Carleton in Berlin: German & European Studies 2015

Author: Nayon Park (’18)

It is somewhat troubling to learn that there is a 176-page book, written with just one word some hundredfold, let alone a stage play based on it. Herbert Fritsch’s “Murmel, Murmel”, showcased at Volksbühne on 16 November, had no other word but one – “Murmel”, to mumble. After the original work “Murmel” by Dieter Roth, a prolific experimental artist of the 20^th Century, Fritsch staged what is known to have largely been inspired by his LSD trip. While at many points baffling, the production allowed ample room for the audience for an theatrical experience that ranged from being downright entertaining to taking away a reflective note for self.

Walking in with the director’s biggest inspiration for the production in mind, it could almost be expected that the play was not going to impart an ambitious message. Indeed, the reaction of the audience spoke to how (not) seriously the play was taken. The light-hearted, comical tone was set from the beginning with the spotlighted appearance of a man dressed in a suit, who became both the conductor and the only musician in the show. Insistently making his way through the front row, he was already breaking into the “fourth wall” to immediately highlight the significant role of audience involvement in the play. The stage was quickly filled with several screens of vibrant colors and bright red light. How the colored screens were moving across and back and forth the stage created an illusion that resembled a kaleidoscope, inviting the audience to an exclusive experience Fritsch intended to stage with no other prominent plot. Continue reading “Murmel Murmel” – reviewed by Nayon Park (’18)

Author: Rachel Everett (’18)

[…] A few of us Carls got to see the stage production Murmel Murmel, directed by Herbert Fritsch and based on the book by Dieter Roth. I’m starting this blog post with that very traditional statement so that you have something to lean on as I explain how amazingly experimental and different this production was from anything I have seen before. More preface though: Dieter Roth published Murmel Murmel  in 1974 in a 176 page book made of 18 x 11.5cm paper. The entire book consisted of one word, murmel. “Murmel” is the German equivalent of mumble, or to mumble. Essentially – the book, the character, the narrator is just mumbling. Fritsch found this book and was inspired to make a production out of it. I admire him for his bravery.

I’m calling Murmel Murmel a “production” or “stage production” quite intentionally. Over the course of the term, we’ve talked a lot in our theater course about what makes something “theater”, or what makes something a play. Do the people on stage have to know that they’re acting? If it’s just a series of monologues, is it still a play? Where do you draw the limits between different kinds of stage performance? Murmel Murmel is definitely a production that tests these boundaries. Continue reading “Murmel Murmel” – reviewed by Rachel Everett (’18)

Author: Andy Tirro (’17)

[…] Many of the students on the Berlin program went to see Murmel Murmel, a play in which only a single word is spoken: murmel. I went in expecting at least an attempt at a continuous storyline and some character development or revelation, but that was very clearly not the goal of the play; we were there for a laugh. It was pure, good old-fashioned slapstick humor. There was quite a bit of strange dancing, odd intonation, falling off the stage intentionally, and ridiculous self-imposed constraints on movement. With that said, the humor was, from time to time, very sophisticated for slapstick. A series of strongly differing vignettes each showcased the ridiculousness of saying only ‘murmel’ in a different light. There was, for instance, a moment in the second act in which the actors seemed to be attending a dance class, and an instructor was taking his students letter by letter through the enunciation of the word ‘murmel’, but forgot the second ‘m’. In a situation where the entirety of a language is the word ‘murmel’, what would be our theoretical equivalent for the word ‘murel’? Although a bit of a mental goose chase, that implication of paradox thrown into the mix gave a nice flavor in my opinion. But my favorite scene by far was one in which the shortest character with the greatest amount of facial hair was – with the help of his fellow actors – made to levitate, immediately after which they hung on his every word as if he were a prophet, and were sent into throes of ecstasy when he, in a comically high-pitched voice and with a beatific smile on his face, emitted “murmel murmel!!” after waiting a long enough interval to have the audience on the edge of our seats. Continue reading “Murmel Murmel” – Reviewed by Andy Tirro (’17)

