Die Rypmaakkamer Review – Much Ado About Nothing

Die Rypmaakkamer opened at the Market Theatre a couple of weeks ago. This is an Afrikaans production of David Ian Lee’s The Curing Room. The play sets out to examine how we lose our humanity, or more particularly how masculinity breaks down when we are put in extreme circumstances. This tale is based on an incident that supposedly really happened during the Second World War. Seven Soviet soldiers are imprisoned in an old monastery’s curing room and left to die. What follows is a brutal tale of murder, cannibalism and the fragility of masculinity. 

Oh, and the play is also performed naked.

The Story

The short summary accompanying the poster on the theatre website intrigued me. World War II… Murder… Cannibalism… Promising a macabre tale, with some icky Grand Guignol-style horror. 

Alas, that was not to be. 

The story starts immediately with seven naked men arguing. About what exactly? I’m not sure, but they are men, so they are violent and angry. Very important. Turns out they are all Nazi captives who are forced together in this locked room and left to die. Stripped of their rank, status, and very nearly humanity, they find themselves in a primal state where dominance is key and leaders are in short supply. 

When the arguing subsides, they settle in, lapping at water puddles on the floor when they are thirsty, and wait. The first few days are rather easy, with dramatic outbursts at a minimum. But three days in, one of them gets hungry. And the bloodshed begins. 

The Elephant in the Room

Let’s get this out of the way early. The play is performed naked, as advertised. Seven men. No clothes. 

The nudity is not gratuitous, though. It is not sexual. And it is not unwarranted. We are watching a play about humanity and masculinity laid bare. 

In today’s liberated world of entertainment, we never (or hardly ever) get to see the phallus on stage or screen. It’s an argument that has been raging for quite some time. Women are presented naked in the entertainment we consume, sexually or not, all the time. But the glimpse of a dick is a rare occurrence. A definite double standard. 

The Fragility of Masculinity

While we were shepherded into the theatre, our cellphones were taken away from us. Locked in a cabinet so we won’t be tempted to snap a dick pic. Because that’s just the kind of person who goes to the theatre, right? But actually, this goes deeper. 

Women appear naked or semi-clothed on stage more often than one would think. Yet, my phone has never been taken away from me for one of these performances… 

Then, before the show starts, a very official-sounding announcement proclaims that, should you be caught taking photos, you will face a steep fine. Fair enough. We live in a world where sexual assault in any form is a hot topic. But we knew that already, so why the threat? 

The kicker is the next part of the announcement: any patron caught making disparaging remarks during the production will be removed from the theatre immediately. 

Really? 

Is masculinity so fragile that we fear ridicule to the extent of official intervention? Even while we are in the midst of making art? Doing something that is supposed to transcend embarrassment, vanity and pride? 

Oh well. 

That’s that for the penis talk. The shock of male nudity wears off quickly and as grown adults, we are here to experience a story. 

Language Barrier

The Afrikaans translation suffers from a qualm that has infected many translated works. I am a native Afrikaans speaker. I was educated in the language and consumed much Afrikaans content in my youth. The problem I always had with translated works was the insistence on retaining foreign names and painfully making them fit into the Afrikaans language. I have found more often than not that this takes me out of the story. It breaks my suspension of disbelief rather than enforce a sense of place. 

Sticking to the Soviet names from the original play calls to attention the artifice of the production before us. Using a higher register that feels alienated from the language I think and dream in is already difficult to follow. Add in out-of-place names and angry shouting and you can colour me lost. 

A Very Long Meal

Struggling to keep up with the very long, very muddled conversations made the show move at a snail’s pace. An hour in, two characters were dead. I thought to myself, okay, they should be done in half an hour, right? 

No! 

The show ran for nearly two and a half hours. Odd, as the overseas productions clock in at a lean 90 minutes. 

Unfortunately, by the end, I was done. I had lost any investment I had and just wanted them to eat faster. 

A Gruesome Scene

I can commend the play for being truly gruesome when it has to be. Characters are killed in the dark, and what is left is simply a heap of very realistic bones. And blood – everywhere! Truly effective on the stripped down backdrop and cast. We really feel the horror of their actions. In fact, this was so effective that some audience members got up and left! 

A Final Word

I am not a theatre hater. I would never want to discourage anyone from experiencing the immediacy and visceral nature of the stage. But I also have to give my honest opinions on what I saw. And what I witnessed was a truly dedicated cast doing their best to bring this odd, gruesome tale to life. Hats off to the actors who committed to unfortunately problematic material. Bravo to the team that brought the show to life. It was a risk, and risks are very important to keep the theatre alive. 

Unfortunately, it did not pay off for me. Ultimately, it felt flat. When I was supposed to feel, I was indifferent. Where I was supposed to learn, I was lost. And where I was supposed to be intrigued, I was checking my watch. 

A lot worked against this play. The language, the length… But ultimately, the surefire taboo-breakers of murder, cannibalism and full-frontal male nudity felt boring. 

Want to see how you feel about this? Check out Die Rypmaakkamer at the Market Theatre in Johannesburg until Sunday, 30 June 2019.