| Goethe's Weimar |
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This is a study in Weimar as a mode of spiritual life, as Thomas Mann might have called it: the spirit of the place reflected in a swift series of sparkling encounters, bewildering in its variety, stirring in its epic scope. The vision was conveyed though some splendid acting. . . . Here they are, the secular saints of German Kulturreligion; all conjured up with perfect ease and conviction. This play is about people, some more, some less noble, but all noble in their efforts and, in Faustian fashion, ever striving. . . In the end, what counts in language, the language of poetry (as Herder would have been the first to insist). The verse is effortless and pure, and rises on occasion to noble resonance. |
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For readers of German literature, this language holds special delights. In addition to the poems and the plays, the novels and the essays, contemporary letters, diaries, reported conversations are continually present. Much learning, lightly worn, has gone into this play. An example. At the end of the play, the audience is left with a masterly translation of the most celebrated of Goethes, perhaps of all German poems (Über allen Gipfeln/ist Ruh). The end is sombre, indeed. This mystery play
promises no salvation. The sound of cannons is a moving and
fitting end to Goethes Weimar. The scale is Shakespearean, with a huge cast
(thirty speaking parts) sweeping through time and place in
flowing blank verse. . . . Warner is excellently served by
his actors; Daniel Cassiel brings gravitas to Goethe, and
Ian Drysdale achieves an astonishing double as Schiller and
Napoleon. Tim Prentki produces smoothly as always. |
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