Judith Malina & Julian Beck – The Living Theatre
New York City, 1963. It’s a sweltering August evening on West 14th Street, and inside a small, dimly lit theatre, hell is breaking loose on stage. The play is The Brig, a searing depiction of a day in a U.S. Marine Corps military prison. Under the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights, young men in khaki uniforms bark orders at other men who scramble, heads shaved, chins dripping sweat, performing endless punitive exercises. “Move, move, move, you maggots!” a guard shrieks as prisoners jump at top speed in place. The sound of boots hitting the floor in unison—thump, thump, thump—creates a brutal rhythm. The audience is wedged on benches almost within arm’s reach of the action, flinching as each abuse is hurled and enacted. In the front row sit Judith Malina and Julian Beck, co-directors of The Living Theatre and the midwives of this harrowing production. Judith, a petite woman with intense eyes and long dark hair, clenches her hands; Julian, tall and gaunt with a mane of wild hair and paint-splattered jeans, bites his lip. They know this performance is special—and possibly the last in this space. Because outside the theatre’s double doors, city marshals and police officers have gathered. The Living Theatre, they claim, owes back taxes and fines; tonight, they intend to shut it down.