Berlin’s de-constructivists, Hamlet and the post-dramatic null space in Copenhagen
It is the basic task of contemporary playwriting to understand and challenge modern directors‘ theatre. There is, however, a growing alienation between the two, which leads to an equally great rift between traditional and progressive theatre. If directors’ theatre is deadlocked into interpretations of the classics or into a post-dramatic null space, this impedes the development of the theatre (more…)
All audiences are like guests in a restaurant, waiting to be served. They know everything, they’ve seen it all. Their taste buds are finely tuned. They are picky and demanding.
I have spent most of my life in the theatre. When I was five, I watched my mother being killed on the stage at the end of a melodrama in which she was the romantic heroine. She simulated death, she imitated it, she didn’t describe it or talk about it, she showed it. (more…)
… whose system is increasingly endangered by economic forces
Theatre in Italy is a travelling theatre: Plays are shown in Rome or Milan for no more than a month, then they tour the cities and villages, for one or two nights each. This fantastic system dates back to a remote past and makes it possible for provincial theatres to present grand shows with famous actors and important directors. (more…)
There are many languages in the theatre of Luxembourg – except Luxembourgish.
This year’s repertory of the Théâtres de la Ville de Luxembourg includes, plays not only in German, French and English, but also productions in Polish and Dutch – which begs the question why there isn’t a single play in the Luxembourgish language. This is all the more puzzling since there has been a great variety and growing importance of the Luxembourgish literature in recent decades. (more…)
There are few performances of modern plays in Russia. But the situation is beginning to change. We are ready to speak about ourselves.
Unfortunately, the situation with modern drama in Russia is very clear. I write “unfortunately” because till now there are only very few performances of modern plays in Russia, and we know each one of them. In Moscow, which is a center of new dramatic art, performances of modern plays comprise less than ten percent of the repertoire of Moscow theaters. (more…)
Financial Turbulence Puts Pressure on European Theatre
Outlining the theatre of an entire continent is an overwhelming task for a lone scholar. Even when he has travelled to many different countries as a part of his job. Nevertheless, for the past year and a half the positive chaos of theatrical simultaneity in European theatre has become somewhat more defined. (more…)
A fateful nursery rhyme: The protagonists in “The Ugly Human-ling” are eternal outsiders in society and their own homes.
Pfui! Ugly! Elif Ürse, Yelda Baskın and Gülce Uğurlu. Photo: Martin Kaufhold.
The outlines of bodies are painted on the back wall, as if marked off with chalk by the police after an accident. In the collective production by the Turkish off-theatre group oyun deposu, the outlines symbolize the profiles that three rather lively Turkish women – who are not the way other people think they should be – yearn to fit into. They are all young and beautiful girls who wish that these were the only reasons people notice them. In the beginning, they attempt to cram themselves into the outlines of their desired formats, gasping as they bend and stretch to fit. They are ultimately forced to give up trying.
Each of them has her own, fragmented story to tell. Though their narrative lines never cross, they do hold parallels. A few situations arise on stage that each of the women has to deal with. They have one thing in common: Each of them is an irritation, a nuisance to Turkish society caught between tradition and modern life. And they are all victims of discrimination. Woman A (Elif Ürse) conceals her hair with a headscarf as a way of carrying on her mother’s tradition. Memorizing prayers, that was child’s play for her. Then, all at once, wearing a headscarf at school was forbidden: Muslima or atheist, she doesn’t know what to believe anymore.
Woman B (Yelda Baskın) is equally divided. “Who am I, what am I?” she asks. Her father is Turkish, her mother has a Kurdish background. No one can tell this when they look at her siblings, but she stands out like a dirty stain on her family’s clean record. Her skin is too dark, her eyes pitch black. (more…)
Finnish director Kristian Smeds has succeeded in staging an impressive production about the painter Vilho Lampi. It is surprising and provoking – and lasts nearly four hours.
