by Helen Kaye
[Here’s the latest installment of Helen’s “Dispatches
from Israel.” One review’s of a Hebrew translation
of William Shakespeare’s Coriolanus; the other covers a stage adaptation of a World War II novel. Both
productions were presented by the Habima Theater in Tel Aviv, the national
theater of Israel. Helen’s remarks are,
as usual, pithy and astute, and the range of theater represented by the two
productions demonstrates how broad the taste and interests of the Israeli theatergoers
are. Once again, I feel fortunate to be
able to share Helen’s theatrical insights with ROT readers and to offer a viewpoint and a voice I wouldn’t otherwise be
able to present.]
Alone in Berlin
By
Shahar Pinkas
Based
on the novel by Hans Fallada
Directed
by Ilan Ronen
Habima,
Tel Aviv; 11 September 2016
What
if? Fraught words. What if the Treaty of Versailles in 1919 had not been so vengeful
towards Germany? What if Adolf Hitler had been accepted to Vienna’s Academy of
Fine Arts? What if? We’ll never know because it was, and he wasn’t, which
brings us to Habima’s very powerful, very moving, almost transcendent
production of Alone in Berlin, Shahar Pinkas’ unsentimental adaptation
of Hans Fallada’s best-seller novel.
The
production (and of course the novel), expose the inexorable a-human tramp of
history, expose in all its obscenity the pitiless human construct that was Nazi
Germany.
Opposition
to it was a deadly option that few dared. This is the story of two who did,
based on true events, and told in narrative and dialogue.
Like
the rest, working-class couple Otto and Anna Quangel (Norman Issa, Osnat
Fishman) keep their heads down, do their duty, hail the Führer. Then, just
after the fall of France, Otto and Anna receive the news of their son’s death
in combat, and are devastated, but what now?
Then
grief and fear-addled Frau Rosenthal (Shulamit Adar), their Jewish neighbor
whom retired Judge Fromm (Michael Koresh) is bravely hiding in his apartment,
jumps to her death from four floors up.
That
does it. Otto and Anna start writing and distributing postcards encouraging
Germans to resist Herr Hitler, but most of them end up in the hands of the
Gestapo, quickly handed in by their finders, terrified lest they be implicated.
Gestapo
Obergruppenfuhrer Prall (Uri Hochman) bullies and threatens with annihilation
(as he can) Kommissar Escherich (Tomer Sharon) who bullies, threatens and
annihilates (as he can) others, in particular petty thief Enno Kluge (Ami
Smolarchik) in order to expedite and effect the capture of the unknown
post-card senders.
The
Quangels are caught, of course, tortured, given a travesty of a trial, and
sentenced to murder.
Ilan
Ronen, taking a leaf from the book of expressionist theater, presents
the tale in a grave, often stately choreography of people, music, chairs,
stairs and sliding panels against a grey backdrop, a breathtakingly ironic
counterpoint to the story’s snarling edginess, leaving judgment to us. All
honor to the exquisitely perceptive Mr. Ronen and his designers: Niv Manor (set
& video), Ula Shevchov (costumes),
Ziv Voloshin (lights), and Miri Lazar (music ed. and movement).
What
makes Mr. Issa and Ms. Fishman so extraordinary as Otto and Anna is that they
never betray their characters, they’re never more than ordinary people caught
up in a grotesque world, and they let us see that, that they’re afraid, alone,
each of them together. Thus ‘alone in Berlin’.
Another
extraordinary performance is that of Uri Hochman as predator Prall. His is a
deliberate, disciplined, depersonalized viciousness, epitomizing the regime
that has made him. He projects terror. We shudder.
Other
notable performances – and there’s not one that’s less than very good - include
Ms. Adar’s tremulous, dwindling Frau Rosenthal, Mr. Koresh’s decent, old-school
Judge Fromm, and Mr. Smolarchik’s out-of-his-depth, increasingly desperate Enno
Kluge. As Escherich, Mr. Sharon veers in
the blink of an eye from arrogance to cowering servility; his Escherich eats
himself from within.
Totalitarian
regimes breed hyenas and Pini Kidron’s obsequious, on-the-make perpetual loser
Borkhausen is one such prowling scavenger whose character provides the little
humor there is.
We
here have gone from beleaguered little hero state to one reviled, even (and
most monstrously) compared to Nazi Germany – does anyone remember the 1995
poster depicting the late Yitzhak Rabin as an SS officer? – but such is not the
purpose of Alone in Berlin. No.
