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Miriam R. Haier Miriam Reviews Heiner Müller: A Man Without A Behind at the All-Stars Propject  "It's avant-garde. You're not supposed to understand it," my friend reassured me at intermission. I raised my eyebrows, unconvinced, and wondered what I was missing. There's no doubt that Heiner Müller: A Man Without A Behind is a piece of genius in its own right. But keeping up with it is what proves to be the problem. Based on the writings of Heiner Müller, an East German playwright, this Castillo Theatre production at the All-Stars Project is a drive-by introduction to his work. After squinting at the program in the dark, looking for an explanation of the combination vaudeville and high-drama scenes that followed each other in a mysterious order, I realized that perhaps having some knowledge of Müller's writing prior to the performance is a better approach. The Castillo Theatre has been toying with Müller's work for more than 20 years, after all...and there's no point in risking eye-strain by scouring a playbill that could not possibly hold all of the answers. A television interview with Müller fans and scholars starts things off. The setup is impressive, with live filming so that the audience can look at the physical interview or one of the many televisions where it is being broadcasted. Through these interviews, some background information about Müller is divulged, and the comic air is established. (When the nervous Columbia professor later bolts from the television set seemingly unprovoked, audience members know that they are in for an…interesting time.) So far, so good. Then, the curtain closes for a scene-change and the vaudevillian playing starts. The startling switches from television interviews to the "segments" that show the breadth of Müller's work (tragedy to nonsense to tragedy-infused nonsense and back again), however, only become easier. Slowly but surely, the feeling that a giant inside joke is taking place on the stage is replaced by easy laughter. If the King of Prussia and a ridiculous clown falling down all over the stage are funny, they're funny. A Man Without A Behind's strength lies in its way of engaging the audience, its success in its ability to pique curiosity. Roger Grunwald plays a stirringly human Müller, so that even those ignorant of Müller's life and literary significance become enthralled by him. Ellen Korner and David Nackman are particularly skilled in making the necessary switches from ridiculous characters to tragic figures. The scene in which she sings "a dead father would perhaps have been a better father" while he reads from a journal of writings is raw and intriguing, topped only by Müller's (Grunwald's) slow, chilling, "She's Dead" account in front of a "dead body" sprawled out on the stage. By the time Müller himself finally steps on to the set to be interviewed, the audience has already been hit with a slew of scenes from his works. He smokes his ever-present cigar, makes dry comments about the "very American" way in which the production was assembled and baffles his interviewer. Finally, when asked what he'd like to tell Americans, he launches into an explanation of the best way to cook a frog. According to Müller, throwing a frog right into boiling water is not the way to go. When it realizes how hot the water is, it will fight to get out as quickly as possible. If you put a frog into lukewarm water, however, and gradually raise the temperature, "then he happily boils to death." The audience laughs nervously as he continues, "He has been cooked while feeling enormously well, and won't even notice it. He simply doesn't get it." Müller laughs while the interviewer gives him funny looks. Being in the audience for A Man Without A Behind is like being a frog thrown into a pot on the stove with gradually rising temperature. By the time you realize that through all of the confusion --all of the heart-wrenching scenes and their slapstick counterparts -- you're becoming attached to Müller as a man and a writer, it's too late to get out. "Blink and you missed it / He came once to visit," sings the cast in their last song onstage. The show does require complete concentration, and some blind faith, but it's worth it. At its end, a bunch of cooked frogs exit the theatre, planning to run to the nearest bookstore and buy everything Müller...and figure out what, exactly, just happened. |