Photographer: Heidrun Löhr
The Thirty-Year War is on, and Mother Courage (Robyn Nevin) is hell-bent on making it through, making a profit, and keeping her children – Eilif (Richard Pyros), Swiss Cheese (Tom Conroy) and mute Kattrin (Emele Ugavule) – alive. Peace is anathema to her: It would ruin her business as a sutler. There is much in Bertolt Brecht’s scathing criticism of war, the rise of Nazism, and of capitalism itself that is still relevant today.
Unfortunately, in many ways this Belvoir Upstairs production doesn’t quite work. If feels like it lacks a clear vision from director Eamon Flack, leaving viewers with a conglomerate of elements that never really gel and making it hard to tell what’s a deliberate choice and what’s just not working.
The play has been shortened – with the permission of Brecht’s estate, as the program notes – which on the face of it makes sense given that the running time is still two and a half hours. But it means that the play loses more than it should of its dialogue, of its reflection on war and war profiteering, of Mother Courage’s feisty way of getting through the worst of times. In addition, the translation (by Michael Gow) is very streamlined, almost simplified, and gets rid of pretty much all of Brecht’s idiosyncrasies, use of dialect and rough ‘lower class’ flavour.
The original is frequently very funny, full of snide comments and clever word play, but what hasn’t already been lost in translation too often gets no chance to shine because neither the acting nor the direction place much emphasis on comic timing, with the notable exception of the cook (a wonderful Arky Michael) and, at times, Yvette (Paula Arundell). It’s interesting that the only actor who doesn’t have any lines at all, Emele Ugavule, is the one who increasingly stands out, anchoring the play and embodying the compassion that Mother Courage says Kattrin is ‘cursed’ with.
While the lighting (Benjamin Cisterne) lacks subtlety – again, hard to tell whether that’s intentional or not – Stefan Gregory’s music works well; it’s defiant, sad and haunting by turn, with the voices of Anthony Phelan (playing the chaplain) and Paula Arundell standing out in particular. However, because the play has been shortened, the songs now almost seem to overwhelm it, with not enough dialogue left to counterbalance the music, particularly in the production’s first half.
As usual, Robert Cousins’ set design is minimalist; however, it lacks the stark beauty we are used to seeing from him and it feels like it’s not actually doing very much with the available space. With its colourful flashing lights, Mother Courage’s cart verges on the garish, perhaps intentionally so. Granted, updating a play or its design is a legitimate choice, and often a good one, but it feels out of place here. While it works well for the costumes by Alice Babidge, the question remains whether a modern play that is deliberately set in the Thirty-Year War needs a bright red cart that sells thongs.
Overall, the production gives away much of the play’s impact, especially in the first half. The second half works much better, quite possibly because most of it is there, but it can’t save what is overall a disappointing production.
Rating: 2 stars out of 5
Mother Courage and Her Children
By Bertolt Brecht
Translated by Michael Gow
Director: Eamon Flack
Music Composition: Stefan Gregory
Set Designer: Robert Cousins
Costume Designer: Alice Babidge
Lighting Designer: Benjamin Cisterne
Fight Choreographer: Scott Witt
Cast: Paula Arundell, Tom Conroy, Lena Cruz, Michael McStay, Alex Menglet, Arky Michael, Robyn Nevin, Anthony Phelan, Richard Pyros, Hazem Shammas and Emele Ugavule
Belvoir, Upstairs Theatre, Surry Hills
belvoir.com.au
6 June – 26 July
