Theater Review by Carol Rocamora . . .
It’s rare, if indeed it ever occurs, that you’d encounter a sympathetic Nazi in any context —not in a historical record, and certainly not on the stage . . .
Yet, that is just what happens in the fascinating and historically accurate new drama now playing at 59E59 Theaters: Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library.
Indeed, Mrs. Stern surprises in a number of ways . . . beginning with the title. If you hadn’t had prior knowledge of the play’s subject matter, you’d more than likely have been unaware of the actual identity of “Mrs. Stern”—specifically, she’s Hannah Arendt (1906-1975), the German-born philosopher and one of the most respected and influential political theorists of the twentieth century. A Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany who eventually sought asylum in the US, she is world-famous for her many writings and teachings on political systems and especially totalitarianism: notably her 1963 study, Eichmann in Jerusalem, about the trial of that infamous Nazi. In it, she coined perhaps the most recognizable and controversial phrase to emerge from the era: “The banality of evil.”
Among all the chapters of Arendt’s fascinating life, playwright Jenny Lyn Bader has chosen a surprising yet ultimately impactful one: namely, to dramatize, in ninety tense, taut minutes, the one time that Hannah was arrested, in 1933. Alarmed by the rise of antisemitism by that time, Hannah became associated with a group of Zionist activists and conducted research in the Prussian State Library in Berlin—research that was illegal at the time. This came to the attention of the Gestapo, who arrested her and her mother for “anti-state activities.” They spent eight days in prison, but were released by a sympathetic arresting officer (a huge surprise) while awaiting trial; he advised her to leave the country, thereby saving her life. Hannah and her mother fled to Prague, then Geneva, Paris, and Lisbon, eventually arriving in the United States, where she vigorously continued her pro-Zionist, anti-Nazi activities and established herself worldwide as a scholar, author, thinker, teacher, and influencer.
Those eight days she spent in prison are the dramatic focus of the play. We meet the 26-year-old Hannah (played by the captivating, convincing Ella Dershowitz). She was ushered into a basement prison cell in Berlin by Karl Frick (Brett Temple), the arresting officer, age 27. (The simple, appropriately stark set is designed by Laura Helpern). Karl questions her vigorously for eight days, and their interaction becomes the heart of the drama. Serious-minded, focused, and motivated, Karl was recently promoted from the Nazi criminal police to the political police as a full inspector. It’s his first week in this new position, and he is determined to do everything by the book, warning her that she could be charged with treason. He informs her that the police have been watching her for a while, compiling information on her and developing a case against her for anti-regime activities. So extensive is their preparation that several officers have been assigned to read her writings.
At one point a third character visits Hannah’s cell—Erich Landau (Drew Hirshfield), a Jewish lawyer who offers his services to represent her, assuring her that his large law firm is in good standing with the government. He’s confident he can obtain her release “if we take the right tone . . . If any lawyer can get you out, I can . . . ” (a devastating delusion, clearly, in retrospect).
But, the play’s intense focus is on the developing relationship between Hannah and her interrogator. Over the course of several scenes, they develop a strong connection—indeed, a friendship of extraordinary sorts, given the circumstances. While he is following strict procedures throughout the interrogation, barraging her with rigorous questioning, there are nonetheless early cracks in Karl’s formal demeanor. He offers her coffee (which she candidly says is undrinkable), and then brings her a cup from the officer’s canteen the next time. “No one should have to drink prison coffee, whatever the crime,” he tells her. He’s also candidly modest, confessing that she is the first arrestee that he’s ever interrogated. He offers her a cigarette, lights it, and invites her to sit during interrogation. These are signs of an innate kindness, which Hannah senses. There’s also a gentleness that is revealed, too, such as when he guides her through the process of taking her fingerprints.
Sensing that kindness, Hannah gradually works to gain his trust. She gently but consistently manages to dodge the pointed questions that come from Karl’s extensive research on what, specifically, she was doing in the Prussian State Library over a few months following the burning of the Reichstag and the institution of President Hindenberg’s new antisemitic laws. In answer to his questions, she declares, for example, she has never met Kurt Blumenthal, the president of the German Zionist organization. She even disarms Karl at one point with humor, saying: “You sounded a bit Zionist.” She is able to convince him that though her husband has fled Germany, she will never leave, and that libraries, reading, and the German language are her passions. “Language is the music of Germany,” she says, “the German language is a home to me.” When he expresses suspicion that while she was in the library one of her notebooks was written in Greek, she simply explains that she was responding appropriately to an ancient philosophy she was researching. He doesn’t challenge her.
Their connection continues to intensify. They engage in a conversation about Hannah’s dissertation: on the subject of loving one’s neighbor. That leads to a deeper conversation about judging one another, following the rules, and morality—all painfully appropriate to the circumstances in which they find themselves. He reveals that he’s read her writings and liked them. Eventually, they exchange confidences about their marriages, sharing their first vows of love to their respective spouses. He confides that his wife now suffers from postpartum depression, following the birth of their daughter. She explains that she was in the library to work on her writings and ended up in search of a recipe for her mother’s favorite pastry. “Wandering in a library is possibly my favorite thing to do.” These confidences accumulate.
Finally and abruptly, Karl crafts a conclusion to his interrogation, articulating Hannah’s innocence, almost as if he’s summoning up his courage, rehearsing what he will say to his superiors. “I thought I understood you a week ago . . . but now . . . I feel terrible. I brought you in. And you seem so very blameless to me. Not a conspirator or a spy, just a young woman in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . it is who you are, yes?” “Yes,” she responds to the most painful understatement of the play, describing the fate of millions in that era. “I need someone in my corner,” she continues. “I’m glad that you know I am,” he confirms, promising to release Hannah and her mother at the end of his shift. “I am advising you. As a friend would. To leave [Germany]. For your own good . . . This is all my fault.”
“As a friend . . . ” Brett Temple, as Karl Frick, accomplishes the impossible: portraying a Nazi officer who gains our sympathy, respect, and, ultimately, admiration for his fundamental humanity by letting Hannah go, and by offering a mea culpa that speaks for an entire nation. As Hannah, we watch Ella Dershowitz—a lovely, sensitive actress of considerable range and depth—skillfully muster all her character’s brilliance, courage, and skill to gain the officer’s support. Not through seduction, but rather through deep, sincere human connection.
As directed by Ari Laura Kreith, Mrs. Stern and its compelling cast makes us want to go back into our history books to learn more about this true event and its overwhelming implication: had Karl Frick not let Hannah go, she would never have become “Hannah Arendt” the world-famous political philosopher who shaped world thinking in the 20th century.
As it happens, we were fortunate to attend a performance that was followed by a talk-back featuring two eminent experts on Hannah Arendt during which they confirmed what we suspected all along: namely, the essential truth of the scene we had just witnessed. Indeed, Hannah was doing research on antisemitism at the Prussian State Library and was deeply involved in the anti-Nazi movement along with other young people in 1933. Indeed, she did know Kurt Blumenthal, president of the German Zionist organization. Simply and artfully, Hannah was able to convince her compassionate interrogator otherwise, using what she had learned from philosophers before her on the essence of friendship and morality.
With that knowledge, one hopes that Jenny Lyn Bader, a writer of keen intelligence and insight, might expand this play into a broader portrait of Hannah so that our understanding and admiration for this fascinating, complex historical character can be fully appreciated.
Mrs. Stern Wanders the Prussian State Library. Through November 10 at 59E59 Theaters (59 East 59th Street, between Madison and Park Avenues). 90 minutes, no intermission. www.59e59.org