Defending the Caveman came relatively hyped up. After a sold out first run last year, the SRT brought it back for another run due to 'popular demand'. It is easy to see why so many people loved it, dealing as it does with gender stereotypes and the battle of the sexes it was impossible not to resonate. It was definitely popular with the audience, as there were laughs throughout, though the true measure of its success could probably be measured in the number of knowing glances between couples that were exchanged throughout the show.
However, to sum it all up it was not theater. Not to be too pedantic about it, but the 'play' was effectively a one man scripted stand up comic routine masquerading as a play, much to the detriment of both its attempts to be theater and more damagingly, to its attempts at comedy. Apart from a few props (TV set, a couple of wall mounted paintings, chair, pillow) which the best stand up routines now incorporate anyhow, and some largely irrelevant lighting effects, there wasn't anything terribly theatrical about it. Not that it largely mattered if the play (or should I say routine) succeeded on its own terms. I had some serious doubts in that regard, however.
I'm quite a big fan of improvised comedy, particularly the British variety. I admit to not having had the chance to see much improv live, but I have a couple of friends who are diehard fans, and we occasionally get together to watch the latest DVDs of QI (with the indelible Stephen Fry), as well as other one night only performances. Of course the very point of improv is that it is not scripted, and the performer is able to feed off the audience. Of course the best improv performers prepare and reherse quite thoroughly, but there is an element of spontaneity which characterizes the best routines. That of course was very much missing in Defending the Caveman, stolidly scripted as it was.
Daniel Jenkins does a fine enough job, nicely building up an easy rapport with the audience, without which the entire production would have fallen quite flat. He strutted and exaggerated and milked the laughs, and was more than competent especially when role-playing the inevitable disagreements and entanglements that formed the complex web of male-female relations that was at the heart of the show.
Ultimately, though, I just didn't find the jokes all that creative or original, and in fact not even all that funny. There were the usual cliches trotted out about men being hunters and women gatherers and how that accounts for our differences. So women always gather information about each other, while men of course when interacting are satisfied with a couple of grunts following which they watch footie on the telly. Of course that is why men can't multitask either (they're evolved to concentrate on one thing for a long time) while women are quite the opposite. The jokes went on in a similar vein and soon started to wear thin.
The problem is, you soon got the sense that you've heard all of this before, probably when meeting up with you guy or girl pals for a bitch about the opposite sex (ah one thing that men and women have in common!). When the play went on to espouse such nuggets as poking fun of the fact that men absolutely refuse to ask for directions (which was mocked far more succintly and charmingly in Pixar's Cars among other places), I quietly felt the inclination to want to leave the theater, head straight to my local pub and start moaning to my mates. Of course, that could just be down to the fact that I wasn't one of the lucky six people to get a free Tiger beer (in what was probably the only original act in the entire play). More likely, it is due to the urgings of my inner caveman that I felt hard pressed to resist.
Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theatre. Show all posts
20 September 2009
12 May 2009
Much Ado About Nothing
There is something that makes outdoor performances of Shakespeare highly agreeable. It is of course worth bearing in mind that the Globe Theater itself was open to the elements. The thought of spending an evening amidst the greenery of Fort Canning sipping wine was a highly enticing one, so I jumped at the chance of catching the Singapore Repertory Theater's outdoor performance of Much Ado About Nothing with Karin.
Of course, I had first fallen in love with outdoor Shakespeare performances while at Oxford, where summer lawn productions - especially of Shakespeare - were a common feature of Trinity term. There is something quite magical about watching a play in the small intimate surroundings of an Oxford garden, in the time just between dusk and twilight that I will never forget. Of course, this production was on a much bigger scale, with lighting and sound equipment to match, so I had to struggle not to compare the two.
Probably the most hilarious moment I have ever come across in an open air production of Shakespeare was when I watched a amateur production of Romeo and Juliet whilst visiting my aptly named friend Juliet in Devon. It was a beautiful setting near Devon Castle and all would have been well if not for a steady drizzle which began towards the end of Act II and began getting heavier as Act III wore on. It was thus with a significantly ironic glance up to the already opened up heavens that the actor playing Lord Capulet uttered the lines near the end of Act III:
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright.
with an appropriately heavy emphasis, given the circumstances, on 'rains downright'. The play was moved indoors shortly afterwards.
