Between ages 3 and 5, Benzonken Rood author Jeroen Brouwers watched his mother and grandmother endure unthinkable tortures in a Japanese prison camp during World War II. The experience rendered him permanently anxious and emotionally stunted. Years later, he was unable to face his mother's death or his daughter's birth.
In this devastating adaptation of Brouwers' novel by dramaturg Corien Baart, director Guy Cassiers, and actor Dirk Roofthooft, we don't see emaciated women covered in flies or the kitchen cabinet shelf where the narrator's grandmother lived. But hearing the account, recalled first at a distance, then a halting closeness and finally from within torrents of raw, confused emotion, may be the most effective way to comprehend the impact of the camps.
Cassiers and designer Peter Missotten create the impression of a man struggling with various levels of memory and consciousness, combining shifting video projections of Roofthooft and his shadow with the live actor. He is shown in extreme close-up with every nuance of his eloquent face on display. The screen is often covered with slats, giving the effect that one is voyeuristically looking through blinds as the narrator writes his memoirs. The live Roofthooft is equally subtle and forceful. It is easy to forget that he is not telling his own life story.
It's difficult to conjure and believe the horrific images Roofthooft describes, and Sunken Red provides many challenges. The narrator's tumbling thoughts puzzle not only himself, but also the audience. Who is the woman he remembers being in love with? Is she real or imagined? What is the outcome of his ruminations?
One doesn't expect a neat wrap-up and a sigh of relief. But Sunken Red has several possible endpoints that present themselves only to dissolve into more musings. It's unsettling, as painful and real as it can get.
Presented by Toneelhuis (BE) and ro theater (NL)
at BAM Harvey Theater, 651 Fulton St., NYC.
Oct. 7, 9-11 at 7:30 p.m.
(718) 636-4100 or www.bam.org