Finnish artist Vilho Lampi in "God Is Beauty". Photo: Martin Kaufhold
Splinters of wood fly through the air as the painter Vilho Lampi is seized by inspiration and thrashes an ax into a piece of timber. Sweat drips relentlessly, and it seems as though this man is drawn to his artworks with urgency, as though he has been kissed by desperation instead of a muse. Kristian Smeds’ “God Is Beauty” is based on the story of Vilho Lampi’s life, as recorded by the Finnish author Paavo Rintala in 1959. However, this is not a biography, but rather “a book about beauty,” Smeds quotes the author’s words shortly before the performance begins. True to this motto, the protagonist’s excruciating search for the divine and beauty pervades throughout Smeds’ staging of the artist’s biography, which begins in Vilho Lampi’s youth.
Painting for cows
This is depicted on stage through scenes of the young Lampi whipping a rope above his head, frantically dancing to klezmer music, speaking to imaginary people in matchboxes and attempting to reinvent art with his paintings. The role of the painter is divided among Kristian Smeds’ fantastic ensemble (Katja Kukkola, Tarja Heinula, Timo Tuominen, Taisto Reimaluoto, Tuomas Rinta-Panttila); Lampi is played by three men and two women. (more…)
He used his office in the ministry of culture as a writing studio: Albanian author Stefan Çapaliku speaks about his work as a playwright.
One who can explain "exterophily": Albanian playwright Stefan Çapaliku. Foto: Pesl
It was a matter of survival. You can’t make a living from being an author in Albania. Everyone in our artistic community is aware of the necessity of taking on a job in public service to make ends meet. To be honest, I mostly used my office for writing. The government did not inhibit my work. Otherwise I would have quit immediately.
Are actors able to make a living from their work?
Not freelance actors. They often go abroad and end up working in ordinary professions. They can never seem to get by as actors because there is so much competition, despite the fact that we have a good drama school. The national theatre and a few city theatres are the only ones with permanent ensembles, but I feel like they are detrimental to Albanian theatre as a whole. It doesn’t make sense for people to be paid to be on call. Young performers have no access to this self-contained system. I would rather see the market opened, the system reformed. If theatres and ensembles were separated, it would create a whole new reality. I frequently advocate this in articles and interviews.
What advantages do Albanian artists have?
Albania has been in a state of transition since the 1990s. So much is happening all at once. For an artist, such as an author, this can be very interesting. Anything is possible. Those who observe reality discover enough material for a great many dramas. Since 1992, I have spent a lot of time in western countries and have noticed that societal life is not as intense as it is in Albania. In our country, we constantly encounter strange situations, exactly the kinds of things that feed authors’ imaginations. (more…)
Visiting Mark Ravenhill at the Forum of Young European Playwrights
Some writers' legs... while writing. Foto: Valerie Kattenfeld
In and around the art club Nassauischer Kunstverein. Mark Ravenhill has instructed the emerging authors gathered here to pair off and spread out across the entire premises. Some sit on the hardwood floors of the building’s vast halls, some smoke on the balcony and some take a little walk. Heiđar Sumarliđason from Iceland, an athletic guy in shorts and with a full blond beard and a cup of coffee in his hand, tells the Vienna resident Dominic Oley of a traumatic theatre experience:
Heiđar: So it was two days before the premiere of my play, “Pieces,” and the director decided to cut fifteen minutes of it. There was nothing I could do. She said: “Just trust me.” But the performance was horrible. My words were there, but they no longer fit to what was happening. It was like I was trying to say something completely different than what I’d intended when I wrote it.
Dominic: And that’s why you stage your own plays now…
Heiđar: I have been focusing on directing recently, yes. I actually haven’t written anything in three years, but I’ve directed English and Polish plays. I’m even planning a college musical. I’d like to try my hand at all theatrical areas.
Dominic: How do you make it work financially?
Heiđar: It’s not easy. But after investing four years of my time and money in an artistic education, I wouldn’t want to work at any old day job.
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