Revisiting the unusual, demanding, and deeply human work of staging All Is Calm
I am writing from Minneapolis, where I am rehearsing All Is Calm: The Christmas Truce of 1914. I’ve rehearsed this show in this city every year for the past 18 years (other than 2020 due to Covid). It is unlike any other show I’ve directed. It is an unusual piece in many ways, perhaps most significantly is that it is an a cappella musical. The actor/singers don’t have the support of an orchestra to them navigate their pitch, and there is no conductor, so they must rely entirely on each other to navigate their tempos. The show also demands that the actor/singers speak in several dialects and sing in half a dozen different languages. It is a steep climb for any performer.
What makes it most unique from my role as the director is that most of the cast has done this show for seven, eight or nine years. In a typical rehearsal process, the director knows the characters better than the actors at the start of the process. But the actors in All Is Calm identify with the characters much more deeply than I ever will, because they have been inside this work for countless hours, investing their voices, bodies, extraordinary talent and skill. Their connection to the story is profound. They are inside of it, while I will always be outside looking in. You could say I am like a guest at someone else’s party.
When I purchased a flight to Brussels 18 years ago, I was on a quest to tell the story of the Christmas Truce of 1914, but I had no idea what form it would take or what the exact narrative would be about. I visited war museums in Belgium, Germany, France and England. They all seem to focus on the military leaders, the number of casualties, the strategy and the science of war. When I entered the Flanders Field Museum in Ypres, Belgium, I had a very different experience. When you enter, there is a large mural of foot soldiers; they appear to look you in the eye. There are no names listed on the adjoining plaque. After spending several days at the Museum and combing through their extensive archives, which hold the largest collection of World War One artifacts in the world, I asked the curator if they would consider themselves an “anti-war museum.” He responded,
“No. Our mission is to put a human face on war.”
I had found my point of view. I would attempt to tell this story in their own words, in their own songs.
The heroes of the Christmas Truce were the lowest of the ranks. Their names don’t appear on the walls of museums or in our history books, but they are without question heroes. Our humble band of actors will attempt to tell their story, and we will say their names aloud. And I will be forever grateful to be a guest at their party.
Signed,
Peter