Beggars Carn't Be Choosers

Last night, Jane and I stepped out on the town to watch the final performance of the San Diego Repertory Theatre's month-long production of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill's The Threepenny Opera, a piece of musical theatre new to Jane and a long favorite of mine. I seem to have a hazy memory of seeing a production of John Gay's original Beggar's Opera in Milwaukee or Chicago during some drama club road trip, but I honestly can't remember clearly. Rather, my appreciation for The Threepenny Opera comes from the G.W. Pabst film version from 1931, various soundtrack recordings (some featuring Lotte Lenya, Weill's wife and the original Jenny), and endless jazz variations on "Mack the Knife" (I first heard Bobby Darin's 1959 version on oldies radio and later came to fall for Louis Armstrong's incomparable version and Sonny Rollin's 1956 "Moritat" - I hear through the grapevine that some first encountered this song in a McDonald's tv commercial, ie: "Mac Tonight").

My appreciation for Bertolt Brecht has only increased in the years since I read Threepenny Opera and Mother Courage in a college drama course, and anybody who enjoys Tom Waits as much as I do can't deny the central role Kurt Weill has played in revolutionizing popular song, American and otherwise. I'm not sure if Brecht has ever been fully understood on American shores - Threepenny Opera remains his most accessible production, largely due to Weill's memorable tunes, but most stateside productions have muted the anti-capitalist thrust of the original work (eventually, Brecht's commitment to socialism would prove too much for even Weill, who ceased contributing to Brecht's plays by announcing he was "unable to set the communist party manifesto to music"). There is no denying Brecht's wit and the rollicking nature of the play, which makes for an often intensely enjoyable theater going experience, but much of what Brecht intended to be "epic" about his "epic theater" simply lends itself, in less sympathetic hands, to outlandish set pieces and busywork across the stage. What Brecht intended to distance the audience may actually draw contemporary audiences in - what he intended to echo or mirror film montage techniques may just make his plays seem livelier than, say, Strindberg (snicker...).

Last night's production seemed to play up the comedy and downplay the savage social satire, although there was no getting around the timeliness of a play centered around the question posed by Macheath; "Who is the greater criminal: he who robs a bank or he who founds one?" The translation used was also more saucy and ribald than earlier versions, and seemed to capture the seedy underside of both Victorian-era London streets and the height of decadent Weimar Germany. It would have been too much to ask the troupe to tackle the work in German (when the announcement was made that this production was in English, an older woman nearby audibly announced, "Good"), and the numerous profanities inserted into familiar songs had a nice shock effect. There was an energy and good-spiritedness throughout the show that often only comes at a production's end, as Jane and I both know from personal experience. The drinks at the downstairs bar during intermission were appropriately overpriced and watered-down. We both gawked at several unfortunately-chosen outfits. All in all, an enjoyable night at the theater.