Guest Blog: Actor Matthew Jure On Reviving TALK RADIO

In Eric Bogosian's 1987 Pulitzer Prize-nominated and Drama Desk-winning play Talk Radio, troubled Cleveland shock jock Barry Champlain finally snaps and asks his callers why they seem fascinated by "how deep into the muck we can immerse ourselves", despite all the possibilities afforded by "marvelous technology".

Then, in the late Nineties, Professor Sean Street in his anthology Radio And Other Poems asks of digital radio: "What are we going to use it for?"

Spool forward again to Jonathan Taplin's recent book Move Fast And Break Things (a reference to Zuckerberg's comment that, online, "if you're not breaking things then you're not moving fast enough") and the question is: exactly what kind of online world do we want?

There is a link between the analogue audience interaction on Talk Radio and our digital user interactivity, Champlain's night callers being the proud parents of Twitter trolls. That's free speech, folks.

Barry's listeners are free to phone in and say whatever they want, and he implores them to use the airwaves to discuss the challenges facing mid-80s America: "555 T-A-L-K. Open your mouth and tell me what we're gonna do about the mess this country's in." How they use Champlain's Night Talk show, however, is a far cry from his vision of its potential.

So, why does Bogosian make free speech the spine of his play? At least in part, it's because a Jewish-American shock jock by the name of Alan Berg had been shot dead in his driveway by an enraged member of right-wing, anti-Semitic group The Order three years earlier. Its mission? To execute key members of the Jewish community.

Berg had goaded members of The Order on air so he could flush them out. He had used free speech to expose hatred and lies and had been murdered for it. Bogosian wanted to hold this tragedy up to the light.

For me, though, Talk Radio is relevant not only politically but personally, too. I hadn't heard of the play until my friend Stewart Buck - writer and director of one of my first films - showed me Oliver Stone's screen adaptation. I loved it.

I received an email from Stewart early last year, saying: "Did you know 2017 is the 30th anniversary of Talk Radio's opening in New York? And I've asked Eric Bogosian if we can stage a revival in London. He wants to meet up next week and have a chat."

Beer in hand, Eric told us about a book he was reading and we then discussed Talk Radio. When I told him I loved Champlain's awkwardness, his discomfort in his own skin, he became animated, saying, "Yes! Exactly. He is awkward. He's in an impossible position."

Eric's parting comment was that certain big-name British actors had considered taking the lead in Talk Radio but it hadn't happened. Why? He didn't know. Because it's too incendiary? He grinned and said, "If you guys love the play and want to put it on then make me an exciting proposal and you have my blessing."

One coffee with director Sean Turner - with whom I'd worked a number of times and who had recently staged the widely acclaimed world première of Arthur Miller's first play, No Villain - and we'd hatched a plan: hello, Old Red Lion Theatre.

Barry has courage, despite his demons, and we need that now as much as ever. With national leaders exploiting the modern media to seismic effect, we must be brave enough to open our mouths and speak the truth or risk sinking deeper into the muck.

Talk Radio at Old Red Lion Theatre 29 August-23 September

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