But I digress. Singapore doesn't quite face the problem of persistent rain that the UK does, but an unseasonably hot May evening did temper my enjoyment of the play somewhat. It was downright muggy and left everyone sweating through the entirety of the play, futile efforts at fanning oneself with the program being largely ineffectual. One could only pity the cast members, especially the male characters, who were dressed up in stifling long sleeved navy whites.
The staging and costuming was rather interestingly and elegantly done. A 1920s Singapore colonial era setting and feel was chosen for the play and fitted quite well, on the whole. The set was rather beautiful and was designed in the form of the exterior of colonial style bungalow complete with large slatted swinging doors leading to the 'inside' of the house, a small swimming pool which is put to good use in the play itself, and the natural greenery of Fort Canning surrounding the stage being the garden of the bungalow itself.
The costumes were similarly sumptuous, with the men in navy dress white uniforms, complete with peak caps and epaulettes, and the ladies in lovely full length cocktail dresses. The highlight for me must surely be a 1920s style uber-retro full body swimming costume that Benedick is made to wear in Act III.
Overall, one minor gripe was the whole attempt at the colonial period thing was overdone at times, especially attempts to include chinese/nonya elements into the mix. Having traditional erhu music played during the funeral scenes in a misguided attempt to enhance the mood led to a sense of melodrama, as was having everyone wear traditional chinese/nonya garb at the wedding, complete with fancy headress for Hero. You would not expect a uppity British colonial to dress in any such way, so it was not keeping in character with the setting, and led to a bit of a unnecessary hodge podge feel.
It is no surprise that when an operatic adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing was made, it was titled Beatrice and Benedick. For better or for worse although not the main love story of the play, they stand as the main comic pillars. Claudio and Hero's love story might be the main narrative centerpiece, but their somewhat soppy wooing of each other followed by the enormously melodramatic renunciation (followed by Hero's faked death) hardly make them compelling characters.
Adrian Pang again shows wonderful stage presence as an ever playful Benedick. His experience in performing Shakespeare clearly comes through in his wonderfully witty deliveries, particularly his observance of the pauses and comic timing that is essential to Shakespearean humour. He was also helped by begin given some of the funniest comic set pieces in the play, notably one where he sneaks around the swimming pool and tries to hide behind a plant to overhear his friends conversing about Beatrice and another when he has to grab whatever headgear is at hand in order to cover up his crown jewels after a strategically placed towel is whipped away (Adrian Pang was wearing skin coloured briefs just in case a wardrobe malfunction happened).
Wendy Kweh's Beatrice to Pang's Benedict was very much his catty and teasing equal in the scenes that they were playing off each other, but she was less effective on her own. Beatrice is in many ways one of Shakespeare's strongest female characters (Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew and perhaps the sisters Goneril and Regan from King Lear are the only ones that can even remotely rival her). Kweh nicely brought out Beatrice's independent streak but her reading of the script sometimes lacked the subtlety and dramatic pauses necessary to really bring out the full unbridled wit. That is just a small gripe, all things consider, in a largely effective and really quite fiery performance.
Given the complexity, fun and flair of Beatrice and Benedick, the actors playing Claudio and Hero always risk being upstaged. Julie Wee does her best in what is largely a cardboard character role, playing the lovely chaste besotten bride adequately. I was more disappointed with Jason Chan, who overplayed Claudio, descending into melodrama when denouncing his bride on their wedding day, and similarly lacking subtlety and range in expressing remorse (at his inadvertant betrayal) and joy (at discovering her to be alive). Prancing around and declaiming loudly a good Shakespearean hero doth not make.
The play was bolstered by an excellent supporting cast. Particular praise must go to a suitably villanious Don John (in a small, largely cliched role), and an effective Don Pedro, who served as an important foil to Claudio and Benedick. I was far more ambivalent about Leonato - especially in the more dramatic scenes involving Hero's denouncement. The play as a whole certainly handled the comedic elements far more effectively that the dramatic ones. The Watch also seemed to garner some laughs and more half-hearted ones when they could have threatened to steal the show.
Overall, it was certainly a pretty entertaining evening. For me the witty banter between Adrian Pang's Benedick and Wendy Kueh's Beatrice was fun enough to just about warrant the price of admission (a relatively cheap $25 student ticket in my case). The beautifully designed sets and costumes were a real bonus. Still, I never thought of Much Ado About Nothing as one of Shakespeare's stronger comedies and me and Karin agreed that the play as a whole lacked any high note (apart from seeing Adrian Pang almost totally naked, complete with six pack for the ladies). Still, a enjoyable, if humid evening out.
