Sleepwalking in Scotland. The audience was so small it was almost lost in the grandeur of the red and gold King Theatre. But for those of us who stuck it out, Sleepwalkers, an 11-hour play adapted by the Polish director Krystian Lupa from an obscure German novel by Hermann Broch, had its rewarding moments. A trilogy written between 1930 and 1932, laden with philosophy, it covers three critical stages in four interlocking stories, presenting the historical and cultural development of Germany over a span of twenty years from 1888 through 1918. The 11 hours were spread over three installments. Part I, 1903 The Anarchist, the longest, was 4 1/2 hours; Part II and III, 1918 The Realist, were each 3 1/2 hrs. Presented by Stary Theatre, Krakow (declared the national theatre of Poland in 1991), in Polish, which I discovered was a beautiful flowing language, English surtitles were projected clearly above the stage as 50 actors worked through the many, many scenes with a dramatic verve that swept us along on an ever-complex journey. Often, a smooth narration, explaining or interpreting the meaning of what was going on, was injected into the proceedings. While some of the scenes were agonizingly prolonged and polemics were overly abundant, making this feel like an endurance contest, other scenes were brilliantly rendered.
Particular favorites were the dance in a hospital, where many characters come together for a night of revelry and revelation; the scenes depicting the strained yet erotic marriage of Hanna and Henryk Wending, exotically acted by the tall and slimly handsome Iwona Budner and Pawel Micekiewicz; and the characterization of the war-weary General Pasenow, played by Jerzy Trela, and his touching friendship with Esch, the "Everyman" of the piece. The latter is given a controlled and fascinating performance by Jan Frycz. This actor portrays, at one time or another, a womanizer, an ethical man, who yearns for order with leanings toward rebellion, an abusive husband, a religious fanatic, the owner and editor of a newspaper, and a hero who saves Pasenow by pulling him our from under a car. Because there is no perceived reaction to Esch's death at the hand of the greedy and insensitive Huguenau, (Roman Gancarczyk) it seems to sadly trivialize this important character. The biggest surprise of the piece is the respectful relationship between Bertrand Muller -- the author -- born a Jew and a convert to Catholicism, who refers to himself as an enlightened man, and the Orthodox Jew, Nuchem Sussin, (Adam Nawojczyk), who, after resisting the love of the Salvation Army's Maria, speaks the last line of the entire show: We must go to Jerusalem.
Director Krystian Lupa's set design was simple and spare, with the necessary pieces of furniture dropped or moved in under cover of the murky lighting. In all, this was a theatrical experience not easily forgotten. Most importantly, it gave a picture of Germany, depressed economically and socially, which contributes immeasurably to the understanding of how Hitler could rise and World War II was able to occur.
