Re: The Cannibals at The Abreact

I saw the Sunday performance of The Cannibals and was floored. It was the most compelling piece of theater I've seen in well over a year, even with its many flaws. I strongly disagree with D.A. Blackburn's assertion that the problems with the show originate in the script ("manic", "hard to follow", and "sour" are the words used). My feeling was that some members of the cast, especially those with only a couple of professional productions under their belt, simply couldn't make the whip-snap changes from "the present" to "the remembered" always appear seamless, or clearly delineate the "parent" from the "child" characters (at least not consistently, which may have contributed to Mr. Blackburn's difficulties), as required by this very complex narrative. As for that "strange aftertaste", that, my friend, is horror.

John Jakary
ZeitGeist Detroit
Aug. 4, 2008

D. A. Blackburn's reply:

This is a nice reminder of just how subjective taste in theater really is, especially when dealing with a work like The Cannibals, which approaches historical drama through such an unconventional format.

The premise of reliving events through the imagined children of Holocaust victims is a bit tough to accept from the outset, especially when these characters are, themselves, completely under-developed. In some ways, I feel that this decision was a bit self-serving for playwright George Tabori, as he was, himself, the child of a Holocaust victim, struggling to understand the experiences of his father. He may have sought to give an audience a sense of the children's experience, but along with their characters, their experience is also under-developed, making it feel like an unnecessary subplot to the drama.

The events depicted are horrific, and stand alone as very affecting drama without the playwright forcing us to view them through the filter of characters, who like the audience, have not experienced them firsthand. I feel very strongly that the work would have been every bit as good, if not better, if it had been structured simply as a re-enactment of events within two gentlemen's memories.

Of course, this would have been a very conventional approach to the subject matter. And, as good theater often breaks from convention, I walk a fine line in choosing to discuss the faults I see, especially when faced with the limitations of print (try to adequately sum up The Cannibals in 500 words...I dare you) where space demands an economy of words. The work is definitely a powerful piece, thought provoking in its candor and disturbing for its realism. Sadly, the "strange aftertaste" I mentioned in the review has nothing to do with the horror of the events depicted, but rather with this unconventional script.

While John finds fault in the cast and direction, I am convinced that the problems are rooted in the script. I really believe that the cast, novice thespians and seasoned veterans alike, did an excellent job with what was given them.

For her part, director Alison Christy made some good decisions, incorporating details like Dax Anderson's beard, and Michael Rollo's lighting design, to delineate between father and child characters.

As I mentioned in the review, Dax Anderson and Linda Rabin Hammell, gave excellent performances. What's perhaps not expounded on is the fact that these are also the only characters in which the child really matters. They are the only ones whose child persona really gets any attention in the development area. As such, they're also the only characters in which it really matters.

In other characters, for example Professor Glatz (Katie Galazka), who sells out friends and associates to avoid arrest, the child has no bearing. Glatz's story would be just as compelling if it came directly from him. It's my assertion that the same is true of all of the characters who carry the dual father/child role - excepting, perhaps, those of Anderson and Hammell. But for the sake of it, I'd argue that even these characters could have come to life, to the same effect, if a more conventional fashion.

On the whole, I thought the cast did a great job with some very difficult characters. They were engaging, and passionate, injecting the work with what seemed to be very genuine emotion. Josh Campos' Gypsy had excellent energy, and wit. Keith Allan Kalinowski's Klaus was a standout performance and Katie Galazka's Glatz was vivid and heart-wrenching. And these were the straightforward roles. As The Silent Haas, Lauren Mae Shafer was able to convey incredible emotion without speaking a word. I'd wager to say that these performers bridge the expanse from novice to veteran, and I felt that all were excellent.

My underlying feeling, leaving the show, was that this script served as an awkward vehicle for some very good performances. I couldn't help but think though, that had I not read the directors notes, and studied the play before seeing it, that I might have really stumbled through it, fumbling for an understanding of it. And if the point of the work is to give us a sense of the atrocities that occurred at Auschwitz, is its mission really served by bogging it down in a confusing premise?

If it was, rather, intended to provide insight about the lives of those touched by the Holocaust, shouldn't the children have been developed as real characters, rather than just ghosts with a narrative?

