Last Call

Tweet

Peter Danish’s Last Call is a 90-minute confection of speculative daydreaming, inspired by a brief meeting between two of the most legendary conductors of the last century, Herbert von Karajan and Leonard Bernstein. Set in Vienna in 1988, in the sumptuous Blaue Bar of the Hotel Sacher, just before both men passed away, the play imagines a moment when the two giants of classical music, though not close friends, exchanged words.

The playwright takes advantage of the contrasting public personas of these two figures — von Karajan as the meticulous serious perfectionist and Bernstein as the passionate (also serious) sensualist — and spins this encounter into a broader ideological debate. It doesn’t take a genius to predict which of the two indulges in the delicacies of life (Bernstein salivates over the Sachertorte) and who remains more detached (von Karajan barely touches his), offering little more than a well-worn metaphor about the differences between their personalities.

Johannes Brahms takes on an unexpected, almost co-starring role in Last Call. At the top of the play we find von Karajan engrossed in a score of Brahms’ Symphony No. 1, contemplating whether there are still hidden depths to uncover in its familiar passages, despite conducting it 162 times (and recording it an additional four times). It’s a moment that hints at the conductor’s unyielding pursuit of perfection. Enter Bernstein, who breezes into the scene with characteristic ease. Aware of the awkwardness in potentially not acknowledging each other, the two men exchange light banter, teasing and prodding, before inevitably digging into the more unresolved aspects of their past — a gentle but telling friction that mirrors their artistic rivalry.

Leonard Bernstein, a proud Jewish figure, is unapologetically himself in Last Call, with his identity a defining part of his character. Some of his orchestral compositions are deeply rooted in that culture: Symphony No. 1 “Jeremiah,” Symphony No.3 “Kaddish,” and his score for New York City Ballet, “Dybbuk.” In Bradley Cooper’s Maestro, we see Bernstein famously dismiss Serge Koussevitzky’s suggestion to anglicize his name to “Len Burns” — a clear refusal to compromise his heritage.

In contrast, Herbert von Karajan’s relationship with his own identity is far murkier. There’s no denying the uncomfortable truth: von Karajan was a Nazi. Whether he was an ardent supporter of the Third Reich or simply a man who joined the party to preserve his career is open to debate. However, evidence suggests that his motivations may have been more pragmatic than ideological. His second wife had Jewish ancestry, a detail that certainly raised eyebrows, and it’s said that Hitler himself was never particularly fond of von Karajan. His post-war “denazification” was so thorough that it allowed him to eventually have a public presence, including a square named after him in Vienna, just across from the famed Hotel Sacher. While Last Call touches on these dark aspects of Karajan’s past, it also reminds us of the broader context: while many artists fled Europe during World War II, von Karajan remained in Berlin, firmly on the podium of the Staatskapelle Berlin.

Despite Bernstein’s understandable reservations and von Karajan’s complicated mix of shame (but notably, not guilt) regarding his past, the two men share a palpable mutual respect, tinged with a quiet jealousy. In private moments — often during the comically timed interludes when the elderly conductors must relieve themselves — the layers of their rivalry emerge. Bernstein, ever the passionate artist, confesses a longing to achieve the kind of laser-focused intensity in his interpretations that might elevate a score to transcendence. Meanwhile, von Karajan, the embodiment of meticulous precision, expresses a rare vulnerability: he envies Bernstein’s ability to ignite such raw, emotional fervor in his musicians. These personal revelations, tucked between moments of levity, subtly underscore the deep, yet fraught, connection between these two towering figures.

The play also touches on von Karajan’s first postwar performance at Carnegie Hall, where he was met with boos from the audience. While reports from the time suggest the performance itself was flawless, protests outside the venue made it clear that his past was not easily forgotten. In the play Bernstein claims to have been aware of an impending backlash, yet he took no action to prevent it. This moment is presented as a kind of metaphor for von Karajan’s complicated relationship with his Nazi affiliation: technically a Nazi, but not one in spirit. Because of his prominence as a cultural icon, looking the other way was not accepted. Positioning himself like the bumbling Sergeant Schultz on television’s Hogan’s Heroes, famous for his “I know nothing, I see nothing!” catchphrase, was not an option. The moment where Bernstein calls him on it resonates exactly as intended, a poignant reflection on von Karajan’s character…no amount of beautiful music-making could mask that.

The current production of Last Call takes an intriguing and unexpected turn by casting two women in the lead roles. German actress Lucca Züchner portrays the iconic Herbert von Karajan as the curmudgeonly elder statesman of the world’s concert halls, while American-born, Germany-based Helen Schneider takes on the role of Leonard Bernstein glowing in the man’s vibrance and flamboyance. That decision, directed by German Gil Mehmert, adds an interesting layer of artistic interpretation, though it may challenge some audience expectations.

A third actor, Victor Petersen, plays the hotel waiter Michael — a grounding presence for those less familiar with the intricacies of classical music. His role also provides a welcome dose of comic relief as the two legendary conductors reminisce, particularly exhibiting some incredible mortification when he realizes he hasn’t recognized von Karajan the entire time he has waited on him yet he exhibits classic schoolgirl crush from the moment Bernstein walks into the bar. In a particularly inventive sequence, Petersen transforms into opera diva Maria Callas singing “Il dolce suono” from Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor as a black gown and headdress descend from the flies, amplifying the production’s gender-bending sensibility and adding another layer of playful irreverence to the performance.

Director Mehmert may jokingly use his being German as the sole reason for giving us “drag king” portrayals but after watching these accomplished actresses breathing life into these two complex legends for a few minutes, it is no less nor no more a distraction than a prosthetic nose on an actor playing Cyrano de Bergerac. For decades these two men were larger than life on the grandest orchestra podiums throughout the world – these two women manage to bring that requisite fire to their incisive portrayals.

The production is ably supported by scenic designer Chris Barreca’s recreation of the Blaue Bar somehow even endeavoring to share with us the urinals in the men’s room where the men leave whatever they’ve been drinking (the bar counter itself is manually turned around to become the men’s room). Costume designer Renè Neumann gives us the quintessential GQ cover well-dressed older man ensembles: Bernstein with his red turtleneck under a suit jacket and slacks and von Karajan with his standard beige turtleneck under a sweater-jacket and slacks. Michael Grundner’s lighting design complements the colors in the room and enhances when we have the conductors’ almost Shakespearean asides of innermost admissions of envy and professional jealousy.

Last Call is a thoughtful and intellectually rich play, brimming with intriguing ideas about art and expression that will leave you feeling a bit smarter once the curtain falls. A bit of familiarity with Western classical music and its history certainly enhances the experience, especially when the two men discuss imminent changes — hinting at the fall of the Berlin Wall — and passages from the final movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 are played, recalling Bernstein’s famous “Ode to Freedom” concert in 1989. These musical moments are more decorative than essential, though, and the play’s central conflict is universal enough that even those without a deep knowledge of classical music can engage with its themes and the riveting performances onstage.

Last Call (through May 4, 2025)

New World Stages, Stage 5, 340 West 50th Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, visit http://www.telecharge.com

Running time: 90 minutes without an intermission