The Threepenny Opera

One of my resolutions, now that I've graduated college, is to continue writing about the theater I see. So here is my review of Robert Wilson's "Threepenny Opera," which went up at BAM this fall and was one of the best pieces I saw in 2011.

All said, I badly wanted to love Robert Wilson’s production of The Threepenny Opera, but I’ve never liked or understood Brecht. I’d read the play, of course, several times over the course of my education. Paramount in this experience was a pain-inducing production of Threepenny I saw from Columbia’s graduate acting program. I’d read Brecht’s theoretical works. But I’d never seen him done well and thus mistrusted his work thoroughly.

The show started off with the famed “Mack the Knife” song. I was already heartened when I recognized what seemed to be Kurt Weill’s original orchestration, a far cry from America’s big-band renditions. Pale-faced characters crossed the stage with stylized and individualized walks as carnival-esque circles of lights behind them grew ever brighter, to almost blinding wattage, as Mackie the Knife, played by a blond, sequined, and impeccable Stefan Kurt, leaned a gloved hand on his cane. It was a gorgeous and unnerving image.

Wilson clearly supported Brecht’s vision with his directorial choices (the distinctive character walks and unnatural speech patterns and voices), and his design choices too heightened the opera and created a sense of cohesion. The spectacular, blinding lights were the first indication of that, and the set consisted almost solely of these practical lights, both permanent and mobile. The costumes were all in black and white, with flashes of sequins, red, and a purple fur stole (Jenny’s), and were reminiscent of Cabaret or another Weimar-era play.

The next few scenes fell a little flat for me, as the Peachums discovered their daughter’s marriage and Mack the Knife brought his bride into their stable, though that scene did involve a great “Pirate Jenny.” The fault for me seemed to lie in the pacing of the scenes. They trudged along at a snail’s pace, with lots of loud, long artificial sound effects and movement. Things only truly picked up during the Tango Ballad, when the set completely transformed to become Jenny’s brothel, with copious amount of red occupying the stage. I first encountered the Tango Ballad while watching the 2006 Tony awards, with Cyndi Lauper and Alan Cummings’ rendition, which was dark and scantily clad. This version, however, swathed in red and somehow stripped of emotion, seemed both more appropriate and more moving, perhaps because it was closer to a Brechtian style of performance. Lucy and Polly’s Jealousy Duet later in the act was hilarious. It was heavily stylized and symmetrical, with the two girls standing on either side of Macheath’s jail cell. It surprised me that Wilson cut Lucy’s pregnancy from the plot, as it seemed to be an important point in the script. However, Anna Graenzer made a perfectly needy Lucy.

Mac the Knife and Mrs. Peachum (Traute Hoess) went on to a stunning Second Threepenny Finale at the end of the second act. It was then that the production truly hit its stride. The staging was arresting, to say the least. It was nothing special or fancy or flashy. The whole cast stood onstage and sung directly to the audience, advancing slowly during the chorus of the song, so that by the end they stood downstage, powerfully. It allowed the lyrics and the music to speak for themselves, and the effect was literally breathtaking.

The third act was much stronger and involved some interesting cuts to Brecht’s work, including the complete omission of the scene between Polly and Lucy as well as a verse or two of Jenny’s Solomon Song. I sorely missed the scene between the two girls, especially because Stappenbeck and Graenzer had proven themselves to be so strong together in Act Two. However, the end of the act was one of the most moving pieces of theater I have ever seen. It was in those moments that I understood more fully Brecht’s ideas behind his alienation techniques and Epic Theater. Near the end of the third act, a policeman led Mack the Knife to gallows which had been set up, and dropped the noose around his neck.Momentarily, I forgot the coming plot, despite having reread the play less than twenty four hours prior. With Mack standing noose-necked on the gallows and the whole company gathered onstage, I simply could not fathom how he would get out of this situation, although I knew he did. This was compounded by Mackie’s last speech, where he notes that “we bourgeois artisans… are being swallowed up by large concerns backed by banks. What is a picklock to a bank share? What is the burgling of a bank to the founding of a bank? What is the murder of a man to the employment of a man?” There was a collective rustling in the audience at that point, and applause. At this particular moment in American economic history, those words ring weightily true. I thought of several of my friends, encamped at Occupy Wall Street at that moment, and realized for the first time how powerful Brecht done right can be. It isn’t merely an allegorical tale with a few tunes. It is a call to arms, a call by a pen to pick up a sword and fight.

The finale of the messenger on horseback, outfitted in a red robe with a train longer than Catherine Middleton’s, was funny and angering. I recognized the injustice of Mack’s freedom and how this “un-Christian” ending is how real life plays out, especially with the recent economic turmoil and unethical business practices on Wall Street and in other financial institutions. The enormous red curtain descended on the stage, exactly matching the messenger’s robe, hovering for a minute before it touched the ground.

A few nights later, I found myself sitting on the floor of a General Assembly meeting at Occupy Wall Street. I’ve never joined in a protest before, political or otherwise.

I've since, of course, become a bit disillusioned with the Occupy Wall Street movement, but suffice it to say that Robert Wilson (and Bertolt Brecht) had done his job.