Brecht on Brecht

Brecht on Brecht takes the work of dramatist Bertolt Brecht, a polarizing post-war Germany writer whose work criticized anti-Semitism and fascism, and compiles a provocative grouping of his plays, poems and essays. Hungarian playwright and adapter George Tabori’s revue premiered in 1961 and resonates an uncanny timeliness in a world where the power of dictators and intolerance is growing. "If, as our leaders proclaim, loudly over their loudspeakers that the Jews, the Mexicans, the Muslims are responsible for all our misfortune, and since are leaders are extremely wise and never cease to emphasize the fact..." as the script says at one point, could almost be a modern-day tweet.

Harrison Bryan, Christine Hamel, Jake Murphy and Carla Martinez. Photo by Stan Barouh.

The PTP/NYC revival, directed by Co-Artistic Director Jim Petosa offers an engaging yet uneven presentation of the life of the man probably most known for collaborating on The Three-Penny Opera with composer Kurt Weill. One of the best numbers is "Ballad of Mack the Knife," featuring Harrison Bryan who succeeds in projecting menace with a charming twinkle in his eye. Christine Hamel, as Judith from The Jewish Wife, offers an emotionally charged soliloquy as she speaks about needing to leave Nazi Germany and her husband behind - "Character is a question of time," she says. "It only lasts for awhile, just like a glove ... What kind of men are you? Yes, you too! You discover the quantum-theory, you invent heart-operations, but you let yourselves be ordered about by these half-savages, so that you may conquer the world, but you're not allowed to keep the wife you want."

This moment resonates and lingers - bringing the past forward to the present as Hamel projects hurt, fear of the future and the love for those Judith separates from while showing the heartbreak of the refugee, of the persecuted. But moments like this are fleeting. At times, the show seems overly frenetic with a false frivolity. When the cast enters and tosses their music on the floor and dons clown noses the pace of the show races unnecessarily so. Then, suddenly, the action falls as a more quiet pieces like "Nanna's Lied/Songs About My Mother," begin without real transition. The hyperactivity dilutes the fire of Brecht's activism.

Harrison Bryan. Photo by Stan Barouh.

The spare set (scenic design by Hallie Zieselman), consisting of criss-crossed rugs, and a piano create a nice space for the eight-member cast. Music director and pianist, Ronnie Romano, is flawless. Costumes by Annie Ulrich bridge the past and the present with outfits that represent different time periods.

Brecht on Brecht is part of PTP/NYC's (Potomac Theatre Project) 32nd repertory season that runs through August 5 at The Atlantic Stage 2 (330 West 16 St). For more information, see http://PTPNYC.org.

(Press Seat)

Animal

[spoilers throughout]

Watching Clare Lizzimore’s play Animal is an odd experience. You never quite know what’s going on, because Rachel, the main character, is unraveling, and partially because parts may or may not be real, or symbolic, or hallucinations. Unfortunately, the show—at least at the early preview I saw—doesn’t inspire the audience to spend much energy figuring things out.

(I don’t usually present my opinions as “the audience’s.” However, a lot of people fell asleep during the show. In the first row, an older man kept conking out, and his wife kept waking him up. Sometimes she’d have to nudge him a few times to get him to regain consciousness, and then he'd fall back to sleep anyway. She only gave up when she too fell asleep. It can’t have been fun for the actors.)

So, back to Rachel. She’s tired of taking care of her husband’s mom and actually commits elder abuse. She flirts with a crook who breaks into her home. She refuses to cooperate with her therapist.

Then it turns out that she isn’t really her husband’s mom's caretaker; instead, she has an infant child. The crook who breaks into her home is a hallucination with amazing abs. The therapist is real, but, in order to maintain the play's mystery, Lizzimore has him fail to mention that Rachel has post-partum psychosis until the big reveal at the end. The play would be way more interesting if we knew the diagnosis sooner. As it is, the play varies from boring to vaguely annoying. Only the scenes with the therapist work. (And there’s no way that anyone is letting this woman take care of a kid!)

Rebecca Hall is onstage throughout, talking and talking. It’s an impressive performance, but it’s also a lot of work for little return. Greg Keller as the therapist does a fine job. And the young Fina Strazza, as one of the more interesting hallucinations, gives a poised, subtle performance. The other actors are hard to judge as their roles are odd, at best.

The design is minimal, the lighting is fine, the costumes are appropriate. It’s difficult to judge the direction as it’s difficult to care.

Wendy Caster
(third row, tdf ticket)

Guards at the Taj

Doug Hamilton

Rajiv Joseph's stunning heart-breaker of a play, Guards at the Taj, is currently running through the end of June at Atlantic Theater Company's Linda Gross Theater. It is a beautiful production: crisply directed by Amy Morton, sumptuously lit by David Weiner, and superbly acted by Omar Metwally (Humayun) and Arian Moayed (Babur). I hope it gets extended, and I hope you get the chance to see it.

Guards at the Taj is similar to Joseph's Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo in its moody ruminations and its gently absurdist bent. But it is a smaller, more carefully constructed, and thus more emotionally satisfying affair: two characters, two sets, five brief and tautly constructed scenes. The show examines a few years in the lives of two (very) low-level imperial guards in Agra, India during the mid-1600s. Humayun and Babur are just as lost and yearning as many of the characters in Bengal Tiger were. But while that play felt looser and less cohesive, Taj zooms in on its characters' preoccupations, philosophies, emotional needs, strengths and weaknesses. Also, their lifelong friendship and love for one another, which is central to this play's warm, if also rather bloody, heart.