Behind the Scenes - An intimate diary of a theatre intern
My Impossible Dream
At the end
of my first week I was ready to shout: “A hoarse, a hoarse. A kingdom for a
hoarse!”. Henry Tudor wasn’t even in the vicinity, when the E.T.A. HoffmanTheater Bamberg turned into Bosworth field. In fact it was two Spaniards, who
caused all that strife, the first died in 1616 and the other is but a figment
of a clever poet’s imagination. But with the premiere of The Man of LaMancha, a 1959 musical by Dale Wasserman, drawing nigh and nigher, the
artistic temperaments felt the keen sting of frustration. So I, too, was swept
up in the wave of theatrical annoyance and aggravation, that I cast myself in
the role of Richard III: I could not prove an artist, to entertain these
fair-well spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain, the Intern in the Dramaturgic
department of a German theatre, that falls under the jurisdiction of the city
council of Bamberg.
How well politics and art mesh remains to be seen. After all, this latest interpretation of The Man of La Mancha is, in terms of theatrical or even experimental daring, quite tame. It is not set in Maze Prison, on Robben Island or Gitmo, but the captain who throws Miguel de Cervantes into the nondescript dungeon is wears, somewhat predictably, a SS-uniform. Next to him the inquisition is dressed in cardinal red. Inadvertently, the connotative dimension of the scene offers a flashback to one of the darkest chapters in German history. The religious authority stands on the same level as the secretive and brutal arm of the Nazi-government and the cardinals become silent witnesses to Cervantes' treatment at the hands of the SS-officer. The church was silent, but the theatre is not?
For all intents and purposes this version will be measured by previous performances on and off Broadway and all around the world. After all it was the journal Nürnberger Nachrichten that suggested Bamberg goes Broadway. The Man of La Mancha was not a mayfly. 2,328 performances and five Tony awards. From behind the scenes the day to day business of creating and maintaining an illustrious illusion is quite hard work, especially when creative tempers clash loudly and regularly over the question where to place and how to use the spotlight and the special effects lights for Quixote's fight with the windmill. More than four different rehearsal were necessary to get the lighting right. By the end of my third day as a stand-in for the actors during the technical rehearsal, I had been pushed forwards and backwards, across the stage, was asked to stand on stools, chests and behind bars, was buried under black garbage bags and looked like a poor man's version of George Lukas' Emperor. Reportedly, this production was one of the more difficult ones, starting with the stage design, the budget, all in all an exasperation situation.
The master electrician is probably one of the first staffers who will breathe a loud sigh of relief by the time of the last curtain call - as will everyone else included in the production. The weighty frustration will have fallen off their shoulders by the time the applause rolls in. Granted, the critic's sharp pencil could tarnish the moment and darken the mood, but Monday's paper is still far away. They have set their lives upon a cast and will stand the hazard of the die, such is their business.
Unlike Broaway previous interpretations, this one, focuses the relation between reality and illusion. Ernö Weil builds a complex hall of mirrors. On the level of the actors, there is Volker Ringe playing Miguel de Cervantes, who is playing Esquire Quijana who in turn takes over the fictional identity of Don Quixote. Nothing new here, but the audience gets to witness three out of four transformations. And the theatrical illusion begins to crumble. Some might detect a slight echo of Brecht's alienation effect here. As the appearance of the manuscript brings about the play within the play. The SS officer is not the only disturbing allusion, the shock factor of Aldonza's rape, the use of mirrors and constant interruptions of Cervantes dungeon production heighten the impression of alienation. Yet, by emphasising the metadramatic aspects of the musical, the theatre questions in the its own existence, its own legitimacy. Faced with the ugliness of reality, what role does the threatre play in the 21st century? What kind of power do these illusions hold? Of course to some this could very much seem as wallowing self-doubt or an expression of self-flagellation, to others it is simply part of a long standing metadramtic tradition.
While the Cervantes' work of art survives, both his time in the dungeon and the inquisition, outside of the hallowed halls there is no such salvation to be found. Cervantes struggles to improvise an ending for his play, and for a brief instance, the death of Esquire Quijana, illusion and reality are brought together. In that moment he is Quixote and Quijana. But what of the audience? As Cervantes is dragged out of the dungeon, the Quixote cast - his fellow detainees - reaffirm the impossible dream, the illusion. And as the lights go out, reality comes crashing down for the spectator. He may continue humming the catchy songs, laugh about Sancho and his Master but in the end he makes his way out of the hall of illusions and into world.
For all intents and purposes this version will be measured by previous performances on and off Broadway and all around the world. After all it was the journal Nürnberger Nachrichten that suggested Bamberg goes Broadway. The Man of La Mancha was not a mayfly. 2,328 performances and five Tony awards. From behind the scenes the day to day business of creating and maintaining an illustrious illusion is quite hard work, especially when creative tempers clash loudly and regularly over the question where to place and how to use the spotlight and the special effects lights for Quixote's fight with the windmill. More than four different rehearsal were necessary to get the lighting right. By the end of my third day as a stand-in for the actors during the technical rehearsal, I had been pushed forwards and backwards, across the stage, was asked to stand on stools, chests and behind bars, was buried under black garbage bags and looked like a poor man's version of George Lukas' Emperor. Reportedly, this production was one of the more difficult ones, starting with the stage design, the budget, all in all an exasperation situation.
The master electrician is probably one of the first staffers who will breathe a loud sigh of relief by the time of the last curtain call - as will everyone else included in the production. The weighty frustration will have fallen off their shoulders by the time the applause rolls in. Granted, the critic's sharp pencil could tarnish the moment and darken the mood, but Monday's paper is still far away. They have set their lives upon a cast and will stand the hazard of the die, such is their business.
Unlike Broaway previous interpretations, this one, focuses the relation between reality and illusion. Ernö Weil builds a complex hall of mirrors. On the level of the actors, there is Volker Ringe playing Miguel de Cervantes, who is playing Esquire Quijana who in turn takes over the fictional identity of Don Quixote. Nothing new here, but the audience gets to witness three out of four transformations. And the theatrical illusion begins to crumble. Some might detect a slight echo of Brecht's alienation effect here. As the appearance of the manuscript brings about the play within the play. The SS officer is not the only disturbing allusion, the shock factor of Aldonza's rape, the use of mirrors and constant interruptions of Cervantes dungeon production heighten the impression of alienation. Yet, by emphasising the metadramatic aspects of the musical, the theatre questions in the its own existence, its own legitimacy. Faced with the ugliness of reality, what role does the threatre play in the 21st century? What kind of power do these illusions hold? Of course to some this could very much seem as wallowing self-doubt or an expression of self-flagellation, to others it is simply part of a long standing metadramtic tradition.
While the Cervantes' work of art survives, both his time in the dungeon and the inquisition, outside of the hallowed halls there is no such salvation to be found. Cervantes struggles to improvise an ending for his play, and for a brief instance, the death of Esquire Quijana, illusion and reality are brought together. In that moment he is Quixote and Quijana. But what of the audience? As Cervantes is dragged out of the dungeon, the Quixote cast - his fellow detainees - reaffirm the impossible dream, the illusion. And as the lights go out, reality comes crashing down for the spectator. He may continue humming the catchy songs, laugh about Sancho and his Master but in the end he makes his way out of the hall of illusions and into world.
The video is taken from YouTube: The Man of La Mancha by Arthur Hiller with Peter O'Tool and Sophia Loren 1972.
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