It was with great anticipation that I approached the Manoel on the opening night of Ma Kuraġġ u Wliedha (Mother Courage and her Children), an adaptation in Maltese, translated by Loranne Vella, of possibly one of Bertolt Brecht’s greatest plays.
A Teatru Malta co-production with the Manoel Theatre, Ma Kuraġġ u Wliedha, directed by Jean-Marc Cafa’, ran from September 2 to 4 and this weekend. Today is the last performance.
Set in 17th-century Europe, the play follows Anna Fierling, known as Mother Courage/Ma Kuraġġ (Josette Ciappara), who operates a rolling canteen business during the Thirty Years War with her three children Katrin (Rebecca Camilleri), Eilif (Matthew Dimech Genuis) and Swiss Cheese/Ġobon Svizzeru (Jamie Cardona).
Brecht’s deeply anti-war play, reflecting his ideas on politics, family and the human condition, is a story about the costs of war, not only for those who are its victims but also those who try to profit off it.
At the centre of the story is Ma Kuraġġ, who gathers her three children and tries to protect them from the horrors of war while following soldiers to the frontlines to sell them brandy and other balms, but it is ultimately her children, whom she tries to shelter so vehemently, who are the victims of her own efforts to exploit the war, thus victimising her with them.
Employing the famed Verfremdungseffekt (translated as the alienation or estrangement effect), Brecht’s unique style of epic theatre is designed to wake up the audience in a manner antithetical to the effects of dramatic theatre, which stirs the emotions rather than rouses the intellect.
To make audiences think critically and uncomfortably about the events transpiring onstage, those watching the play are alienated from the narrative by, among other devices, being told what they are to expect in each scene by text splayed on the curtain in the background.
This is one of the devices used in the local production of Ma Kuraġġ u Wliedha, perhaps surprising audience members unfamiliar with epic theatre and who are more accustomed to subtle cues between the lines than more direct mechanisms “hammering” reality into shape, as Brecht famously puts it.
It is clear Cafa’ wields this hammer in his direction of the local production, employing many mechanisms to disjoint the audience from the play as Brecht intended, doing so most effectively by having characters visibly wander to seats on either side of the stage when their part is over, just out of view enough to be inconspicuous, but in view enough to make audiences scratch their heads.
My one qualm is that I hoped the actors would embody their characters somewhat less, or somewhat differently. While the Brechtian devices employed to retain a sense of disbelief were effective in inducing critical reflection, I felt the acting veered with too much familiarity towards typical dramatic style.
That said, alienation is a strange device for both actors and audiences to maintain. For all the signs reminding us over and over that we are watching a play, we cannot help but feel engaged with the characters onstage and the story they are telling, especially given the local production’s use of the Maltese language, expertly rendered in Vella’s script, combined with the ideocracies with which Ciappara imbues her characters.
Ciappara makes every scene feel as though it’s happening to a member of our family, whether in the form of lightness and humour or palpable despair. Camilleri’s Katrin is also worthy of note, along with Simone Spiteri’s Yvette.
Combined with Vella’s stirring script and the troop’s skilled treatment, the play transpired into a greatly stimulating affair. It is fortunate that Teatru Malta, in co-production with the Manoel, have ventured in this direction.