Macheath: The Specter Haunting London

“Art is always and everywhere the secret confession, and at the same time the immortal movement of its time.”
-Marx

After a long week of mental detachment and shifts of focus, it has been refreshing to get back to Brecht. I last left off on a broad evaluation on the first act of “The Threepenny Opera,” and the humorously pessimistic comedy therein. This is by no means a subject that I am done exploring, though, for this installment, I’d like to touch on a few points that were made through the duration of Monday’s in class discussion; points which have in my mind brilliantly highlighted Marx’s influence on Brecht and his work.

Originally there was a clear juxtaposition between the audiences of this show (those who can pay) and those producing the show (those who are working). But, I had yet to previously consider the capitalist struggle that is ongoing in the opening of this play—the struggle of Mr. Peachum to maintain the integrity of his business and family v. Mac’s clear control over London’s lowly ‘elite’. My first impression of either side paid no consideration to the clues which eluded to these characters’ bourgeois self-perceptions. To me, both sides of the conflict were steeping in the underbelly, and in effect thriving while doing so. That is to say, they weren’t the ones with fake stumps. Yet, the sociopolitical argument that is unfolding before us in the first act of “Threepenny” is definitely one which calls to be deconstructed. I can only hope that this deconstruction will be guided more deeply in further group discussions.

In a transcript following the text of the newest Penguin Edition of this play, we are provided a transcript of an interview between Brecht and Giorgio Strehler which examines the social impact of “Threepenny”’s original run. In this transcript Brecht comments that the play was successful in bringing young proletarians into the theatre and, moreover, encouraging them to come back. In addition, he remarks that through the harsh comedic portrayal of the bourgeois, their very laughter became something which made them aware of the behaviors that were being criticized. In effect, while laughing at themselves, they now were self-conscious and resentful of certain behaviors. Now, if this isn’t within the epic idea of inspiring change in society, I’m just not sure what is. The analysis of this play promises to be evermore alluring.

...And Man's a Shit.

As a young actor I was once told to never apologize before a performance was over. If an infraction, or accident occurred—one which proved to be wholly detrimental to the production in progress—perhaps then, and only then, would it be acceptable. And even still, after wards. Another one of the lessons that was beaten into me at a fairly early juncture was to never insult one's audience...unless it is through “bawdy humor.” But as we all know, a joke that falls flat is somewhat of an insult in its own right.
Throughout the first act of Brecht's “Threepenny Opera” we are given a healthy dose of the bawdy. So much so, that I can hardly imagine the original actors of this play being coached into telling the elite of Weimar Germany that: “Life is poor, and man's a shit.” To me, a student living some 80 years later, this statement is as funny as it is poignant. Considering the subject matter of poverty, both in general, and especially in post WWI Germany, the context of “The First Finale Concerning the Insecurity of the Human Condition,” gives us a lot to think about. Namely, well, our own insecurities. Are we indeed shit? In a sense, yes, it would seem so. But why?
The Peachums may be our most important key to understanding this notion. Here we have a family whose business is poverty. Their very livelihood is contingent on ensuring that those who “have not” come consult Mr. Peachum before even trying to “have,” and even still, for a price. With this Brecht automatically has dispelled any possibility for an apology to audiences. Instead, he chose to show us deplorable wretches, just being themselves. Thus we are left to wonder what it is that has made them this so terrible. With this in mind it is easy to see just how this would be received by the upper echelons (such as the subsequent banning of the play by the Nazis only a few years later).
Yet, it is quite fascinating to reflect on just how this modern classic became a classic. How, among the likes of so many other transcendental plays, the enduring themes of class struggles and interpersonal conflicts come into play when there's something to be gained seems like an astonishing feat. Though, as we know, Brecht was well ahead of his time in choosing to adapt Gay's “The Beggar's Opera.”
I am eager to continue reading this play with the new understandings that are being forged in regards to historical context. And any Doubters may rest assured that my curiosity in this opera and its tactics will continue to be explored. Henceforth, I will not apologize for this incomplete analysis. The show is not over yet. Not on the page and not in my mind.

