Posts Tagged ‘Imploding Fictions’

Still going strong

Monday, June 15th, 2009
Theatre National Strasbourg (photographer: Tamas Kiraly)

TNS, organizer of Festival Premières (photo: Tamas Kiraly)

Last year, after we’d performed Hamletmachine at the ITS Festival in Amsterdam, we thought: That’s it. The show’s been going for a year and a half since its first performance at BAC, this is a worthy end.

But no!  A year later, the machine is back again (no killing the machine!) and it looks like it might keep going for some time still. On 5th and 6th of June we performed at the lovely Festival Premières in Strasbourg, France. The festival was organised by Le-Maillon Theatre de Strasbourg and Theatre National Strasbourg, and the beautiful Theatre Jeune Publique hosted our show. With incredibly helpful theatre and festival staff, it was a joy to revive the show.

Theatre Jeune Publique, our riverside venue!

Theatre Jeune Publique, our riverside venue!

The festival hosted 10 shows by young directors from all over Europe. A show which made a particularly strong impression on us was Sanja Mitrovic’s Will You Ever Be Happy Again, a “docu-tale” comparing the experiences of a young Serbian, with German experiences of WW2. This was done with humour, insight and lots of energy. If you get a chance to see it, do! (It’s currently touring Europe…)

We performed Hamletmachine three times to sold out houses, participated in a platform discussion event with the other directors and were interviewed for the German/Frech TV channel ARTE. We look forward to performing in France again in the near future…

The auditorium of the TJP seen from the stage

The auditorium of the TJP with some of the helpful staff

For more info on Festival s Premières see:

http://www.le-maillon.com/

- Oystein

Sense by Anja Hilling at Southwark Playhouse

Thursday, April 9th, 2009
Company of Angels presents Sense at Southwark Playhouse

Company of Angels presents Sense at Southwark Playhouse

From 28th April to the 2nd May

This is not an Imploding Fictions production, but is produced by our good friends and collegues at Company of Angels. Oystein is directing “Nose”, one of the 5 pieces:

Following on from the play’s success at Theatre Café Festival 2008, five Company of Angels’ Associates will jointly be directing a promenade production of the award-winning Sense by German author Anja Hilling with a cast of 10 final year Drama Centre students.

Sense is a series of interlinking narratives. All five ‘senses’ are also plays in their own right. A play about teenagers, love, and the need to make radical choices, Sense is an intense, poetic journey into touching, inhaling, tasting, hearing, seeing and experiencing life to the extreme.

“astonishingly grown-up and hard-hitting theatre for young people”
Lyn Gardner – The Guardian, on Theatre Cafe 2008

Tickets can be booked from:
www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk
or 020 7407 0234

Or read more on:
www.companyofangels.co.uk

Hope to see you all there!

- Oystein

New office address

Sunday, April 5th, 2009

Please note that Imploding Fictions has a new office address:

Imploding Fictions 
CO/Oystein Ulsberg Brager
24 Bay Tree Close
Sidcup
Kent DA15 8WH

- Øystein and Pip

Norway.Today on at Southwark Playhouse!

Thursday, October 9th, 2008

Our production of Norway.Today is on in London at Sothwark Playhouse on the 14th and 15th of November as part of Company of Angels’ Theatre Café Festival!

We recommend you book tickets now, because Southwark Playhouse operate with airline style ticketing, which means they are cheaper the earlier you book.

Box office: 020 7928 2811

We hope to see you there!

Øystein and Philip

A show that never was and two (UG)gly samaritans

Monday, September 22nd, 2008
(UG)gly, the brilliant show that replaced ours

(UG)gly, the brilliant show that replaced ours at the Amsterdam Fringe Festival

Øystein in email-conversation with Adrian Gillott

After the letter exchange between David Overend and myself arranged by INSTED (see right hand menu), exchanging thoughts and ideas through letters has fascinated me. It’s very stimulating putting your thoughts down in letters, and getting thorough and intelligent responses to it. Your ideas feel like they matter, and that is a very satisfying feeling.

