“Hello, hello,” Loudspeakers #1 and
#2 sing to the audience with an air of welcoming pomposity. Their
faces are caked in mime makeup, their fanciest clothes having seen
better days. They're surrounded by the morose ensemble dressing for
their parts in front of the crowd. We have the Harlequin, Death
himself, the Drummer, Emperor Uberall of Atlantis, a Soldier, and a
young lady named Bubikopf. Behind them are two pairs of bunk beds.
The Loudspeakers tell us the emperor's latest all-out war has been
rough. Death is beyond frustrated, sick of having to collect so many
souls at all times. He quits his job. People can no longer die, yet
they continue fighting nonetheless.
So we have set the scene for Chicago
Opera Theater's production of Viktor Ullmann's opera, The Emperor
of Atlantis, written while
Ullmann was imprisoned at the Theresienstadt concentration camp
during World War II. It's a grim satire of Adolf Hitler's, and
dictators in general, fixation on subjugation and mass murder. It's
plenty important for anyone interested in free expression and
checking overwhelming power.
Chicago
Opera Theater's general director, Andreas Mitisek, bets most people
agree with that notion because of the oppression still operating in
the world.
“If
we talk about the theme, these themes are universal and they are
going on nowadays. Look at Syria, look at quite a few other places,”
he says. “There are things that [we] just happen to be constantly
reminded of. Satire in a way is a wonderful way to deal with
difficult subjects. They make you laugh before they make you cry in
some ways.”
The
laughter in The Emperor of Atlantis is
necessarily at a minimum, given its meta conceit of being a depiction
of Ullmann's makeshift concentration camp troupe putting on the show
that was snuffed by the S.S. in 1943 after they caught wind of
rehearsals. But cleverness is everywhere. The Drummer, played by
Cassidy Smith, provides much of it as a vivacious, blonde and lusty
personification of war itself, perpetually seducing men in a corset
of violence.
It is
all these big ideas – oppression, war, totalitarianism, the obscene
glamour of dictators – that form Chicago Opera Theater's season,
which runs through September. This week's show, a twin bill of The
Emperor of Atlantis and Carl
Orff's The Clever One, featuring
a mostly overlapping cast, takes a satiric look at these themes.
Rarely are these one act operas funny in the ha-ha sense, but they
are consistently, amusingly subversive.
But
it's not just operas Chicago Opera Theater wants to provide to
Chicagoans. As supplementary material, Mitisek and his collaborators
have searched for companion pieces in film history to screen. Last
Sunday, they showed Charlie Chaplin's classic satire The
Great Dicator at the Music Box
in Lakeview. Chaplin plays dual roles as a Hitler-style dictator and
dunderheaded barber who could be the leader's twin. Chaplin's usual
slapstick and humanism poke fun at the absurdity of Hitler's Germany.
“It's
an obvious place to contact for what the Music Box does: unusual
movies that's not always the mainstream,” Mitisek says. “That's
always what Chicago Opera Theater does. It's a natural fit.”
Mitisek
channeled Chaplin especially in the latter opera of the bill, Orff's
The Clever One. It
contrasts with The Emperor of Atlantis with
color, loudness, multimedia projections and a more jovial tone. Three
giant rolls of paper become canvases for electronic painters and
doorways for the actors onstage. A trio of drunks sings catchy
songs, a dictator gets his comeuppance from a woman he forces to
marry him and a comical sense of justice permeates.
It
makes sense the tone lines up with Chaplin more than Ullmann.
Mitisek says Orff wrote his opera in Frankfurt, where he was
considered part of “official Germany,” meaning he was considered
okay by the Nazis. He was likely considered a sympathizer by the
regime, but his staging of this opera, with its buffoon of an
emperor, suggests he had no sympathies with the Nazis in reality. He
had to be sly about things, and satire empowered him to get across
his ideas.
Mitisek
says his comrades at Chicago Opera Theater wish to showcase the
bravery of these people, while depicting something off the beaten
path in the Chicago theatre scene.
“It's
just a great place to go and experience something new,” he says.
Chicago Opera Theater runs The
Emperor of Atlantis and The
Clever One tonight and Sunday afternoon at DePaul's Merle Reskin
Theatre at 60 East Balbo. For ticket information, call 312-922-1999.
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