Bitter Wheat left a bad taste in people's mouths. So how should Harvey Weinstein be immortalised on stage?

It has been just over two years since an audio clip was released that initiated the downfall of one of the most powerful men in the world. The clip in question was a voice recording of 22-year-old Filipino-Italian model Ambra Battilana Gutierrez. Ambra had previously accused Weinstein of sexual harassment, and was sent in wearing a wire as part of a sting by the FBI. The subsequent footage being released by the New Yorker. It changed Hollywood forever.

She says the word ‘No’ seven times during the 1 minute and 53 second exchange. Harvey pushes on, pleading with her not to embarrass him. He warns her that he is well known in this hotel, that he’s a famous guy. He swears on his children that nothing will happen – ‘ I won’t do it again. Come on, sit here. Sit here for a minute, please?’ After Ambra asks him why he touched her breasts, he tries to defend himself;

‘ Oh, please. I’m sorry. Just come on in. I’m used to that.’

‘You’re used to that?

‘Yes.’

The world’s media imploded. Over time, countless stories of inappropriate behaviour and sexual assault started to seep out from the dark underbelly of Hollywood. The #MeToo and #TimesUp movements were born. People wore black to The Oscars in protest. Meryl Streep’s face was plastered around LA with the words ‘She Knew’ across her eyes. 

Soon, the media started to focus on the women in Weinstein’s life. His wife, his workers, his actresses. Many of them were called ‘complicit’ in Weinstein’s case – surely they knew. Working so close with the man himself, they must have seen what went on behind closed doors. Weinstein’s former assistant Zelda Perkins admits ‘ If you raised it, you were laughed off as naive; there was an underlying feeling that maybe you just weren’t good enough to really impress him’. Those who could have spoken out were considered a threat and, along with their families, were put on a hit-list monitored by Israeli intelligence agency The Black Cube. Those who were brave enough to break their silence were never heard of in Hollywood again. 

As the dust started to settle, one of the first ways the #MeToo movement manifested itself was in theatre. Writers, especially women, flocked to write the stories that they now felt needed to be told. ‘Emilia’ by Morgan Lloyd Malcolm depicted Emilia Bassano, a black women thought to have been behind many of Shakespeare’s plays but was forgotten in history. ‘Sexy Lamp’, a play by Katie Arnstein told us of her experience at drama school being told to perform in just her bra purely because of the size of her breasts. I myself wrote the play ‘Anomaly’ which focused on the daughters of a fictional disgraced media mogul and aimed to put the spotlight on the women in the lives of these men. It begged the question – e ven if these women did know, what could they have done?

However, the first major production of the #MeToo story was Bitter Wheat. Theatre legend David Mamet’s latest work and starring Hollywood star John Malkovich in a fat suit as ‘Barney Fein’ – Mamet’s version of the man himself. The show exploded onto London’s West End this summer and the reviews certainly didn’t sit on the fence. The average rating from critics was 2 stars out of 5, with the Stage calling it ‘Flabby, cynical and pointless.’ and London Theatre concluding ‘ For a play that sets its stall as a black comedy, however, it is no laughing matter – in any sense.’

The subsequent backlash couldn’t help but make people wonder – should men be writing #MeToo stories at all? It all came down to the issue of ownership: is it right that two white American males are taking the forefront on an issue that feels to many people inherently female? 

Mamet has often explored the inner workings of the male psyche with most of his work so Bitter Wheat comes as no surprise. You could argue that taking on the Hollywood juggernaut and Miramax founder Harvey Weinstein seems like a natural next step for him. But the recent movements and shift of narrative in both theatre and beyond that have arisen since Weinstein’s downfall have made this move seem almost inappropriate and gratuitous. How beneficial would it have been for a female writer, perhaps even an abuse survivor, to get the budget, exposure and press coverage that Bitter Wheat received?

What happened to the voices of the women that were paid off, blackmailed and threatened into silence? Many expressed their desire to hear their stories, not the inner workings of a man who has tainted his own children’s future with his own selfish and abusive acts.

Times are changing. Survivors are speaking out, standing up, admitting things they had long since buried for the sake of themselves, their families, their careers. Many female theatre makers and alike pleading with men like Mamet and Berkoff – let us have this one. It’s not your time. Not yet anyway.