Isabelle Hupert and Ariel Garcia Valdès in Robert Wilson's Quartett

Heiner Mueller’s Quartett like You’ve Never Imagined

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via Robert Wilson’s Website

I shouldn’t be writing about Quartett, a play conducted at the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Harvey Theater and which I saw last Thursday. I was distracted and embarrassed by the ringing of my phone, which I rarely carry and which rarely rings. Yes, that was me. For all those who dissed me, I’m sorry that it took me forever to turn it off; I had a hard time realizing that it was my phone and not the sound effects that made the unexpected goofy sound. Directed by Robert Wilson, written by Heiner Mueller, Quartett was no ordinary play. Both visually and sensually intense, it was a verbal war between Marquise de Merteuil, played by Isabelle Hupert and Vicomte de Valmont, played by Ariel Garcia Valdès.

Heiner Mueller’s original script, published in 1980 and written under the influential French book “Les Liaisons Dangereuses” (1782), is about 10 pages long. It’s a dialogue between Merteuil and Valmont, which frequently turns into monologue. In its very French ways, the characters of the play tend to make strict judgments about life and its ways. They are passionate about their personal affairs and hold on to the choices they make. Much like the movie version, “Dangerous Liasons” (1988), the one that’s been directed by Stephen Frears, nobility and the determination and confidence that comes with is very much in the air. That is why, judging by the script only, Quartett carries an ultimate risk of boredom. The New York premiere of the play in year 1986 had fulfilled such expectations and according to NYTimes theater critic of the time, Mel Gussow “seemed static and, as directed, interminable.” There are two strong willed people, you see, and the play is a ping pong game between them. It has a fatal end with none of them relenting; the effect is dooming, the reader is left with a feeling of hopelessness, overwhelmed by the selfishness inherent in the characters.

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via NYTimes

Wilson’s interpretation of this doom is through colors. Valmont is a burning hell in his red makeup and costume. He moves around like the shadow of the devil, facing the audience once in a while to hiss. Merteuil is the ice queen dressed in purple, wearing white makeup. A blue light follows her as she repeats her lines with a piercing voice. Her monologues seem endless and her intonation turns it into a whirling speech that more or less resembles nagging. Michael Galasso’s score also aids Wilson to construct the stage imagined by Mueller; “salon before the French Revolution/bunker after WWW III.”

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via NYTimes

What’s more interesting was the humor Wilson added to the play that’s missing in the script, but is also available in Frears’ movie Dangerous Liasons. The humor stems partially from the exaggerated gestures and repetitive soliloquy, and acts to underline the absurdness of these self-absorbed characters. Unfortunely I had to leave the play early, because I was so embarrassed that my phone rang. I felt as if the whole stage froze and turned to look at me; Merteuil with her eyes wide open and white face, Valmont with his devilish looks. For a full review of the play check out NYTimes. You can also find English translation of Muller’s plays online, including Quartet.

Also to finish it off a quote from Marquise as it appeared in Frears film:

When I came out into society I was 15. I already knew that the role I was condemned to, namely to keep quiet and do what I was told, gave me the perfect opportunity to listen and observe. Not to what people told me, which naturally was of no interest, but to whatever it was they were trying to hide. I practiced detachment. I learned how to look cheerful while under the table I stuck a fork into the back of my hand. I became a virtuoso of deceit. It wasn’t pleasure I was afer, it was knowledge. I consulted the strictest moralists to learn how to appear, philosophers to find out what to think, and novelists to see what I could get away with, and in the end, I distilled everything to one wonderfully simple principle: win or die.