This article is 6 years old

Watch On the Rhine Loses its Message in Tedious Ambiguity

Entertainment

Photograph by Calliope Arkilic

Berkeley Rep’s Watch on the Rhine is an ambitious production: written in 1939 by stalwart anti-fascist Lillian Hellman, the play explores family, sacrifice, the privilege of ignorance, and what it means to be an American. Part political thriller, part comedy of manners, Watch on the Rhine takes place in the home of a wealthy American family on the eve of America’s entrance into World War II, where Fanny Farrelly (Caitlin O’Connell), the misanthropic matriarch, nervously awaits the arrival of her estranged daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren, who have been living in Europe for twenty years. When the daughter’s German husband, Kurt Muller (Elijah Alexander), is revealed to be a prominent figure in the anti-Nazi resistance movement, one of Fanny’s house guests attempts to sell him out, and the suspense begins.

Watch on the Rhine may seem timely and ambitious, but it can also be heavy-handed and frustrating. The plot seemed to drag and sock-hop at the same time, and the core — what one could say it was really about — was unclear. Certain sequences, especially those between the antagonist Teck de Brancovis and his wife Marthe, verged on comically cliche in their writing despite excellent acting. Meanwhile, it was hard to get into the high stakes of the play, as Watch on the Rhine begins with Fanny fretting excessively about her daughter’s arrival. This extended starting point, a comedy of manners, succeeds in showing American ignorance but leaves the audience unsure of where the core of the story lies. Meanwhile, the key points of the play’s conflict — Kurt and de Brancovis’ backgrounds — were explained in short bursts, while the background of the Farrellys was dwelled on at length, making it difficult to see the events of the play in perspective. The timing of the first intermission is awkward — it feels as though the story hasn’t even begun yet.

A key to Watch on the Rhine’s storytelling issues is its archetypes — both those played straight and expanded. (Nothing is truly subverted.) The acting was excellent — each actor fit into the archetype like a glove. But even as actors expanded their roles, the initial archetypal impression of a character (and the general confusion of the plot) interfered with the audience’s perception of the characters. Character archetypes, like Kurt’s hyper-idealism, draw seemingly clear moral lines. These lines are crossed, of course, but there isn’t enough substance behind those lines, enough expansion of its basic morals, with which the audience can square the play’s moral ambiguity. For example, there wasn’t much chemistry between Sara and Kurt Muller, despite their family’s pivotal role in the play’s moral exploration. Kurt’s speeches about the end of the war and his love for his children were tear-jerkingly beautiful, but existed by themselves, separate from who he, as a real person, would be.

At the same time, there seems something inimitable about Watch on the Rhine. In flashes things would fit together: archetypes would be expanded, something fantastically prescient would be said. “We’re all anti-fascists.” “Yes, but Kurt does something about it.” Marthe realizes that she can leave, just leave, without telling de Brancovis every little reason why. Fanny tells Kurt Muller to stop that god awful one-handed piano playing. The play had a clear internal logic and obeyed the classical unities of time, place, and action. The parts were there — even if the sum was missing.

I went into the play with high hopes: the plot and setting made me think of connections between 1939 and now, of what the seemingly invisible hand of fascism would look like in a place as untouched as the wealthy Farrelly household. The artistic director’s statement in the program directly links our two time periods. Such a wake-up call is greatly needed in the country as slowly descending as ours. And yet, the Americans in the play are allowed, even when seemingly enlightened by Kurt, to remain mostly in their ignorance — after their “epiphany,” will they really become true anti-fascists? Fascism, meanwhile,  appears in the form of the obviously evil de Brancovis. It feels as if the real story is happening not in this wealthy house, but elsewhere, following the true hand of fascism and the anti-fascists who do something about it.

After everything, it is unclear what Watch on the Rhine leaves behind. It is entertaining, well-staged, and well-acted, but it can’t be a true wake-up call, or a critique of America entering World War II, or a much-needed look at our own ignorance. This ambiguity allows Watch on the Rhine to be what the audience makes of it — and we can do more than just hope we aren’t on the verge of a similarly devastating rise.