Here is a slightly shortened version of an email conversation between myself and Adrian Gillot of TheSamePerson who stood in for us on short notice when we were hindered from going to the Amsterdam Fringe:

Subject: URGENT from Oystein, can you help us?!‏

From: Øystein
Sent: 25 August 2008 13:34:26

Hi Adrian,

Philip and I have got into an unfortunate situation… As you know, we were going to perform at the Amsterdam Fringe Festival. But then Philip decided to fall down a flight of stairs and damage his leg, so now we’ve had to cancel. Very disappointing for us, but also for the festival who have now got four nights available in one of their best venues. So… we thought we’d ask you if you and Anna wanted to go with UG(gly) instead?

(…)

All the best,

Øystein

From: Adrian
Sent: Mon, 25 Aug 2008 17:48:08 +0100

Hey Øystein,

Thanks for thinking about us! It would be very cool if Anna and I could take UG(gly) to Amsterdam.

But how terrible for you guys. I’m so sorry to hear about Philip and his leg. Argh! Why do these things happen at such terrible times?

Thank you!

Best,
Adrian.

From: Øystein
Sent: 29 August 2008 09:50:21

Hear you’re going! Great stuff! Have an amazing festival! :)

Best, Øystein and Pip

From: Adrian
Sent: 29 August 2008 10:29:51

Yes, it looks like we’re going…

It’s a bit scary because we haven’t looked at the show since June but it is going to be really exciting. I can’t believe that we are profiting from your misfortune, though; that seems really harsh. I hope that Pip’s leg gets better really soon. And, you know, I am really curious about your show…

Best,

Adrian.

From: Øystein
Sent: 30 August 2008 10:07:01

Well, it was supposed to be about failure. So I reckon this was probably the best way to fulfill that aim… ;-P

Ø.

The two (UG)gly samaritans, here in blue

The two (UG)gly samaritans, here in blue

From: Adrian
Sent: 09 September 2008 20:06:04

Dear Øystein and Pip,

This is just to say thank you so much for recommending us to Anneke
for the Fringe. It is really such a shame that you were not able to go
because it was a beautiful theatre and the people were so wonderful
(you have already met some of them, I think) but your loss was very
much our gain and we are extremely grateful. It was a wonderful few
days and an invaluable opportunity for Anna and I to play the show in
front of audiences of total strangers; and Dutch to boot.

Anneke was very disappointed that you guys were not there – after
Hamlet Machine (which she kept telling us about) she was really
excited to see what you were doing. I think she is expecting to see
you next year…

You must also tell Anna and I when you are performing in this country.

I am really curious about the show we were replacing. In fact, some of
the best people we had in the audience were just people who had been
searching on line and had picked your show as something out of the
ordinary to do with their Sunday evening (they said that they hardly
ever go to the theatre); they made do with ours but yours obviously
has something about it. Oh and there was the actor (whose name I have
forgotten) who picked your show as part of his Saturday evening
‘route’. In some ways it felt as though we were wearing somebody
else’s perfume! Now we want to know what it smells like in the right
place.

All the best,
Adrian (and Anna).

From: Øystein
Sent: 16 September 2008 17:10:01

Dear Adrian and Anna,

Well, thanks for helping us out! It was brilliant for us to be able to recommend a good show rather than just disappearing and leaving the festival in a trick situation… We’re glad you enjoyed playing there, and that you had a good reception!

Hearing about all the people who had randomly discovered our show, or had been eagerly anticipating it is rather weird, sitting here in little Sidcup…

We’ll definitely go to the Amsterdam Fringe next year. And perhaps you will too, if this year’s ad hoc performance was a success?

It doesn’t seem like Now You See It will surface again, at least not for a while. After interrupting and calling off rehearsals and performances this time we feel like the moment has passed for that particular show. But, we’re up to our neck in other plans and ideas instead. You can see the first ten minutes of Now You See It on our YouTube page, if you haven’t done that already. There were a number of further ideas known only to me and Pip (both or one of us) which the world will never know. In combination with what we already had and the what the blurb promised, I’m sure it would have been a very intriguing show. Now, it’s the show that never was. An idea which does have a certain romantic, mystical or even eery quality to it.

