Review: THE CAUCASIAN CHALK CIRCLE at UCSB Theatre Department

There's a lot to unpack from director and professor Simon Williams' production of The Caucasian Chalk Circle, the Brecht epic that expands a parable into a detailed exploration of how well human kindness fares in a lawless land of political upheaval within a universe marked by an stylistically absurd mercilessness.

The Caucasian Chalk Circle follows young palace maid, Grusha (Taylor Tuers) during her desperate exodus from the burning palace and a city embroiled in a violent peasant uprising. But Grusha's perilous trek through the Mountains toward refuge isn't undertaken alone; she has a child with her: Grusha rescued the murdered governor's royal heir, Michael, who was abandoned in the palace by his mother, Natella (Lexi Scanlan), as she fled to political exile. Grusha's attachment to the child develops from instinctual caregiving to a deep maternal bond, and she adopts him, passing him off as her own child despite the threat of his once-powerful parents finding and claiming him.

Grusha's act is quite selfless considering the appearance of an unwed mother in the universe of this play is unseemly, making her brother and his prickly wife of little help to her-they don't want her drawing attention to their home, and they pawn her off on an "eligible" bachelor as soon as possible. Supposedly a win-win situation, the groom is on his deathbed. Marrying him leaves Grusha a respectable widow, and the groom's mother gets another pair of hands to run their small farm. As it turns out, the groom's illness is merely a case of the draft-dodge, and when the call comes that the war is over, Grusha finds herself with a nasty husband who resents her unwillingness to play wifey. Grusha's dream of marrying her soldier beau seems out of reach, yet her spirit isn't broken-she remains on the farm and raises Michael in anonymity for the next four years.

But it's not called "epic" theatre for no good reason, and there's more going on than the tribulations testing Grusha's physical, emotional, and moral mettle-there's that matter of the revolution in the city. One ruling class has been replaced by another, and in the chaos of an interim government that plays like a candy-grab for position and power in the aftermath of the busted piñata, a judge, Azdak (Zach Macias) is appointed to power by "the will of the people" (which translates to Azdak falling up into the judgeship by amusing a pair of guards, now free of structural hierarchy in the wake of the revolution, with his charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent).

Azdak presides over the courts for the next four years of governmental instability, delivering verdicts with the bemused disdain of Judge Judy, the "creative" arbitration style of Judge Harry Stone, and the flair for drama of Maury Povich. He isn't irked by the bullshit cases people bring against each other-instead he's irked in general, an existential spurn for the pettiness of the citizenry at large. His rulings redistribute wealth amidst dazzling distraction of circus law. Azdak shames and swaggers as the accidental choirmaster in the chaos of revolution. And what luck: it's Azdak who eventually presides over the custody battle in the case of Grusha (the adopted mother) v. Natella (the biological mother).

When the government stabilizes somewhat, Natella returns to the city to claim her missing child-she's heard the whispers and gossip through the kingdom that the child survived-and the assets of her late husband's lavish estate. Guards find Michael, now a small boy, and bring him and Grusha, now accused of kidnapping, to the court, where Azdak must decide who gets the child. While both women claim to love the boy, it's a little too convenient that Natella needs to be granted custody of her son (the late governor's heir) before she can claim her dead husband's fortune. Azdak puts the boy in a circle of chalk, and tells each woman grab one of his hands and pull-whoever is strong enough to pull the boy from the potentially gruesome tug-of war gets to keep him. Grusha, who can't stand to see her son in pain, lets go of the boy's hand, and in doing so, Azdak grants her custody as the truest mother.

So...there's a lot going on. And, let us not forget that this entire story is framed as an entertainment piece for a group of squabbling peasants who are trying to divide a valley's resources in the Soviet Union, post WWII. This play within the play is narrated by delightfully wise and wicked gypsy-style hipster storyteller (Maddie Martin) and her chorus. These storytellers pop in and out of the narrative to share unspoken character thoughts and additional exposition.

The Caucasian Chalk Circle, produced by UCSB's theatre department, presented a well-developed representation of the Brecht style and a fully realized dramatic vision from director Simon Williams. This piece has been a long time coming for Williams, who rehearsed this play while teaching at Pahlavi University in Iran 50 years ago, but was never able to mount the final version due to a student strike that ground university activity to a halt.

While entertaining, Chalk Circle is more academic think piece than pleasant romp through a story of government uprising, which is typical of Brecht's work. Brecht's drama is marked by a style of anti-realism meant to alienate the audience enough that they won't fall into the complacency of making decisions about the material based on emotional connection to the characters. Brecht demanded that viewers think critically about his work, much of which used the theatrical medium to represent slightly askew versions of political models to spark conversation about the evolving global political landscape. These characters are not meant to be "likeable," and with potential for emotional attachment made distant, the more energy the audience has to consider the play's concepts-in this case, the value of a moral code within the context of a world in which laws are only meaningful when the men who uphold them decide they're useful. Brecht's epic theatre examines larger questions about humanity, and hopes for an intellectual response from the audience rather than a passive viewing.

While Brecht's anti-realistic style was considered avant-garde at its premier, it has been cycled and repurposed through the theatrical lexicon for almost a century, and as such, has lost some of its shocking, alienating affect. Yet The Caucasian Chalk Circle is a tremendously important piece in the history of twentieth-century theatrical development, and Brecht's style was manifested brilliantly throughout this production. The set was a fine-art structure of found objects and unfinished building materials, such as cardboard, made utilitarian by its unadorned nature. Costume-wise, dehumanizing masks designated classes of people-the royals covered their faces with silver, and the soldiers and infantrymen wore chainmail. The peasants were plain-faced, the most "human" of the players. The show featured excellent, standout design elements from costumer Ann Bruice, lighting designer Michael Klaers, sound designer Tristan Newcomb, and scenic designer Greg Mitchell.

The play is dark. And funny. Cruelty is frequently the nuance of the jokes. But it's also clear that the production is blatantly pushing the boundaries of realism into the obviousness of theatricality. It's also a huge cast. Essentially everyone with a student ID and a headshot is on stage, leading to roles being performed with varying degrees of sophistication (it's difficult for young actors to convincingly hold the weight of a lifetime of poverty and civil strife on their shoulders), but the leads were strong. As always, Macias, as Azdak, is charismatic AF, leading the audience, who loves his eccentric, seedy mannerisms, to ruminate on just how easy it is for a magnetic, populist figure to fumble his way into power. Brecht wanted the audience to think, and Williams and the UCSB theatre department bring The Caucasian Chalk Circle to the stage with a true eye for the important stylistic and dramatic intentions of Brecht's work.

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