Berliner Ensemble Adaptations

by Bertolt Brecht

  3

  For this scene we arranged the lighting effects in a way that can be called poetic. Generally speaking we were not using effects but full lighting. In this case, however, the projections prevented us from making full use of the lighting equipment, while a particular consideration led us to keep the walls at the back noticeably in the dark. The actor playing Leopold caught flies so well and so amusingly as to distract attention from the simultaneous cross-examining of Läuffer. Not having the heart to cramp the young actor’s style, we felt forced to take the light off him. This had the poetic advantage that for the rest of the scene only the people of rank, the count and the major’s wife, stood out plastically, while Leopold and the maid provided the background, and Läuffer only came into the full light on making his faux-pas, after which he was thrust into the half-darkness again. The little mime in which major’s wife, count, and maid change position after the tutor has been thrown out, so that the two persons of rank can be on their own, is a virtuoso element which is described in the notes [see extract 3 above]. Läuffer’s examination, where the sweat gathers on his brow as he has to give evidence of his gracefulness, was of course likewise carefully performed as a virtuoso “turn.”

  4

  Scene 4 shows Läuffer in all the loneliness which makes a normal love life impossible for him. He is the cock of the walk being treated as a cat among the pigeons. He shows off his arts, performing the most hazardous leaps. (Läuffer, of course, must under no circumstances be made to appear vain. He is far too busy trying to impress the girls to be carried away by his own impressiveness.) He is brought down by the clumsiness of his pupil, with whom he is already fed up, and this puts the lid on his failure, for which he himself is in no way responsible. For the group of girls we took on a new actress who knew how to giggle. In the event this giggling in itself was evidence of the girls’ sexual awareness and inhibitions.

  5

  It is a poetic factor when Läuffer, having been forced in his loneliness to take on Gustchen as an extra pupil, in return tries bargaining for permission to use a horse to go into Königsberg for “study.” This deal is evidence of his initially innocent attitude with regard to Gustchen, but also of the famine from which he suffers.

  6

  Our demonstration that the freedom in question was thoroughly limited must not be allowed to detract from the account given of the freedom-loving atmosphere in university towns at that time. Even Bollwerk’s dirty jokes tend to represent extreme daring. The light needs to be shown here, as well as the bushel that hides it. The costumes were particularly beautiful, with their black breeches and white linen shirts, and there was rhythm and grandeur in the gestures and the movements. It was not so much that the portrayal of the students was romantic as that their romanticism was portrayed.

  7

  The flame kindled in the sixth scene spread to the seventh in the person of the ex-student Läuffer. Prior to his outburst, admittedly, Läuffer keeps a tight rein on himself. His fate is settled as soon as the audience sees his new pupil sitting there with a smile on her face. The twisting movement by which he at one point recovers himself, and which Gustchen greets with a “I never saw you so deep in thought,” recalls the skating figures of scene 4. It is a first-rate poetic invention. So is his use of his schoolmaster’s ruler, as he pins himself to it as to a cross-beam, jamming it under his armpits, or raps himself with it to punish his sexual longings. The same rapping process in the fourteenth scene will tell the audience that his sex has once more risen against him.

  8

  The privy councillor praises freedom’s sweetness and necessity, while at the same time clipping back his box trees.—His argument with the pastor about intellectual principles not only blocks Läuffer’s request but develops into an agitated dispute between the pastor, who is now full of all kinds of forebodings, and his son; they are seen gesticulating as they walk off behind the garden wall.—And Läuffer’s frantic demands (his desperate “my kingdom for a horse!”) allow the audience to infer the danger now menacing Läuffer’s pupil. (Meanwhile the privy councillor has no idea that his strict stand for morality has delivered his son’s fiancée into the tutor’s hands.)

  9

  The second of the Halle scenes once again calls for a certain fire, which must of course be felt to be that of the characters, not of the actors. Though the emotional extravagances of their “intellectual adventures”—a veritable Catalaunian battle whose fallen victims go on fighting in the air—need to appear comic, neither Pätus’ despair nor von Berg’s spirit of self-sacrifice should be made to seem anything but genuine (e.g., by exaggeration). Nor should Bollwerk and Rehhaar cease to be likeable just because Bollwerk has deceived Pätus while Mistress Rehhaar’s predicament forces her to flirt. Young people’s problems carry an element of helplessness which makes them touching.

  Both Halle scenes were brought round on the revolving stage as the half-curtain opened, so as to allow the happenings in “far-away Halle” to be visibly adduced.

  10

  The question, what in the narrative should come after what, is a poetic one. We debated whether the second Halle scene should be played between the catechism lesson and the request for a horse, or between the request for a horse and the love scene. We opted for the second, but others may take a different view. It is fine if Läuffer can be seen in Gustchen’s bed directly after being refused the horse. On the other hand it is also a good thing if the love scene can be immediately preceded by the second Halle scene with its posing of the problem of love by proxy.