We have our next performance in November, and you should come and see it if you can! Its a very different kind of show to Now You See It, its called Norway.Today and is a piece of drama where video is essential to the story, and we use live feed video projection a lot. Its on at Southwark Playhouse as part of the Theatre Café Festival arranged by Company of Angels.

Best wishes,

Øystein and Pip

(PS. Can I use this email-conversation as an entry for our blog? I liked your perfume-analogy and my “show that never was”)
From: Adrian
Sent: 17 September 2008 23:34:43

Dear Øystein,

I’ll just reply to you quickly – otherwise I won’t get to reply for a
week or more.

So:

I watched the Now You See It video. I think it’s a shame that you are
not continuing to work on that because I think there is something very
promising about the place you started from. Maybe you can cannibalize it for new shows.

Please feel free to use the e-mail conversation. I assert no ownership.

Hope to see you in November.

Best, best,
Adrian.
For more info about TheSamePerson have a look at their webpage: http://www.thesameperson.com
(and make sure you watch their funny and weird little videos!)

Bloody Dramatic Rooms

Friday, August 29th, 2008

Apart from all the usual productions of Peer Gynt, Hedda Gabler, Rosmersholm and so forth, this year’s Ibsen Festival in Oslo also features Ibsen performed by little plasticine figures…

The theatre designer Inger Astri Kobbevik Stephens travelled to visit kids between 14 and 16 at several Norwegian schools. She boiled down classic Ibsen plots into one sentence (“Girl kills herself although she has everything”, “Mother leaves husband and kids” etc.) and gave them to the teenagers as a narrative starting point. Equipped with a video camera and plasticine the teenagers set about creating, modelling and filming their own stories derived from these premises. Inger didn’t mention the Ibsen plays, so the pupils created without any preconceptions. They modelled their own version of events…

The resulting films are being shown for the duration of the festival in the National Theatre’s foyer, and Inger Astri Kobbevik Stephens screened them at the Open Theatre (Det Apne Teater) as part of a performance lecture entitled Bloody Dramatic Rooms.

Inside little cardboard boxes, lovingly decorated as affluent living rooms with widescreen TVs fashioned out of match boxes, wild fantasies of domestic violence, abuse and addiction take place. It’s revealing that all but three of the fifteen groups (despite complete freedom) decided to stage their dramas in domestic living rooms. The pent up tension of these claustrophobic shoe box homes is in fact quite reminiscent of Ibsen. The way the tension is unleashed though is quite different… There is an abundance of violent humour and graphic detail. The ramshackle plasticine film making is boundless in terms of ambition. In my favourite film for example Nora’s modern-day plasticine husband hacks his way out of the doll’s house with a chain saw. Although most of the scenarios at some point spiral out of control into gratuitous gore, the films are filled with insights into these pupils’ world views and how they perceive “family.” What is starkly obvious is the extent in which TV pervades every aspect of their domestic lives. A TV is featured in every one of the dramatic rooms, as are fathers complaining “you’re in front of the screen” and “shut up, I can’t hear it!” It seems that family life without the TV set has become unthinkable. But it’s not just a physical presence in these films, the vocabulary of TV can be sensed in the making of them. The creators are obviously highly visually literate. They also have an eye for lurid detail and a taste for violent humour. Whilst watching I sometimes think these films are more in reference to movies these kids have seen or series they admire, rather than their own lives in well to do, rural Norway. The “Lady from the sea” film can best be described as Beavis and Butthead meets Ibsen.

So, are these films about Norwegian families, or American families, or how Norwegian teenagers see American families or an assemblage of all the things they fear, idolise or identify with? Whatever the answer (and it’s probably a mixture of all these things) these tiny films seem both harsh and at the same time quite vulnerable. They make for fascinating viewing!