John Jakary replies:

Dear Mr. Blackburn,

In reading your reply to my comments on your review of the show, I found that it raises some new issues of subjectivity in theater, as well as issues of authors' intentions and the methods they use to realize those intentions in a way that is most artistically satisfying for them.

First, this discussion is happening between two people seeing the same show on different days, which means we really saw two different performances, and that may be where some of our differing perceptions about the production stem from; at the show I saw Sunday, the cast may have been more comfortable (and therefore clearer in their bearing, diction and emotional delivery) in moving through the sudden changes in their characterizations. My previous point about the performance on Friday was that the cast may have been pumped up on the nervous energy that always accompanies opening night and it may have muddled those things. (In your response, however, you seem to put that issue to rest; point taken). Saturday's performance may have lacked the energy of the previous night, the cast overwhelmed by the catharsis of the previous night. I don't know, I wasn't there, but I've been working in theater long enough to know these things happen, making each performance a unique and, hopefully, wonderful event.

Regarding the script itself, you say that "The premise of reliving events through the imagined children of Holocaust victims is a bit tough to accept...", but Mr. Tabori felt that was the most artistic (or personal, cathartic, what have you) way to tell this story of the survivors and the children of the victims, and so he did. His choices and methods may be a bit tough to comprehend, but you (and I, the audience, and Ms. Christy and her cast) have to accept it, and then make a good-faith effort to strive towards understanding, regardless of how tough that may be. I think Ms. Christy especially, and this group of actors, made incredible strides towards understanding Mr. Tabori's work and conveying his vision to the audience.

Every author, indeed every artist in any medium, has some intention when they create. Whether to tell a story, inform an audience, paint a pretty picture, push the envelope of their chosen form, or just to have a bit of fun, an artist's intent has to be the starting point of any criticism, and to dismiss it as "tough to accept" is terribly unfair.

Take Lenny Bruce, for example. He started as a comedian with the intention of making people laugh. He was reviewed as being one of the wittiest, most insightful performers of the 1950s and 60s. However, as his understanding of how our society functions deepened, he chose (and he stated this on numerous occasions) to become more of a social commentator than a comedian. His wit and insight never failed, but his intent changed from making people laugh to informing his audience about what he perceived as serious flaws within this society, especially regarding the legal and judicial systems. His critics, however, simply complained that he just wasn't funny anymore, he was too angry, he didn't make them laugh. Had they taken his stance as a commentator as their starting point, they may have noted that his act was scathingly brilliant and deadly serious (even when he did make 'em laugh), but they could then have pointed out the real problem: a comedy club, where people pay money because they want a good laugh, may not be an appropriate venue for this type of material.

I know that I've simplified "The Lenny Bruce Saga," but broadly speaking it does illustrate my point. I could just as easily talk about Pablo Picasso, Eugene Ionesco, Frank Zappa, William Burroughs or any of a myriad of artists who were critically successful and many more who were not. (Picasso wasn't recognized as a great artist until after World War I, nearly twenty years after he began his experiments in cubism. As he began to work in different modes in the 1920s and beyond, transforming that earlier style into something new that satisfied his artistic desires, his critics complained that "Picasso isn't Picasso anymore.")

As to what Mr. Tabori's true intention was in choosing to dramatize the events in The Cannibals in such an unconventional mode, I honestly do not know. My feeling (and I only have that to go on, as I've had trouble finding out much detail about the author's personal or professional life, except for the broad outlines in various obituaries) is that he could only begin to understand his personal loss, and the enormity of humanity's loss, by trying to imagine himself in his father's place in that time. I thought that by placing the children on stage Tabori helped bring his struggle as an artist to find that understanding to the stage. I do not think giving the audience any "sense of the atrocities" was a consideration other than as the vehicle by which he tried to come to terms with his own grief, horror, and incomprehension. As for any "insight about the lives of those touched by the Holocaust," I believe that is to be found in the children's inability to comprehend what happened to their parents, and their struggle to express their own grief and horror, however difficult. The children are Tabori's confusion, his under-developed experience, his struggle to express the horror and the grief, and therefore ours as well. Linda Rabin-Hammell's portrayal of the Commandant's child made that heart-wrenchingly clear.