Review: Kneehigh: The Tin Drum, Bristol Old Vic

“I remain restless and dissatisfied; what I knot with my right hand, I undo with my left, what my left hand creates, my right fist shatters.”

Thus sprach Oskar Matzerath, the indomitable child-sized protagonist of Günter Grass’ tumultuous tome The Tin Drum (Die Blechtrommel, 1959). A lot happens in nearly 600 pages (I never made it through to the end myself), and not all of it could be contained in a play. Though what did make it through to Kneehigh’s production left me feeling at times a little restless and dissatisfied, at watching a process of theatrical creation in danger of being undone by its own excesses, poor choices and unclear storytelling.

Pics: Steve Tanner

The sifting out of the essential heart of Grass’ elaborate tale was masterfully achieved by Volker Schlöndorff in his 1979 film version, which rightly won the Palme d’Or (shared with Apocalypse Now) and an Academy Award for best foreign film: a rare case of an Oskar winning an Oscar. And Oskar – the tiny, incandescent man-child who decides to stop growing at the age of three as a protest – is the charismatic red thread that leads (or forcefully drags) the viewer through the chaotic, surreally labyrinthine twists and turns of the action.

In Kneehigh’s production, Oskar is represented by a puppet – albeit an extremely beautiful and expressive one, superbly animated by Sarah Wright. But it’s hard to identify with a wooden character who can only speak through other people.

Speaking out stubbornly and obliquely to the point of glass-shattering shrieks is at the very core of Grass’ original Oskar character, and so choosing to cast him in wood and make him entirely dependent on others removes all his essential self-determination and potentially poses a serious problem, dynamically and emotionally, for both the audience and the production.

Metaphorically, Oskar is the polar opposite of Pinocchio: a wooden boy who longs to be real versus a real boy who doesn’t want to be born in the first place (“put me back, put me back, in the amniotic sac!”), and he’s more punky Peter Pan than a boy who fell to earth (writer Carl Grose was partly inspired by David Bowie in his adaptation).

Many parts of the production are very fine – the shabby splendour of the set, the gorgeous lighting design, the percussive music, the main musical themes, some of the performances (notably Les Bubb’s physicality and mime, Nandi Bhebhe, Damon Daunno and Dom Coyote’s singing, and Beverly Rudd’s cheekily cockney devil-voice).

But overall it lacks cohesion, through-line and heart, and – apart from the last 20 minutes of the first half – it is overcluttered by cumbersome pieces of set and a large and ever-present ensemble with not enough of essence to do, tub-thumping rather than drum-banging (we already know that war is bad and the alt-right are shape-shifters), and sprawling storytelling. It missed the steady directorial/editorial hand, gut instincts and work(wo)man-like ability to get to the essential heart of an epic story that Emma Rice brought to so many (certainly early, anyway) Kneehigh productions.

Kneehigh’s latest show was sadly not one for me, but it might be for you: it went down very well with the sell-out audience at BOV and has garnered stellar reviews so far on its tour. Perhaps I suffered too much from the imprint of every perfect frame of the film I first saw 37 years ago.

“Even wallpaper has a better memory than human beings” – Oskar, at his most astute, though apparently not so, in my case.

The Tin Drum continues at Bristol Old Vic until Sat, Nov 18. For more info and to book tickets, visit www.bristololdvic.org.uk/the-tin-drum.html

Read more: Interview: The Tin Drum performer Les Bubb