An Uncommon "Bent": Lest We Forget

Meta.for Theatre has made a hell of a bold choice by tackling Martin Sherman's brilliant and bleak Bent through the Remembrance Day weekend. A battering ram of a script that illuminates the sickening treatment of homosexuals by the nazis during WWII, it rocked its 1979 audiences upon its premiere with raw depictions of violence, torture, and gay love (not to mention gay sex). Its first run in Vancouver (back in 1981) lasted four months. The conciousness-inducing agenda of the work is clear, yet it has never suffered marginalization as a "queer play", residing instead squarely in the canon of important contemporary message-theatre from the get-go. Kudos are due to Meta.for for giving Vancouver another chance to experience such a seminal work.

The story of Bent follows underground party-boy Max (Sean Cummings) from the morning after what becomes his last night of hedonistic freedom in 1930s Berlin, through his flight from persecution with his lover Rudy (Joshua Lewis), to his eventual capture and internment within the living nightmare of Dachau. Themes of bigotry and persecution are examined through the choices Max is faced with throughout the play, asking us to consider how far we would go to survive in the face of illogical and overwhelming amorality. There is enormous responsibility in taking on this role, a guaranteed ticket to the darkest part of yourself. Cummings plays Max with a kind of detached numbness, which is not altogether a bad decision, really. I felt the performance was missing a certain connectedness to his partners, but it was clearly a character choice and as such I'm not about to argue with it. He is certainly a fine actor.

Having only read the play before, I expected to leave the theatre feeling sick and angry and despondent but, while being a competent rendering, it never quite managed to get a firm enough hold inside of me to really tear at anything. This was due in part to some mushy pacing, especially in the first act where most of the action takes place. What may have been an attempt to establish gravitas weighted the momentum down, and the staged beatings (which replaced the more surgical shootings suggested by the script) lacked authenticity. It also suffered a bit from something I've noticed in a lot of productions around town this year: an inconsistency of performance styles amongst the cast. It feels as though some of the crew are acting in different plays, and this lack of cohesion ultimately disrupts the overall composition. Mr. Lewis radiates an oversized musical-theatre energy, which puts him at odds with his cues. Billy Marchenski as a Nazi guard also deflates his character's menace with a dancer's bounce and largesse. Thrasso Petras displays sharp comic instincts which work well for drag cabaret-owner Greta but release a little too much dramatic tension as the "pink-triangle" prisoner Horst who eventually wins the heart and ultimate salvation of Max. (As Horst's health and sanity degenerate Petras lets all that go, however, and he and Cummings combine to find a lovely music of their improbable relationship.) All fine performances, just at odds with one another, which kept the play as a whole from fully coalescing.

However, these are really technical considerations, overall this is a brave and evocative production that bears such direct scrutiny. With tidy set and costume design and terrific lighting the package is worth the price of admission, it would be a shame to miss the chance to experience this work. Meta.for Theatre has made a good argument here for the importance of our independent theatre.