Polish Joker

Yet, even in the best of circumstances, a piece like Chopin in Space is a risky proposition, and Rainey‘s unseasoned and underrehearsed cast make this staging far from ideal. Although it’s good to see a young ensemble tackle such a sprawling historical circus, some of the roles, especially that of Chopin, would have benefited from being cast for older actors. A line like Marya‘s “There is much sadness in Poland” requires a depth of understanding to prevent it from sounding tinny or pompous, and Rainey has not been able to instill this in his cast.

There may be a self-deluding belief afoot here that absurdist works somehow lend protective covering to inexperienced actors and awkward gestures, but just the opposite is true: If anything, nonlinear theater requires rigorous discipline, or the result just jiggles like Jell-O in an earthquake. In other words, the absurd should not be mistaken for the senseless. One has to look no further than the Open Fist production of Boris Vian’s nihilistic farce The Knacker‘s ABC to find an example of a well-oiled company making this “Anarchist Vaudeville,” set during World War II, accessible to a modern audience accustomed to Aristotelian arcs and identifiable heroes and villains. The Open Fist ensemble members are roughly in the same 20-something range as Sacred Fools, but seem years ahead in their self-confidence.

Even The Knacker’s ABC, however, with its anarcho-pacifist ridicule of both Nazis and Allies, is mildly discomfiting; in a way, Bosakowski‘s exhumation and seeming desecration of the composer’s reputation confuse us even more. Frederic Chopin was a man of his times; his stirring Piano Concerto No. 1, written in Paris as Czar Nicholas I was crushing Chopin‘s Poland, was a veritable soundtrack for the European revolutions of 1830 and 1848. Today, as citizens of a global consumers’ republic, we are safely protected from the banners and anthems, balconies and barricades of Chopin‘s Europe. Yet, while we may enjoy the luxuries of shopping and ridicule, we occasionally get the vague feeling that something is missing in our culture -- a defiant broadcast, perhaps, or even a melancholy optimism.