On a stark, charcoal-colored stage that changes little throughout its two-hour run time, Martin Sherman’s 1979 play Bent unfolds in the intimate confines of the Tenth Street Theater.
This production, by Milwaukee’s World Stage Theater, pulls no punches as it tells the story of two gay lovers who flee for their lives when the Nazis invade their Berlin apartment in the 1930s. Within two years, one of the lovers will be dead, and the other will be interned at the Dachau concentration camp.
Once the surviving lover learns from a fellow prisoner that Jews are treated better than gays, he performs a gruesome deed to convince the Nazis he is Jewish. Ironically, he uses his “improved” status to help both himself and another gay prisoner. He negotiates a bit more food, a change in work assignments and even medicine for his friend. Before all this occurs, the production starts on a more shocking note. A completely naked man huddles in fear while eight other men surround him, chanting taunts and warnings. This tableau segues into the first scene, in which Max (in an extraordinary performance by Kirk Thomsen) struggles through a morning hangover while asking his partner Rudy, a dancer, what happened the evening before. Before he responds, Rudy (Doug Soder) tends to his plants and makes coffee for his hung-over partner. He casually mentions that Max brought home a guest for the night. Max is incredulous; he can’t even recall the guest’s name. When Nazis come knocking at their door, they are searching for the guest, an SA German officer. The intruding officers murder him for being gay.
Some might argue that this piece is somewhat dated by today’s standards. But is it? Earlier this year, an Islamic State video showed a gay man being tossed off a high building to his death in the Middle East – while hundreds of people watched below. Apparently, some Muslims believe that their law requires gays to be put to death. And in the U.S., one cannot forget the Supreme Court ruling in favor of gay marriage. So – for better or worse – gays remain in the international spotlight. Also, one can argue the play’s relevance is based on the premise that the events of the past cannot be forgotten.
In the leading role, Kirk Thomsen is both physically and mentally right for Max. Tall, buff and almost gaunt, he easily could pass for an underfed prisoner who hauls rocks in the camp. Under Don Russell’s able direction, Thomsen also conveys Max’s anguish over his perceived inability to receive or give love. However, he fails to see that his selfless acts, including his refusal to leave Berlin with papers and a passport provided by his rich uncle unless such documents can be secured for Rudy as well, constitute love. Later in the play, another selfless act – meant to secure medication for another prisoner he loves – also leads to grim consequences. This is in stark contrast to his otherwise self-serving and occasionally self-destructive behaviors.
In addition to Thomsen’s vivid depiction of Max, another noteworthy performance is Nate Press as Horst, the gay concentration camp prisoner who Max grows to love. Press plays his low-key character well (so as not to attract too much attention from the Nazi guards). Like Max, he also knows how to survive. Still, he mines a great deal of emotion from his part, as well as the touch of brief humor this play desperately needs.
The interplay between Max and Horst is the foundation on which the play is based, as it depicts the beginning, middle and end of a loving friendship. Although the two prisoners cannot touch or even look at each other while Nazi guards are watching (which is basically all the time), they find in each other the strength to go on.
