I wondered if there were a few hints of his famous impressions in his performance as well, with Major Kong sounding very Clintonesque and Mandrake reminiscent of our own King Charles). As a feat of acting it’s already incredible; as a feat of quick-change artistry it’s truly extraordinary, Coogan transforming himself completely in what sometimes feels like just seconds (aided by some clever body doubling and good old-fashioned audience distraction). 

It would be remiss not to also commend the production elements of this play, which I thought were really well done. Sound and set combine to create a sense of militaristic bombast that’s imposing and hilarious all at once. The score (Ben and Max Ringham are credited as Sound Designer and Composer) is filled with booming drums and brass in the style of a military march, but includes children’s melodies like The Ants Go Marching. The set (courtesy of Set Designer Al Turner) is impressive. The enormous war room table and fighter jet cockpit are deliberately outsized, highlighting the gravity of the situation but also hinting at the idea that it’s all just a giant dick-measuring contest. 

All in all, this is a funny play, and a compelling story. It’s well staged, and the cast is great with an outstanding lead performance. (It’s a shame this only makes it in as a post-script, but another shout-out should go to Tony Jayawardena as Russian ambassador Bakov. He brings a similar knowing warmth to the role as he did to his portrayal of Winston Churchill in the Olivier Theatre’s excellent Nye.) I also know nothing of the source material, so don’t know how much of my criticism should be aimed at this production specifically. And then there’s always the fact that comedy is a ultimately a matter of taste (if you really want to torture yourself with more of my ramblings, feel free to read my thoughts on subjectivity). So perhaps, all things considered, I really should have given Dr Strangelove four stars, and a bit of a more positive outlook. But with Iannucci putting his name to it, I think this is a case of the schoolmaster marking the best pupil most harshly: “Good, but could do better.”