In her 1983 book, Semiotik des Theaters, Erika Fischer-Lichte referred to theatre as part of ‘die Geometrie der Kultur’, a network of relationships materialized in space that symbolizes cultural experience. The concept of the geometry of culture may enable us to show how, in an urban space, different strands of human activities find their expression in the outline of urban space. Lewis Mumford demonstrates in The City in History that political programmes, economic interests, and cultural concepts influence the city's organization as well as the functions which individual buildings take in the urban environment. Cultural historians and semioticians such as Mary Henderson, Monika Steinhauser, Michael Hays, and Marvin Carlson have adopted this perspective for their investigations of the history of theatre in various metropolitan areas. For example, Henderson studies the relationship between the theatres and the financial district in New York City; Michael Hays and Monika Steinhauser analyse particular urban monuments, such as the Lincoln Center in New York and the Paris Opera. Marvin Carlson analyses how theatre buildings have been integrated historically as public monuments in various urban settings. Within the context of such studies I will examine the spatial and aesthetic re-alignments that World War II forced upon the integration of theatre buildings in Berlin, taking as case studies four major theatres: the Theater am Schiffbauerdamm, the Deutsches Theater, the Schillertheater and the Volksbühne.

It is common to describe the end product of an actor's labour as ‘an interpretation’, but somehow the expression's serious, critical dimension is never fully intended. Only a scholar with his pipe and tweeds would seem to possess the appropriate gravity to render judicious overviews of this kind. When one wants to know what Hamlet is ‘about’, they naturally turn to heavily footnoted exegesis found in periodicals with circulations under a thousand. What could someone prancing before a number greater than this in a single evening, wearing grease paint and tights no less, possibly add to such an exalted investigation?

Passion plays in Europe exhibit a great many similarities as far as general content and presentation are concerned. I do not really think it is relevant for the non-Dutch reader, therefore, to delve too deeply into the specifics of content and presentation with regard to the passion plays in Tegelen in Limburg, the southernmost province of the Netherlands. However, a great deal of the external interference surrounding the passion plays in Tegelen, has also been experienced by the organisers of numerous passion plays in Europe. Therefore, rather than discuss their content, it is far more interesting to investigate these passion plays through their development from 1931 when they began. Through this we can gain insight into the manner in which a social and cultural phenomenon such as a passion play can play a role in the maintenance and even the imposition of a particular world view. For the quality of the text and performance of passion plays are less important than the manner in which a community, usually a small one, driven by a communal ideal, expresses religious feelings which tens of thousands of spectators share. In such a performance there is communal activity with a ritual character. Performers are frequently anonymous and spectators and critics set aside any criticism of individual acting or the text because a passion play entails more than merely a large-scale theatrical performance by enthusiastic amateurs.

Samuel Beckett's monodrama, Krapp's Last Tape, presents great challenges to the actor. A short piece, it is complex, many-layered and laconic. As always, Beckett never uses even one word, where silence will do. I rehearsed and performed the play some years ago and have continued to reflect on the play and the role of Krapp.