Written in the wake of Peter Brook’s passing on July 2, 2022.
Henri Bergson famously stated that “Every philosopher has two philosophies, his own and Spinoza’s.” Because when reading Spinoza, “one feels with utmost clarity that this is precisely the altitude at which a philosopher should stand, that this is the atmosphere where a philosopher can breathe.”*
Similarly, every theatre-maker has two theatres, their own and PETER BROOK’s. In every area of a director’s work, no matter the aesthetic path one has decided to walk, one cannot escape the artistic and moral standard set by Brook within his incredibly long and fertile career. The struggle against Deadly Theatre, the vital need for invigorating readings of classical works, the fiercely minimalistic core of how a performance space and a storytelling pact are established, the humanistic values in which the difficulties of intercultural dialogue and dialogue with the audience are anchored… Even the ideals we may thrive towards, or fantasize about, as to the communal spirit in which the creative process with actors, authors and other collaborators is inscribed, have for many generations been formulated amongst us in a shared language that was defined and popularized by Brook. Every time I design an empty square on the floor of the stage, light up the naked performance space, work on direct address to the audience, try to further intercultural forms, or even just try to film a performance, I am aware of his intense presence, because these are not gimmicks but attempts to grasp and reactivate the fundamental meaning of theatre as a cultural practice and an artistic gesture.
As in any little world, trends come and go in the world of theatre. The work of stage directors is not meant to last. It is therefore no wonder that we would sometimes look back to Brook’s Shakespeare productions, or to the dramaturgical and translational strategies he created with Jean-Claude Carrière, and fail to see what had once been their radicality – and that is how influential they have been, to the point of becoming evident. We would also grow tired of the Brook trainings and exercices for the actor that had become canon, and tired of the ethos of Georges Gurdjieff-style mysticism behind all the lore. Furthermore, in the last few decades, we have come to think that there are more complex ways of approaching the challenges of music theatre than Brook’s historical landmarks; new ways, more multilateral, to create intercultural and interdisciplinary art; new standards that needed to be set beyond his own in terms of running theatres and festivals. All of this we have thought – and I am taking the liberty of using a generational ‘we’ here – and have indeed been able to think because of the towering precedents set by Peter Brook.
Thanks to him, the rest is in our hands now. But he remains: beyond beautiful artistic memories and an impressive cultural legacy, Peter Brook lives in every director as a concept detached from his own oeuvre, and even from his own name. He is a razor for the inessential, a discrete voice calling for bareness, for that hard line of directness, sincerity, fragility and generosity that presents itself as an alternative in each decision, and that makes everything else feel like decoration. Whether we indulge or not, and whether we accept it or not, we all do have two theatres, our own and Peter Brook’s, and they will keep being in dialogue as we work on stage.
* Henri Bergson, letter to Léon Brunschvicg, February 22, 1927.
>marginalia* 