Hess

"A country must be big enough to accommodate its people and its culture," announces Rudolf Hess. As if summoned from history to deliver a harrowing moral prophesy and vehement indictment of Europe’s current attitude towards refugees, Hitler’s Deputy Führer (played here by Derek Crawford Munn) preaches about the inspiration behind the Third Reich. He does so from his cell inside Spandau Prison.

What can we learn from allowing this figure to speak? This is the central question in Michael Burrell’s one-person play. Hess explains his role as peacemaker in world war two, when he flew to Scotland in an attempt to negotiate with the British. Yet he also oversaw the slaughter of millions. Nothing can justify his actions, and he is aware of this.

There are indeed some damning truths at the heart of Burrell’s text; notably that the West often conflates the end of the world with the end of Europe. Liberals fear chaos because it is a threat to order, to control. Yet at times, Hess channels an overly simplistic and hackneyed philosophy about how history is written by the victors; true, no doubt, but to use this fact to confront hypocrisy is unenlightening.

Munn gives a nuanced and frighteningly believable performance as Hess, wrestling between human frailty and his blind, explosive pursuit of righteousness. He paradoxically characterises himself as both Dostoyevskian figure and white conqueror. It’s often a gruelling yet absorbing watch, but lessons learned are not necessarily enough to justify this dramatic monologue.