Author: Sean Kelly (’17)

In his advice to his successor, Friedrich the Great wrote that a ruler should not indulge himself in debauchery and wealth, and to not set a bad example for his people.  So why would a man so concerned with the responsibilities of a ruler to his people go and build a lavish palace that in no way serves his subjects?  Friedrich’s intention was quite clear in building Sans Souci.  It was an escape for him.  It was a place where the King would have “no worries” (which is what Sans Souci translate to).  When he was tired of the battlefield, or had had enough of politics, he could come to Sans Souci to let those worries go.  Here was a place that he could spend walking with his many dogs, talking with philosophers, such as Voltaire, about the ideas of governing, and practice his flute playing (which some may argue needed the practice).

In his own mind, Friedrich probably thought that Sans Souci was not a perverted example of wealth, but rather a necessary element for his rule.  Without ability to escape for a few days, he may not have been able to effectively govern, or perhaps would have gotten off track.  It was not a display of power like Versailles, but rather a display of the intelligence and eccentricity of the Prussian King.  One can feel this sense of eccentricity just walking through the narrow gold-laden halls of the Palace.  It was not meant to inspire people, or to house government.  It fits perfectly with his life, how he lived it, however it does not fit with his duty to the people, but when you’re the King of a military power and regarded as one of best tacticians, I guess your nobility will not challenge you.  Prussia was relatively and stable during his reign, but it was not nearly as powerful or prominent as the kingdoms of France or Great Britain.  Sans Souci failed to change this perception as well, so perhaps the Neue Palais was built just a few years later to show that Prussia was in fact relevant.

It’s clear to this day that Sans Souci was a self-serving palace, built to fulfill Friedrich’s eccentric needs.  It sits up on a hill, in a park removed from the people, just as it always has been.  It does not serve much of a purpose today, other than hosting tourists and providing an insight into the life and mind of Friedrich II.

Author: Dylan Culp (’16)

We ended our tour of Potsdam in the Holländisches Viertel, or Dutch Quarter. Its rows of brick buildings and prominent curved gables immediately recall the streets of Amsterdam. We certainly were not the only foreigners around—the restaurants and boutiques that fill these unique buildings attract numerous visitors from Potsdam. We were lucky enough to eat lunch in one of these restaurants.

During the eighteenth century, Friedrich Wilhelm I needed skilled artisans to develop the growing city. About 150 of these came from the Netherlands, and the “Soldier King” (who developed an appreciation for Dutch art and culture during an earlier visit to the Netherlands) had over one hundred brick houses built in a style that the immigrant workers would find familiar.
Continue reading The Dutch Quarter in Potsdam – by Dylan Culp (’16)

Author: Jack Kennelly (’18)

The Siegessäule (Victory Column) is quite aptly named; it is a large column, composed of four sections on a base of sandstone. Atop the monument stands a statue of Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. Heinrich Strack designed the column after a Prussian victory in the Danish-Prussian war, but by the time the monument was inaugurated in 1873, Prussia had won two victories over France and Austria, respectively. Prussia also saw itself integrated with numerous other German states into a unified Germany. This newly formed state then added the statue that sits atop it today. A fourth section of column was added later, by Adolf Hitler. He also moved the Siegessäule from its former position in front of the Reichstag to its current position in the middle of the Tiergarten. Each section of column thus represented a different conquest: one for the conquest of Schleswig-Holstein from the Danes, one for the renunciation of Austrian influence in Germany, one for the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine from France, and a final pillar for the annexation of Austria in 1938.

Continue reading The Siegssäule – by Jack Kennelly (’18)

 

Lydia’s theater class attended their last outing today, Robert Wilson’s famous production of Brecht’s Threepenny Opera. Although this was already our fifth trip to Berliner Ensemble, the mood today was more chastened, and not only because of the gloomy fall weather and the stress of final exams. It has  been a solemn weekend here in Berlin, with the victims of the terrorist attacks on everyone’s mind. Many of us stopped to view the makeshift memorial that the theater company had erected on neighboring Bertolt Brecht Square.