Of course, I had first fallen in love with outdoor Shakespeare performances while at Oxford, where summer lawn productions - especially of Shakespeare - were a common feature of Trinity term. There is something quite magical about watching a play in the small intimate surroundings of an Oxford garden, in the time just between dusk and twilight that I will never forget. Of course, this production was on a much bigger scale, with lighting and sound equipment to match, so I had to struggle not to compare the two.
Probably the most hilarious moment I have ever come across in an open air production of Shakespeare was when I watched a amateur production of Romeo and Juliet whilst visiting my aptly named friend Juliet in Devon. It was a beautiful setting near Devon Castle and all would have been well if not for a steady drizzle which began towards the end of Act II and began getting heavier as Act III wore on. It was thus with a significantly ironic glance up to the already opened up heavens that the actor playing Lord Capulet uttered the lines near the end of Act III:
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright.
with an appropriately heavy emphasis, given the circumstances, on 'rains downright'. The play was moved indoors shortly afterwards.
But I digress. Singapore doesn't quite face the problem of persistent rain that the UK does, but an unseasonably hot May evening did temper my enjoyment of the play somewhat. It was downright muggy and left everyone sweating through the entirety of the play, futile efforts at fanning oneself with the program being largely ineffectual. One could only pity the cast members, especially the male characters, who were dressed up in stifling long sleeved navy whites.
The staging and costuming was rather interestingly and elegantly done. A 1920s Singapore colonial era setting and feel was chosen for the play and fitted quite well, on the whole. The set was rather beautiful and was designed in the form of the exterior of colonial style bungalow complete with large slatted swinging doors leading to the 'inside' of the house, a small swimming pool which is put to good use in the play itself, and the natural greenery of Fort Canning surrounding the stage being the garden of the bungalow itself.
The costumes were similarly sumptuous, with the men in navy dress white uniforms, complete with peak caps and epaulettes, and the ladies in lovely full length cocktail dresses. The highlight for me must surely be a 1920s style uber-retro full body swimming costume that Benedick is made to wear in Act III.
Overall, one minor gripe was the whole attempt at the colonial period thing was overdone at times, especially attempts to include chinese/nonya elements into the mix. Having traditional erhu music played during the funeral scenes in a misguided attempt to enhance the mood led to a sense of melodrama, as was having everyone wear traditional chinese/nonya garb at the wedding, complete with fancy headress for Hero. You would not expect a uppity British colonial to dress in any such way, so it was not keeping in character with the setting, and led to a bit of a unnecessary hodge podge feel.
It is no surprise that when an operatic adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing was made, it was titled Beatrice and Benedick. For better or for worse although not the main love story of the play, they stand as the main comic pillars. Claudio and Hero's love story might be the main narrative centerpiece, but their somewhat soppy wooing of each other followed by the enormously melodramatic renunciation (followed by Hero's faked death) hardly make them compelling characters.
Adrian Pang again shows wonderful stage presence as an ever playful Benedick. His experience in performing Shakespeare clearly comes through in his wonderfully witty deliveries, particularly his observance of the pauses and comic timing that is essential to Shakespearean humour. He was also helped by begin given some of the funniest comic set pieces in the play, notably one where he sneaks around the swimming pool and tries to hide behind a plant to overhear his friends conversing about Beatrice and another when he has to grab whatever headgear is at hand in order to cover up his crown jewels after a strategically placed towel is whipped away (Adrian Pang was wearing skin coloured briefs just in case a wardrobe malfunction happened).
Wendy Kweh's Beatrice to Pang's Benedict was very much his catty and teasing equal in the scenes that they were playing off each other, but she was less effective on her own. Beatrice is in many ways one of Shakespeare's strongest female characters (Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew and perhaps the sisters Goneril and Regan from King Lear are the only ones that can even remotely rival her). Kweh nicely brought out Beatrice's independent streak but her reading of the script sometimes lacked the subtlety and dramatic pauses necessary to really bring out the full unbridled wit. That is just a small gripe, all things consider, in a largely effective and really quite fiery performance.
