The World of Yesterday is a noble homage to an accomplished writer, whose life was marred by tragedy
The World of Yesterday: A Cabaret Performance, directed by Anya Ostrovskaia, is a new piece of theatre, which features as part of the Voila! Theatre Festival 2024. It is a show ostensibly revolving around the life and works of Stefan Zweig, the Jewish Austrian writer whose life was hijacked by the two World Wars. The piece is a requiem to Zweig, and more pertinently, to the constancy of the tragedy and loss that so defined the first half of the 20th Century
The World of Yesterday, in loosely adapting Zweig’s memoir of the same name, constructs a theatrical biography of the man. And yet, despite this structure, it lacks a discernible narrative. Instead, the actors seem to sporadically dance across the room, abstractly channelling the mood of whatever period of time they are depicting. As a cabaret, there were also several songs – largely about fascism. The actors all had charming voices, and there were some wonderful Jewish pieces, sung in Hebrew.
And it is always heartening to see Jewish figures – especially those who existed during the first half of the 20th Century – celebrated and their work promoted. But, despite the World of Yesterday being both about Zweig, and based on his own memoir, he did seem rather absent from the piece. Instead, he seemed to flit in and out of focus, slotted in-between longer, more general statements about war and suffering.
It was also hard to ignore the show’s overwhelming messiness (thought I concede the smallness of the venue didn’t help this): long pauses and seemingly unsolved silences abounded, a cardinal theatrical sin.
And this messiness extended into its content: whilst there were notable nods to questions of belonging, displacement, and identity, especially for refugees, little was done to develop them. In a piece lauding the works of an accomplished writer, the show’s lack of eloquence and cohesion was perhaps more pronounced. And, whilst the actors were enthusiastic and passionate, there was a distinct lack of energy that, given the size of the stage, was jarring.
Additionally, there was an odd disjunction between the seriousness of the content – and the creatives’ evident desire to honour this – and the tone, which was incoherent. A particularly arresting moment was when one of the Zweigs (three actors alternated this role) is unwrapping a birthday present, which turns out to be a human with a bag on their head; eventually, the bag is removed and an actor, covered in white face paint, skips about the stage, before drawing on a ‘Hitler moustache’ and proceeding to do some ballet on the side of the stage. It was all a bit baffling.
Credit is owed to the scenography (Shahaf Beer); its use multi-media was admirably inventive: a central projector was used to create backdrops and supplementary visuals, often featuring extracts from Zweig’s writing. However, that was about the extent of reference to his literary work, which seemed a shame.
The World of Yesterday is a noble homage to an accomplished writer, whose life was marred by tragedy. The show suffered from a lack of coherence and self-awareness, which undermined its weighty conceits somewhat. It is commendable to see the work of Jewish figures, such as Zweig, elevated, but perhaps this piece is not yet ready to make it the compelling elegy it hopes to be.
REVIEWER: Violet Howson