They also seem to suggest that directors confronted with the staging difficulties of say Brand or Peer Gynt should maybe get themselves a handful of play-do : )

Philip Thorne

Break a Leg

Thursday, August 28th, 2008

Our rehearsals of Now You See It; Now You Don’t have been inconveniently, annoyingly and abruptly interrupted by Philip taking the well-wishing of our friends a little too seriously.
Break a leg, they said. And so he did.

Well. It’s probably not quite broken. It’s not removed at the hip. It’s not crushed and jelly-like. It doesn’t even have white bits of bone sticking out. So in that sense, the whole business is disappointingly un-dramatic. But the doctors say Pip’s leg is fractured and that he should rest for a while and not use it. So we have been forced to quit rehearsals and cancel the project.
This means we are not going to Amsterdam, not previewing in Oslo, not visiting the Ukraine, not currently planning another Rome-trip and not going to get the opportunity to take this particular project any further. Which is sad, of course. But life goes on and all that.

Then. When the cloud of disappointment had subsided, the thick layers of irony hit us. Like a slap in the face with a big fish.

Here we embark on a journey trying to make a show about failure. And fail.
We make a show about clowns. And Pip performs the perfect act of slapstick on the staircase outside where we’re rehearsing.
We set about creating a slippery landscape of tricks and fiction and end up physically slipping up.

In fact, we called our show Now You See It; Now You Don’t. And for a long time we could see it looming in the distance. Unclear, slightly out of focus maybe, but full of promise and bright colours and joke shop props and touring plans. Now, we can’t see it anymore. The show is off radar, it has entered the Bermuda triangle of theatre only reappearing like a ghost of memory – like the Flying Dutchman, perhaps, its journey interrupted, but its trajectory forever Amsterdam-bound… (How’s that for a syrupy analogy?)

We were making a show about what we laugh at and why, how we make something un-funny, funny. And it is with all this in mind that we suspect that this whole situation might in fact be a perfectly legitimate laughing matter. It is funny that this whole thing went tits up. Or leg down, as the case may be. We are waiting for the pain to recede – or, Pip is, I’m fit as a fiddle to be frank, waiting for the aftermath of cancellations to quieten down before we make our mind up about this. The laugh-worthy-ness of our current unfortune – does it deserve a five star rating or a meagre two?

But in the end I guess it is to be expected. Not Philip falling down stairs, of course (Well, maybe that too…). What I mean is: When you have the nerve to call your company Imploding Fictions… Perhaps it is only natural that in between the projects where a show successfully implodes the fiction of fake drama, or implodes the audience’s expectations of fiction, or implodes theatre’s fictional frame, or reveals a self-imploded fiction, or implodes the lies of reality and exposes the fiction of truth, now and again a project comes along and simply pops politely, in an imploding fashion, not unlike a balloon bumping unexpectedly into a needle – and folds up. Exactly in the way we imploders expect fictions to behave.

This particular project has – like the aforementioned balloon – popped. Retracted to its own crumpled, wrinkly shape, its true face revealed. It is not a pretty face. It used to be big, red and shiny (if perhaps a little bloated). Now it’s small, raisin-like and a little wet. (Yes, Pip, I’m talking about you again. Oh my god, is that blood? Nurse! Nurse!)

I’m writing from Pip’s bedside at the Norwegian A&E, anticipating a big bill handed over to me with a polite smile by a pretty nurse. (I hate people who smile politely and look distractingly attractive whilst they rip you off.)
- Pip, have you got your E111 with you? Your E111, the European health service… card… thingy… Bugger. Well I’m not paying, you’re the one who fell!?! It’s your fault that it has all stalled, isn’t it? I’m still standing!

But, come to think of it, perhaps I shouldn’t be quite as smug about the whole thing. After all, I was the one who pushed him.

- Øystein

 

PS. Thanks to all the people who have believed in this project; INSTED, the Norwegian Foreign Ministry and the Norwegian Dance and Theatre Centre, the Amsterdam Fringe Festival, International Publishers Forum in Lviv, the Norwegian Church in London, the Acting Department of the Film and TV-academy at the Nordic Institute for Stage and Studio in Oslo and of course our eminent producer Michael H. Sciarrone! We will be back with renewed strength before you know it… (After all, we aren’t broken. Only fractured.)