Author: Nikita Formichev (’17)

Frederick II (the Great), a Prussian king, reined from 1740 till 1786. Born to “The Soldier King,” Frederick took a different path in life, becoming interested in music, art, and having a homosexual escapade as a young adult. He was an excellent flutist who would perform for his acquaintances at his summer home in Potsdam, the Sanssouci. To explore his life a bit closer, our history class went to visit this palace and vicariously experience his life in the 18^th century.

Standing at the footsteps of the Sanssouci, we noticed the 168 niches for plums as we walked up the staircase to the entrance. Frederick II was not only a lover of nature, but of dogs as well. Over his lifetime he owned 30 dogs, 8 of which are buried next to him next to the Sanssouci. On Frederick II’s grave in front of the Sanssouci, there were scattered potatoes. Frederick the Great popularized potatoes in Germany during his reign, using guards to protect potato gardens and accepting bribes to steal potatoes, as a way of reverse psychology to popularize the vegetable and eliminate the preconceived idea that they were poisonous. The mourning of Frederick the Great saw potatoes laid down instead of flowers and the tradition has carried on ever since.

Continue reading Schloss Sanssouci – by Nikita Formichev (’17)

Author: Chris Shoemaker

For the concluding history class field trip on our program, we ventured once more outside of Berlin to the neighboring city of Potsdam. Our excursion through this historic town was headlined by a tour of the Schloss Sanssouci. Built between 1745 and 1747, the palace was commissioned by and acted as the summer residence of King Frederick II, popularly known as Frederick the Great. Our visit included a walk around the outside of the palace, followed by a tour inside the residence. Opulent, yet somewhat unassuming, the Schloss reflects the character of Frederick himself, visualizing his preferences and peculiarities, and functions as a symbol of preservation, a trait that is highly valued in a dynamic and ever-reforming Germany.

Upon walking onto the grounds immediately surrounding the palace, one immediately encounters the ornamental yet organic essence of the terrace garden. The extensive grapevines and fig trees bordering the Schloss mirrors the ideal of relating man and nature, a philosophy that Frederick took to heart when designing the castle grounds. This love of the natural realm is also evidenced by Frederick’s gravesite, located on the right side of the palace. Here, Frederick’s remains are buried right next to those of a number of his cherished dogs, thus indicating that the king’s love for nature included an appreciation for animal as well as plant life.

Continue reading Schloss Sanssouci – by Chris Shoemaker (’17)

Author: Amanda Jin (’18)

Subtitled “A parable play”, Bertold Brecht’s Der aufhaltsame Aufstieg des Arturo Ui recounts how the Chicago mobster Arturo Ui gains control of the cauliflower trust and rises to power in the city Chicago. Written in 1941, the story of Arturo Ui is a blatant parody of Hitler’s rise to power, presenting plots and schemes that Brecht’s intended audience were familiar with. While Der aufhaltsame Aufstieg des Arturo Ui is arguably not Brecht’s best work, the production directed by Heiner Müller, with Martin Wuttke as the leading actor has been in repertory since its premiere in 1995. On November 8th, I had the honour to watch this production presented in the Berliner Ensemble.

Even at first glance, Müller’s production doesn’t seem to be an “Authorentheater” (writer’s theatre). Brecht’s original prologue which reveals the nature of this play as an “epic theatre” was overlooked, with part of its lines integrated into the epilogue. The trial on the warehouse fire, an important scene in Brecht’s script was only briefly touched on, while the sequence of the scenes was rearranged and scattered. While Brecht’s script, “a parable play,” simply chronicles the rise of Arturo Ui (Adolf Hitler) in a satirical way, allowing the audience to quietly reflect on this fictional story based on non-fictional events, Müller’s production drags the audience into a world of incomprehensible madness, a far more complicated realm dominated by morbid humour and horrifying ruthlessness. Continue reading The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui – Reviewed by Amanda Jin (’18)