OVER THERE (Royal Court/Digital Theatre)**

 

By Cal

Link: https://www.digitaltheatre.com/consumer/production/over-there 16+

Available until: Unknown

The story of separated twins (particularly, but not exclusively, identical twins) has been explored in many ways by many writers. William Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors has two sets of separated twins and presents the situation as a farce. Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper examines class differences (though I don’t think it’s ever confirmed that the boys are twins, merely that they are identical boys with the same birthday) and while Willy Russell’s Blood Brothers is full of hilarious moments, it ends in tragedy (which isn’t a spoiler considering this is revealed in the first scene). C. S. Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy and Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene also have storylines based around separated twins. The storyline has been told in many different ways and I haven’t even got onto the subject of evil twins.

A common reason for the separation is that the expense of raising two babies instead of one is too much, but Over There has a different reason. Franz and Karl were born in East Germany. Their mother escapes to West Germany with Franz, while Karl remains behind with his father. A separation due to the parents’ splitting up isn’t common in twin literature (though it does happen in another German story, Erich Kastner’s Lottie and Lisa), but there are few stories where it would be believable that there would be no contact between the members of the divided family. The East/West Germany divide, however, works well as a story devie. The difficulty in communicating with, much less meeting, people on the other side of the divide, not to mention the large gulf between the parents’ beliefs, makes the complete separation believable.

The twins grow up in their separate countries and it’s not until twenty-five years later that Franz decides to cross the divide and meet his twin. At first, these meetings involve crossing the border, but then the Berlin Wall falls and rather than bringing them closer together, this causes a metaphorical wall to rise up between them. Franz and Karl are very similar in some ways, yet complete opposites in terms of belief. As with many identical twins, the suggestion is mooted that one takes the place of the other, but rather than providing the usual comedy, the decision leads both twins to some harsh realities.

It’s a great idea, but the story didn’t quite work for me. Part of the problem is that the twins are so similar. They hold completely opposite viewpoints and one of them is arguably in a better place mentally than the other at the end of the play (though this is debatable, considering what the other twin does), but they are psychologically very similar and I feel that if Franz had been left in East Germany instead of Karl, the play would have been exactly the same.

Of course, the brothers’ similar psychology is part of the point of the play. They finish each other’s sentences and speak in unison. The nature over nurture viewpoint is a valid one and although I hope it’s not always the case (I don’t want to end up like my biological family), I have seen evidence of nature over nurture in other adoptive family members. So it’s probably really important that the twins are psychologically so alike, but I do feel it weakens the play to have two characters who are so similar.

Johannes Schutz’ set is stark white but cluttered with furniture and objects, which remain the same wherever the scenes are located. The role of Franz’s son is played by a sponge – a strange idea, but you couldn’t exactly involve real kids in this play and it perhaps represents the fact that the son is treated more of an object than a person, one that soaks up the love and possessiveness of both brothers but isn’t a person in his own right.

Harry and Luke Treadaway do a remarkable job as Franz and Karl and seem willing to take on any challenge, whether that’s performing onstage masturbation (with their colourful pants on), one twin eating food from the other’s body or one twin pretending to be the other’s lover. My blogger mate Dave’s own twins are extremely close and like to do everything together, but I think they would draw the line at these activities! I was impressed with Harry and Luke, but after a while, I realised it was their courage and commitment that impressed me, rather than their acting. They’re not bad actors at all, but neither of them really get to the heart of their characters and they seem quite one-dimensional. They convey emotions well, but I got little sense of who the twins are as people.

This is partly because, in a way, they’re not supposed to be people. They’re the embodiment of the struggle between East and West. Each twin is a representation of an idea, rather than a human being. But I personally watch plays primarily for the people and it is the personalities, for me, who bring the ideas across. It’s the personalities who make me care and make me feel genuinely torn between the two ideas because I can see actual human beings being affected by it. Over There was often more like watching a debate than watching a play – and I can’t help feeling that this was writer and co-director Mark Ravenhill’s intention.