Caucasian Country

The ‘bible belt’ has never really presented itself as the ideal environment for thought provoking spectacles. This statement is not meant as a passage of judgment. This region could benefit immensely from life changing theatre. Yet, often times, people here limit themselves to the scope of their own comfortableness. They do not like to be challenged. This is a place where every type of soda is referred to as “coke.” This is a place where no one expects to encounter Brecht or his ideas. To this end, I must commend Dr. Wayne Chapman and the theatre department at UALR for ambitiously undertaking “The Caucasian Chalk Circle.”
In this play, which readers of this blog are undoubtedly familiar with, the audience is given a show which challenges their political and moral standards. I hadn’t really thought about just how difficult the actual staging of this play could be. Though, UALR handled the technical challenges of this production with sheer proficiency, if not aplomb. The set design, a large series of scaffolding, served as a centerpiece which resembled a post-industrial playhouse. This concept may very well have influenced the joviality of the performances on stage, as well as the production concept. The assurance that there was very little to work with set wise, allowed the actors to really play out the epic without fear of having it seem “too real.”
This idea of acting for the epic theatre was one that I was particularly curious about upon entering the auditorium. Though, this had clearly been taken into account by Dr. Chapman, and after the first scene my trepidation was all but gone. The only qualms I had with the acting—and this is completely acceptable considering the varied levels of performance training—was the hit and miss vocal projection. Personally, I enjoy sitting towards the back of the house when seeing a play, and in this case, it was a bit of a mistake. Aside from this though, I once again must commend the ability of the performers to tell the story without risking emotional attachment to their characters.
The cutting and re-interpretation of this play didn’t sit incredibly well with me however. For instance, the exclusion of the prologue somewhat eliminated the coveted “play-within-a-play” concept. And the use of the location “the gulf” did absolutely nothing but confuse me. It was as if I was expected to reflect on a far-off/maybe near-by place in which conflict was ensuing. While I do see how and why this was set in place, I do feel that it directed my attention away from the story. Where they still talking of Persia, I would have been able to stay focused on the action and story, from a distanced perspective, and still possess the faculties to make connections between the relevant struggles in the world. This is to say, the concepts of war and corruption will still endure. They need not be made more accessible through a vague ‘localization’ for accessibility sake. The same can also be said of the choice to change piasters to dollars. Cuts and changes like these shifted my focus from the story, in favor of curiosity about where these people were and how it played into the story’s meaning.
All in all, I greatly enjoyed the production, and am actually excited to know that the theatre department will encourage its budding artists to take chances. Risk taking is such an important part of the creative process, just as Beckett said “Fail. Fail better. Fail again.” With this production, confused audience members should be glad that they are confused. They should sit with this material and discuss it with their families or dates, or whomever. And, moreover, this audience member has realized the power of a play to be presented as its author wrote it. Though I do think that Chapman and Co, have done an excellent job in introducing the newbies to the awesomeness of Brecht.

Laughter in the Dark

In a recent discussion, and as a result of a small amount of outside research, I am coming to better understand Brecht's use of humor in his plays. As many of his works came from collaborative efforts—as discussed in previous posts—it would seem that not only is Brecht's sense of levity derived from literally having one's friends and close acquaintances present in the writing process, but also from his firm understanding of satire and the nature of his productions.

To clarify: it has recently been brought to my attention that Brecht was indeed a “fun-loving” genius. In an audio book by monologist Mike Daisey entitled “Great Men of Genius: Bertolt Brecht,” the performer explains a list of the reasons why Brecht is always pictured with a cigar and a smile. Among these reasons are the incredible amount of sex he was known to have had, as well as the fact that many of his lovers became friends and close collaborators. The intimacy of such connections speaks volumes, and the fact that he was comfortable with these people, to me, signals that they too probably shared in Brecht's sense of humor. For, as we all know, sometimes the best way to deal with a heavy subject is through poking fun—and this is an excellent time for having those closest to you right there.

Another interesting tidbit that I had failed to consider, was the early production history of many of Brecht's works. While in exile from the third Reich, the playwright's work went with him. As many of his early works had been work shopped into a repertoire this allowed the actors to take their shows into the towns and countries they stayed in. This means that they were presumably performed for audiences of varied levels of class, education, and sophistication. Thus, humor would be a necessary part of conveying the message of the play. Imagine, if you will, why “sophisticated” new dramas from Off Broadway so rarely make it down south...

