Tag Archives: Berliner Ensemble

DE PROFUNDIS

★★★★

The Coronet Theatre

DE PROFUNDIS

The Coronet Theatre

★★★★

“a powerful study of suffering, resilience and renewal”

The Berliner Ensemble – founded by Bertolt Brecht and Helene Weigel – returns to London with the UK premiere of Oscar Wilde’s ‘De Profundis’. This finely judged German-language production realises Wilde’s final major prose work with fitting intelligence and emotional intensity.

Written while imprisoned for “gross indecency” to the man Wilde blamed for his ruination, ‘De Profundis’ is a raw and searching account of the catastrophe that came to define his life.

Wilde’s longest autobiographical work – translated to German by Mirko Bonné and adapted with dramaturg Johannes Nölting – is distilled into a portrait of profound mental distress. Yet from that suffering emerges an extraordinary lyricism, rich with devastatingly critical self-reflection. Far from a lament, it movingly charts Wilde’s search for spiritual strength, revealing deep transformation and culminating in fragile hope. As a non-German speaker, I sadly can’t speak to the subtleties of Bonné’s translation, but Wilde’s humanity remains unmistakable.

Oliver Reese’s direction is elegant in its simplicity. Confined to a cramped, elevated cell, Wilde is at once isolated and exposed. His sprawling prison letter is deftly shaped into episodes of shifting emotional intensity – a fittingly fragmented window into a volatile mind. Reese makes shrewd use of minimal props and space, with changes in movement, tone and perspective ensuring the austerity never feels static. A stuffed bird emerges from a plastic bag, offering the only clue to Wilde’s previous lifestyle before gathering new meaning, while Wilde’s eventual reclothing suggests reconstruction – though forever blackened. The production’s greatest strength is also its main challenge – the keen focus puts language centre stage, and for English-speaking audiences some of Wilde’s lyrical beauty is inevitably lost to the surtitles. Even so, the emotional force carries powerfully across the language divide.

Jörg Gollasch’s score provides a resonant counterpoint to the stark staging. Abstract yet expressive, it mirrors the emotional contours of Wilde’s text, amplifying its impact without overwhelming it. Equally effective is the strategic use of silence, lending key moments an almost unbearable intimacy and reinforcing Wilde’s profound loneliness.

Hansjörg Hartung’s striking design is modern, minimalist and monochrome – the antithesis of Wilde’s pre-prison life. By stripping away familiar mythology, it leaves behind the man. The sense of confinement is palpable, heightened by Steffen Heinke’s superb lighting, particularly in the unsettling image of the ceiling closing in. Elina Schnizler’s plain shirt and tie complete the effect, replacing Wilde’s famously extravagant image with one of conformity and ordinariness.

Acclaimed German actor Jens Harzer attacks Wilde’s words with ferocious intensity and disarming vulnerability. Even through the language barrier, his deeply felt performance proves utterly captivating, illuminating the emotional depths of Wilde’s most personal work.

Berliner Ensemble’s ‘De Profundis’ transforms Wilde’s despair into a powerful study of suffering, resilience and renewal. While it undoubtedly lands with greater force for German speakers, its clarity and humanity make it well worth experiencing.



DE PROFUNDIS

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd October 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Jörg Brüggemann

 

 

 

 

 

 

DE PROFUNDIS

DE PROFUNDIS

DE PROFUNDIS

The Tin Drum

★★★★

The Coronet Theatre

The Tin Drum

The Tin Drum

The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed – 25th February 2020

★★★★

 

“We watch in a state of fascinated disgust as he struts and spits, leers and cries, throws tantrums and smashes things up.”

 

Günter Grass wrote The Tin Drum in 1959. It remains one of the defining novels of the 20th Century, and Oskar, its diminutive anti-hero, one of literature’s most extraordinary creations. It is epic in scope, and a hefty undertaking for a one-man stage adaptation, but Oliver Reese’s skilful adaptation, coupled with a bravura performance by Nico Holonics, will surely ensure that this Berliner Ensemble production takes its place in German theatrical history.

Reese’s adaptation follows the famous 1979 screen version, in that it focuses on the first two thirds of the book. Oskar narrates his family history, and we watch him as he matures into an adult in Dansik/Gdansk during the tumultuous years of the Second World War. Oskar’s is a deeply disturbed and disturbing voice. He is a creature of pure will; a manipulative and destructive tyrant who, quite literally, makes people march to the beat of his own drum, having succeeded in his first monstrous act of self-creation, to will himself not to grow. In many ways Oskar is fascism made flesh. He is a grotesque. And Nico Holonics’ visceral, compelling performance meets this grotesquerie head on. We watch in a state of fascinated disgust as he struts and spits, leers and cries, throws tantrums and smashes things up. He flirts with us; our presence feeds his monomaniacal narrative, so that, in a way that reading a book can never quite accomplish, we become complicit. It is an uncomfortable evening, at times stomach-churningly so, and all the better for it. We should never be comfortable with this piece of our history. We should feel sick to our stomachs. We should squirm in our seats.

An hour and fifty minutes is a long time to be held to attention by a single performance, and Holonics doesn’t drop the ball for a single second. Ably assisted by the superb sound and lighting design (credit to Jörg Gollasch and Steffen Heinke respectively), he drives the narrative on – with Oskar’s relentless, maniacal energy – in a way that simply crushes any attempt to measure time passing. We submit. We aren’t given a choice. For the most part. This relentless drive is actually occasionally broken – when Holonics breaks the fourth wall and addresses the audience in English. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it feels frustrating; an unnecessary and distracting bit of easy comic relief which lets us off the hook and marginally diminishes the evening’s power.

Only marginally however. In these troubling times, with nationalism on the rise again in Europe, this Berliner Ensemble production serves as a gut-wrenching reminder of our capacity for destructive delusion. Performances of this power don’t come along very often. Catch it while you can.

 

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography by Birgit Hupfeld

 


The Tin Drum

The Coronet Theatre until 29th February

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Remember Me: Homage to Hamlet | ★★ | June 2019
The Decorative Potential Of Blazing Factories (Film) | ★★★ | June 2019
Three Italian Short Stories | ★★★★ | June 2019
Winston Vs Churchill | ★★★★★ | June 2019
Youth Without God | ★★★ | September 2019
Sweet Little Mystery – The Songs Of John Martyn | ★★★★★ | October 2019
A Letter To A Friend In Gaza | ★★★★ | November 2019
Shadows | ★★★★★ | November 2019
Bells And Spells | ★★★★★ | December 2019
Maliphantworks3 | ★★★★★ | February 2020

 

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