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March 18, 2005
Copenhagen too complicated
Fascinating discussion is marred by overly detailed scientific
jargon.
BAILA LAZARUS EDITOR
So imagine you're at a dinner with your family, and Dad and Uncle
Joe start discussing the ethical obligation scientists have (or
don't have) during wartime to develop technology that might be used
to kill millions of people. Your ears perk up and, even though the
conversation is close to grazing the top of your head, you listen
because the moments in which you do have clarity are fascinating.
The conversation is interesting, it's profound, it ebbs and flows,
it reaches into the back of your head where your slight knowledge
of molecular science is stored and drags it to the forefront, forcing
you to try and remember every little iota you ever knew of nuclear
reactions. Sometimes the conversation is lightly philosophical,
while at other times it is harsh and realistic. Then, all of a sudden,
Dad and Uncle Joe lapse into their native Romanian and you are completely
lost. You strain to try and understand their emotion, if not their
words. Even Mom, who was helping interpret the scientific parts
of the conversation earlier, is left to just clean away the plates.
Eventually, the conversation comes back into English and it gradually
ends, but there's an unsatisfactory feeling to the conclusion because
you know you've missed an important part.
This was Copenhagen, Michael Frayn's dramatic play about
a mysterious meeting in 1941 between Neils Bohr and Werner Heisenberg.
Heisenberg (played by Brent Carver) is living in Germany and must
address his role within the German war effort. Bohr (Victor Ertmanis)
lives in Denmark with his wife, under German occupation. The play
brings these three protagonists together to speculate on why Heisenberg
went to meet Bohr.
As the stage lights come up, Bohr and his wife, Margrethe (Susan
Hogan), are dead and trying to recall the context and content of
the cryptic Second World War rendezvous. As odd as this opening
was, it was almost identical to the opening scene of Einstein's
Gift at the Firehall in January. That play was also about a
mysterious meeting, between Dr. Fritz Haber and Albert Einstein,
and opens with a deceased Einstein relating his version of events.
While Vern Thiessen's Einstein came across as too simplistic,
however, understanding Frayn's Copenhagen became an effort
in futility.
In the first half of the performance, I had a delightful time giving
my brain a workout. Not only is the science of the play formidable,
but following the ethical gymnastics was exhilirating. The often-inspired
musings of the characters, the little hints of what the meeting
was about, the wonderful way in which Margrethe steps in to keep
the peace – this all gave the beginning of the play a sense
of intrigue and potential. In the first half, most of the discussion
is around the question, "Does one have the moral right to work
on the practical implication of atomic physics?"
But in the second half, the discussion about what role science plays
in war disappears as the focus turns to long debates about the minutiae
of nuclear science. Contrary to most of my schoolmates, I actually
loved physics in high school and excelled at whatever was thrown
my way; but, during Copenhagen, I found my mind drifting
away from the discussion on stage and wandering up to rest, wearily,
on the little bush that hung inscrutably from the ceiling as part
of the set decor. Diffusion equation, nuclear fission, the uncertainty
principle, U238, U235, UB40 (oops, I think that's a band) –
all of it just made my head shift into first gear in the second
half. Even reading Dr. Marcello Pavan's blurb in the handbill about
20th-century physics didn't help.
Added to the difficulty in understanding much of the play was my
difficulty in understanding Brent Carver's nervous portrayal of
Heisenberg. At times he just comes across as tense. Given the circumstances
of his visit with Bohr, that's understandable: Bohr could be seen
to be the "enemy" and Heisenberg's visit with him, treason.
But other times it seemed that the script was just too complex for
Carver, who blew more than one line on opening night and seemed
precariously close to missing several others. His twitching was
a stark contrast to Ertmanis's wonderfully boistrous but controlled
Bohr, who often seemed a father figure to the younger Heisenberg.
Ultimately, this play reminded me of my father and his brother when
they used to argue at Passover dinners. At times, it was fascinating
to listen to; at times you just wanted to yell, "Enough, already!
Let me eat my chicken!"
Copenhagen shows at the Playhouse until March 26. Call 604-873-3311
for tickets.
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