The ghost of Henrik Ibsen's head flaps its giant sideburn wings as it glides through the exposed stone walls of the BAM Harvey Theater, where it settles on a rail in the house gallery.
Stoically observing the latest production of his "iconoclast-erpiece," An Enemy of the People, his hawk-like eyes reveal nothing behind their wired frames.
Moments later, he turns and glides back through the walls past the control booth; he has to be in California soon, as a production of A Doll's House is playing in Marin.
Ibsen's sideburns stay busy these days. After all, he may just be the most produced playwright in the world, second only to Shakespeare, himself.
Ibsen's relevance, partly the result of his brazen criticism of political and societal ideologies, remains ever constant throughout the chilling discourse offered via Enemy of the People.
Having had at least two major productions this year alone--by La Musica in Cairo (translated into colloquial Arabic) and at the Young Vic in London--Enemy details the efforts of Dr. Stockman, who attempts to go public with news of mass water contamination.
Faced with policy makers attempting to cover up the incident for fear of high repair costs leading to threatened economic prosperity, the doctor's campaign is no longer about drinking water.
It's about transparency, now.
In German (with English subtitles), Schaubühne am Lehniner Platz (An Enemy of the People) just finished its run at the Brooklyn Academy of Music's Next Wave Festival. Directed by Thomas Ostermeier (the version by Florian Borchmeyer, that is), you really should've seen it.
For now, high above a Moscow hotel room, weathered Scandinavian sideburns are outstretched, gliding along in the cool night air.
