We often have cause to remark upon differences between British theatre
culture and others, usually continental European ones. One
regular topic is how far a staging interpretation can legitimately
diverge from a text. My predecessor on the
Financial Times, Alastair Macaulay,
regularly fulminated against “director’s theatre”, especially at this
time of year (I am writing this column in Edinburgh, with the Fringe in
full swing and the International Festival about to begin). In
contrast, Europeans may chuckle indulgently (and sometimes a little
condescendingly) at what they see as a British prejudice in favour of
stage naturalism and slavish adherence to texts.
Principle
There has been some comment along these lines in online discussions of
Dennis Kelly’s version of Kleist’s
The
Prince Of Homburg, as staged at the Donmar Warehouse.
Several reviewers (myself included) strongly criticised Kelly for
changing the ending of the play. Some of the responses seemed to
assume prejudice because we were English (I’m not), or because we were
old (I hope I’m not) or, in some instances, simply because we were
Michael Billington, who continues to be portrayed by many as the
personification of all
ancien
régime critical stuffiness... all of these responses
being made with a prejudice far greater than any which Michael himself
might occasionally display. It has to be said, too, that of the
online comments I saw from people who had no problems with the changes,
not one of them had seen the production nor even significantly engaged
with the nature and extent of the changes at all; they all seemed
simply to be pronouncing on principle.
And yes, in principle any act of translation is an act of
interpretation; a translator will take decisions regarding emphasis of
moods and themes, and regarding “playabaility” in the new
language. This is absolutely not such a case. Kleist ends
his play with the Prince being reprieved from a death sentence and
rallying with the rest of the army behind his ruler, the Elector of
Brandenburg; Kelly ends it with the execution being carried out and the
Elector facing a mutiny from his entire officer corps. This is
not a matter of interpretation. Black is not a version of white.
Contradictions
I can understand Kelly’s rationale. He knew that the play was one
of which Hitler was reportedly fond, for its argument about
subordinating personal initiative, personal principles and even one’s
life to state policy, and he wanted to follow this line of thinking to
a conclusion. However, the point of the play is that there
is an argument; in Kelly’s
version, the Elector must become ever more unbending, which is not the
case in the original. For Kleist was dramatising his own inner
contradictions, between his keen sense of individual liberty (well, he
was an early-19th-century German Romantic) and his sense of patriotism
at what was a critical moment as Prussia was threatened by Napoleon’s
expansionism.
Kleist found an ending which synthesized his conflicting impulses: one
which acknowledged mercy and individual impulse, yet ultimately rowed
in behind patriotic duty. However, it is an ending with shadows
of its own. When the Prince asks whether his reprieve is a dream,
the reply comes, “A dream. What else?” Since the play begins with
a dream, the possibility is that the ending is also unreal in this way,
and that the Prince is after all executed. But that is simply a
possibility, no more. To steamroller the delicate, thoughtful
ambiguities of the play, and to pretend that it unequivocally says the
precise opposite of what it in fact portrays (albeit rather less
categorically), is to do a disservice to the play, to distort it beyond
the point where I think it can reasonably be called a version of that
play. If Kelly wanted to consider the story in this light, he
could easily have taken the situation and the characters and written
versions of them of his own... as he did with
The Gods Weep, seen not so long ago.
Perjury
The argument has been made that, in translation as in staging, no
permanent damage is done to the original play; it remains intact to be
read/translated/staged more literally next time. To me, that is
like arguing that perjury does not damage the truth, which remains
intact to be told properly next time. Most people who are tried,
are tried only once; most people who see a particular play (not just a
particular production) see it only once. The present account of
it is the only one they will see and hear. To claim that what is
being presented here is the original work, or even a ”version” of it,
is perjury, and is lying without any regard for the truth.
Contrast that case with Philip Prowse’s ending of
Pygmalion in his Chichester
production, also reviewed in this issue. Prowse goes so far as to
stage Eliza’s wedding to Freddy and to show Higgins seething as he
witnesses it. Prowse’s change, like Kelly’s, flattens ambiguities
in the ending as it was originally written. He, like Kelly, is
taking account of subsequent reception of the play; yet, in my opinion
at least, he is just as wrong-headed in his choice. But this
shift requires no textual changes in order to make its point; nothing
is excised from the script, nothing added (with the exception of the
single word “Freddy!”, growled by Higgins, which is hardly a major
departure). For me, that comes well within what we might call
“European” limits of interpretative staging. Interestingly, a
number of reviewers of the Kleist also thought that Kelly took
liberties with Kleist’s text by inserting the word “fatherland”
repeatedly to emphasise the totalitarian atmosphere. In fact, the
German word
Vaterland occurs
several times in Kleist’s original.
Tardis
If only we could travel in time, we could ask Kleist himself about
this… But wait! We can! The secret of time travel has
been discovered, and its discovery is announced in this very
issue! When Tim Walker declares in his review of
Danton’s Death that he will write
the first review of Toby Stephens not to mention either of his parents,
Tim can only mean that he intends to travel back several years in his
Tardis in order to pre-empt the majority of reviews Stephens has
received this century, which have been entirely lineage-free.
After all, the alternative would be that Tim is simply being ignorant
and self-aggrandising, and that couldn’t possibly be the case, could it?
Written
for Theatre Record.