“Don’t
think. Just obey!” snaps a Gestapo (either Prall or Escherich), and that
is the point this production makes. We cannot, may not, must not allow ourselves
to “just obey”. To think, to think for ourselves is mandatory. If we want to
survive as a nation it is.
* * * *
Coriolanus
By
William Shakespeare
Translated
by Dori Parnes
Directed
by Irad Rubinstein
Habima,
Tel Aviv; 13 April 2016
What
drives Greek tragedy is the hubris, or overweening arrogance toward,
and/or defiance of the gods, that inevitably leads to the hero’s destruction.
So it is with Shakespeare’s Coriolanus. Add that to Irad Rubinstein’s Political
Agenda driven interpretation of Coriolanus, already a very political
play, its deliberately coarse language nimbly translated by Dori Parnes, and
you get an interesting, but not always effective, production.
It’s
playing in the little Bertonov theater; a nod to the “smoke-filled back rooms”
of political tradition.
Front
and center here is not Caius Martius’ aka Coriolanus’ (Gil Frank) neurotic
arrogance –though on abundant display - but his relationship with his mother,
the ambitious, domineering Volumnia played by Gila Almagor with a deliberate
and vulgar gracelessness that is chillingly effective.
Did
she live in the 1930s, Volumnia would have been one of those ghastly Hollywood
mothers, intent on pushing their little darlings to stardom, as Coriolanus has
been driven to excel since before his birth. Face to face with Mum, Coriolanus
becomes a little boy again, pleading for Mama’s approval.
Also
front and center is our own body politic, corrupt and self-serving, represented
by Sicinia Micki Peleg Rothstein) and Brutus (Rotem Keynan), a couple of
envious tribunes whose chief attribute is that they’re experts when it comes to
mob manipulation, and to a lesser extent by Menenius (Uri Hochman), a veteran
pol who’s also Coriolanus’ friend and backer, and whom Hochman portrays with genial
ruthlessness.
It’s
an involved story. Power is in the hands of a few – sound familiar? – and the
populace is hungry, rebellious, and – sound familiar? – looking for someone to
blame. It doesn’t help when Caius Martius (CM) tells them in no uncertain terms
to mind their betters, of whom he’s one.
Meanwhile
salvation appears as renewed conflict with the Volsci, traditional enemies to
Rome. When it comes to guns or butter – sound familiar? – guns win hands down
“Give me war over peace anytime,” happily says a Volsci soldier.
Volsci
general Aufidius (Alex Krol) and CM are old and bitter enemies. They even dress
a lot the same, unkempt and nearly bare-chested!
When
CM batters the Volsci capital Coriolis into submission, he comes back to Rome
an unwilling Hero, unwilling because battle, violence and blood are his natural
habitat, and is persuaded to run for Consul. To get their votes, Coriolanus has
to pander to the people – these scenes are dirty politics glorified, and are
marvelous – which he performs with near open contempt.
Grabbing
their opportunity the Tribunes get him expelled from Rome on a trumped up
charge. Humiliated, furious, Coriolanus throws in his lot with Aufidius and
they march on Rome. But when Mum begs him to spare his native city, Coriolanus
buckles (as he always has), and for his betrayal, is promptly dispatched by
Aufidius.
Gil
Frank plays Coriolanus with demonic glee, an actor playing to the hilt a man
who’s obliged to act out his mother’s vision of who he is, and for the most
part it’s awesome. There’s a bit of unease in the scenes with Aufidius, but
perhaps that’s because both actors’ characters are playacting and they’re not
sure what ends where.
Shahar
Raz and Ben Yusipovitch bounce energetically and well in and out of multiple
roles.
This
Coriolanus bounces in and out as well between amazingly good and
somewhat tedious. But one item on Rubinstein’s agenda is crystal clear. Forget
peace. Violence works.
[For
readers new to ROT,
Helen’s past contributions are well worth looking back at. Previous “Dispatches,” numbers 1 through 9, have been posted on 23 January 2013, 6 August 2013,
20 November 2013, 2 June 2015, 22 August 2015 (which also includes an
article Helen wrote on the Israel Festival), 6 October 2015, 13 July 2016, and 2
October 2016. (I also posted another of Helen’s JP reviews, Molière’s Tartuffe, on 2
November 2014 as a Comment to “Dispatches 3.”) ROTters might also enjoy
looking back at ”Help! It’s August: Kid-Friendly Summer Festivals in Israel,” 12 September
2010; ”Acre (Acco) Festival, Israel,” 9 November 2012; “Berlin,” 22 July
2013; and “A Trip to Poland,” 7 August
2015.]
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