Given the complexity, fun and flair of Beatrice and Benedick, the actors playing Claudio and Hero always risk being upstaged. Julie Wee does her best in what is largely a cardboard character role, playing the lovely chaste besotten bride adequately. I was more disappointed with Jason Chan, who overplayed Claudio, descending into melodrama when denouncing his bride on their wedding day, and similarly lacking subtlety and range in expressing remorse (at his inadvertant betrayal) and joy (at discovering her to be alive). Prancing around and declaiming loudly a good Shakespearean hero doth not make.
The play was bolstered by an excellent supporting cast. Particular praise must go to a suitably villanious Don John (in a small, largely cliched role), and an effective Don Pedro, who served as an important foil to Claudio and Benedick. I was far more ambivalent about Leonato - especially in the more dramatic scenes involving Hero's denouncement. The play as a whole certainly handled the comedic elements far more effectively that the dramatic ones. The Watch also seemed to garner some laughs and more half-hearted ones when they could have threatened to steal the show.
Overall, it was certainly a pretty entertaining evening. For me the witty banter between Adrian Pang's Benedick and Wendy Kueh's Beatrice was fun enough to just about warrant the price of admission (a relatively cheap $25 student ticket in my case). The beautifully designed sets and costumes were a real bonus. Still, I never thought of Much Ado About Nothing as one of Shakespeare's stronger comedies and me and Karin agreed that the play as a whole lacked any high note (apart from seeing Adrian Pang almost totally naked, complete with six pack for the ladies). Still, a enjoyable, if humid evening out.
12 February 2009
What the Butler Saw
British humour has always appealed to me. I love the dry wit, the sometimes outrageous farce that is so much a part of everything from Oscar Wilde to Monty Python. So when a local theater group announced a production of What the Butler Saw by Joe Orton, I leapt at the chance to see it.
People often underestimate how difficult and skilled one must be to act effectively in a comedic farce. Because it often involves exaggeration and isn't the most subtle of genres, it is easy to think that farce isn't all that challenging. It is quite a fine balancing act between exaggerating and going completely over the top, especially in terms of the physical comedic elements. At its best, farce is unbridled and uninhibited fun. The actors in this piece did a good enough job without completely hamming it up, with former DJ Vernetta Lopez doing a rather deliciously outrageous turn.
Farce does have the benefit of universality. Mr. Bean is Britain's most famous comedic export (with apologies to Monty Python and Ali G.) because the physical nature of the comedy was able to cross almost every cultural and linguistic barrier. However, Orton's play while, a comedic farce at its core, was rooted in 1960s Britain, and there were elements of irony, and a thinly veiled cynicism at society that earned his comedies the sobriquet Ortonesque.
That made the decision by the director to adapt it for the local audience - to Singaporeanize it, if you will - one that was misguided and one that ultimately misfired. Some aspects of the attempt to Singaporeanize did work well, and was funny, particularly turning a typically British bobby into a localized khaki uniformed, bermuda wearing, grammatically challenged Police Sergaent. Though even the initial laughs wore off as the novelty of the accent and mannerisms wore a bit thin.
More unsuccessful were the repeated attempts to alter dialogue in the play to suit the local setting. A statue of Churchill became one of Sir Stamford Raffles, which only left one wondering about a reference to a certain portion of the anatomy being "cigar shaped". I have never read the original play, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that a plethora of veiled references and black humour was irreparably lost by the decision to meddle with the script. While I understand that the average Joe wouldn't get many of the British turn of phrases, or the cultural references, rewriting the script ripped if not the heart out of the play, then at least the intestines.
It didn't help that some of the rewriting was truly cringe worthy. Lame references to the National Trade Union Congress, to Members of Parliament was well and truly supplanted by a piece of National Education propaganda that was well and truly nauseating. In true Wildean fashion, the true relationship between two of the characters in the play was revealed when they had separate halves of a pendant. That the pendant was in the form of the Singapore crest was kitsch enough. For that to be followed by a two minute exposition explaining the significance behind it - five stars and a crescent moon etc. - was in exceptionally bad taste. Some of the localized references were simply thrown in willy-nilly and seemed rather superfluous (or in the case of what the play attempted to do, it ended up quite rojak and somewhat quite extra).
