PASSION PLAY.

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXV, Issue 16639, 7 August 1930, Page 3

PASSION PLAY.

WITNESSED BY GERALDINE RESIDENT. A personal account of the Passion Play at Oberammergau, contained in a letter received by Mrs J. M. H. Tripp, of Geraldine, from Miss Tripp, is contained in the August number of “Church News.” The letter dated from Oberammergau on May 18, says:—We arrived at this wonderful spot at 5 p.m. yesterday (Saturday)—such a perfect day, and so interesting all the way, one forgot to be tired. At Munich, we changed trains, the whole trainful coming to see the Passion Play—all so very friendly and keen. From Munich we got higher and higher amongst the mountains. In the fields we saw pink campions buttercups, and blue gentians, but it is a little early for the wild flowers, which in June are a sight. Some views remind me of our West Coast—thick forests and snowy mountains. When you reach the village, a crowd of porters meet you, so picturesque in brown and green velveteen coats, red hats, rough knickerbockers and stockings. Many of these men are the actors, and wear long hair (grown long for the performance), and have wonderful faces. A very handsome boy put our three cases on a strap, and we wrote our address, Hans Mayr (who is one of the leading actors) and we walked behind our porter to this house. The village reminds one of Switzerland, overhanging roofs and bright coloured shutters, and as the cherry trees —such large, spreading ones—are in full blossom and the mountains are towering all round it, it is indeed perfect in beauty and picturesqueness. We long to stay a week, but no one may stay more than two nights, as so many want to come. We are lucky to be with Hans Mayr, who is mayor of the village. He is over 6ft, with such a fine face; he takes the part of Herod in the Passion Play. After tea, which we drank at small tables in the street, we walked about and explored. Such quaint old houses covered with creepers, and the peasants’ dresses and everything most attractive.

Sunday.—We breakfasted at seven and went off to the plaj' at 8; 5000 in the theatre. We took air cushions and eye shades, as' there is a great glare. We were under cover, but the front of the stage is all open—most simple and artistic—the back is closed in, a soft blue velvet curtain drawn across the back recess. The choir of fifty-seven men and girls stand in front in the form of a crescent, girls with long hair, and all men and girls dressed in white robes and pale blue cloaks with gold bands, round their foreheads. The centre figure, an old man with a beard who recites the prologue, has a wonderful face and voice; he is Anton Lang, who for years took the part of our Lord —such a gentle, fine expression, but too old for the part now. After the prologue singing takes place, then the crescent divides into two parts and the blue curtain is drawn, and two tableaux are seen—Old Testament scenes portraying Scripture; most beautiful, the figures so well placed and absolutely still, just like paintings. Then the play begins. I only wish I could describe it, but it almost made one gasp at its beauty—the wonderful Eastern colouring, the voices soft and clear and yet so powerful; the scene of the Cleansing of the Temple and the doves being let out of the baskets and fluttering about the stage—all so perfectly natural. In the background a few fine arches and overhead the real blue sky, with, at the moment, some fine clouds, and the real sun shining on the ’ Eastern colours, all too lovely. Christ, as personified by Alois Lang, is taller than the ethers, most wonderfully dignified, with dark hair and beard and a deep, fine voice. As the play went on, one felt more and more how wonderful he was. There was a marvellous scene of the rabble and Pilate—over 1000 on the stage, the whole village taking part. It is absolutely realistic—the colours and the shouting, and never a wrong action!

The Crucifixion is indescribable. I could hardly look at it; but the wonderful scene with Mary in the Garden takes away all the sadness. There is nothing too much, and yet it makes one understand it all in a way no book could do.

One meets the actors doing their ordinary work before and after—no selfconsciousness, all so simple, not a bit spoilt. Our host (who is Herod), most dignified and simple, is such a finelooking old man, but he acted the part of a jeering king to perfection. (He sold stamps in his office just before the play!) Every morning, before the play, which is twice a week, Wednesdays and Sundays, all the chief actors receive Holy Communion. The whole thing is treated so reverently that you feel as if you are living in a different world. The play lasts from 8 a.m. to 11.30, then two hours interval, and from two to about 5.45. Whatever the weather, the play takes place. About 50 per cent of the days are wet, and the actors often wet through in the open. All the dresses, beautiful Eastern flowing robes, are made in the village during the ten years which elapse between the performance. Carving and timber work are the trades of the people, and the music, which is very fine, is the same as 200 years ago.