Four dictators are in a rowing boat to hell. Hitler and Stalin are present, of course, joined by Mao and ‘does-anybody-know-who-I-am?’ Pol Pot. Clever, witty and poignant 76 Million People and Me takes a funny, fresh look at historical figures exploring the legacies they left behind and the icons they have now become, breaking the fourth wall along the way.
Action opens on the infamous four sitting in a cardboard boat singing a rather different version of ‘Row, Row, Row your Boat’ immediately creating an unsettling atmosphere and setting the tone of the piece - jovial with serious undertones. We are then thrown into a banter filled dialogue choc a block with perfectly timed one liners and fast paced historical references as each dictator takes a look over their glory days, trying to figure out why and how they are going to be remembered. The piece cleverly reminds us that these men are almost venerated (Mao has a chain of cafés, of which he is awfully proud) whereas the 76 million people who they slaughtered are too often forgot.
The dialogue take on a new shape as Mao attempts to sellotape his eyes into a more ‘Chinese looking shape’, a concept deemed irreverently racist by Hitler. It’s obvious that the actors aren’t the dictators they are trying to play. Stalin is blonde, and a woman. This provokes a discussion of exactly how to represent these figures - however we attempt to describe them there will always be an element of fiction to hide behind letting us forget or misremember the crimes they committed. How can we accurately remember such crimes? How can we accurately remember such figures?
A powerful sequence involving some bags, names and forgotten national anthems (trust me) brings the play to a close leaving me thoroughly thought provoked and humbled. ‘A single death is a tragedy, a million deaths is a statistic’, 76 Million People and Me somehow manages to translate this onto the stage. It’s free, go and see it.
