Brecht in the Park

This Sunday I did something I had heretofore not managed in my time in New York: got my ass out of bed at 5 am to score tickets to Shakespeare in the Park. When I did a Fringe show a few years ago, I had a castmate who worked for the Public and mentioned she could get me tickets for performances, with sufficient advance notice. Sadly, like so many people I've worked with, I've lost her contact info and probably couldn't just call her up now and use her for tickets anyways. In any event, due to the difficulty of getting someone else to commit to going to Shakespeare in the Park and then actually getting up in time to get tickets and my refusal to go alone, I have been, as previously stated, Shakespeare-in-the-Park-less.

No more.

Though I guess, since it's currently Mother Courage running, it should be Brecht in the Park, as my post title indicates. So I guess I still haven't gone to see Shakespeare in the Park. Maybe next year, Billy.

I hesitate to recommend Mother Courage. The production was fantastic, and the chance to see Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline onstage (together - which is to say, in the same scene - no less) should not be missed by anyone who takes acting even remotely seriously. It's written by Brecht and translated by Kushner, two of the more monumental names in the history of theater.

And yet.

The production is, I think (having read far less Brecht than I should have, something I hope to rectify in the near future), fairly close to what he would have wanted. This creates a dilemma, for Brecht at his best is daunting and difficult. One does not sympathize with Mother Courage, one does not wish her success or failure; rather, it is a rational understanding, a comprehension of her actions and a detached curiousity regarding what her eventual fate will be. She's an excellently crafted and calculated character, one who interests but does not bind; Hitchcock would applaud.

For the average theatergoer, I think this poses a problem. In many ways, the work of Stephen Sondheim owes a huge debt to Brecht; we are not meant to sympathize with the characters, as they are frequently morally reprehensible; only to understand and reflect upon their situations. Without this element of emotional attachment, it becomes extremely difficult to maintain an audience's attention for any extended period of time, much less 3 hours and 15 minutes. Couple this fact with the intense elitist snobbery that people who claim to "get" Sondheim or Brecht exhibit and it becomes even more understandable why most people would rather see The Lion King than Sweeney Todd or Mother Courage. It's really a shame, as there is so much there to reward viewers with.

One disappointment, however, and perhaps I am unfair to comment on this, is the understandable difficulty of sharing the stage with an actor as honed as Meryl Streep. Personally, I've never been a Frederick Heller fan (Shape of Things), but I feel ok saying that, as I'm fairly certain he isn't a fan of mine either. He's got this weird vocal pattern going on that I can't quite put my finger on, but I know it irritates me when I hear it. I can't really remember the other son and the daughter doesn't say anything throughout the play, so I guess it's understandable that Meryl Streep overpowers them. It's just a little jarring to see the dropoff so dramatically (no pun intended) onstage. Like I said, perhaps it's unavoidable and I should be more understanding, as I would fare no better, but it still seems a valid critique to my mind.