“The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui” by Bertolt Brecht

at Warwick Arts Centre, Friday 3rd December 2010

There is always a risk when putting on a production of a play written by Brecht. Do you stick religiously to Brecht’s theories, or simply take the text and run with it in your own interpretation? Although Warwick University Drama Society’s production of The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, under the direction of Josh Roche, is superbly performed with full gestus, the acting style seems to be a means without an end in the absence of an overt political angle.

Arturo Ui is the ultimate allegorical play. Depicting the rise of Hitler, this production has been transposed to Greenwich from the original Chicago setting, using episodes based on real events to satirically portray his climb to power. We watch as the manipulative Ui plays games with his followers in order to take control of the Cauliflower Trust. Here, however, the character of Ui has been split into three; left, right and centre, supposedly representing the three sides of the protagonist. A clever idea, but one which is not highlighted or explained enough to make it worthwhile; what point is being made here?

The production is made by the performances. There is not a weak link among the ensemble cast and astonishingly not one ever strays out of character, mannerisms and all. As the left, centre and right incarnations of Ui, Ed Davis, Tom Syms and Stewart Clarke are strong and charismatic, towering over others both physically and vocally. James Sheldrake as Dogsborough bumbles away hilariously and Lizzy Leech as the Chief Clark always looks somewhat bewildered as to what is happening around her. Givola and Giri played by Rob Beale and Joe Boylan respectively are both wildly eccentric and somewhat disconcerting. The use of gestus throughout is hilarious and each character is perfectly defined.

But what use is gestus if we are not made to think? Yes, posters are dotted sporadically around the stage and the prologue and epilogue serve to alert us to a few points, but we never find out the implications for us. Of course this is difficult with such a highly analogous play, but we constantly yearn for some sort of didactic message. It sometimes feels like the performing style has been incorporated simply for the sake of humour, but when we know this isn’t the case it becomes frustrating that the major themes aren’t highlighted.

This said, however, all aspects of the production are faultless. Rosie Bristow and Ashleigh Brown’s set, costume and make-up go hand in hand to create a vivid image, lit effectively by Lizzie Drapper’s lighting design. Matt Wells’ music ranges from ethereal to joyous and complements the rest of the production with gusto.

This is an accomplished and slick production, with a multitude of excellent moments, especially towards the end of the play (Ui’s final speech, for example, is genuinely powerful). It cannot be stressed enough how excellent the performances are, which is why it is such a shame that the message never truly comes through. With a little more signage and more focus on the language, this would be a production of which Brecht himself would be proud.

“Der Parasit, oder die Kunst, sein Glück zu machen” by Friedrich Schiller

at the Berliner Ensemble, Tuesday 6th July 2010

Berlin really is a city of opposites. East merges into West, present into past and rich into poor. Nowhere is this more obvious than at the Berliner Ensemble, the infamous theatre company which was set up by Bertolt Brecht and some of his contemporaries. The simple neo-Baroque facade is topped off with a flourescent “Berliner Ensemble” sign and inside the elegant auditorium counters the sleek cleanliness of the stage itself. An eagle, the symbol of the Nazi party, is crossed out angrily with a red cross.

It is strange that in the United Kingdom, many of the theories which Brecht considered are still deemed to be avant-garde by a large proportion of the theatre going population. During my recent visit to the Berliner Ensemble to see Schiller’s “Der Parasit, oder die Kunst, sein Glück zu machen” (The Parasite, or the art of making one’s fortune), I experienced a form of theatre which needs to be embraced here in the UK.

My German is very limited, but one oft-cited technique of Brecht’s, ‘gestus’, allows us to understand what was happening simply because of the exaggerated expressions of the actors and simplified performances. Each actor wears a costume which makes their arms and legs look shorter than they should be, thus disproportionately enlarging the size of their heads and so drawing focus to facial expression.

A problem when studying the theories of Brecht’s has always been the translation of the term “Verfremdungseffekt”. Often translated into ‘alienation effect’ or even ‘estrangement effect’, there is really no direct translation into English. The only way to understand this phrase is to watch a play produced by Brecht’s theatre company. It is difficult to put into words, but we are at once distanced and drawn in, made to think and made to feel. Naturally, the language barrier helps to distance more whilst performance techniques convey human emotion.

The play itself is concerned with the themes of hypocrisy and self-preservation, whether this be in love or politics. These are carried mainly by the subaltern Selicour, played by Thomas Wittmann, who uses various aspects of his personality (played by six other actors) to manipulate those around him. It is not simply he who looks bad trying to put a foot on the ladder, however, for we also see the stupidity of those who fall for his tricks, specifically the minister himself, Narbonne (Norbert Stöß), whose world crumbles arround him, both literally and metaphorically. The set mirrors this state of affairs, walled like a padded cell and ascending to the top in the form of a staircase, whilst allowing a multitude of exits and entrances.

The production is beautifully choreographed, running like clockwork from beginning to end and incorporating some wonderful set pieces. At one point, Karl (the minister’s son, played by Dejan Bućin), falls from the heights of the on-stage staircase and tumbles down in slow motion, his real legs and arms visible but the focus being centred on the limbs of the ‘puppet’. When he hits the ground, two teeth are spat out accompanied by two notes on the xylophone. Music and sound feature heavily throughout, and in the duration we hear everything from a strained winch to a squeaky duck.

The Berliner Ensemble in Der Parasit have shown how theatre should be made. It should not directly mirror reality but create a distorted image in which we see our own faults. In an age where television and film are so popular, theatre must fill the void which does not necessarily ask for complete reality. We should be made to think and be challenged by theatre, which is certainly what the Berliner Ensemble did here. Whether you agree with this or not, one thing is for certain. I’ll be back.