It was a shame really, because the farce itself was well performed, the play (in the original) was probably superbly written, and on the whole it was still a relatively enjoyable experience. Still, the perils and pitfalls (not to mention the sacrilege) of messing about with an original piece of art were put on rather vivid display here. Overall, it ended up a mis-mash and pastiche, rather like the repeated cross-dressing that took place within the play itself. Sometimes, it is better to leave well alone.
People often underestimate how difficult and skilled one must be to act effectively in a comedic farce. Because it often involves exaggeration and isn't the most subtle of genres, it is easy to think that farce isn't all that challenging. It is quite a fine balancing act between exaggerating and going completely over the top, especially in terms of the physical comedic elements. At its best, farce is unbridled and uninhibited fun. The actors in this piece did a good enough job without completely hamming it up, with former DJ Vernetta Lopez doing a rather deliciously outrageous turn.
Farce does have the benefit of universality. Mr. Bean is Britain's most famous comedic export (with apologies to Monty Python and Ali G.) because the physical nature of the comedy was able to cross almost every cultural and linguistic barrier. However, Orton's play while, a comedic farce at its core, was rooted in 1960s Britain, and there were elements of irony, and a thinly veiled cynicism at society that earned his comedies the sobriquet Ortonesque.
That made the decision by the director to adapt it for the local audience - to Singaporeanize it, if you will - one that was misguided and one that ultimately misfired. Some aspects of the attempt to Singaporeanize did work well, and was funny, particularly turning a typically British bobby into a localized khaki uniformed, bermuda wearing, grammatically challenged Police Sergaent. Though even the initial laughs wore off as the novelty of the accent and mannerisms wore a bit thin.
More unsuccessful were the repeated attempts to alter dialogue in the play to suit the local setting. A statue of Churchill became one of Sir Stamford Raffles, which only left one wondering about a reference to a certain portion of the anatomy being "cigar shaped". I have never read the original play, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that a plethora of veiled references and black humour was irreparably lost by the decision to meddle with the script. While I understand that the average Joe wouldn't get many of the British turn of phrases, or the cultural references, rewriting the script ripped if not the heart out of the play, then at least the intestines.
It didn't help that some of the rewriting was truly cringe worthy. Lame references to the National Trade Union Congress, to Members of Parliament was well and truly supplanted by a piece of National Education propaganda that was well and truly nauseating. In true Wildean fashion, the true relationship between two of the characters in the play was revealed when they had separate halves of a pendant. That the pendant was in the form of the Singapore crest was kitsch enough. For that to be followed by a two minute exposition explaining the significance behind it - five stars and a crescent moon etc. - was in exceptionally bad taste. Some of the localized references were simply thrown in willy-nilly and seemed rather superfluous (or in the case of what the play attempted to do, it ended up quite rojak and somewhat quite extra).
It was a shame really, because the farce itself was well performed, the play (in the original) was probably superbly written, and on the whole it was still a relatively enjoyable experience. Still, the perils and pitfalls (not to mention the sacrilege) of messing about with an original piece of art were put on rather vivid display here. Overall, it ended up a mis-mash and pastiche, rather like the repeated cross-dressing that took place within the play itself. Sometimes, it is better to leave well alone.
2 February 2008
Double Indemnity and A Quest for Conscience
This afternoon marked the second screening in the ongoing series of films shown under the Wagging Finger of Shame banner. We ultimately settled on Double Indemnity after deciding between that and Sleeper. Unfortunately, our association with the Library @ Esplanade screening room seems to be cursed. At least on this occasion, the booking was made (I had done so in person to minimize the possibility of a screw up) but when we went into the screening room it was to find that the television and later the sound wasn't functioning. It took almost 20 minutes for them to sort out the problem before we could start showing the film.
Double Indemnity is one of the classic noir films, considered to be representative of the genre and rightfully so. It was directed by cinema stalwart Billy Wilder and contains a cracking script co-written by crime noir novelist Raymond Chandler from the book by James M Cain. Suffice to say they just don't write movie scripts like that in hollywood anymore. The movie also contains probably one of the best film noir seductresses in the genre and of course a wonderful plot about the near perfect crime.
Afterwards it was off to the Substation to watch an ACSian theatre production called The Quest of Conscience. The play basically takes the form of an interview between a journalist and the commander of a Nazi concentration camp as she (and presumably the audience) struggles to understand how a man can be in charge of the killing of more than one million individuals and whether he accepts his cupability/guilt for the massacres that happened.
