A gentler side of Brecht

In the right circles, the mention of Bertolt Brecht’s name is still enough to create an argument, if not a fistfight. A giant of 20th century theater, Brecht became, both during his life and after his death in 1956, a lightning rod: public intellectual, avowed communist, famed womanizer, and renowned playwright, poet and theorist.

It is absolutely unnecessary to know any of this to appreciate and enjoy “The Caucasian Chalk Circle,” now on stage in a colorful, winsome and mostly winning production at South Coast Repertory. In fact, such knowledge may only get in the way and create thwarted expectations. Sure, Brecht’s work confronts and condemns economic disparity, but this is no angry harangue: This is a soothing salve of a play, accessible and optimistic, with the tone of a children’s fable. Perhaps Brecht absorbed a bit of the sunny disposition of Santa Monica, where he lived in exile while writing this play.

The play is split into two parts, both set in a distant past, and both narrated by a Singer (Daniel Breaker). The first half follows Grusha (Katrina Lenk), a feisty servant who finds herself the sole protector of the overthrown Governor’s abandoned infant son. Saving this baby puts Grusha in horrible danger, as he is the heir to power with a bounteous reward on his head.

The second half of the play follows Azdak (Frank Wood), one of Brecht’s most fascinatingly contradictory characters. He’s intellectual, idealistic and at the same time a drunken lout, and he ends up through a series of ironic twists as a judge who is more than willing to take bribes from the wealthy and then rule against them.

The two pieces come together in the final scenes. The baby’s mother (Nina Hellman) returns and seeks custody of the child Grusha had saved. Azdak will determine the outcome.

Director Kate Whoriskey and her first-rate design team bring a fanciful imagination to Brecht’s episodic storytelling style. Ilona Somogyi’s costumes wash the stage in bright colors, while Walt Spangler’s set design, with a revolving stage, creates a sense of near-constant movement. The yearning beauty of the play itself finds an anchor in Rob Milburn and Michael Bodeen’s haunting music, simple and yet aching.

Lenk and Wood are both superb. As Grusha, Lenk manages to draw us in completely, and yet avoids sentimentalizing her character’s plight. Wood’s Azdak, on the other hand, is filled with self-pity, and yet he’s so busy torturing himself for it that we can’t help rooting for him as well. Wood captures Azdak’s key contradictions: the smarts and the cowardice, the idealism and the weakness!

Whoriskey clearly wants to remove the play from any context that is too specific and instead explore a more universal lesson. This is clear in part because she chooses to do without the prologue Brecht had written for the piece, which is actually what places the play in the Caucasus (the region that includes Armenia, Chechnya and Georgia). No matter: This is not an atypical choice, and while I disagree with it because I think the addition adds many interesting levels to the play, its removal doesn’t do damage to its heart. Whoriskey also draws clear parallels to modern goings-on.

I do, though, miss a certain sense of purpose, of urgency, of power, in this production. Maybe it’s because as the Singer, Breaker doesn’t quite come across with much charisma, despite his melodic and versatile voice. He’s the one who probably would have benefited the most from the context of the prologue.

Or perhaps the production is simply a touch too smooth and quick in its movements, so that the dramatic moments of anticipation, dilemma and decision go by without enough force. The pace is properly quick, but maybe a bit too constant. I found myself wishing it to linger a bit more.

These are quibbles, though. This is a polished production of a charming play.

*

‘The Caucasian Chalk Circle’

Where: South Coast Repertory, 655 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays; 8 p.m. Wednesdays to Fridays; 2:30 and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 2:30 and 7:30 p.m. Sundays

Ends: Oct. 9

Price: $28-$58

Contact: (714) 708-5555

Running Time: 2 hours, 35 minutes