By Jie Jenny Zou

Nestled between the Wang Center and the Melville Library lies Stony Brook’s very own Staller Center. Unbeknownst to many students is the fact that for twenty dollars, one can purchase a season pass to view their weekly Friday offerings. Aside from their ultra-dark theaters (I mean can’t-see-the-stranger-sitting-next-to-you-damn-this-place-is-darrrrk kind of dark), cinema buffs will also enjoy their diverse array of indie films from “Flight of the Red Balloon” to last spring’s “My Father, My Lord” — all showcased on generously sized (this means rather large) screens. Be forewarned though, Staller caters to a much older crowd, so I hope you like/can endure the smell of Bengay. 

For this particular night, I arrived at the packed theater for a 7 pm curtain of Die Falscher or, for those of you unfamiliar with German, The Counterfeiter(s). Yes, German. This is one of those “reading” films. Written and directed by Stefan Ruzowitzky, The Counterfeiters is based on a memoir of the same name by Adolf Burger, a Jewish Slovak interned in the currency counterfeiting campaign during the Holocaust. The film version, however, forgoes focusing on the Resistance-touting Adolf Burger and instead chooses the much less moral, ambivalent Salomon “Sally” Sorowitsch as the main character. Played with understated brilliance by Austrian actor Karl Markovics, Sally is the kind of guy that thinks the best way to earn money is to, literally, make it. A master counterfeiter and businessman, Sally is a hedonist with an obscure past who momentarily escapes internment from the Nazis by falsifying passports. He is able to lend his special skills for others willing to pay a price.

Eventually, he finds himself arrested and interned at the hands of police officer Friedrich Herzog who reveals and breaks his forgery ring. Bounced from camp to camp, Sally soars to the top of ‘Holocaust prisoners that sell their souls’ when he utilizes his art skills to paint flattering portraits of Nazi soldiers and their families as well as Nazi-endorsing murals on camp buildings. In a stroke of irony, Sally finds himself in an unlikely position when he is put in charge of a secret currency counterfeiting operation by none other than top Nazi, Friedrich Herzog. In an act of ‘Nazi altruism’ Herzog thanks Sally for the promotion he received as a result of handing over Germany’s “King of Forgers” (think Nazi from “The Pianist”). The currency operation is as controversial and polarizing as Sally himself; proclaimed by the film as history’s largest scale counterfeit ring, it is said to have produced nearly $100 million for the Nazis. Tensions flare among the prisoners of the operation who battle with the self-realization of their privileged positions as well as their fundamental role in continuing the Nazi’s reign of terror.

There are some truly heart-breaking moments in this film but the excellent pacing does well to not linger on any particular scene for too long. It’s not much of a shocker-type movie; you don’t necessarily watch to see what happens to Sally, but rather what he does. His character, filled with flaws and a sardonic sense of humor, is what makes this film more humanizing and interesting to watch than other Holocaust films. Great supporting roles all around, especially with Sally’s surrogate son character, Kolya, (Sebastian Urzendowsky) and the antagonistic Adolf Burger (August Diehl). With it’s grainy film, minimal color saturation, and “400 Blows”-esque beach shots, it’s easy to get entranced in this beautiful and poetic piece.  It’s also no surprise that this film took top honors in the Foreign Film category at last year’s Oscars for Best Foreign Language Film. That being said, put on your reading glasses and go watch this film. This is one film that even subtitles can’t kill.

By Rebecca Kleinhaut

Upon discovering that the Department of Theatre Arts was going to be performing The Grapes of Wrath, I was a bit worried. The technological prowess of Frank Galati’s adaptation of the beloved John Steinbeck novel calls for, among other things, a moving stage. However, it was amazing how quickly I was able to forgive (and forget) the lack of this one mechanized component when faced with the combination of impressive stage effects and heart-wrenching performances.

In his program notes, director Nick Mangano stated, “Economy and bigotry have always been linked.” This is the case with the Joads, a ravaged family of “Okies” attempting to make their way to California during the 1930’s Dust Bowl. The audience is presented with a family that could, in modern times, be easily classified as “white trash”: each actor successfully imitated the heavy Oklahoma accent, and when Tom Joad reunites with his family after three years in prison, all anybody can ask him is if he “busted out.” However, while the accents initially sound campy to a 21st century northeastern audience, Galati’s play (and Mangano’s adaptation) showcases the traditional family drama of which modern playgoers are so fond. Tom (Dan O’Reilly) attempts to quell his over-stimulated temper for the sake of his family, while Al (Alex Geissbuhler) chases girls and Ma Joad (Danielle Guidi) attempts to school Rose of Sharon (Jillian Cross), her pregnant daughter, on the importance of responsibility.

The Grapes of Wrath fits nicely in the classification of “family drama,” yet I cannot allow it to fall into this stereotypically dry category. The play successfully moves beyond the emotional hardship of a typically dysfunctional family and unabashedly deals with “economic bigotry.” Although there was not a weak performance within the Ensemble and the Joad family, it was impossible not to feel the intense restraint behind Dan O’Reilly’s tight-lipped portrayal of Tom Joad. Former preacher Jim Casey also provided some much-needed optimism, and Antoine Jones’ wide-eyed portrayal had, by the close of the play, brought tears to my eyes.

If one had to choose a protagonist, it would be Tom, and Mangano’s version of the play nicely pays homage to this distinction; however, for me, it has always been the women that have provided the most gut-wrenching narrative to the play. Who cannot help but become choked up as the normally severe Ma Joad lovingly caresses the possessions in her cigar box of memories, or when she allows only a few sobs to escape as she says goodbye to one of her sons? Even the initially naïve Rose of Sharon exudes strength by the close of the play. It is ultimately the women who must nurture an otherwise barren world, and actresses Jillian Cross and Danielle Guidi as the female Joads give impressive performances of strength and femininity.

As for the stage effects and props, the show was not without impressive lighting and weather effects; the technical crew astounded the audience with rain, a technique that is rarely seen in larger budget shows. Even the lack of a movable stage was counterbalanced nicely as members of the Joad party moved the car around manually. Combined with the live guitarist, bassist, fiddler and banjo player, the few less-technological effects highlighted the economic reality of the setting.

At the beginning of the play, Jim Casey tells Tom, “Maybe all men got one big soul everyone’s a part of.” Hopeful? You bet. Impossible? Not according to The Grapes of Wrath, nor the cast and crew who wonderfully play homage to this idea.

The Grapes of Wrath: Performances run through Sunday, May 4, in Staller Center, Theater One.