Impressive and authentic performance with a thousand crudely made puppets

That millions of people were murdered in Auschwitz, systematically, on a production line, is not news to anyone. Murdered by people. Neither is the fact that the organisation was a perfectly oiled machine, a 24-hour business, working on, day and night. We know it, however unimaginable that is. We have seen the images. The members of Hotel Modern have seen them too. And they decided to make a performance about it: Kamp.

What on earth can one do to add to all that is already known about this abominable subject? They made thousands of tiny puppets and built an enormous scale model of a concentration camp that looks like Auschwitz: the infamous gate with Arbeid macht frei lit up like a neon sign, the accurately re-created barracks, the parade ground, the watchtowers, the barbed wire, the crematorium. And the second crematorium under construction. Each detail gives expression to the dedication with which all this has been created. Not a word is spoken. We hear only the sounds: the birds, the train, the trucks that transport the clothing and suitcases of the gas victims to the dumping ground, and the shots. A certain distance is created by the fact that we can observe the makers at work: moving the ranks of puppets, pushing the train and manipulating the figures. A small camera is regularly used to zoom in on details. The images thus created closely resemble the few photos we are familiar with: black-and-white and sometimes out of focus. Slowly, the camera passes along seemingly endless multitudes of prisoners. Both this vastness and the close-ups created a pitiful scene. Eyes like black holes, fearful, bewildered faces, living skeletons.

We observe them as they go about their daily lives. From early morning – when the camp is still quiet and deserted and a rattling cart enters the gate – until deep in the night -when the lights are turned on, searchlights probe the air, someone is electrocuted on the barbed wire and the victims from yet another train are sent into the deadly gas chamber.

For an hour, we are actually watching visual art. The absence of text accentuates the experience of an installation. But there is action. And it is precisely the awkwardness of the method by which this is achieved – we can see the puppets being controlled using wires – that makes such an impact. Whether they are eating soup, shovelling the ashes of the dead or cleaning the train tracks. That they are not real people, but icons, ensures that this representation of their powerlessness transcends a mere reporting of events.

A man is beaten up by a guard; a fellow prisoner barely dares to look. And suddenly it dawns on one that it is also the shame of the survivors of such a hell that keeps them silent: the shame that they could do nothing for their companions, because they wanted to survive. More than ever, the human dilemma is evident here.

The makers have found a performance form that makes it possible to once again discuss this loaded subject. By raising the issue of the extremes to which people are able to go. With dignity. As they scurry about with the puppets, visible yet almost unnoticed, they remind one of children at play. Concentrated and enthralled by their game. It is this very self-abandonment that makes Kamp so impressive: sad and oppressive, but also authentic.

17-11-2005