Gritty parable of urban warfare

FIVE deaths or more a day, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, children afraid to play outside and generals recruiting young soldiers for battle; sound familiar?

This is the landscape of the Thirty Year’s War fought in Central Europe from 1618 to 1648 that Bertolt Brecht set his play Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder against. It is also the more familiar setting for Amy Jephta’s adaptation or more accurately a re-imagining of the classic text which is set on the Cape Flats with conditions chillingly similar to that of war torn Europe.

The script was commissioned as part of Suidoosterfees2016, to celebrate the life and work of the late Professor Jakes Gerwel, former rector of the University of Western Cape.

Before the opening night performance Koos Bekker, chairman of Naspers wondered if Jephta would be equal to the task of creating characters as complex as Brecht. Not only are her characters complex but their familiarity ensures that she is not merely equal to the task but has crafted a gritty parable of urban warfare of which Brecht himself would have been proud. Bortslap has a canny ability to mine the darkest vein of characters and as with her chilling direction of Reza de Wet’s Drif in 2015 she allows every character the freedom to unearth the darkest side of depravity.

Her Mother Courage is Priscilla played by Ilse Klink with a gut wrenching realism. She is determined to keep herself and her own children safe and is unperturbed by how she does that. Priscilla is no poster mom for Hallmark’s Mother Day offerings – she is fierce and uncompromising and not exactly likeable. Exhibiting qualities that are basic requirements to survive in the battle trenches of war she mirrors Brecht’s original matriarch who profited from the business of war. She has no shame about her symbiotic relationship with the gangsters as her customers use the proceeds of goods sold to her to support their drug habit This is the very unvirtuous cycle of capitalism and addiction where the cash value of pawned goods exceeds the value of a human life.

Klink is larger than life and her performance is nothing short of brilliant. Tarryn Wyngaard is her mute daughter Trien and with nary a word uttered she speaks volumes. Her constant presence a reminder of the women silenced in the daily war. In the final moments when she finds her voice, the guttural cry tears at each fibre of your being. Her brothers Kaaskop and Ephraim played by Antonio Fisher and Dean Smith respectively are imbued with an almost otherworldly quality, reminiscent of Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, destined for deaths as brutal as their lives. They remain the apple of their mother’s eye and can do no wrong no matter how depraved their behaviour becomes. Even at the final reckoning when Priscilla denies her son it is difficult to find a scrap of empathy for her or her blighted life.

Last year Daniel Richards and Gantane Kusch brought the grim reality experienced by gang members to the stage in Die Glas ennie Draad. Summoning the spirit of those characters and strutting around the stage, luring the young recruits with promises of fortune and fame Richards is the epitome of the Mongrels, the Junky Funky Kids and the Americans who prey on the youth from Heideveld to Hanover Park.

It is Bianca Flanders as Mila who will steal your heart though. We all know a Mila, the neighbourhood siren and good time girl. Her sass a compelling veneer for her vulnerability which hovers just beneath the surface. Flanders is superb as she struts and pouts, the ubiquitous cigarette hanging from her mouth as she laments the woes of her life. Every note of the song that she sings is wrung from deep beneath the pain and false bonhomie and her haunting performance is one of the highlights of the production.

Each and every cast member delivers a memorable performance. Royston Stoffels is the obsequious man of the cloth, his fawning made more abhorrent by his fake concern. Riaan Visman is mercurial – terrifying as the Generaal and cold enough to chill the blood in your veins. Later he encourages mirth as Bambi he barters his bed linen for the price of a mandrax pipe guaranteed to grant a moment of oblivion.

Brendon Daniels never disappoints and as the man with green eyes and white shoes, the heart breaker and philanderer he is surprisingly the most likeable character on stage. Possibly because his character flaws are so ordinary and touchingly human compared to the cold hearted callousness of the others on stage. He is also the jaded police officer and is utterly believable as he treats the complaints lodged at the police station with disdain.

Ruben Engel is the final gang member and a desperate complainant whose momentary flirtation with his conscience makes for a compelling study in misplaced activism.

The set design transforms the stage at the Fugard with each of the three levels intimating a gradual descent to the deepest level of hell – the blood drenched streets of the Cape Flats. A moment on a playground introduced by tyre swings will remain etched forever as a reminder of children’s lives cut short by the gang wars. The “karretjie” from which Priscilla buys and sells her wares is both a cage and a cart, her burden and her deliverance and contains a hodge podge of the minutiae which make up a life. Some aspects of the set design are overly complex and the unnecessary inclusion of falling rain create an unwelcome break in the tension of the play. McGregor continues to establish his credentials as a lighting designer to watch as he recreates the sense of a battle field lit by gun flares and the murky corridors of the courts on the flats which escape the glare of the security floodlights.

The musical aspect, a trademark of Brecht’s productions is not neglected. In addition to Wilken Calitz’s soundscape William Jacobs plays the piano to accompany the extraordinary vocal talent of the cast and Richards adds the eerie sound of a didgeridoo, a mournful lament as the closing breath of the play Brecht’s epic piece of theatre, written in 1939 is considered by some as the greatest play of the 20th century. His commitment to peace in the face of a war hungry Europe flirting with fascism was unwavering. In one of his poems he wrote, “When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer.”

Cries from the Cape Flats have gone unheard as childhoods are lost and the body count mounts. Jephta’s Kristalvlakte shatters the silence and makes sure that you listen.

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