Schaubuhne pt. I

My heart is racing as I try to figure out how I can portray my experience at Schaubuhne the two evenings we were there through words. One of the reasons I have found this particular blog post so difficult to write is I feel my thoughts are running in a circular pattern and I’ve been taught that writing is linear (yay high school five paragraph analytical essays!). An idea I would not be able to articulate without having seen Complexity of Belonging...so to dive right in: Schaubuhne. Not only does this theater create amazing works of playing on stage but also an atmosphere where a handful of artists can sit down, have a beer, and talk to more experienced artists about their craft, preferences, experiences, etc. I have noticed a recurring theme through many of the shows we’ve seen here is, besides nudity, a willingness to be reckless (while keeping each other and the audience phsyically safe) and a certain fearlessness. It is not to say that the theatermakers are unafraid of anything but the work presented, in my opinion, could not come as far as it does without having to step over some boundaries of fear. WHY BE SO CAUTIOUS? One thing I have noticed between being an American audience member and a German audience member is as the former I feel sheltered rather than phsyically safe but mentally being pushed over a cliff as part of the latter. 

Complexity of Belonging was unlike any show I have ever seen. Even though Chunky Move is an Australian company, Schaubuhne inviting them to their stage, I believe, says something about the theater’s philosophy, aesthetic, and quality. I loved the way the story was told through dialogue and movement with equal weight--not just one or the other. I left the theater wanting to create and work. And I just wanted to work the hardest I’ve ever worked in my whole life. Complexity, as well as Richard III, both made me really want to take risks. The stories in Complexity of Belonging were either written out, from life experience of the actors and dancers, and other partes were improvised every night. And this show was truly personal...One part which really hit me was when one of the female dancers had a monologue about the perfect guy. It ridiculously funny. I had gotten in an ab workout and cleaned my face with my tears all from laughing so hard. Then all of a sudden I realized a part of me was her. Not that I necessarily wanted everything she was describing in a man but her conditioning as a woman was so similar to what I feel as been put on me in certain instances. And to see how that manifested itself within her search for a boyfriend and her expectations for life was extraordinary and incredibly personal. On another note, the vast outback on the backdrop really reminded me of the Romanticism art that we had seen earlier that day. I loved the connection of the two because one theme of Romanticism art is portraying the ideal of being one with nature and all of the characters in Complexity of Belonging were also searching for their ideal lifestyle.  

Richard III was really it for me. I definitley wouldn’t have been prepared for it though without seeing every other show we had beforehand. The most important thing: Richard was not a perfect show. It was unapologetically imperfect. There wasn’t a grasp for it the way I feel there is in most American theater. When talking to Lars, I saw that he was unapologetically imperfect as well. But this is something that has taken him a while to grasp and something he is still working on and learning about as he does more acting in theater, film, and directing. He’s been doing work with huge theater companies since the year after I was born. His Wikipedia resume starts in 1997 at Deutches Theater, not including his training or any smaller scale projects he’s done. I freaked out when I went over to have Lars sign my poster (two things I do not normally do, fangirling or bothering the person I am fangirling over with my fangirling). After Christopher bought him a beer and he sat down, I occasionally snuck out my phone to write down things he said that really stood out to me. I can’t remember the exact context of the quote but as he was talking about performing he apparently says to himself “Maybe I’ll fuck it up tonight.” Who knows? Maybe I’ll entirely fuck everything up tonight. And so what? If someone had said something of this sentiment to me even just a year ago, I would have politely smiled and When my brother and I were younger, my mom wrote letters to us to read as adults about what we were like growing up. Apparently, in Kingergarten I turned to my mom and said “I want to do everything perfectly.” Growing up in a New York City private school, even though I went to one of the more “progressive” schools, really didn’t help foster a healthy relationship with the process of working on something, ideals, and expectations. To hear Lars talk about how he thinks of what he does as playing and to see with my own eyes that he doesn’t take himself so god-damn seriously in life or on stage hit me at my core. Lars said: “I see the characters [I play] as puppets.” And he really seemed to emphasize how he was playing-he wasn’t becoming the character or completely immersing himself in his circumstances. He even went as far to say there isn’t a contradiction for him, being aware of everything makes him even more alive. Contradiction meaning there isn’t a contradiction of being immersed into what he is doing while being aware of the audience. He said that there were times that he would think about his family while playing or what he had for dinner but it didn’t take away from what he was doing. Rather quite the opposite, it enhanced what he’s doing. And I would have to say, I think he’s on to something...