Hamletmachine in Amsterdam, reviewed for INSTED by Alexandra Müller

Sunday, July 6th, 2008

How to get an audience delighted?

And other important questions raised in Imploding Fiction’s Hamletmachine

Written by Alexandra Mueller

One of the hardest things is to get people working in theatre excited by a performance. Especially with a text predicted to be “undirectable” like Heiner Muellers Hamletmachine. And especially when two just graduating young directors from London do such a piece.
But in Mondays performance at the Frascati Theatre of Muellers piece directed by Imploding Fictions (Philip Thorne and Øystein Ulsberg Brager) it just happened: nearly one hall of largely young directors, actors, dramaturges, producers etc. got caught by a complex, non-narrating one hour performance. How could that happen?

How could that happen?

Imploding Fiction’s Hamletmachine is built out of two Mueller pieces: Hamletmachine and Man in the elevator. It starts with the elevator piece: The two actors (Hannah Boyde, Samuel Metcalfe) dressed in formal black suits building their own cage: an easy square of white tape. Captured in it and bound by an extralong tie they start an exhausting auditive journey through the text. It tells the story of a man on his way to his chief. He has given up every individuality to work in a system where only “work is hope”. Really working is the artwork of the two actors, the hypnotizing choreography of their voices turns into the metaphoric machine, the man in the elevator is only one small part. The tie becomes a metaphor: the bounding of the man and the woman is a gallows, a blindfold, it holds and it chains at the same time. This directly leads to the first break in the whole performance: the bounded pair rips their band and is divided into “Hamlet” and “Ophelia”. The cold world of business is loosened, the cage of the elevator is destroyed, the suits were changed into Hamlet’s scrubby look and Ophelia’s white skirt and her old-fashioned underwear.

Mueller’s Hamlet is transmuted into an animal. A mixture of an ape and a parrot, struggling with Muellers text, a lonely explorer in a child’s sandbox. Hamletmachine is only 8 pages long, but it deals with nearly everything: Not only Shakespearean drama but also European history, communism and Mueller’s predicted helplessness of the intellectual individual in the 20th century.

Deconstruction in a sandbox

Imploding Fiction’s Hamlet follows this deconstructing path. He finds some relics in his sandbox. For example an old transistor radio. It talks to him in different voices: those of old Shakespeare interprets whose pathetic voices are quite amusing in contrast to the listening apish boy in the sandbox: “I’m your father’s spirit!”. In contrary to them a comedian jokes about what Hamlet’s family relations can teach us for real life. The Hamlet in the sandbox comes back again to Mueller”s text: asking, screaming, suffering – and also laughing about what pathetic inquiry this Hamlet is longing for. Can any living today just stand stuff like that? The question culminates in an unbearable tinnitus-alike bleep. What also cannot be missing: the skull. There are two covered by sand: a realistic one and one of plastic, blinking blue in Hamlets hand, while Ophelia finishes changing her clothes.

Ophelia is full of little tragic moments, her quiet dark voice fills the whole room, while she plays with nothing but a glass of water. She moves between being a woman, a child and a puppet when she burns a letter with some Shakespearian Hamlet lyrics and when she drips some blood into her glass of water, thinking about herself, “the woman at the gallows”.

And then the turning starts again, the whole performance transforms into a metaplay. The actors step out of their roles drinking some water to refresh themselves, Ex-Hamlet tells with Mueller “I’m not Hamlet.” And just checks if he has any messages. From now on the deconstruction continues until the show ends with two little robots standing in a little elevator made of tape and two actors dusting some glittering snow on them.

Metametametametameta

Muellers Hamletmachine is a secret, it reflects on its own cryptical style, its protagonist talks about being Hamlet and being an actor, he tears up a picture of the author and the author himself seems to talk about all that is going on in his head. This metametameta postmodern style of questioning and being is transferred into a one hour play which is not only analyzing this meta-thinking existence but also funny, emotional and beautiful at the same time. Like the text itself it tries to reveal the layers of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, of its own existence and of theatre itself.

