The Caucasian Chalk Circle at the University of Washington

“Terrible is the temptation to do good,” says the narrator of Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle. The other half of the thought is left up to the audience to discern, but is the true thrust of the play: the temptation is terrible because complacency is easier.

MFA director Alyson Roux has delivered a new, terrifying vision of a play frequently considered to be an important, but outdated, work of epic theater. Roux sets the play a few years into the future, after an unspoken war that has flung civilization back to the dark ages–not all that different from Brecht’s timeline, which put the play a few years ahead when he and many others expected the known world to soon be ruled by Nazi Germany. Roux cleverly transports the physical location of the play–nowhere. It is set in the Jones Playhouse, right in front of you, unfolding as though you were nearby farmers attending the meeting held at the play’s start. Several actors wait at the door to direct you to seats; they greet you like brothers and sisters with the kind of respect forged through hardship, not blood. The show opens with these two groups discussing what to do with a piece of scarce fertile land; the bulk of the work is a play-within-a-play performed by these farmers.

The Caucasian Chalk Circle is really two plays that happen to meet at the end. Both stories are told by a group One follows Grusha, a kitchenmaid in the palace ruled by the complacent Governer Abashvili and his harpy-wife, Natella. They care nothing for their people’s well-being, reveling in their own wealth and their infant son, Michael. When the governer’s right-hand man instigates a coup and has the governer beheaded, Grusha prepares to flee the city with the other workers before the militant ironshirts lock it down. She finds Michael as she escapes, accidentally left by Natella when she left the city. Grusha takes Michael after some inward debate and, despite the difficulties he poses while traveling through the country, pledges to keep him safe. Grusha’s side of the play is a hero’s quest-type journey, where she braves human and environmental hazards to keep Michael safe and fed.

The play’s second half opens fresh with a new protagonist. Azdak is a fast-talking peasant, known in his town as being as good at getting into trouble as he is getting out of it. His words move faster than his contemporaries can comprehend, but he wrily sprinkles enough grains of philosophical truth in his speech to string just about any nonsense phrase along with another. Azdak, by somewhat of an accident, is chosen to be the town’s judge. He finds this work pleasing, as he follows nonsensical judgements with ridiculous, convoluted punishments that are often inflicted on the party which offered the smaller bribe. We do see him generally defend the poor, but he does so by ripping off the rich; the cases depicted imply that all parties are simply looking for a handout, and none is any more or less guilty than another.

When Grusha is finally captured several years later, she is taken to Azdak’s court to determine custody of Michael. Azdak, after arguing with everyone present about whatever he feels like, issues a typical verdict that seems to be for his own amusement. Azdak declares a chalk circle be drawn around Michael; Grusha and Natella, Michael’s birth mother, will each pull on one arm, and the one to pull the boy toward her will win custody. They both step up to be judged by the chalk circle.

There is a terrible truth in The Caucasian Chalk Circle, one that many civilized folk try to forget. Encountering a choice is easy, because we will almost always take the route of complacency. We go to our jobs, we come home, we do it again. And then we do it again. And then we do it again.

But we forget that each day is filled with choices. Choices between good, and complacency. Many of us strive for more good than complacency, but I’d wager we’re lucky if we break even. Now add a civil war onto our bucolic lives; with the streets filling with blood and chaos, how could we possibly choose good over complacent survival? Chalk Circle gives us Grusha, the rarity that does. However, this story doesn’t work on its own; we need Azdak to make it whole. The vagabond judge dishes out his own unique brand of justice, showing he is just as corrupt as those he sentances; though he has the capacity to do good, he keeps his head down and simply amuses himself. But when Grusha enters his court with her plight, a muddled desire for real justice might emerge. Even Grusha, though eventually committed to protecting Michael, initially passes him up as her city burns, and later tries to pawn him off on a couple in a nearby village. Neither of these two is a hero, nor an anti-hero; they have each only barely fallen on either side of morality’s line in the sand.

The visual details of this production are spectacular. The costumes of the post-apocalyptic famers telling this tale fit perfectly; a mix of military BDUs, scavenged coats, and clothing passed down from before the war shows you how these groups have survived this wasteland. The garb worn by the “actors” in their tale is less polished, and expectedly so–they construct costumes for their performance with a mix of materials scavenged from their safehaven, the Jones Playhouse, and basic supplies. From Azdak’s robe made of garbage bags to the riot shields worn as masks, Chalk Circle does not try and suck you into the world of the play; rather, it makes it clear that you’re watching a performance, and reminds you that this tale in particular was chosen for a reason. The play is staged in the farmers’ home in the theater; twisted pieces of metal serve as walkways and corrugated sheets with mattresses on them are shoved out of the way. No, this play does not immerse you in the realism of its staging; rather, it reveals its inner workings plainly. A pocketwatch’s face is useful, but opening the back and watching it work is a marvel.

I have nothing but praise for the actors. The opposing protagonists are both standouts; Amy Frear deftly carries the story’s emotional weight as Grusha, a part that could easily have fallen into base melodrama. Robert Bergin plays Azdak like he’s always been inside, just waiting to get out; the judge will charm you even as his judgements wreck lives. The music is also spectacular; original folk songs overlay the production, changing the scene or offering a character’s thoughts. They are written and performed by James Jewell III, an independant artist hired by the UW for Chalk Circle. He, along with a small band of musicians that would look at home roaming a devastated wasteland, is the conduit between you, a person at the UW watching a play, and you, a hopeful farmer desperately trying to acquire new land. The music permeates the space of the Jones Playhouse, and Jewell and his guitar will hold you at their mercy; they may cause you to burst out laughing, or, especially during an encounter between Grusha and her fiancee, tear your heart in two.

The supporting cast of farmer/actors slink around the stage, moving props and playing various roles; they might disperse themselves into the audience and silently chat about how their play is going, only to fade back onto the stage to take on a role. They are a further effort to keep you from becoming lost in the farmers’ play, and they do so effectively. Rather, they make you feel as though you are one of their number, trying desperately to settle the argument between an opposing group. They will ask you to stand early in the play as one farmer is told he must leave his home so it may be used for the betterment of the group. Regardless of how you feel about audience participation in theater, follow their instruction. Look this man in the eyes as you tell him you are taking his home from him, when he has nothing else. Listen to his outrage and know that you caused it. Then watch your friends and family try to show him with a parable that this is best. Now, where do you stand?

This review comes late in the show’s run, but if you can find time to go see it, do. Runs until March 13, tickets here.