Many people to this day may not be fully aware of the scope of the horrific events that transpired during Hitler's reign of tyranny over much of Europe during the Second World War. While the Jewish community was, by all accounts, the biggest targets of the Nazi's evil wave of terror, the German Gestapo also cast a wider net to include other "undesirable" citizens they found to be non-conforming to the German/Hitler ideal of normalcy. Among these eventual victims of the Holocaust were homosexuals-particularly, gay men-whom they considered the most "undesirable" of all.
In
Martin Sherman's stirring, powerful drama BENT (with performances now playing at Santa Ana's
Theatre Out through May 1), we witness this incredibly appalling series of events through the eyes of a man caught between living openly and living fearfully to preserve his own survival. Full of wit and wisdom, Sherman paints an unfortunately real world where love is possible even in the midst of sheer, unfathomable adversity.
The year is 1934, and we meet Max (Gregory Spradlin), an arrogant yet charmingly promiscuous lothario, who revels in the hedonistic, drug-fueled lifestyle that's the staple of Berlin's then astonishingly openly-gay nightlife. He shares an inadvertently domestic home life with his lover Rudy (David Tran), a nightclub dancer who is an anxious ball of neuroses-the yin to Max's very carefree yang. Though a product of a rather wealthy family, Max abandons his roots in order to live openly. He often has to scrounge for rent money, and apparently succeeds by constantly making deals and working the system to his advantage (a skill he demonstrates also later in the play).
Suffering from memory loss and a wicked hangover, we soon learn that in Max's night of excess (plenty of cocaine and booze from many a nightclub were part of the equation), he had brought home a random boy whom he bedded the night before (Rudy was, apparently, not into a threesome that evening). But before Max has the opportunity to scam rent money from his handsome trick, German soldiers raid their home to bloody results. Max and Rudy make a run for it, leaving behind their life in Berlin which has fallen completely under Hitler's command. The pair travel on foot for days before settling among the displaced nomads that have formed a makeshift tent community within the forests outside Holland to hide from the constant Nazi threat.
Unfortunately, the twosome are captured and are thrown into a train car bound for the Dachau Concentration Camp, resulting in a gruesome outcome that utterly changes the course of Max's life. The second half of the play takes place entirely within the electric fence-barricaded perimeter of the Dachau camp. There, Max meets fellow inmate Horst (a riveting Ben Green), a young man he meets on the train ride to Dachau. The audience learns that Horst wears a pink triangle sewn into his prison garb, which brands him as a homosexual (a symbol the gay community has since recouped as their own empowering logo). Homosexuals, it turns out, are ranked to be in the very bottom amongst the twisted hierarchy of prison camp inmates.
In learning of this designation, Max (again, working and plotting whatever system he's in to comply with his innate talent for self-preservation) manages to convince the camp leaders to brand him a Jew (with a yellow star stitched into his shirt), which entitles him some meat and vegetables in his soup. After all, he's a notch above a homosexual. He strikes up an interesting rapport with Horst, who knows exactly what patch Max should be wearing. Again working his magic, Max arranges for Horst to be transferred to work along side him. Their job: to move rocks from one end of the quarry to another-a task, they feel, is meant to drive them insane. Instead, the two use the menial job to keep each other company, a luxury in a place so vacant of hope and companionship.
The play not only serves to highlight the part homosexuals played in the concentration camps that many may not know even existed, it also personifies the struggle all homosexuals endure in their every day lives in regards to their true identities. Though perhaps not as dangerous in the same magnitude as it was during wartime Germany, living openly is a risk that could cost someone their life and, by association, the lives of others. But living openly meant freedom, freedom to be one's self. But what good is this freedom when you're not around to enjoy it. Thus, Max's dilemma: reveal who he is and risk death, or live openly and be rid of guilt?
While the first few exchanges in the beginning of the play could have used a bit of trimming on Sherman's part, BENT overall is a provocative, thought-provoking piece of theater. Using their small theater space effectively,
Theatre Out's production is emotionally searing and effectively performed. With each tragic turn, there are moments of genuine wit, only to be followed by soul-baring heartbreak and an ending that is so overwhelming, it sticks with you long after you've left the theater. Working from an excellent script, director Maryanne Mosher deftly concentrates the play's strengths squarely on the cast's dynamic performances, keeping the staging to small, subtle gestures of quiet depth, so that the bombastic actions (fight sequences, scenes of Nazi torture) are all the more jarring when they unfold. As Max, Gregory Spradlin effortlessly portrays a charming cad, but then convincingly transforms into a sympathetic hero. Stan Jenson, in a brief appearance as Greta (the de-facto face of Berlin nightlife that has since been smashed to a pulp) makes a wonderful cameo, performing a ditty he even wrote himself. And perhaps saddled with the heaviest of roles in the play, Ben Green turns in a hauntingly moving performance that runs the gamut of forceful confidence and sympathetic melancholy. Watch out for this kid.
Though society in general has come a long way since these abhorrent events took place, lingering anti-gay sentiments are still among the world's accepted biases. But with truth, comes freedom. Here's hoping that moving forward, such horrible, bloody executions against entire segments of our population will be reduced to nothing more than a distant memory.
Grade: A-Photos by Darcy Hogan for Theatre Out. Top: Andrew Kelley, Ben Green (foreground), Travis McHenry.
Bottom: Ben Green & Gregory Spradlin (foreground).
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Tickets to
Theatre Out's production of BENT are priced $18.00 (adults) and $15.00 (students with valid student ID). Remaining performances are scheduled for Thursday, April 29 @ 8:00 pm, Friday, April 30 @ 8:00 pm and Saturday, May 1 @ 8:00 pm.
Directed by MaryAnne Mosher. Featuring Greg Spradlin, Ben Green, David Tran, Andrew Kelley, Joey Baital, Ian Dunn, Stan Jenson and Travis McHenry. The show's approximate running time is 2 hours with 1 intermission.
Theatre Out's home is The Empire Theatre in the Artists' Village in downtown Santa Ana, located at 202 N. Broadway, Santa Ana, CA. Tickets are available online at
www.theatreout.com or by calling the
Theatre Out Box Office at (714) 826-8700.
Visit
www.theatreout.com for more information.
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