Here There Are Blueberries, 08 June 2024

So much of theatre is based on a true story and told through the lens of historical figures who did not contribute to the telling of their stories. Here There are Blueberries takes a far more interesting tack by telling the story of a Holocaust memorial’s acquisition of a photo album of Auschwitz from the perspective of the archivists and historians, and documents the painstaking process of researching, documenting, and interpreting these photographs. The photographs in the album show a never before seen side of Auschwitz—what the lives of the perpetrators were like during their leisure time. From the chalet SS officers visited as a reward to the young women (“helferin”) involved in reporting the number of murders from each train into the camp.

Thematically, the story emphasized that when enough individuals contribute towards a project, nobody feels personally accountable because their specific role could have been performed by literally anyone else and no one saw themselves as personally responsible for mass murder. Following in the tradition of prior Tectonic Theater productions (of which the most well known is The Laramie Project), there were many more perspectives included than actors in the show, and the script used a documentary style where the actual speaker of a statement was verbally introduced and an ensemble member stepped forward to share their small, sometimes single line, contribution to documenting the story.

One of the most stunning contributions of the show that was absolutely vital to the audience’s understanding was that of projection designer David Bengali. With the meticulousness of the researchers on the actual project, Bengali went through the actual photographs and highlighted the figures being spoken about, the figures who were speaking—basically anything that was being investigated or mirrored onstage so that it was clear when ensemble members stepped into different roles exactly whose words and perspectives they were sharing. There were moments that were stylized, and moments that were simple and respectful, all in close collaboration with lighting designer David Lander’s and sound designer Bobby McElver’s flashbulbs and shutters. All design elements were simple and beautiful, augmenting but not overshadowing.

I was powerfully struck by the relevance to today, and I don’t mean the direct conversations about Jews and genocide (at the time of this review, there is a war raging in the Middle East between Israel and Hamas, following the October 7 Massacre). What I was actually struck by was the emphasis on the power of having a platform and the responsibility of those who do to present facts in a way that is respectful but accurate. At the time when this photo album was documented, there was no social media giving everybody a public platform, and the stark contrast of these historians’ commitments to knowing the facts before sharing them and today’s influencer repost button made me marvel at the lack of accountability in today’s world. To me, it mirrored (or at least echoed) the collective lack of accountability among the Nazis pictured in the photographs (and those outside the frame), many of whom seemed to see themselves as a very tiny cog in helping Germany, the way today’s online activists see themselves as a very tiny cog in massive, sweeping collective human rights movements. There’s a kernel of truth in both cases, some knowledge that the broader situation is more complicated, but ultimately a pervasive feeling that the individual contributions are such a small part of their context that there’s no individual responsibility. And there’s certainly no need to delve further into the truth—because there is a deep rooted understanding that it might be ugly, and we might not actually want it.

I was frustrated by the historians’ desire to emphasize the victims only, because it is the anonymity and lack of accountability for the perpetrators that perpetuates future perpetrators. What I mean is, many of the descendants of the Nazis, as represented in Here There are Blueberries, did not know much of their relatives’ stories. If humanity is to evolve, don’t we have to know in order to not repeat history?

The archivists barely struggled with the question—it seemed imperative that people see both sides of the fence and how the so-called “Chorus of Criminals” celebrated with pretty thorough knowledge of what was happening on the other side of the fence. But now, so many people who share their version of the truth online have never actually seen the metaphorical fence. They’re relying on whoever posted it before. They see themselves as messengers, just passing it along. Today’s helferin don’t wear uniforms. I don’t know if they eat blueberries. What I do know, is that they pass on whatever is passed to them. And a lot of them probably sleep at night.

I did not attend this performance on a press pass