  This scene needs to be very much like a real love scene, even though the only yearnings which it satisfies are Gustchen’s for Fritz, and Läuffer’s which could equally well be satisfied in Königsberg. The union has induced proximity; such distances as remain are due to the disparity of the couple’s social positions.

  11

  We are once again in the realm of beautiful feelings when disaster suddenly irrupts. The major’s wife’s attempt to woo Count Wermuth—that contrived approach on wings of song—is a grotesque counterpart to the reading of Klopstock in scene 2. Poetic parallels are Tolstoy’s Kreutzer Sonata and Dante’s Inferno. The poetic element will be destroyed if the major’s wife’s performance is so caricatured as to lose all charm. It is an act of virtuosity designed to achieve a poetic effect when she plays Handel’s “Largo” during her bickering with the major. A certain aesthetic and social-critical piquancy is added if the actor performing the latter can give a superficial flavour to the outraged father’s outburst, so that it becomes the banal expression of a social convention. The audience must presume that it will fail. The background to this scene is furnished by the maid’s infatuated attentions to the count.

  12

  One or two anticipated effects: the fact that it is entirely by the power of the human spirit that the schoolmaster succeeds in beating off the first attack of the feudal gang, before naked force bursts in and the shot is fired; the way his initial suspicion of having to deal with a criminal is transformed into confidence in a serf who can be made use of because he has committed a crime and needs a refuge; the way Läuffer’s complaint that his victim was forced on him is directed to his next victim.

  It also seems legitimate to let the spectator take a certain pleasure in understanding the construction of this pivotal scene which links the two halves of the play. Expelled from the feudal world, Läuffer takes refuge in that of the petty bourgeoisie. He swaps tyrants, his examination is repeated, as is his faux-pas too: having aired his views of the arts in the one, he now raises the question of pay in the other. His trade will be even more lowly than before, his calling definitely nobler.

  13

  The confused sounding of the tocsin from the village tells the audience that the search operation has begun. We quickly realize that it is going to succeed.—While the girl is being fished for, privy councillor and count indulge in some profound reflections. The former prepares consoling remarks in case she is dead, the la
tter, being unable to swim, washes his hands of all responsibility.—For an instant or two at the beginning of the scene, however, what was said above about young people’s problems still needs to apply.

  14

  Before a stage of largely bare boards one has the impression of a terrible station on the road to Calvary. The gentle movements to and fro of the confused child, the cup that will not pass. The horse-blanket round Läuffer’s shoulders, showing how cold the room is, with a coldness that stimulates the need which it cannot subdue. The teacher raps himself again. Then the victim of seduction turns into a violator.—The violator turns into an avenger. The soliloquy remains a total revolt, the action to which it leads is a blind suppression of revolt of any kind, the action to end all actions.—The greyness of the next morning brings utter weakness, along with its canonization.

  Interlude

  Letting the stage revolve visibly, bringing on the different settings in such a way as to fix the existing state of everything and show the developments of the next twelve months, is a device that also allows the play’s three conclusions to be brought together by having the stage rotate once more, this time with fully performed scenes.

  15

  The philosopher has arrived, not on Parnassus but beside a warm stove; his drink is thin red wine, not the hemlock. It is true that we are dealing with mediocrities for whom the tragedy has involved no personal loss, but that makes the sight all the more depressing. Pätus’ dream world may be comic, but his awareness of reality is pathetic. One wonders with indifference whether he will leave his whip behind when he goes to the rector’s daughter; he certainly doesn’t fail to conceal his Kant.—Fritz’s mild disappointment, buried among his other worries, is a key point of the part. Another poetic factor is the way in which his account of the interruption of his Italian journey (the classic educational operation of that time) betrays that it was in fact an escape.—As for Karoline, both by her speech and by her appearance she should prompt the reflection that it may well be better to be deceived by someone like Mistress Rehhaar than married by someone like Karoline.

  16

  It is tempting to sacrifice the opening of this scene, the little family ceremony with the privy councillor’s short speech about the snow, to the instinct to speed up the three concluding scenes (three endings) in order to polish them off. To permit this is to lose a poetic element. The snow whose beauty (purity) is thus praised is the same snow as had such a ghastly significance at the end of scene 14, in the gray morning light following the tutor’s act of self-castration. Their mockery of the self-mutilator concludes logically enough with a great roar of laughter at his letter of request.—The maid’s story and Fritz von Berg’s speech must be performed as bravura pieces; both characters are glad to abandon themselves to the general atmosphere of cosiness.

  17

  The castrated man’s little tummy is of course a piece of poetic licence; like his red cheeks it represents a distortion of the character in the direction of cosy contentment. On top of that we have the fairy-tale note in the answers given by the admirable Lise, which recall Grimm’s Hans in Luck. Nor is this all that can be done to create an atmosphere of calm. The whole picture must be beautiful. In our production the black of the men’s and Lise’s clothes, together with the white of the tablecloth, gave an impression of purity, while the grouping round the table was agreeable to the eye.