From one “act” of Imploding Fiction’s Hamletmachine to the next one layer after the other is taken off, like the costumes of the actors. First there is the elevator piece, this well directed artistic voice challenge, then everything is transformed into Hamletmachine’s two broken figures – invented by Heiner Mueller and in their great individual ways interpreted by the actors. Third the former characters become actors/directors by themselves, talking about playing Shakespeare, being authentic etc. Then the media (used in a theatrical way) start to be instruments of exploring how more or less modern techniques conquer the stage: Former Hamlet talking in his mobile phone, former Ophelia listening, former Hamlet going out, coming back without a phone, but his voice still sounds through the phone, which is placed next to a microphone. Former Hamlet having a Dictaphone, recording himself, placing it beside the mobile phone beside the microphone. His voice doubled, tripled and overlayed by another radio and so on.

Some answers to find

If one distillates the essence of the whole performance to answer the question in the title, he’ll come to some points. First: Have the courage to do a difficult, challenging text. Unreadable, undirectable when it comes to questions of narrative, of understandability.
Second: Take two pretty good actors, who seem to like the text, like their “roles”, the play with roles and themselves.
Third: Have again the courage to invent your own magical, ironical, beautiful pictures and to use ambiguous metaphors – while knowing what they mean to you and knowing they are ambiguous. (Although if the furthered theatre around you – as it was discussed in the following talk – is quite narrative and often kind of conservative.)

One can like it or hate this piece – but he or she has to confess, that this Hamletmachine is a work of two directors who really know what their question was to the text, to their actors and to the medium itself. An aesthetic and intellectual statement and at the same time a personal answer to the question: How to do theatre today. And what more can one expect from two young directors at the beginning of their careers?
HAMLETMACHINE
TEXT: Heiner Mueller
DIRECTORS: Philip Thorne, Øystein Ulsberg Brager
ACTORS: Hannah Boyde, Samuel Metcalfe
LIGHTING DESIGN AMSTERDAM: Thomas Wheildon

Partying with Shakespeare

Sunday, May 25th, 2008

Just returned from a terrific evening of over the top acting, knockabout theatricality and the best rendition of “to be or not to be” I have ever heard – recited by a four-headed Shakespeare.

Travelling theatre company Footsbarn don’t do subtle. They do in-yer-face, cut the crap theatre. Their brash theatricality veers between irritating and invigorating. It’s like hardcore Panto or Kneeghigh without the cutesy bits.

I first saw Footsbarn as a child near Avignon in France. They were staying on the same campsite and I looked at their colourfully painted caravans with awe and envy. The hand to mouth existence of this travelling group of players pitching up their stage somewhere different each night just seemed like the most adventurous and romantic way of living ever.

Now after an absence of almost two decades they have returned to England and are partying at the Globe. Shakespeare Party is an irreverent “best of” edit of the canon featuring Ophelia in a waterfall, Romeo and Juliet on the highwire, hacked off limbs flying out of a cauldron and some midget getting high on magic mushrooms (no idea from which play the latter is spurned…)

It’s approaching that season when awful productions of A Midsummer-night’s Dream are put on in every bush and grassy path in Britain and picnicking crowds can watch actors camp up iambic pentameter. What sets Footsbarn apart from the usual Shakespeare pageant is the unapologetic deftness of it all, real anarchic verve and madcap flair. An ideology of irreverence lies under everything they do. It’s really, really stupid and really funny. It’s coarse theatre that celebrates itself as such.

The Globe is an amazing venue. I’d always considered it a tourist attraction or ‘museum theatre’. But I’ve rarely felt the power of the audience so strongly as here. The relationship between stage and audience, the standing, milling, shuffling spectators and the performers’ total exposure are deeply fascinating. It’s an ideal location for Shakespeare Party.

During the course of the bard romp enough mess is created to match Forced Entertainment standards, I desperately want to raid the company’s surreal costume store and a Cello is unintentionally smashed. We hope Footsbarn return!

