But Q Art Theatre hopes to see you at Lotte

>>

by AMY BARRATT

Gabor Zsigovics isn't likely to be invited to direct anything at the Centaur any time soon. The artistic director of Q Art Theatre, whose latest production, Lotte, by Peter Hacks, opens tonight, is the patron who chewed out the Centaur audience on opening night of The Crucible. His beef was that they stood and cheered what Zsigovics considered a very mediocre production.

"Canadian audiences are so polite," rants the Hungarian-born director. "They'll stand and applaud whether they've been bored for four hours or not." He says that an opening night crowd in particular--made up largely of artists and people from the media--ought to know better.

Now that Lotte, translated from the German and directed by Zsigovics, is opening at Geordie space, Zsigovics is hoping people won't come just to compare the production with The Crucible. Not that he is afraid of measuring up, you understand, it's just that the two plays are "apples and oranges."

In contrast to the thundering horde on stage in The Crucible, Lotte is a vehicle for one actress, in this case, Zsigovics' spouse, Bobo Vian. She plays the historical personage of Charlotte von Stein, a mistress and mentor to Goethe when he was a young genius at the court of Weimar. Appointing a usually older, married woman as tutor-chaperone to a young artist was not at all an uncommon practice at the time (1770s).

The danger for Lotte, according to Vian, is not in sleeping with Goethe but in falling in love with him, which, according to the play, she did.

"It's impossible not to love a genius," Vian says, "but as a woman, you have to be a genius yourself to work out these relationships. If you fall in love, you lose your head."

The play begins as Goethe has abruptly left the court and Lotte must face recriminations and accusations of chasing him away. Even her husband, instead of being jealous, is angry at Lotte for losing the genius, and with him the prestige which he brought to the court. The premise of the play is that Lotte is attempting to explain herself to her husband, represented by a dummy on stage.

The biggest challenge for a small company like Q Art performing in a small, virtually invisible space like Geordie, is just getting bums in the seats. The irony here is that Lotte has been performed all over Europe in mainstream, subscription houses like the Centaur and, despite some risque subject matter, has done exceedingly well in them.

"I'm sorry in some senses that I blew my top at Centaur," Zsigovics says, "but I think if you can shout bravo you can also shout boo." And he is adamant that what he wants from audiences at Lotte is an honest reaction. "It's not enough to just remind the audience to unwrap their candies," he says, referring to cutesy announcements that a number of theatres are currently making before performances. He plans to instruct Q Art's audiences that "if they didn't like it, please do not applaud.".

Another irony: Zsigovics' outburst at the Centaur has undoubtedly drawn attention to the small company--attention it couldn't afford to buy.

Lotte (A Tete-a-tete in the Stein House Regarding the Absent von Goethe) Feb. 10-13, 15-20 at 7 p.m. at Geordie Space. Tickets $15, $10 reduced. Reservations: 482-7132.