Nachtland at the Young Vic review – an intriguing blend of German experimentalism and British farce

According to the playtext, nachtland is an invented German word suggesting “a place of eternal darkness”. And there’s certainly no shortage of it in Marius von Mayenburg’s searing satire on the value of art, the legacy of Nazism, and much else besides.

It centres on siblings Nicola (Dorothea Myer-Bennett) and Philipp (John Heffernan), who discover a painting that could be by Adolf Hitler in the dilapidated home of their recently deceased father. The find soon tips them into conflict over what to do with the work, but when Hitler-obsessed art expert Evamaria (Jane Horrocks) values it at 100k, they quickly set about proving its provenance, even at the cost of their marriages.

Directed by Patrick Marber, using a translation by Maja Zade, this UK premiere production feels like an intriguing blend of German experimentalism and British farce. Several of the play’s most outrageous moments are undercut by injections of comedy, most notably when a fierce debate on Israel-Palestine – involving Philipp’s Jewish wife Judith (Jenna Augen) – is immediately followed by the introduction of potential buyer Kahl (Angus Wright) wearing slashed leather pants and dancing in almost Alan Partridge-esque fashion.

But this is not to say that Marber sterilises the darkness. In fact, the humour of the production creates an awkward feeling of culpability. We laugh as Nicola’s afflicted husband Fabian (Gunnar Cauthery) paces off stage covered in jam stains, before he starts goose-stepping and doing a fascist salute. Characters display the most brazen antisemitism one minute and make us chuckle the next. Nevermind the banality of evil, this is the banter of evil.

At times it can feel overly-arch, like agitprop, and as drama, it doesn’t really hold together. Despite its Brechtian technique of the characters addressing us directly throughout, we’re not invited to form sympathetic attachments. Even Judith feels remote and largely a cipher for Jewish representation. But none of this is attributable to the excellent cast, who deftly bring out the play’s disturbing ability to charm while concurrently reminding us that anyone can be a Nazi for the right price.

It plays out on Anna Fleischle’s evocative, haunted house-esque set, superbly lit by Richard Howell with shafts of light and, at the end, an ominous illumination of the entire auditorium. Adam Cork’s lively score references Bowie and Iggy Pop, and the overall impression is of a production that is gleefully playing with our senses as well as our morals; and though it may not always cohere, it certainly leaves a lasting impression.