Philip

Imploding Fictions in Hamburg

Monday, April 7th, 2008

 

Hamburg 

 

Together with INSTED we were invited to the Körber Studio Junge Regie 2008 in Hamburg, Germany’s annual symposium for young directors. We lived in a place just of the Reeperbahn (probably the most decadent street in Europe), but even so nightlife was eclipsed by a full on schedule that seemed devised to test even the toughest theatre junkie. 

 

The regular programme:  show for breakfast, four hour afternoon debate about the previous shows, supper (this was invariably soup), first play of the evening followed by an audience discussion, second play of the evening followed by an audience discussion, then a ‘party’ (which was another play, only this time you were allowed to bring in a glass of wine). 

 

So, this was the ‘basic programme’ around which were scheduled a series of special events, shows, talks and debates, including a lecture with postdramatic theatre gurus Hans Thies Lehmann and Heiner Goebbels.

 

By the end of six days we had seen nineteen shows. You can read the previous sentence again if you like.

 

Being invited to the Körber Studio Junge Regie in Hamburg is equivalent to being waved onto a roller-coaster escapade through the current trends of contemporary German theatre. It would be an interesting sociological experiment to force Charles Spencer through the experience. My guess is that he’d explode in a fit of indignation. 

 

With neat regularity Spencer accuses people like Katie Mitchell of ‘smashing up the classics’, taking ‘outrageous liberties’ and ‘not serving the intentions of the dead playwright’ (actual quotes!!!) On evidence of Körber Studio 2008 faithfully reconstructing classics is certainly not what German theatre is about. It dismantles them, reconfigures them into new constellations, probes them for contemporary relevance or exposes ideological clashes with current thinking. The productions we saw of Woyzek, Hamlet, Hedda Gabler and Elektra were not attempts at reconstructing Büchner, Shakespeare, Ibsen or Hoffmansthal but rethinking them and their themes from a 21st century standpoint. A central figure at the core of German (and most European) theatre is the ‘dramaturge’. When the term crops up it in Britain it is usually in reference to someone who acts as a kind of script supervisor on new writing. But on the continent dramaturges work on classic plays, they research previous drafts, influences etc. and then, together with the director, determine the structure and strategy for a new production (in Britain we’d say adaptation) of it. The constant accompaniment of the dramaturge and the resulting intellectual rigour in theatrical debates was one of the first striking features of our visit to Hamburg.

 

Talk at Körber Studio Junge Regie 

 

The other one (really not wanting to be stereotypical, but hey) was that German tea is a fucking disgrace. You get presented with a glass (!) of warm water into which you are expected to dunk a tea bag. And when Oystein asked for tea with milk the guy behind the bar (after an initial period of confusion) held it under the coffee machine and filled it up with frothy milk. 

 

A rather novel aspect of the festival was that it was accompanied by students of criticism (in Germany you study to become a critic) as well as the students of directing, dramaturgy and acting. The critics joined the directors’ internal discussions and debates on the shows we had seen and then read out and discussed their reviews with the artistic teams under discussion present. This meant that the practitioners had an opportunity to give direct feedback to the critics and vice versa. It was a great idea to bring these two stereotypically polarised fronts together and engage in mutual debate.

 

Christa Müller, a dramaturge at the Thalia showed us around the Thalia Theater which made us green with envy: two rehearsal stages which are exact replicas of the main stage (minus the auditorium) a firmly employed ensemble of actors on a regular salary and a current repertoire of fifty three (!!!) plays! 

 

Thalia Theater 

 

Our stay in Hamburg was really inspiring and we met some great people – we thank the Thalia Theater, the Körber Stiftung and INSTED for inviting us, and we hope to return to Germany again soon (maybe next time with a production…) Next week we’ll be back in London.

 

Read more on: 

http://www.insted.eu 

http://www.thalia-theater.de

http://www.koerber-stiftung.de/foerderung/foerderung_junger_kuenstler/studio_junge_regie/index.html

http://www.implodingfictions.com 

or see some more photos from our trip on 

http://www.facbook.com/photo.php?pid=481820&l=eee5e&id=603357604

 

- Philip