It was an interesting production, with a large supporting cast ensconed within metal frames (a physical manifestation of the entrapment suffered by the Jews). The supporting cast acting out the dialogue of the Commandant's wife and the Jewish prisoners as seen from extracts from interviews the journalist had done earlier. I especially liked the interweaving of Jewish/German songs and I thought the final scene with the blowing out of a single candle very artistic (if not completely original).
The key to the play was the performance of the two leads. I thought that the Commandant, while he tried hard enough, just didn't have the range and nuance of expression to fully carry the role. The hint of an accent and the occasionally unclear expression did not aid matters. Ultimately what didn't come through enough was the sense of fatalism inherent in the belief that one cannot be held responsible for doing one's job well, if forced to do so under duress and if one believed that even the gesture of sacrificing yourself for ideals would be merely token and ultimately ineffectual. In the end, did he accept that he was guilty insofar as so many of the Jews died while he was alive due to his own cowardice and determination to do what was necessary for his own survival and that of his family? Can one fault a man like him for deciding on survival, no matter how heinous the cost of that survival, given that the killings would have continued, with or without him? These nuances didn't come through.
The girl acting as the journalist was stronger in her role, and it helped that she very much looked the part. She was effective in adopting the persona of the hard hitting journalist demanding answers, demanding the truth. A criticism though was that she was too one-dimensional in her portrayal. In a sense what was a powerful aspect of the role of the journalist was that she genuinely could not comprehend how a man like the Commandant could live with himself after the acts (of omission if not commission itself) that he had committed. She isn't demanding an admittence of guilt so much as struggling herself to understand him as a fellow human being (as opposed to a heartless killer) who is somehow able to still reconcile what he did at least until the end. That is the quest for conscience that the audiences is brought along to see.
Double Indemnity is one of the classic noir films, considered to be representative of the genre and rightfully so. It was directed by cinema stalwart Billy Wilder and contains a cracking script co-written by crime noir novelist Raymond Chandler from the book by James M Cain. Suffice to say they just don't write movie scripts like that in hollywood anymore. The movie also contains probably one of the best film noir seductresses in the genre and of course a wonderful plot about the near perfect crime.
Afterwards it was off to the Substation to watch an ACSian theatre production called The Quest of Conscience. The play basically takes the form of an interview between a journalist and the commander of a Nazi concentration camp as she (and presumably the audience) struggles to understand how a man can be in charge of the killing of more than one million individuals and whether he accepts his cupability/guilt for the massacres that happened.
It was an interesting production, with a large supporting cast ensconed within metal frames (a physical manifestation of the entrapment suffered by the Jews). The supporting cast acting out the dialogue of the Commandant's wife and the Jewish prisoners as seen from extracts from interviews the journalist had done earlier. I especially liked the interweaving of Jewish/German songs and I thought the final scene with the blowing out of a single candle very artistic (if not completely original).
The key to the play was the performance of the two leads. I thought that the Commandant, while he tried hard enough, just didn't have the range and nuance of expression to fully carry the role. The hint of an accent and the occasionally unclear expression did not aid matters. Ultimately what didn't come through enough was the sense of fatalism inherent in the belief that one cannot be held responsible for doing one's job well, if forced to do so under duress and if one believed that even the gesture of sacrificing yourself for ideals would be merely token and ultimately ineffectual. In the end, did he accept that he was guilty insofar as so many of the Jews died while he was alive due to his own cowardice and determination to do what was necessary for his own survival and that of his family? Can one fault a man like him for deciding on survival, no matter how heinous the cost of that survival, given that the killings would have continued, with or without him? These nuances didn't come through.
The girl acting as the journalist was stronger in her role, and it helped that she very much looked the part. She was effective in adopting the persona of the hard hitting journalist demanding answers, demanding the truth. A criticism though was that she was too one-dimensional in her portrayal. In a sense what was a powerful aspect of the role of the journalist was that she genuinely could not comprehend how a man like the Commandant could live with himself after the acts (of omission if not commission itself) that he had committed. She isn't demanding an admittence of guilt so much as struggling herself to understand him as a fellow human being (as opposed to a heartless killer) who is somehow able to still reconcile what he did at least until the end. That is the quest for conscience that the audiences is brought along to see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
