Lessons of War
By Martin Puchner
Mother Courage and Her Children
By Bertolt Brecht
Classical Theatre of Harlem
HSA Theatre
645 St. Nicholas Ave. (at 141st St.)
Box office: (212) 868-4444
A global war couched in the language of religion;
an invasion disguised as a liberation; increasingly porous boundaries
between war and peace--this is Brecht's setting for Mother Courage
and her Children, a play about the Thirty Years' War. Delivering
goods to the front to sell them over market price is Mother Courage's
particular line of business; she acquired her name when she drove her
wagon through the bombardment of Riga in order to sell fifty loaves
of bread. Brecht wrote this play in 1938 when it was becoming clear
that one world war was going to be followed by a second. Today we have
our own wars and our own war profiteers to worry about, and it is in
relation to them that we must measure the significance of this play.
Mother Courage would seem a perfect play for a time when the
Pentagon has opened a criminal investigation into the "potential overpricing"
of fuel transported into Iraq by one of Haliburton's subcontractors.
The production of Mother Courage presented
by the Classical Theatre of Harlem under the direction of Christopher
McElroen follows Brecht in creating a historical world that resonates
with the present. The excellent set (Troy Hourie) and costumes (Kimberly
Glennon) evoke a world of poverty in which history seems to have left
only the most occasional traces. Mother Courage's creaky wagon is reminiscent
of a modern car trailer, but it is so run down that it might as well
be from the seventeenth century. Even the revolving stage is primitive
and has to be laboriously set in motion by the actors themselves. The
poverty of the set seems to bridge four hundred years with ease. The
stage, the ragged clothes, the primitive goods and the beaten-up canteens
seem timeless and suggest that history happens only to the rich. The
production is thus finely attuned to Brecht's sensibilities, his insistence
on individual, historical objects and gestures--putting on a pair of
red shoes, selling a chicken--which the play isolates and strings into
a series of acts that the audience must then transpose into the present.
The actors likewise work toward a Brechtian estrangement,
a mode of acting that is less interested in the creation of consistent
and continuous characters than in assembling individual situations and
decisions. Leopold Low as Eilif, Michael Early as the Chaplain, Anna
Zastrow as Yvette, Oberson K.A. Adjepong as the Cook and James Rana
as the Sergeant and the Lieutenant manage to create complex characters
in the midst of Brecht's disjointed plot without losing the audience.
Of course, any production of Mother Courage stands and falls
with the lead actor. The play's focus on this one figure is relentless,
and almost any actor other than Helene Weigel, to whom the play is tailored,
is in for an uphill struggle. Gwendolyn Mulamba comes as close as anyone
I have seen to presenting a new Mother Courage, one that is continuous
with Brecht's spirit without simply emulating his greatest actor.
The production, however, is not just a diligent
exercise in Brechtianism, especially when it comes to the play's interspersed
songs. Instead of using Paul Dessau's original score, derived from European
folklore and other popular genres, William "Spaceman" Patterson, Co-Founder
and Artistic Director of The Classical Theatre of Harlem, transposes
Brecht's lyrics into an American musical idiom that mixes various styles
and modes from R&B through classical jazz to funk. This is an inspired
way of moving Mother Courage to New York, and in particular
to Harlem. In fact, the new score works better than Dessau's in that
it estranges the different characters more thoroughly and adds new and
different layers to the entire play. When the Pastor sings the "Song
of the Hours," he suddenly turns into Mr. Cool, dark sunglasses and
all, very much in contrast to both his stage persona and the content
of his song. Mother Courage's "Song of the Great Capitulation," one
of the great moments in this production, is sung with a subdued affect
that stands in contrast to the high drama to which it responds.
McElroen's production thus works in a Brechtian
vein, sometimes dutifully but mostly with inspiration. But it also wants
to do more, namely show that the play is directly relevant to our own
time. It is here that the direction becomes unsteady. Confusingly, soldiers
from both sides are identified as American, with one side freezing into
a tableau of the Iwo Jima memorial, adorned with an unnecessarily heavy-handed
"for sale" sign, while the other side sings the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
More troubling, Brecht's inter-titles, which summarize the action of
each scene ahead of time to undercut suspense, are brought to us by
Fox News on five monitors distributed across the stage. I suppose this
is meant to make us think about who gets to tell our history, and this
is surely a question worth raising. But it is at odds with the structure
of the play. The history of Mother Courage is not supposed to be presented
as partisan propaganda, but as a chronicle from which we have to draw
our own lessons.
The problem with the production's contemporary
references is that applying Mother Courage to the present is
a complicated affair, if only because the play does not have a simple
moral. One by one, the war takes Mother Courage's children, and yet
Mother Courage does not draw any lessons from her losses and remains
invested in the war. This lack of learning is not for want of love.
Mother Courage does everything to save her children from the war. In
the end, she even refuses an advantageous marriage that would force
her to abandon her mute and disfigured daughter. It is despite this
love that Mother Courage goes on following the army, buying cheap and
selling dear, taking the risk that is her advantage, haggling over the
price of goods while her children disappear. At times, the production
brilliantly captures the entanglement of market and love. Toward the
end of the play, Mother Courage looks at her dead daughter in horror
and disbelief, and then she takes the hat and the scarf off the corpse--she
does not know whether to keep them as mementos or to sell them to the
highest bidder. But the most difficult thing about Mother Courage
remains the fact that Brecht is not interested in denouncing the moral
failure of the small-time war profiteer; she has precisely as much morality
as the market allows.
In a note to the play, Brecht took Clausewitz's
famous quote, "War is the continuation of politics by other means,"
and turned it into: "War is the continuation of business by other means."
Today, it is increasingly difficult to tell the two quotes apart. Brecht
chose the Thirty Years' War because he considered it to have been the
first capitalist war, the first unleashed by capitalism's desire for
new markets. Even if we do not believe in the orthodox version of Lenin's
theory of imperialism, the nexus between the market and the war remains
a troubling one. The real challenge this play poses today is that it
does not content itself with hating the likes of Haliburton but instead
forces us to think generally about the relation between free market
policies and unilateral interventions.