Would Brecht approve?

Liz Palin, one of the finalists in the Best Ass contest, portrays Buddha in "Brecht on Brecht"

STIPIMM: “Blind,” by Darren and the minorities

The text of the play “Brecht on Brecht” is rather long; indeed, the play, as written, is much too long to be performed in its entirety (of course, they say the same thing about “Hamlet,” and just ask Kenneth Branagh about that one). In fact, it really wasn’t ever intended to be done from beginning to end – it is more or less a smorgasbord of prose, poems and dialogue from which individual directors can pick and choose and make their own version with its own unique theme and outlook.

At first glance, the direction of the work taken by director Judy Braha doesn’t seem to be strongly thematic – the texts chosen range from light songs to thoughts on the theatre to militant political screeds – and it kind of meanders at times. However, as the play progresses, it becomes clear that Braha has taken a more political direction with this play. Segments are anchored with real audio from Brecht’s HUAC testimony in 1947, and most of the text choices seem geared toward showing Brecht’s political philosophies, which were rooted in Marxism. The play itself is divided up into parts, among which are “Of Poor B.B.,” “Conversations in Exile,” and “Change the World, She Needs It.”

It’s this last title that seems to provide the center for the overall mood of the play; it’s a theme that is repeated not only in dialogue but during the curtain call, where the actors present the title card as the play’s enduring statement. Several of the texts in the latter half of the play are proletarian calls-to-arms, with some dialogue having particular resonance in today’s political climate. But despite the high ideals, there’s an undercurrent of despair; the “Questions from a Worker Who Reads,” which I quoted in a previous post, is damning in its view of history, but it doesn’t hold out much optimism of the problem being fixed. Indeed, as you hear Brecht’s high-pitched, heavily accented voice testifying before HUAC, with an actor as him sitting alone in the middle of the playing area, you really get a sense of the loneliness and futility that Brecht felt in his years away from Germany. Indeed, texts in the part of the play called “Conversations in Exile” demonstrate the isolation he felt in his flight to Scandinavia and his winding up in the “hell” of Los Angeles.

Another subject that is presented throughout this play is the issue of gender. I’ve described Brecht as a philanderer in a previous post, but as I watched the play, I was struck by the number of strong women depicted in both his songs and his plays. He seems to be particularly sympathetic to women – he calls for pity for a young mother who murdered her infant out of despair; in two separate songs, he shows women as the one’s in control of relationships; and then there’s the closest thing “Brecht on Brecht” has to a showstopper: Emma Greer’s rousing version of “Pirate Jenny,” a “Dogville”-like story about a tavern maid who gets revenge on all the people who mistreated her when it becomes clear that she is brethren to the pirates who are attacking the town.

The first time I saw this BU production of “Brecht on Brecht,” I thought the meandering of theme was a liability, but upon second viewing, I realized that it made a lot of sense. The play after all is called, “Brecht on Brecht,” and is not supposed to be about any particular theme, but about the man himself. And having read more about Brecht than I ever hoped or needed to, I can say that this production succeeds very well in creating a portrait of the author and all his passion, his attitudes, and his melancholy.

But beyond the academic analysis of the play, I must say that I enjoyed it much more than I had anticipated when reading it months ago. The energy with which the actors take on these disjointed segments serves to bring them together rhythmically. Several standouts in the cast: Rachel Rusch playing a Jewish wife forced by Hitler’s reign to leave her husband, played ably by Tim Spears; Liz Palin in several parts, including, of all things, Buddha; Veronica Barron as a Mr. Magoo-like Herr Keuner (“I’m preparing my next mistake.”) and belting out a song (whose name I forget) late in the play atop the scaffold; and the aforementioned Emma Greer, whose Pirate Jenny song was inappropriately placed as the penultimate piece in the show – it would have been better placed earlier in the epilogue.

The staging of the piece is faithful to many of Brecht’s philosophies of theatre, particularly the idea that the set and the staging should not be hidden from the audience. Bare incandescent bulbs hang over the stage; scaffolding provides a theatrical jungle gym for the actors; the assistant stage manager is deliberately called out on stage to clean up a mess; the actors warm up during intermission in full view of the audience. In fact, beyond just pulling the curtain back for the audience to see the workings of the theatre, the production goes one further, living up to Brecht’s demand that theatre should engage the viewer head on. At a couple of different points in the play, the actors go out toward the audience and interact with them; at several moments, the actors stare into the eyes of individual viewers, daring them to look back and be a part of the action on stage. The second time I saw the play, I decided to embrace the idea and allowed myself to be engaged. At one point, I got into a 30-second-long staring match with one actress that left me disconcerted, but thrilled.

Throughout the rehearsals, when Bridget (the gorgeous assistant director) talked about some aspect of the production, I would often come back with the question, “Yes, but would Brecht approve?” In the end, with a production that reflects both his life and philosophy and embraces many of the artistic ideas he held dear, I think we can safely answer yes.