UNDERGRADUATE PAGE
Oxford in Berlin
By RICHARD COX (St. Catherine's College, Oxford).
THE Hebbel Theatre is only a stone's throw from the Russian sector; its ponderous stone facade overlooks an area of rubble, beyond which lies East Berlin. From there it must have been possible to see the gaily-painted signs and bill-boards advertising the play. Certainly many people came across and claimed the half-price concession for East Berliners. They saw the Oxford University Dramatic Society performing Twelfth Night as part of the recent Festival, and, if I may dare to suggest the collective feelings of twenty-five undergraduates, it was their presence as much as anything else that made the visit seem worth while. Within the building East and West became one, and the undivided enthusiasm was very moving. Their applause was a final justification for crossing Europe to give two performances, for a, personal expenditure of some £8 each, and above all for the Festival Committee's unrelenting faith in a company they had never seen. They had originally invited various university companies to represent their countries, among them Bologna, Cleveland and Oxford. We arrived in solitary glory to find ourselves on equal terms with organisations as famous as the Sadler's Wells and New York City Ballets. It was a unique honour for the Society.
The ever-changing tensions in Berlin make it difficult for any artistic endeavour to keep clear of politics. West German • critics used to visit Eastern productions, and men of the calibre of Friedrich Luft did not hesitate to consider them construc- tively. Blatant propaganda, however, and unpleasant minor incidents have long since severed that connection. Today an actor who accepts a part there, rather than starve, cannot expect to work again in the West, where productions are also frequently influenced by political considerations. This Festival has tried - by various concessions to attract East Berliners across that invisible frontier to see untainted performances. But the very provision of this was far from easy. Everything possible had to be flown into the city to ensure its -safe and punctual arrival. Living accommodation is scarce enough without the further burden of visitors, for much of the city is still in ruins. Many of the theatres that were not destroyed are in the Russian sector, though this scarcity has been eased by the rebuilding of the Schiller Theatre, claimed to be technically the finest in Europe. Twelve million marks were spent to give it such wonders as a proscenium arch that can be reduced in the space of a few minutes to the size of a doorway. That reconstruction of this communal sort should precede house-building is not only typical of German post-war development; it also indicates the veneration in which the theatrical tradition is held. Possibly it was a corollary of this thought that prompted the designer to treat the audience as a barely excusable adjunct to his tech- nical paradise. Nevertheless, one palace does not make a king, and it requires courage to attempt A full-scale international festival under present conditions.
Whatever its material needs, Berlin has one great asset— the audiences. They 'know, for instance, that the majority of films shown them are valueless, but they want to see something. Political stresses have quickened their wits, and years of intel- lectual starvation make them intensely enthusiastic towards good work. Their lightning appreciation of Girard Philippe playing the Prince von Hombourg was unforgettable. It was remarkable that such an` ovation should be given to a French production of a play normally regarded as the exclusive province of the German theatre.
It was a surprise to find that the Festival organisers, though widely experienced, were amateurs at this particular game. Perhaps it was thought that managerial knowledge alone would be insufficient to solve the many problems, diplomatic as well as artistic, inherent in the Festival's aims. These were to create an international event and remind the world that the city's cultural traditions are a living force in spite of its beleaguered situation. It was a task that could overwhelm the most pro- fessional committee. Indeed, the initial impact of the Festival offices was disconcerting. The foyer was invariably reminiscent of that machine on the pier which, 'when the penny drops, lights up on the goings-on in a haunted house at midnight. Assistants flew from room to room in frantic haste, and beivildered visitors were glad to find refuge on the sofa. Clearly the organisation was working flat out the whole time.
Behind it was an absolute determination to succeed in every detail; a good humoured, friendly and almost unbeatable joie- de-faire that was most exciting to encounter. Indeed, I am convinced that many problems were overcome by personality -alone. Only later did I meet the intendant and recognise its source. By birth but- half-German, he was a true and far-sighted European, too warm-hearted ever to spare himself in this cause, and vastly overworked. Typical of the crises that his small staff faced was the sudden appearance of the Sadler's Wells stage-manager with twenty tons of scenery. Everything down to the stage staff's teapot had arrived several days before it was expected, and while the scheduled storage-space was occupied by another company. The shortage of theatres made it essential to work to a very exact time-table, and rehearsals had to be calculated to the last minute. In the Hebbel our own people were in frequent con- flict with a pair of Spanish dancers, who, were performing the evening before us. The combination of dark eyes and Southern temperament invariably routed us.
I was impressed iv the friendliness of Berliners. Their attitude to life has acquired a certain toughness and sangfroid. As manager of the company I worked continuously with Germans who had interests to promote, but I tried to spend every spare moment meeting ordinary civilians with no par- ticular axe to grind. They had no false sentiment, yet seemed to be genuinely open-headed towards other human-beings. I found this feeling nowhere else in Germany, and it made favourable comparison with the unsparing self-interest of many cities. The Berlin resilience of character was made strikingly clear-to us in the Free University, which fed, housed and guided us on behalf of the committee. The old university lies just within the Eastern sector. In 1948 a body of professors and students abandoned it to start a free foundation in the American sector. Since then they have built up a university in small scattered houses that is now numerically larger than Oxford.
The Festival programme covered a wide field during its month of activity. There were excellent performances of opera, from the classical repertoire onward, and including Menotti's The Consul; and Porgy and Bess, now in London, was wildly acclaimed in spite of the difficulties of its dialect. This was typi- cal of the range in other fields also, and in all a remarkable review of the arts was achieved. There is good reason to think and hope that this Festival may take its place each year as a major international event. Inevitably its basic problem is financial. The first, last year, ended badly overdrawn although heavily subsidised. It is unlikely that enough visitors were attracted to Berlin this year to compensate for more than a fraction of the expense incurred. The many less-desirable diversions for which the city has become famous hardly en- courage foreigners to consider it from this new angle, and it was generally agreed that the audiences were again mostly Germans. Nevertheless, the Festival has a value that is recognised by the Allies in the financial support they give. It has helped to keep. Berlin in touch culturally with the rest of the free world as well as displaying the city's capabilities. It has indeed provided a shopping-centre for Western ideas within the Communist-controlled areas; a function of the greatest impor- tance if the artificial division of the country is to be prevented from becoming an irremediable reality.
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