Jan. 8, 2004. 07:29 AM
Big ideas that entertain

RICHARD OUZOUNIAN
THEATRE CRITIC


Copenhagen

By Michael Frayn. Directed by Diana Leblanc. Until Feb. 22 at the Winter Garden Theatre, 189 Yonge St. 416-872-1212.


If you're looking for something to sweep the January cobwebs from your brain, then let me strongly recommend you pay a visit to Copenhagen, which opened last night at the Winter Garden Theatre.

Michael Frayn's Tony Award-winning play could not be called light entertainment by any means, but for the theatregoer who wants to be intellectually engaged, it's a perfect fit.

It tells the story of two physicists — the Danish Niels Bohr and his German protégé, Werner Heisenberg — who shared a fateful meeting in Copenhagen on an autumn night in 1941.

During the madness of World War II, the race to create an atomic bomb provided a deadly undercurrent that only a handful of people in the world were aware of.

Heisenberg seeks out the man to whom he owes most of his professional life to ask him a question relating to the creation of just such a bomb, but their meeting ends abruptly.

What did Heisenberg ask Bohr on their evening walk? The facts of their exchange are not a matter of historical record and so the playwright takes the matter further, to the court of eternity.

In a chilly, timeless setting by Douglas Paraschuk that manages to suggest the interior of a nuclear reactor, we find three people trapped for all time — Heisenberg, Bohr, and Bohr's wife, Margrethe.

Not unlike the cast of Jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit, they are compelled to relive their pasts in an attempt to discover what really happened. "It's a chain reaction," Margrethe observes at one point, "you tell one dreadful truth and it leads to two more."

This, however, is not a conventional play and although some of the revelations are of the domestic variety, dealing with bruised egos and lost children, most of the material being discussed is far headier stuff.

Although it may be hard to believe, Frayn succeeds in taking us through the history of 20th century nuclear physics and making it come alive, by letting us meet the flesh and blood people who shaped it.

There is exhilaration at first, but later on, the gift of knowledge becomes a chilling burden, as these scientists realize that they could offer the military a bomb capable of killing more people than any other weapon ever known to man.

Frayn knows how to move his focus in and out, so that one moment we're concentrating on the intimate relationships between the three characters and in the next, we're contemplating the future of the human race.

We finally arrive at an answer of sorts, through a combination of what Heisenberg calls "high principles and low calculations, most painfully hard thought and most painfully childish tears."

It takes an excellent cast to make densely layered material like this work, and director Diana Leblanc has skilfully put one together.

Jim Mezon is breathtakingly subtle and complex as Heisenberg, letting us see all the layers of this man as he peels them off for us, onion-like, one by one.

Michael Ball lets the warmth of his personality fill in a lot of the character of Bohr, but gives us subtle glimpses of the colder, more selfish side of the man as well.

And Martha Henry, as Margrethe, functions as the cosmic referee in this game that no one can ever really win.

Her almost godlike detachment is impressive, even more so when she finally lets it shatter to reveal the woman underneath.

In the end, we are deeply moved by this fascinating play that tries to chronicle "some event that will never quite be located or defined, that final core of uncertainty at the heart of things."

Additional articles by Richard Ouzounian


› Get 50% off home delivery of the Toronto Star.




Legal Notice: Copyright Toronto Star Newspapers Limited. All rights reserved. Distribution, transmission or republication of any material from www.thestar.com is strictly prohibited without the prior written permission of Toronto Star Newspapers Limited. For information please contact us using our webmaster form. www.thestar.com online since 1996.