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October 30, 2007

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

2007_10_30Berlin.jpg

Hannah Moscovitch's play East of Berlin is familiar territory for Tarragon's extra space. Remember Rosa Laborde's Léo, which was remounted last season? Well, here's another show in the same space that's set in South America, has political subject matter, spans the life of its main character, and features only two other actors, a man and a woman, both of whom he has sex with. This may be a bit of a tangent, but Torontoist is a little curious as to why so many Canadian plays are about depressing periods of socio-political upheaval in foreign countries. Not that there's anything wrong with that, and many rather fantastic plays (Moscovitch's included) haven't been written along these lines. It's just that the frequency with which these plays are written and produced can be a tad overwhelming; it's pretty much guaranteed that Tarragon, Factory, Passe Muraille and CanStage will all include at least one such show in every season.

Getting back on topic, East of Berlin is itself a real treat, and not just another depressing-foreign-political-situation retread. It tells the story of Rudi, a young man who grows up in Paraguay after the Second World War, but doesn't discover until he's seventeen that the reason he and his German parents immigrated is that his father served as a "physician" at Auschwitz. Rudi tells his story to the audience, having just arrived back in Paraguay after a lengthy sojourn in Berlin, and revisits his past through a series of flashbacks. The play ruminates on how such a weighty piece of knowledge affects a person's life; everything that Rudi does after discovering the truth is some sort of reaction to his father's life. The first half of the play focuses on his relationship with his gay best friend Hermann, the person who tells him the truth about his father. His first act of rebellion against his Nazi doctor father? Allowing him to discover his only son having sex with Hermann in his study. His second act makes up the play's second half, during which Rudi is a student in Berlin and begins a love affair with a Jewish American named Sarah.

Moscovitch's dialogue is terrific: as smart as it is funny and as poignant as it is political. And the cast is certainly up for the challenge; Brendan Gall in particularl is delightful as the central Rudi. Particular attention is also due to Camellia Koo's set design, which is absolutely gorgeous and the best use of the Tarragon extra space Torontoist has ever seen. A long bookcase that extends well into the exposed backstage area is pushed almost to the very front of the stage, making the audience feel as though they are right inside the action. The bookcase itself is lovingly detailed, full of sundry volumes, artifacts and pictures. This is a banner year for Moscovitch, who also has a double bill at Factory opening in January, which is an impressive feat for such a young playwright. East of Berlin may not be her strongest work. The ending is somewhat cliché and there is a disparity between Rudi the narrator and Rudi in the flashbacks. In the flashbacks, he is willful, stupid and often graceless, whereas in the present he appears much more polished, witty and self-possessed. We feel we are going to witness his transformation from one Rudi to another, but this never really happens. Nevertheless, this is an incredibly strong production of an exciting new writer's work, and you'd definitely be spending your time wisely by making the trip to Bridgman Avenue.

Photo by Cylla von Tiedemann.


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Comments (8)

Why so many plays about depressing periods of foreign history? I'd guess it's because Toronto is a city of immigrants , and especially of refugees. Their stories like deserve to be told. So it's likely that local playwrights are simply ellaborating on the stories they've heard from their friends, their neighbours, their families. Sometimes even their own pasts.
I mean, just look to the fiction that has come out of Toronto - Yann Martel's Life of Pi and and Micheal Ondatje's In the Skin of the Lion come to mind - they deal pretty exclusively with the lives of immigrants, and their dramatic stories.
I, for one, far prefer it to yet more tales of isolation and incest coming from the boonies of Canadaland.

 

You're right of course, Beth. Toronto's (and Canada's) multiculturalism means international theatre, which is wonderful. I guess the thing that really stands out to me as a Torontonian is that Canadian plays (and not just old ones) are either of the foreign upheaval variety, or the rural isolation/incest variety, as you put it. It just seems sometimes that no one is writing anything about the modern, urban Canadian experience (except for George and Judith), which is strange, because if you look at countries like the US and Britain, lots of people are doing just that. And more people per capita live in cities in Canada than they do in the States. And certainly, no one is writing anything very happy, whether its set locally or abroad.

I'm interested by the fiction examples you provided because, although in general I would make the same complaint of Canadian novels, I think those two are notable exceptions. Life of Pi is set on a boat, and while it would be naive to say that it has no socio-political implications, it is uniquely removed from conventional society. And I have to disagree with In the Skin of the Lion, which is I think one of the most authentically Torontonian books ever written, especially because of its inclusion of immigrant characters Caravaggio and Nicholas Temelcoff, but to be fair, central figures Patrick, Clara, Alice, Hana and Ambrose Small are all native Canadians.

 

Yeah, my fiction examples were not necisarily set in foriegn locales, they were stories about immigrants/Toronto, and that was more my point.
I love in the Skin of Lion too. Cannot say enough good things about that book.
You know, weirdly enough my boyfriend is actually from the great northern boonies (Thunder Bay to be exact) and he did not experience either incest OR isolation OR any kind of strange family scandal when growing up there, and niether did anyone he knows. Odd eh?
Try telling Anne Marie Mcdonald that though.
Then again, she has actually also contributed to the urban Toronto theatrical oevre, so I guess it balances out.
Overall, I agree. We need more optimistic and urban theatre in this city. I'm sure it exists, somewhere, but it needs to be big enough and good enough, and get enough attention that it actually gets added to the canon of Canadian theatre like the Drawer Boy.
An overall dankness and depression that has overtaken local stages is certainly what keeps this former theatre major away from most theatre these days. Other than that there's just revivals, and I just can't get excited about things I could see a high school production of.
Bob Martin in particular needs to work more. The Drowsy Chaperone and Slings and Arrows are two of the most joyous theatre realted things to come out of this city in ages.

 

If you see a need for it, why not try writing it yourself? Or solicit the aid of similarly-minded and interested locals? I bet Torontoist readers could bang out a decent play in a weekend round-robin session.

What was that figure, something like 60% of Torontonians were born outside of Canada? I think that explains why nobody (apparently) is writing about Toronto in the present day -- they still have their Old Countries and histories relatively fresh in their minds. (And as we know, people born in Toronto don't think it's anything special anyway.)

 

I think Toronto is special! And actually, all of the plays that I write and produce with my theatre company are set specifically in modern-day Toronto.

 

Johnnie, you are, as they say, "Fabulous!!!"

 

As who says, Doggiez? Please, enlighten me. I'm all ears.

 

Thespians.

 
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