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The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui

 
Rebecca Vines Review by Rebecca Vines 5 Published: 14 May 2026 Swan Theatre Show Dates: 11 May 2026-30 May 2026

It is with horribly prescient timing that Mark Gatiss – who has apparently always wanted to play the role – turns his theatrical attentions to Brecht’s slimy cauliflower-botherer Arturo Ui.

Easily drawn in by the laughter and buffoonery, slower to disengage when things get real.

Set in the Chicago ganglands of the 1930s, the piece follows a ramshackle bunch of criminal goons so obviously corrupt and so hideously unsuited to political life that it beggars belief anyone would permit such clowns to rise anywhere near high office. It is precisely this resistible rise that we are encouraged to consider in a work which uses the vegetable business as an allegory for Hitler’s power grab and reign of terror.

But, as Gatiss himself notes, the piece hits differently in 2026 than it did for those of us who first encountered the text decades ago, when the serenity of believing fascism might never rear its ugly head again led us to view it as an indignation of the past rather than a more expedient inoculation against the future.

The premise is simple enough, albeit muddied somewhat by the league of characters who pop in and out to oil Ui’s ascent up the greasy pole – hooray for Brecht’s use of storyboards and hefty exposition. Small-time crook Arturo Ui bullies and bludgeons his way to becoming premier underworld boss and then premier law enforcer. Those with more than a passing interest in the extracurricular activities of big-beast politicians will immediately note the unholy chimera that contains both criminal and legal champion. And those for whom these things fail to register – well, they will simply fail to register.

Along the way, people are expendable: little people, weak people, brave people, strong people, honest people, immigrants, women. And when they have outlasted their usefulness, even allies and henchmen.

The historical relevance of the piece is underlined by the juxtaposition of Hitler’s own activities, bellowed into the omnipresent microphone. Casual cruelty rings from the rafters, but it is only ever heard by those prepared to listen.

The stage is a cleverly designed and deliberately horrible mishmash of modern utility and garish neon. There is no style in Ui’s world, and very little substance. It is a nouveau fever dream of glamour screaming: “All the gear, no idea.” Lights blare, colours scream, and the house band in the minstrels’ gallery provide the bombastic jazz insisting that we “will” have a good time. In just one of the many delicious details which permeate the piece and allow us to fall into Brecht’s own ethical traps again and again, their sliding platform enables the set to be launched from the central trap without us noticing the scene changes and how quickly the world is turning.

Gatiss begins the piece as a slippery, hunched figure in a flasher mac. With his absurd comb-over, penchant for McDonald’s and rather too much make-up, he makes an utterly preposterous leader. But nevertheless, he soon manages to wheedle his way into becoming an inevitability. With the help of an old luvvie – a much-admired Christopher Godwin – he develops a more sophisticated style, replete with nascent goose-step and ominously imperious salute.

It is a stunning performance: at once physically repellent and commanding, ridiculous yet terrifying, with vocal tricks that manage to fuse elements of the Hitlerian bark and Trumpian immaturity. It must be a particularly exhausting interpretation to play and, if there were an Olivier for best line delivery, it should hie thee immediately to Gatiss for the way in which he spits the terrible final line. A line which chills the blood when heard during a local election week in a country previously – allegedly – opposed to fascism and those who espouse it.

There is excellent support from the entire ensemble, who are led by translator Stephen Sharkey and director Sean Linnen in a production which is both hugely imaginative and utterly faithful. Mawaan Rizwan is an outstanding addition to the stage, a clown straight out of nightmares, dominating even in silence. Amanda Wilkin and Santino Smith also shine in pivotal roles highlighting the horrible ease of human collateral damage.

At the start of the piece, we are all game enough, obeying the imperatives of the applause signs with gleeful self-importance. But as the repellently redolent rally banners unfurl and a succession of armbands begin to adorn upper arms, it is startling how many audience members are prepared to continue lauding the illaudable. Easily drawn in by the laughter and buffoonery, slower to disengage when things get real. But then he is a character, isn’t he? A laugh. A man of the people. Just the anti-establishment figure we all need. And by the time the pennants fly, it is too late.

The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui was written in 1943 and not staged until after Brecht’s death in 1958, parodying a very specific moment in history through a very specific lens. But it is also a tale for all time. The Reich Theatre Act of 1934 ensured theatrical output became little more than state-sponsored propaganda and hatred. Free speech was shut down. Books were burned.

Today’s censors may be subtler, with sneers about being “educated”, “elite”, “lefty” or “woke” deployed to do much of the heavy lifting. But the threats remain. Open critique of oversensitive politicians is ill-advised for those wishing to retain jobs in certain spheres. TV channels and digital streams are devoted to spreading the word that resentment and rancour pay.

The Oxford English Dictionary accepted the term “woke” in 2017, defining it as being “aware of social and political issues and concerned that some groups in society are treated less fairly than others”. Not a bad sobriquet to most of us. Yet there are those who adjudge it a weakness, a stain against their idea of political purity. They will not see this production. But they should.

And then there are those who do not see the problem. Do not realise there is one. Pottering along in their own little worlds until cold reality hits someone they love. These are the ones Niemöller was writing for. Not bad. Just idle. Disinterested. Precisely those who could have resisted, but did not. Who should be resisting, but are not. They will not see this production. But they should.

Because this is not just theatre, entertainment or froth. This is epic theatre: urgent and vital. And for a genre supposed to spark thought rather than feeling, it packs one heck of an emotional punch.

Amir Nisi

Rebecca Vines

Rebecca is an acclaimed practitioner and lecturer with a renowned global practice; and is the current Drama Chairman for the board of the British and International Federation of Festivals. Rebecca began her writing career as a diarist at The Guardian newspaper, and has been reviewing theatre since 2000. Rebecca trained as a performer with the Actors Company, and has written, directed and produced critically acclaimed and sell-out shows at the Edinburgh Fringe since 2003.

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The Blurb:

While the Great Depression inflicts hardship across the nation, Chicago’s underworld festers with sex, scandal, violence and corruption. It’s the perfect storm for a schemer like Ui, his reputation as hot as hell. The simmering streets of Chicago come to the Swan Theatre for Seán Linnen’s RSC directorial debut. Double Olivier Award-winner Mark Gatiss debuts as the Notorious Arturo Ui.
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