Oh, the humanity
That same day, April 21, 2003, I read an article recounting Sen. Rick Santorum’s comments about homosexuals made in reference to the Supreme Court’s pending review of a Texas sodomy law. "If the Supreme Court says that you have the right to consensual (gay) sex within your home, then you have the right to bigamy, you have the right to polygamy, you have the right to incest, you have the right to adultery. You have the right to anything," espoused the Republican Pennsylvania senator. In light of the fact that racism (see last December’s comments by Trent Lott) and sexism (see former President Clinton’s entire presidency) still run rampant in America, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that homophobia also continues to flourish in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Maybe it’s because one of my best friends growing up was gay or maybe I’m just more tolerant than some, but I’ve never understood homophobia. Regardless, intolerance of homosexuals continues to pervade our society, and it is for that reason that Bent remains such an important work. Bent is by far one of the most unabashed, searingly intense and touching dramas I’ve seen. The Hunger Artists Ensemble Theatre company does justice to Bent in their current production. Directed by Jeremy Cole, Bent follows Max, a lovable rascal who is always "working a deal," as he negotiates the grim landscape of Germany from 1934-1936. The play opens lightly with Max (William Hahn) recovering from a hangover in the tiny Berlin apartment he shares with his lover, Rudy (Dennis Crowder). Between loud outbursts that pain the recovering Max, Rudy reminds Max of the details he’s forgotten from the night before. Though Max apparently propositioned the entire wait staff at the club, only one young man, Wolf (David Harms), followed him home. Wolf unfortunately turns out to be a Nazi, and shortly the Gestapo is breaking down Max and Rudy’s door in search of him. Forced to run for their lives, Rudy and Max turn to their friend Greta (G. Scott Campbell understudied by Jacob Morehead in the performance I attended) for assistance. After obtaining some quick cash from Greta, Max and Rudy head for the hills where they join an encampment of unemployed and homeless refugees hiding from the Nazis. Soon, however, they are discovered and loaded onto a train bound for the Dachau concentration camp. The vicious Nazi soldiers single out Rudy for abuse. Max, having been quickly tutored in the art of survival by another prisoner, saves himself by turning his back on his former love. When the train unloads in Dachau, Max is given a yellow star to wear on his uniform, a symbol that he is a Jew, rather than a pink triangle, a symbol that he is a homosexual. The prisoner who aided him on the train, Horst (Joseph Norton), who is himself a homosexual, asks Max–who is obviously gay–how he avoided the pink triangle, the lowest "rank" of the prisoners. Max’s answer is so disturbing and so well delivered that I cannot share it here. You must see and hear it yourself. The development of the relationship between Max and Horst fills the remainder of the play. Despite their death-filled surroundings, Max and Horst manage to love one another, remain hopeful of escape or rescue and even draw some laughs from the audience. And in the end, Horst and Max’ choices prove as poignant and beautiful as one could hope. The three male leads, Hahn, Crowder and Norton, each give exceptional performances. Hahn goes from bon vivant to near madman before your eyes. Crowder is a puppy dog caught in a world of barbed wire, and Norton imbues Horst with incredible humanity and humor. Their efforts, combined with a solid supporting cast and evocative yet logical set design, yield a dramatic triumph. Though not for homophobes or the faint of heart, anyone else will take something away from a performance of Bent. Bent plays at 7:30 p.m., Thursday-Saturday thorugh May 10, at the LIDA Project Theatre, 2180 Stout St., Denver. Tickets are $18. For information call 303-893-5438. Respond: letters@boulderweekly.com
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I was discussing Martin Sherman’s Bent with a friend
the other day. I had described the play as a work about the oppression
of homosexuals by the Nazi regime in World War II. My friend commented
that, from my description, the play sounded intriguing but asked whether
I thought it was still necessary or even relevant.