Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Beethoven Blatz

When most people think of Anabaptist culture their minds are immediately filled with images of fierce, disconnected lovemaking on piano benches under the stars. No? Well, then maybe Armin Wiebe’s play The Moonlight Sonata of Beethoven Blatz really is something special.

The play, which is Wiebe’s first, is set on the Manitoba prairies in the 1930’s. The central characters are an eclectic bunch: a lovable farmer with an unfortunate itch, his quirky and wanton wife, a questioning midwife, and the eccentric pianist who is the play’s namesake. Together, the foursome manages to surprise and delight for the play’s entire 120 minute duration.

The Moonlight Sonata of Beethoven Blatz is rooted in classical music. The play acknowledges many of the great composers – very memorably Mozart through the suggestive reference to his ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’ or “A Little Night Music” – and the works of Beethoven provide a score that is both haunting and humorous. In some ways, Wiebe’s play is an exercise in attempting to understand the creative process and its relation to life. The clearest example of this comes when, in the bedroom, Susch and Obrum are making love in an attempt to conceive a child, while in the attached kitchen, Blatz stomps his foot and flails his body wildly, using the rhythms of the couple’s love to breath life into his symphony. In this scene – and earlier when Susch mentions how the music moves her – Wiebe draws direct parallels between making music and making love. After all, as Obrum so gracefully puts it, they both involve “tuning the instrument.”

And the same could be said for any medium of art – even the stage. In this case, the instrument is Wiebe’s beautiful, comical dialogue. And a finally tuned instrument it is. The new playwright’s use of the muddled Flat German is masterful; fluid and precise after years of honing it in his other works such as The Salvation of Yasch Siemens and The Second Coming of Yeeat Shpanst. In his seminar at Red River College, Wiebe himself acknowledged that he has a certain way of “making the language sing.” Well-timed German insults, such as schweinskopf or “pighead,” for example, infuse the dialogue with authenticity and playfulness.

During Wiebe’s seminar, he also mentioned that the play took approximately 15 years to move from inception to the stage. This number is simultaneously staggering and sensible. Staggering because of the commitment it takes to work within a story for that long (15 years would be commendable for most nuptials nowadays), and sensible because the richness of the language demands prolonged contemplation. Wiebe's only falter, for me, is the character Teen, who felt out-of-place, underdeveloped, and demanded a larger role in the play without receiving it. But who knows, with that heavy German dialect, maybe something was lost in translation.

We can read what may be seedling of the play on Wiebe’s website in the form of the short story ‘And Besides God Made Poison Ivy,’ which was originally published in 1996. Like the play, the story uses the same anecdote of the man who, after wiping himself with a malevolent shrub, has his “middle covered with gnauts, the poison ivy itch, front and back, between the legs, all over everything.” As we found out in Wiebe’s seminar, this story was based upon a true incident which befell his grandfather many years earlier. Wiebe uses family and community stories at other times in the play as well, such as the inclusion of the brummtopp at the end of the play’s first act. This adherence to Mennonite tradition and story-telling is what gives Wiebe’s work honesty – a certain truth that transforms a simple story into a breathing piece of history and humour.

And the play is funny. And it is smart. And it is capable, if just for a moment, of taking your earth-cherry-husk of a life and filling it with something pleasant. Yes, The Moonlight Sonata of Beethoven Blatz is lovely.

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