Review: Here There Are Blueberries (Stratford East)

Review by Matthew Plampton

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There is a discomfort in being asked to look. Not just to see, but to truly examine what sits before you and consider the implications. It is a sensation that permeates the devastatingly brilliant Here There Are Blueberries, the Tectonic Theater Project's documentary drama now making its London premiere at Stratford East after a celebrated run in the United States. At its core, the production compels us to consider who gets to decide the history we see, and how we should respond.

This is theatre that asks endless uncomfortable questions about responsibility, viewership, who holds the camera, who appears in the frame, and who gets to decide what we remember. Moisés Kaufman and Amanda Gronich's production opens not with the recognisably harrowing images of Holocaust atrocity; no skeletal figures, nor gas chambers, but with something that will soon become unnerving in its own right: a simple camera, and a tale of its popularity leading to the craze of capturing the pursuit of happiness. The production immediately establishes its central concern: the act of documentation, and the terrible choices embedded in every click of a shutter.

At the heart of the piece lies the Höcker Album, a leather-bound collection of 116 photographs that surfaced, without clear explanation, at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in 2007. What makes these images so deeply strange is what they omit: there are no prisoners here, no evidence of the machinery of murder. Instead, we see Nazi personnel relaxing by a river, gathering around an accordion for group songs, and eating blueberries alongside the young women who staffed the camp's telephone exchanges. These are the same women who spent their working hours facilitating mass murder. The cognitive dissonance is striking. Should these images be viewed by the public, given that they humanise the perpetrators of genocide? Or do they confront us with the very fear that we ourselves could have become complicit in such monstrous acts?

These are the questions that the museum staff ask themselves, and the audience, throughout this piece. The text skilfully weaves between factual reporting and analysis of the photographs, exploring the dramatic revelations they provoke in the relatives of both victims and murderers. It does not shy away from focusing on the Nazis and their actions, which makes for uncomfortable yet necessary viewing as we consider whether these people were always destined for evil, or whether the power of propaganda transformed them into the worst of monsters. This is not to justify or excuse their acts in any way, but rather to pose a stark question: surrounded by sweeping indoctrination and a national belief in a way of life, could we have resisted? Only then does the production turn its attention to the victims, a deliberate choice that drives home the discomfort of the question we are pondering.

Kaufman’s direction deliberately frames this as a hard-hitting documentary, leaving the audience anxiously awaiting each new revelation. The striking scenic design by Derek McLane stages the play in the backrooms of a museum, reinforcing the investigative nature of the piece. The projection and sound design by David Bengali and Bobby McElver is a technical masterclass, demonstrating the power of such elements when deployed with precision. Screens display the various photographs, zooming in and highlighting key figures as the characters explain who these Nazis were. It is done with seamless ease, proving an incredibly effective tool for bringing the piece alive. The tension-building soundscape enhances key images, lending the production an almost cinematic quality.

The ensemble cast navigate this piece and its array of characters with intellect and emotion. Where they could so easily have delivered one-dimensional portrayals, instead you feel the full gravitas of their characters’ moral dilemmas. Special mention must go to Arthur Wilson and Philippine Velge, who both handle key emotive moments with potent poignancy. Wilson, as the grandson of an infamous Nazi, delivers the line “I am who I choose to be” as he grapples with his family’s past; his vulnerability and defiance will stay with you long after the play ends. Velge transforms from ambitious museum curator to Holocaust survivor in a heartbreaking instant, recounting her arrival at Auschwitz through additional photographs with raw, unflinching pain.

"Every genocide starts with words" is one of the closing messages of Here There Are Blueberries, a stark reminder of the power we grant to news, politics, and those who teach us. This is essential theatre: a production that reminds us of the importance of critical thinking, of sitting with discomfort, and of refusing to shy away from difficult questions; for to do otherwise can lead to devastating consequences. A melting pot of political, historical, and ethical theatre at its finest, Here There Are Blueberries is a masterfully slick and impactful production.

Here There Are Blueberries plays at Stratford East until 7th March. Tickets from https://www.stratfordeast.com/whats-on/all-shows/here-there-are-blueberries

Photos by Mark Senior