A
ginormous St George’s Cross
hangs high and proud as
punters congregate beneath
it, drinks in hand, ready for
an evening of boisterous rev-
elry. But we aren’t at the
football or down the pub. The flag is
part of the curtain at a theatre in the
heart of “liberal” London, where Jez
Butterworth’s Jerusalem is back.
The play, being revived this spring
after its original outing more than a
decade ago, is considered by many to
be one of the greatest in postwar thea-
tre. Its original stars, Mark Rylance and
Mackenzie Crook, have returned, with
the same director, and are holding
their breath as to whether, when the
curtain-cum-cross rises, the original
enthusiasm will prove justified, con-
firming Jerusalem as a modern classic,
or everyone will feel embarrassed and
wonder what all the fuss was about.
Either way, it’s been a rocky 13 years
for the nation — and this is the 21st-
century state-of-the-nation play (if such
things exist). It is unquestionably a tale
about England, not Britain. Rural, tra-
ditional, working and benefit-class Eng-
land set around the trailer of a nomad,
Johnny “Rooster” Byron, marooned in
some Wiltshire woods on the day of a St
George’s Day fair in the local village.
With 2022 a time of greater existen-
tial angst over identity and mounting
cultural divisions, will the show be
more relevant, or less, and does it mat-
ter when it’s so much fun? Can it illumi-
nate who we are and how we got here?Or will it feel like a parochial endorse-
ment of a national spirit that has turned
dark and more dangerous since?
Speaking personally, I just love it. I
loved it when I saw it in previews at the
Royal Court in 2009; I have loved read-
ing it periodically ever since, as a tem-
plate of how to write a good play; I’m
sure I’ll love it in its revived form today.
Jerusalem adopts the Greek tragedy
trope of taking place over a single day.
Early in the morning, after a midnight
rave, two council enforcers are at
Rooster’s trailer to deliver a petition.
The locals of a new estate aren’t happy
about this “gypo” who gets pissed and
fights in the pubs, or his trailer, which
serves as a magnet for teenagers to
drink, party and take drugs. He has 24
hours to clear off — every good story,
from plays to action movies, needs a
clear clock — but he’s adamant. “I ain’t
going,” he says, writing “F*** off Ken-
nett and Avon” (the council) on his
trailer and burning the eviction notice.
There’s more trouble ahead, though;
the 15-year-old girl picked to be the May
Queen is missing. Is Rooster to blame?
As various waifs and strays wash up
to find belonging, purpose or distrac-
tion in Rooster’s powerful orbit, not a
lot happens beyond that, but it’s the
juxtaposition of the mundane and the
epic, the grand and the grotesque that
is so seductive and joyful. There are
campside chats about bumming spliffs
and wanker doormen, all underneath a
canopy of giant trees that invoke a kind
of old William Blake idyll. There are
Morris dancers, and Spitfires flying
overhead. It’s a world of vivid mysti-
cism — the woods sit on old ley lines
pulsating with ancient energy from a
noble past. It’s chockful of mythology
and myth-making, from Rooster’s hilar-
ious boast that he did “unspeakable”
things to each member of Girls Aloud
to his meeting with a friendly giant
striding across Salisbury Plain. We’re
not meant to believe it, and yet also we
are — for what is a country or a com-
munity without the stories we tell our-
selves about ourselves?THEATRE
THE ENIGMA
OF ENGLAND
It’s been 13 years and a Brexit referendum
since Jerusalem captured our messy and
complex country, with a celebration and a
warning. What can we learn from its return?
Rylance’s performance
has become the stuffof myths and legends State of the nation Mark Rylance as “Rooster” Byron and Mackenzie Crook as Ginger
JAMES
GRAHAM
ALASTAIR MUIR/SHUTTERSTOCK6 24 April 2022