★★★

“quietly and powerfully atmospheric”

Bertolt Brecht, during a long train journey from Ausburg to Berlin in 1920, wrote a poem he titled ‘Stranger than the Moon’. Germany at the time was still attempting to rise from the wreckage of the First World War and it was a slow, disruptive journey. Brecht knew that his poem wasn’t particularly good lyrically and that not many people would read it, but he already had a musical accompaniment in his head thus securing its place in popular music. A century later, the Berlin Ensemble – established by Brecht and his wife, Helene Weigel in 1949 – have taken the folk song’s title to create a portrait of his life in words and music. In true Brechtian style, it is a disjointed affair. At times rambling and obscure, but quietly and powerfully atmospheric.

The two actors shuffle onto the stage resembling a couple of prisoners, or factory workers, clad in seaweed-green overalls. Paul Herwig represents Brecht’s (aka B.B.) voyage from cradle to grave while Katharine Mehrling seems to be portraying his alter egos, his consciousness and desires; and the women in his life. The chronology follows a buckled, linear course along which we only find our way by picking up breadcrumbs. Scraps of biography littered among the torn-out poetry – often disconnected and hard to follow. Performed in German with English surtitles the show describes the emergence of Brecht’s personality, beginning in the womb, his later rejection of the class he was born into, his love lives, experiences of war, his exile, return home and finally his death.

Adam Benzwi is at the piano throughout. A shadowy but formidable presence he underscores the emotional content, with subtle crescendos into the musical set pieces. Mehrling’s voice floats above the accompaniment in rich, gorgeous tones. She has a style plucked straight from the Weimar era. A Lotte Lenya for the twenty-first century. She sings more than she speaks while for Herwig it is the other way around. He has a playful quality to his diction and a singing voice that is more character than perfection, resembling a ‘Baal’ era Bowie when he slips into English.

Although it is not made very clear, Brecht’s life story is being told in three distinctive parts. The days of the Weimar Republic and his first taste of success; his exile to Europe and then the United States; his return to East Berlin after the Second World War. Unfortunately, we learn very little about his life. The use of a vast video backdrop sheds no more light on the history either, and we feel there are missed opportunities which Oliver Reese’s static direction amplifies. At two hours, with no interval, the indulgent moments begin to claw at our patience. Mehrling provides some variety of expression through inspired costume changes and a more dynamic performance. We keep coming back to her voice, which is the show’s main saviour, and which lifts it from its uniformity.

The closing moments of the evening chart Brecht’s final days, and a quite beautiful melancholy closes the show. ‘Where are the tears of last evening? Where is the snow of yesteryear?’ the couple sing, from ‘Nanna’s Song’. Brecht was aware that, as he put it, ‘death is half a breath away’. Throughout his life he suffered from a chronic heart condition. Even music could induce palpitations and frequently his heart would beat too fast. Although “Stranger than the Moon” is unlikely to affect us in any similar way, it does, indeed, touch the heart.

THE GREAT GATSBY at the Cockpit Theatre

★★★

“the repercussions of Jay Gatsby’s gender swap are not fully explored in an otherwise faithful revival of the story”

F Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” needs no introduction. The title has entered the language to the extent that everybody now thinks they own a slice of it. Since its publication nearly a century ago it has been the subject of intense analysis, numerous adaptations and various eclectic interpretations. Even the word ‘Gatsby’ was added to the Collegiate Dictionary in 2003. So prolific is its presence that any new presentation, like with the works of Shakespeare, is under pressure to find a new way of looking at it.

Scar Theatre, the Oxford based collective, have grabbed the challenge with both hands by making ‘he’ a ‘she’. The concept appears to be its main selling point so it’s no big reveal or spoiler. It is potentially a fascinating angle to take, although the repercussions of Jay Gatsby’s gender swap are not fully explored in an otherwise faithful revival of the story. Nick Carraway (Ethan Bareham) remains the narrator, slipping into and out of the action as he relates his memories of that long hot summer to his analyst – a device ‘borrowed’ from Baz Luhrmann.

Bareham’s is a natural performance, capturing the essence of Nick Carraway – the unwitting and slightly baffled hero in a world where he doesn’t belong. A slight figure who hints at just the right amount of disdain for the careless people that surround him. Particularly Roman Pitman’s Tom Buchanan; a two-dimensional bully who neither deserves, nor quite pulls off, the whiff of innate privilege that follows him like an unpleasant odour. Lily Carson, as Daisy Buchanan, has the stiffness that serves her well in her cheerless marriage, but she somehow fails to loosen up sufficiently when reunited with the so-called love of her life in Gatsby.

A nod to queerness and feminism, it remains just that; with not enough exploration to earn its advertised status. Emily Serdahl, in the title role, cuts a formidable figure that affirms her ability to succeed ‘in a man’s world’, yet it is impossible to believe that her ambition stems from a deep longing for Daisy. As a pair, their declarations of love are often words without spark or real meaning. We also grapple with the credulity of Gatsby’s backstory (her serving as an officer in the Great War by impersonating a man – for example) which is repeatedly brushed aside rather too efficiently.

There are atmospheric moments, aided by Vanessa Silva’s movement direction and Finley Bettsworth’s moody lighting. The underside of the American Dream is vividly portrayed during the brief visits to Fitzgerald’s ‘Valley of Ashes’. Fitzroy ‘Pablo’ Wickham, as the murderously doomed mechanic George Wilson, is both pitiable and menacing – spoilt only by the writers’ tinkering with the final showdown that dilutes the sense of tragedy. It is a clumsy moment that interrupts the natural momentum of a show that elsewhere ebbs and flows like an unreliable memory. Such inconsistencies do show up quite starkly against the stylised background.

Peter Todd and Mina Moniri (the co-writers and co-directors) have set out to emphasise the queerness that is more covert in the original novel – a subject that has spawned countless debates over the last century. Nick Carraway’s sexuality has been hotly speculated over. This is hinted at here, but like Gatsby’s sapphic makeover, it is more of an abstraction. We are left wanting more. Daisy’s childhood friend Jordan Baker goes some way to addressing this. Played with an impressive, detached coolness by Danielle Nnene, she quietly challenges Gatsby’s motives, yet the credulity is again hindered by Gatsby’s gender.

What survives, though, is the clarity of the story telling. The energy of the parties is matched by the despondency of the underlying wasteland that Fitzgerald prophesised was on the horizon. And much of the iconic original text is intact in this production that does, in fact, underline the ongoing and ceaseless relevance of “The Great Gatsby” in the present day.

STRANGER THAN THE MOON

The Coronet Theatre

★★★

“quietly and powerfully atmospheric”

STRANGER THAN THE MOON at The Coronet Theatre

Reviewed on 4th December 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography courtesy of Berlin Ensemble

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STRANGER THAN THE MOON

STRANGER THAN THE MOON

THE GREAT GATSBY at the Cockpit Theatre

★★★

“the repercussions of Jay Gatsby’s gender swap are not fully explored in an otherwise faithful revival of the story”