While I was sorting through stuff in the house I came across another theatre poster, this time for The Fears and Miseries of the Third Reich by Bertolt Brecht.
The poster says August 2-7 but not what year. It must have been 1976 though as it was certainly around that time and August 2-7 in 1976 would have been a run of Monday to Saturday, which makes sense.
I remember we played to packed houses, but that wasn’t difficult as The Little Theatre Club auditorium only held about 50 people. Even though, that was during the 1976 heatwave, so it must have been quite cosy. Most evenings after whatever theatre performance was on there would be jazz, folk or blues until the small hours.
I mentioned last time a parallel between two disparate things which seemed to me more than a coincidence. One was an example which Gestalt psychologist Kurt Koffka used to articulate his idea of the behavioural (as opposed to geographical) environment. The other was a fairly representative passage I remembered from when we were performing Peter Handke’s The Ride Across Lake Constance.
Our subject last time was the legend of the ride across Lake Constance. But why did Peter Handke name his play after it?
Not an easy question, as in many respects the play seems incomprehensible. I remember being quite bewildered when we performed it. Any attempt to summarise the plot hits an immediate obstacle in that there is hardly any plot to summarise.
Instead you get occasional patches of apparent clarity which, just as in a dream, seem to change into something entirely different, with an entirely different meaning. Sorry – apparent meaning.
I was talking last time about The Ride Across Lake Constance by Peter Handke. Lake Constance, or der Bodensee, sits between Germany, Switzerland and Austria. But the play itself gets its title from a South German legend about a horseman who sets out to ride to a village on the shore of the lake. It is winter, and it is snowing.
45 years ago I was in a play called The Ride Across Lake Constance. We put it on at a little fringe theatre club in Regents Park Road, Primrose Hill, called The Howff. ‘Howff’ is a Scottish word for meeting place or haunt. The building seems to be a wine shop now, so I guess it could still qualify as a howff of sorts. But to give you an idea of what it was like in the early 1970s, a review in the New Musical Express of a Sandy Denny gig the previous year talked of ‘the customary Howff fringe-theatre crowd who usually yap in cultured Hampstead tones’.
Our production was done on a shoestring, as you can see from the poster: