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The Infernal Comedy Birmingham Symphony Hall ***** IN Dante's Divine Comedy all who enter
the gates of hell are told to abandon all hope and there is an element
of this sense of damnation without redemption in Michael Sturminger's
play. Based on the true story of Austrian serial killer
Jack Unterweger, The Infernal Comedy takes us into the mind of someone
who is on the road to hell. While the tale is very modern, Sturminger is
influenced by popular legends of characters dragged down into the depths
with nods towards the classic tales of Don Giovanni, Faust and Orpheus
and Eurydice throughout the story. And we are all beguiled by that story as
Unterweger, played by an utterly compelling John Malkovich, is at pains
to point out. The 100-minute monologue takes the form of a book
tour as Unterweger prepares to share his life with the audience in the
aim of shifting a few more copies of his autobiography. Dressed in a suave white suit and sunglasses, he
immediately sets about charming us with a blend of humour, gentle
sarcasm and a hint of self-deprecation. But as the tale unfolds, we quickly see beyond
this sheen to a man who is utterly evil. As the truth is slowly revealed
Unterweger's charade disintegrates. He begins to lose his cool, his
language tips into obscenity, he rants and raves, he descends into
hideous violence. And yet he is constantly pulling back, returning
to chat to the audience, raising an eyebrow at his own performance,
sharing the occasional secret with us. John Malkovich charming his audience with deadly intent. Picture: Nathalie Bauer And, indeed, as fact and fiction begin to blur we
realise that we are totally dependent on Unterweger to tell the story in
any way he pleases, tricking and deceiving us as much as he tricked and
deceived those who wanted to believe in him while he lived.
The production interlinks classical music and
words in an innovative and imaginative way so that the music adds
richness to the text rather than being a distraction. Conducted by
Martin Haselbock, the Orchester Wiener Akademie sets the tone with
Gluck's Hell from Don Juan. Sopranos Louise Fribo and Marie Arnet then take
on the roles of Unterweger's mother, lover and victims while also
delivering some stunning arias from a range of composers including
Beethoven, Weber, Mozart and Vivaldi. In many ways this is a brave piece. It touches on
a subject which few will find pleasant, has a lead character who is
utterly repugnant and yet strangely alluring, and plays around with
dramatic form. And it raises some disturbing questions. Why are
we obsessed with serial killers? Who are the people who would attend a
book launch by a dead murderer? Why do we need to hear it for ourselves?
In an age when celebrity does not necessarily depend upon virtue, and in
fact is very often achieved by the opposite, why do figures like
Unterweger, the Moors Murderers, Ian Huntley and so on hold such a
fascination for us? Malkovich is the perfect actor for the part of
Unterweger blending charm and charisma with calculation and a chilling
disregard for the hopes, dreams and lives of others. It is a difficult
role but one he carries off incredibly convincingly. Diane Parkes
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