By Ciara LaVelle
By Jose D. Duran
By Kat Bein
By Juan Barquin
By Ciara LaVelle
By George Martinez
By Kat Bein
By Ciara LaVelle
Fairness is one key aspect of Ronald Harwood's 1995 play, which won the Olivier Prize for Best Drama in Britain during the 1995-1996 season and recently came ashore at the New Theatre in Coral Gables. It's also about Nazism, fascism, genius, moral responsibility, and the complicated relationship between art and politics. Set in the American zone of occupied Berlin in 1946, the play is a fictional re-creation of the deNazification tribunal hearings surrounding Wilhelm Furtwangler, the long-time musical director of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Like hundreds of Germans after the war, Furtwangler's past was investigated to determine whether or not he was a Nazi and thus should be punished. The play unfolds with a series of conversations between the investigating officer (the major) and a handful of Germans who testify for the tribunal, as well as through several pithy exchanges with the conductor himself.
Was Furtwangler a firm believer in the Third Reich? Or did he use the shield of his official position to save countless numbers of Jews? The real Furtwangler was exonerated by the tribunal, but, as Harwood's introduction to his script puts it, the conductor "was never able to cleanse himself entirely of the Nazi stench that still clings to his memory."
Because there is not enough evidence to pronounce him entirely a hero or a villain, Furtwangler embodies the debate about what artists (in Nazi Germany or in Cuba or Yugoslavia today) owe society. Should they take sides, the play asks, or do art and artists exist outside politics? Harwood, who also wrote The Dresser (the basis for the 1983 film starring Albert Finney), has fastened on to a compelling historical figure to crystallize these questions, but he hasn't constructed a drama that allows an intelligent argument to emerge. Law & Order, the TV show that presents a new courtroom drama each week, excels because it works against the formula rather than indulging it. Unfortunately Harwood's piece does not.
At its worst Taking Sides wants to reduce Furtwangler's life to a series of events that can be evaluated as "evidence." Furtwangler stayed in the country and watched his career flourish as he became Hitler's favorite conductor, unlike many of his contemporaries, including musicians Bruno Walter and Otto Klemperer, who fled Germany. By remaining as the head of the Berlin Philharmonic, some say, he allowed the Reich to use him as a mouthpiece for Nazi propaganda. Furtwangler did, after all, conduct the powerful martial music for the notorious Nuremberg Nazi rally. (The moment was captured forever in the work of Leni Riefenstahl, a brilliant filmmaker who happily allowed herself to be used by the Nazis.)
Furtwangler's supporters in the play point out that, unlike his rival Herbert von Karajan, he was not a card-carrying party member. Furthermore he used his influence and power to secure jobs for Jewish musicians and exit visas for those he couldn't employ. They say he made the best of a bad situation.
One thing is clear: Furtwangler was a complex individual whose behavior defied categorization. On the one hand, he refused to play officially sanctioned Third Reich music, for the simple reason that he didn't like most of it. On the other hand, he also shunned Jewish musicians on the Nazi blacklist: Mahler, Schoenberg, and Weill, to name a few. In Taking Sides Furtwangler says his motive to stay in Germany was to preserve German artistic tradition against the barbarians that had come to power. A lofty aspiration, perhaps, but his behavior was also self-serving.
To get at the multilayers of the man, Furtwangler is pitted against Steve Arnold, a foul-mouthed U.S. Army officer who eschews both formality and the respect that Furtwangler's fellow citizens afford him. When Arnold's secretary reports that the conductor wants to know how long he'll be kept waiting, the officer says, "Tell him, 'You'll wait until Major Arnold's ready to see you or until Hell freezes over, whichever takes longer.'"
Genius, Arnold asserts, will have no bearing on what is essentially a criminal investigation. In fact Arnold explains he was chosen for the job primarily because he has no appreciation for Furtwängler's genius and presumably won't be blinded by his stardom. That's an intriguing idea, given that talent is the ticket by which war criminals often escape prosecution. Just ask any of the Nazi scientists who were welcomed in the United States with open arms after the war.
Taking Sides, however, is only able to scratch the surface. Set entirely in Arnold's office, the courtroom structure limits the play dramatically so it can't really do what it sets out to do: evaluate Furtwängler's place in the political world.
Harwood has written Arnold as a foil to the urbane, polished conductor, but because Arnold is such an obnoxious lout, it leads us to believe Furtwangler is the subject of a witch-hunt. And he is not impartial. The major explains that his visit to Bergen-Belsen has soured him against all Germans, particularly now that they are scurrying to hide their Nazi pasts. For this reason Arnold is determined to find the proverbial smoking gun in the conductor's past. It is entirely through Arnold, in fact, that we hear any information that is or may be detrimental to Furtwängler.