Writer: Erik Kahn
Director: Charlotte Cohn
Germany, 1939, and three prisoners find themselves in a prison run by SS Major Naujocks, surprisingly well-fed, and without a clear sense of why they are there. Shedding light on a rarely mentioned false-flag operation executed by Nazi Germany to justify their invasion of Poland, Canned Goods is a dialectic examination of faith in the face of death and how citizens can co-exist when they live in the swill of hate.
Erik Kahn’s script is very traditional theatre in the sense that it relies on quotes from theologians of old but without much deeper conversation on what feelings and realisations these quotes might reflect. There is much discussion, with a cerebral tone, but without much philosophical heft. Sadly, it is to the detriment of emotion. We certainly understand the characters through their dialogue, but there is a surprising lack of feeling for a play about three men who are nearly sure of their impending death.
The parallels to our present are obvious, and seeing Canned Goods on the date of Trump 2.0’s inauguration prompts additional interrogation (especially given Elon Musk’s ‘Nazi’ salute). However, where Kahn’s script directly invites the audience to reflect on today, there is little to grasp beyond the platitudinous: fascism is bad, fake news is harmful. So much is obvious. Where Kahn’s script is exciting is in the brief moments of tenderness and understanding between the Catholic Honiok, played by Tom Wells, and the Jewish Birnbaum, played by Charlie Archer. These brief moments of recognition feel like they may open up a camaraderie where real heart may be found. Unfortunately, like dull conversationalists at dinner parties, the conversation goes so far as sharing quotes and no further.
Rowan Polonski’s performance as the antisemitic Kruger is the most embodied of the cast, but it is perhaps unfortunate that the character is simplified down to a working-class racist. The writer attempts to add depth to this character with an extended monologue, but it does little to change the class dynamic at play. Kahn’s choice invites a simple class-based dismissal of Kruger’s reprehensible views from a middle-class theatre audience, and we miss out on an opportunity for a more thorough examination of the root of antisemitism.
Canned Goods does have great stagecraft, with high production values that impress in a relatively small space. Mona Camille’s set is concise and invites creative collaboration from Ryan Joseph Stafford’s lighting. All this helps to create an engaging night at the theatre, and Canned Goods is never dull, thanks, as well, to the impending doom of our characters and the ever-present tension between the SS officers and the prisoners.
Perhaps ironically for a play about the reliance of fascism on fake news, we find out that the primary source for the historical record of this incident is the statement of SS Major Naujocks at Nuremberg. There is a missed opportunity in Kahn’s script here: in its denouement, it attempts to puppet the audience but lacks the strings to do so. Perhaps there is something more twisted in the story itself resting heavily on the testimony of a man who would have been heavily motivated to absolve himself of responsibility in the aftermath of the war.
Runs until 8 February 2025