Richard Drei

This rewriting by Jakob Nolte of The Tempest is as stormy as the title itself. Shakespeare's language is whirled about with relish, although the principle of the language is far more closely fused with the original than is the case with any other translation. Jakob Nolte has invented an artificial language that has grown out of the original and does not come across as affected or vain, but as playful and charmingly strange and odd as the inhabitants of this Shakespearean island themselves.

Nolte's overwriting is tender and unwieldy at the same time and it shines through the angular interlacing like a fascinating solitaire. The language constantly takes on a life of its own and eludes all reading and speaking habits. Just like the events on the island, the translation seems to be only something like an illusion and at the same time not. For it does exist, and it develops a fascinating beauty in its endless Anglicisms. What could do this play more justice than a language that, like the fantastic turbulence of this tempest, defies all laws?

“For a long time, it seemed that theatre – especially director’s theatre – had lost clarity, when it suddenly re-emerged spontaneously. That clarity, the sibling of platitudes and comprehensibility isn’t that flat, is proven by the way it chose for its return: through Hamlet it creeps back into theatre, through our favourite interpretation playground. At some point, someone who was hands on instead of hesitant regarding the Danish sceptic, melancholiac, laggard… Wolfgang Maria Bauer is one of those rare creatures that are seemingly made for the theatre and are a jack-of-all-trades. As an actor, his presence is overwhelming, reminiscent of a mighty bear that forces himself to be exalted and then falls into a poetic-melancholic sadness because of it. As a playwright and director, he unfurls this mood, but doesn’t let it confuse his scenic impact.” (Frankfurter Rundschau)

Als Hamlet nach Hause zurückkehrt, ist nichts mehr, wie es war. Der Vater ist tot, die Mutter Gertrud ist neu mit seinem Onkel Claudius vermählt, der nun über Dänemark herrscht. Für den jungen Hamlet ist die Welt aus den Fugen geraten. Da erscheint der Geist des Vaters und klagt: Claudius habe ihn vergiftet. Kann das sein? Wem kann man noch trauen – den Lebenden, den Toten, sich selbst? Mithilfe einer Schauspieltruppe will Hamlet die Wahrheit ans Licht bringen. Doch das Spiel im Spiel wird zur Falle: Hamlet verfängt sich in der endlosen Schleife seiner eigenen Geschichte. Szenen wiederholen sich, verschieben die Perspektive, legen neue Wahrheiten frei. Schein und Sein lassen sich kaum mehr voneinander unterscheiden. Nach dem grossen Erfolg von ‹Ein Sommernachtstraum› widmet sich die Basler Compagnie erneut einem Meisterwerk Shakespeares. Wer spielt hier und wer nicht? Und wenn alle spielen, wer kann dann noch wahrhaftig sein? (Theater Basel)