On a bare stage, the cast conjures the camp with startling vividness: the treacherous, sucking mud the women must wade through to reach the latrines (in a chilling mime sequence, one of the detainees is swallowed up in its filthy depths), the cruelty of the guards, the constant torment of lice. Camp life develops its own grim laws, most memorably when Arendt sits in judgement on a fellow prisoner caught stealing bread.
Pascal throws everything into the pot: cabaret, mime, dance sequences, philosophical monologues and even Jewish prayer harmonies. Anja Fahlenkamp’s original music, including some gorgeous acappella passages, is a highlight, but the variety can leave the evening feeling scattered, and the expressionistic style occasionally holds us at arm’s length. Arendt herself comes across as rather remote and intellectual, and the courtroom scene, a potentially powerful centrepiece, is weighed down by wordiness that blunts its dramatic punch.
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