It is the understanding of how to properly use humor that upped the level of satire in Brecht's cycle, and also softened the blow for some of the most heart breaking moments. For instance, in scene 5 of the Caucasian Chalk Circle, would we be more engaged with the seemingly tyrannical judgments of Azdak were they not so hilarious? No, we would sit there and judge him in an entirely different manner. Instead we are shown through his portrayal that he is little more than a representation of a public official.

This has been reoccurring theme of class, and one that I, personally, am going to explore further.
Until then!

The Collective Effect

I was recently intrigued by the beginning of a class in which a fellow student—and director of a new production of “The Caucasian Chalk Circle”--opened the floor for discussion about a potential flaw in his upcoming presentation. The concern at hand was that he had perhaps misinterpreted the representation of a number of ensemble characters, and in so doing, jeopardized the integrity of the play. In seeking to rectify this, he proceeded to open himself to suggestions from the class. This call for collaborative input is what stood out to me as a very Brechtian technique.

Through the discussion of the issue at hand a lively conversation was started, in which many of the class members offered their insights into their interpretations of the characters and, moreover, how they could/should be portrayed. I label this sort of group exercise as 'Brechtian' for the fact that Brecht himself, as well as the Brecht Collective—which by the way, I am amazed and ashamed of myself for JUST NOW finding out about—took this approach with many of their earliest and most prized works; namely “Man is Man,” which openly deals with the collective experience.

From the breadth of my theater training, I have certainly learned that in order for any production to be successful, a definite sense of collaboration must be established and embraced. It is not a matter of the actors trying to be “stars” in their own rights, nor is it for the production team to best the play through their uniquely interpreted presentation. It is, instead, a matter of an organic formation of artists and thinkers who are dedicated to making the production happen for the sake of the play and, in Brecht's case especially, its message.

I found it wonderful that the aforementioned director was open enough to discuss his anxiety with a group of like minded people as opposed letting the ego take hold and powering through the problem silently. I hope to explore this issue and others like it in the coming weeks as we continue to delve into the collective experience. While, in the case of the class, we are driven more towards understanding Brecht and his work, this creatively constructed curriculum is beginning to take hold on us all. Through our discussions we forging new ideas not only what theater is, but its myriad purposes as well. I hope to hear more from the class following the staging of the production as I feel that we will all be excited to discuss what we thought worked why.

Brecht's Last Jest?: The Influence of the Personal in the Objective Epic

In seeking to explore a possible contradiction of the Epic Theatre's aim, this week I have chose to turn an eye to the personal influences which contributed to some of Brecht's most well known works. In particular, the focus of this will be on the enduring roles of motherhood and warfare in “The Caucasian Chalk Circle” and “Mother Courage.” The reason for my interest in this particular subject is the apparent juxtaposition of the Aristotelian objective on focusing on the plight of the individual, versus the Epic's groundbreaking concentration on the larger social and political issue. The major question of this curiosity being: If the inspiration of the Epic's characters is based on personal experience, does this not place the playwright as a contradictory representation of his own work?

The simplest answer to this question would be “no.” This is because the muse for any work can not be the sole blame, or basis for the work's intent. However, it seems quite interesting to consider this from a different perspective, so let's indulge it and answer “yes” instead. From this perspective we can consider some of the biographical factors that provided the characteristic human building blocks for the two aforementioned plays.

Firstly, the similarities between that of Brecht's upbringing and the struggles of the Chalk Circle. Brecht was a child of mixed religious persuasions. His father a Catholic, and his mother a Protestant, offer a considerably obvious influence on his original story (discussed in the first blog) “The Augsburg Chalk Circle”--not to mention the fact that Brecht himself was born in that very town. In addition to facts like this, the religious differences at home, the subsequent fascination with the Thirty Years War, and the personal impact of the first and second world wars, it becomes more evident where the playwright's interests lie. Though, back to the initial question; can a writer objectively write on moral, social, and political themes by drawing from his own past?

