Weaving historical fact with fiction is nothing new, but up-and-coming playwright Itamar Moses offers a few intriguing twists in Bach at Leipzig. The play is receiving its first major production on the Milwaukee Repertory Theater's stage.
With a rock-solid cast and accomplished director at the helm, Bach at Leipzig gradually wins over the audience. This is no small accomplishment, as the play's historical events are essentially non-dramatic. This much is known: when a prominent musician in Germany dies in 1722, a successor must quickly be named.
Musicians from all over Germany are invited to audition for the prestigious post. Squared off against each other, the musicians resort to schemes and trickery to win favor with the voting council members. However, when the contestants include Bach, the result is a slam-dunk. It's as if Barbra Streisand was in the running to win a singing prize with a group of TV's "American Idol" contestants. However, the playwright cleverly turns fact into compelling fiction by focusing on seven lesser musicians who are practically drooling over the prize. One needs money; another seeks fame. One wants to ensure his predecessor's legacy, while another wants to take music in a new direction. One seeks his father's praise (although he admits he'd really rather have been a dancer than an organist).
The play builds slowly -- so slowly, in fact, that one is reminded of the talkiness of Shaw. The audience learns of the contestants' goals and motives through letters intended for loved ones back home. Each character reads his letter aloud before posting it. Thankfully, the payoff for all of Act I's exposition comes in Act II, which includes a dandy dueling scene (more comical than fearsome - think Keystone Kops.
As one would guess, the characters who are the most fun to watch are those either sassy or thick skulled. The former category is dominated by Gerard Neugent as the wayward son and Brian Vaughn as the slippery-fingered indigent. The latter distinction belongs to James Pickering, who plays the "wise fool."
The most detailed character is clearly Torry Hanson's Johann. Somber, direct and unemotional in nature, he educates the audience on the links between music and religion in 1700s Germany. Later, he instructs us in the basic mechanics of creating a fugue. His lengthy monologues give the audience time to appreciate the minimalist set. It resembles an ancient monastery. Appropriately, set pieces range from authentic-looking to the surreal. So do the costumes and outlandish wigs.
It is difficult to capture the experience of seeing Bach at Leipzig, but it is well worth the exploration.