  [BFA, vol. 24, pp. 379–87, also in Versuche 11 (1951). Introduction and descriptions of scenes 15–17 included in Theaterarbeit. Leopold was acted by Joseph Noerden; photographs of his fly-catching performance are on p. 103 of the latter volume.]

  Details of the production

  The Rebellious Minuet

  The major’s wife is examining the candidate Läuffer to see if he is a suitable tutor for her son Leopold. She is sitting at the spinet, Leopold in the background catching flies against the panelling. Läuffer downstage left by the footlights bows greedily in response to the rapidly intoned demands which have presumably already been put by the major’s wife to a whole host of tutors. He claims a little hoarsely to have had “at least five” dancing masters in his life. She calls for a compliment from the minuet. Instantly she starts pounding the delicate keys. Läuffer is unprepared; for an instant it looks as if he cannot dance at all, then we see that it is his confusion, and he just needs a few seconds to collect his thoughts. Holding himself very upright, with his fists supported on his hips, he executes a few finished steps across the front of the stage, raising his legs very high and carefully apportioning the space available to him for this dance figure. His head looks rather twisted, screwed round on his shoulders. It is as if he were skirting thin ice; at the same time the way he carries his shoulders is a bit challenging, he strides like a caged tiger, as it were, with savage grace. Halfway across he turns towards the major’s wife and executes a compliment so elaborate in conception that it would call for an entire corps de ballet. She appears satisfied. (“Well, well, not bad.”) The young master, before whose eyes the examination is being conducted, boredly goes back to catching flies. Läuffer pulls out his handkerchief and mops the nervous sweat from his brow; he thinks he has made it. But the major’s wife is thirsty for more sweat. “Now, if you please, a pas.” Making a face, which the audience can see since Gaugler turns his head round again, he goes on to perform a pas, after which he stands there completely exhausted. In her excitement the major’s wife graciously plays him a minuet, letting the spinet as it were feel the weight of her fists. Läuffer briefly pulls himself together, then goes over to the spinet with long gliding steps, continually wiping the sweat from his face, there to deliver a deep, animal-like noise of pleasure and bend greedily over the major’s wife’s meaty hand. What gave the scene its meaning was Gaugler’s ability to reveal the low-born Läuffer’s brutal and rebellious vitality strapped into the corset of feudal etiquette. The rudiments of the tragicomedy have herewith been hinted at.

  [BFA, vol. 24, pp. 390–91. This additional note on scene 3 was written for Theaterarbeit, 1952. Gaugler is the Swiss actor Hans Gaugler, who had acted in Brecht’s Antigone in Chur in 1948 and came to Berlin to play Läuffer.]

  End of an Italian Journey (Scene 15)

  1

  The beginning of the scene shows how Pätus, now that he is a married man, can only read his Kant in secret. The little book, once so openly and provocatively displayed on his table, now has to be fished out from behind a barricade of other, more officially acceptable writings. Kant has gone underground. Though Pätus still reads him on occasion he will no longer be seen with him in public.

  2

  The Latin word “matrimonium” needs to be rolled appreciatively round the tongue in just the same way as the privy councillor’s “farra communis” or Wenzeslaus’ “nervi corrupti” (in scene 12). But whereas the privy councillor perceptibly acts the educated man in the presence of his more uncouth brother, and Wenzeslaus produces his diagnosis with philistine pomposity, Pätus dwells only slightly on his “matrimonium.” He is the least anxious of the three to show off his knowledge.

  3

  Once again the Kant quotation is rapidly reeled off. The only passages to be specially brought out are those calculated philosophically to underline Kant’s restrictive influence on Pätus (“… no arbitrary contract, but one made necessary by the laws of mankind,” “they must of necessity marry, and this necessity follows from the laws proscribed by pure reason.”)

  4

  “Only in public. How else could I …” is brought out hurriedly and with more emphasis than necessary. Pätus is entrenching himself. He knows that Kant is a black spot on his career. There is a chance here for the actor to display bad conscience.

  5

  Pätus has put his Kant on the footstool before him. At the words “and as you see right here, I had to” he points down at it.

  6

  Fritz’s “So your favorite philosopher has proved to you” is not merely an answer to what Pätus has been saying but
also his first faint realization of the inadequacy of all human endeavour. On the one hand Pätus’ desertion shows that even the gnarled oak may be riddled with worm, while ceaseless dripping will wear down stone; on the other hand it confirms his own sudden exasperation with the world and its ways. Fritz is maturing, and the process has reached the stage of a gloomy recognition of what our world is like.

  His hurried, absent-minded nodding at Pätus’ big speeches, together with his nervous way of playing with the letter at the start of the scene, have already combined to show that Fritz is not entirely with us. It is only his politeness that prevents him from coming out with his fears then and there. He is just waiting for the right moment to unload his worries.