How do you persuade a German audience to
laugh at the Nazis? A couple of years ago, the Berlin opening of the
musical of Mel Brooks’
The Producers
opted for making its absurdities so extreme that they were impossible
to take seriously. That is in part also the strategy of this stage
adaptation of Ernst Lubitsch’s 1942 film
To Be Or Not To Be, itself remade by Brooks and the source of
The Producers’
“Heil myself” gag. Far more often, however, Milan Peschel’s
production, which arrives at the Gorki after opening at
co-producer the Narodowy Stary Teatr in Krakow, takes the opposite
tack: it tries to license moments of humour by including great wedges
of earnestness. I do not know how much of this material is
included in Nick Whitby’s original English-language script (which ran
for only a month after its Broadway première in 2008), but I suspect
not much.
Lubitsch’s film is itself problematic in tone: 1942
was not the best time to essay a comedy about a theatre troupe in
occupied Warsaw, who have to impersonate Nazi officers, spies and even
Hitler himself in order to thwart moves against the Polish resistance.
To give credit to Peschel and Whitby, they do not shirk this
uneasiness: the most widespread audience response at the performance I
saw was a murmur of uncertainty at a Nazi officer’s remark about the
leading man’s performance as Hamlet, “What he did to Shakespeare, we
are now doing to Poland.” But concentrating on the comedy itself would
have been far the braver course than, as here, inserting long, sombre
utterances, a gratuitous dance sequence or two and mystifying musical
excerpts including Ennio Morricone and Eric Burdon.
Peschel’s
staging and Magdalena Musial’s design go all-out for metatheatricality:
stagehands erect flats around actors, scenes are played in weird stage
geometries, players don and doff costumes not simply according to their
roles. Yet paradoxically, instead of underlining Lubitsch’s view that
this is a story about actors
being
actors until the bitter end, it devalues comedy and seriousness alike.
Most misjudged of all, having dragged the story out to twice its screen
running time, the production then cuts the impersonation of Hitler that
provides both a comic climax and a serious payoff to the show’s opening
gag. It is like
Hamlet
without the prince. Instead it ends with the company repeatedly
intoning, “What are we going to do now?” like a bunch of glum Spike
Milligans. They should remember the old saw: dying is easy –
comedy is hard.
Written for the Financial
Times.