As we have seen, this can indeed be done; successfully even. Perhaps Brecht was not a Epic Theatre man, rather, a man who—through research, and keen concern for the human condition—found a way to write 'from the heart'. Funny enough, there is a clear opposition to the notion of human's having hearts in these works. Here we are shown murderous soldiers, callous parents who live off of war, and noble figures who make sport of their subjects' suffering. These caricatures, as they are to be somewhat portrayed, almost appear as if Brecht was not only striving to provide audiences with a starting point for forming their own opinions, but also perhaps shielding his own history from the public eye via fantastically removed spectacles.

My earlier questions could be considered Freudian, I suppose. But then again, maybe this is just another posthumous trick Brecht set up for later generations to begin an 'epic' conversation about art and the human mind...I'd like to think of it as just one of those considerations that was missed at the time, but left on the table for later consideration. Can we only write from what we know? Even if the story is not for or about us? Or does the imagination exceed the confines of experience?

Whenever we seemed
To have found the answer to a question
One of us united the string of the old rolled-up
Chinese scroll on the wall, so that it fell down and
Revealed to us the man on the bench who
Doubted so much.

On with doubt.

Stop your crying and do something: Brecht and the Humanities

The 1980 United States Rockefeller Commission on the Humanities described the humanities [as such] in its report, The Humanities in American Life:

"Through the humanities we reflect on the fundamental question: What does it mean to be human? The humanities offer clues but never a complete answer. They reveal how people have tried to make moral, spiritual, and intellectual sense of a world in which irrationality, despair, loneliness, and death are as conspicuous as birth, friendship, hope, and reason."

It's becoming more and more clear that the objective of the Epic Theatre is to stimulate conversation and instigate action. I once had a teacher define “the humanities”--in regard to artistic discipline—as having the same intent. By offering audiences an open-ended conclusion, such as with the endings of of Ionesco's “Rhinoceros” in which the anti-hero Beringer exclaims that he “will not capitulate!” as well as Brecht's “Caucasian Chalk Circle,” viewers are given less of an cathartic release, and instead, provided with a poignant prompt for discussion. These very discussions are the same kinds which encourage human beings to really ponder the problems facing the human condition.

In “On Theatre,” Brecht demonstrates his own explorations into the concept of the Epic Theatre and, moreover, its emphasis on stimulating the audience—not simply entertaining. In one passage (to paraphrase) he makes light of the Epic's intention to examine social and cultural facets, as opposed to the Aristotelian emphasis on human folly. While some may see this intention as being widely adverse to the theme of the humanities (all which is humane), Brecht's aim of providing human beings with the intellectual tools necessary for thriving is in all aspects quite humane. Here he has told, and demonstrated to, us that we need not simply experience what it is like to, say, lose a child—but that we should consider the circumstances which allowed the child to be lost in the first place. With this understanding we can learn how to save the lives of future children, be they our own or a neighbors.

Such exercises as reviewing Brecht's texts through conversation with others who have recently read them is proving to be an insightful, and at points frustrating, task. Though, its stimulative aspects should be lauded in that participants are forced to suss out and make decisions about the core concepts they are discussing. To make a point to someone else does, or course, require a finite amount of effort; yet, so does accomplishing anything worthwhile. This regimen has also answered a few questions I previously had regarding Brecht's implementation of acting theory; the question itself being: How did he train his actors to carry out the ideologies that bolstered his work? To answer this question, recent experiences have been helpful in making sense of prior observations.

While taking a tour of Brecht's home in Berlin, perhaps the most curious and inspiring room was the one in which he worked. Adorned with countless volumes, and multiple desks and ash trays, it was a room which the guide told us served as the 'command center.' It has now become apparent through seminar exercises, reading, and deduction that the free flow of communication is both vital for the successful construction and understanding of Epic Theatre. It is as is if Brecht is reminding us from the grave that we are not alone, and we're going to need to get along with others (as well as argue like mad!) in order to make any sense of our time and its myriad problems and glories. How else are we supposed to highlight what's important in the world than through putting something together and artistically channeling ideas?

It would seem that what Brecht is trying to relate to us through his critical essays on the Epic is: the study of humanity from the individual standpoint is selfishly vulgar. This set of examinations should favor objective presentation, subjective rumination, and subsequent objective relations.

On that note, my mind may slightly explore...I meant explode...

This tangent is once again a 'can of worms' that can, and will, be explored further. Since I'm not out to provide answers, I here wish to continue on doubting. Off to find some questions and make some changes.