That Serbian Gavrilo Princip assassinated the Austrian crown prince in 1914, thus triggering World War I, was until recently in the Netherlands no more than a dry historical fact. But now that it has been a century since this attack, this young freedom fighter is still getting a face in our country. But what De Warme Winkel is doing in the performance 'Gavrilo Princip' is much more than 'giving a face'.
In this formidable performance, you do not feel like you are watching historical events from a safe distance. You are dragged through the reasonlessly rushing history without a foothold.
How did Gavrilo Princip come to his act?
The form chosen by De Warme Winkel is ironclad. The group makes a film on the spot, i.e. in the Van Gendthallen in Amsterdam. You see in real life how individuals are busy playing and recording the film scenes. At the same time, you see the film on a large scale. So you get the feeling of incessant back and forth: on the one hand, individuals plod on in a turbulent, uncertain time; on the other, their actions become major historical events that tear the world apart. You feel the contrast between what an individual does within his small horizon, actions with immediately visible consequences, and on the other hand the big, recorded, uncontrollable story of what has happened to humanity.
The camera prowls the set, filming actors, pictures and interiors, and zooms in on Gavrilo. This is done through psychiatrist Pappenheim, with whom Gavrilo tries to oversee his life during the years of his imprisonment. In acted scenes, you see the young revolutionary, who wants Bosnia to break away from the Habsburg Empire and join Serbia. He is driven by ideals: revenge, but also love. The crown prince must die. Later in prison, Gavrilo slowly realises that he too will die. Under tears, he tells Pappenheim about the ordinary, small-human things he most longs for at that moment. This moving story resonates amid a setting that is in tatters after all the entanglements.
Certain images and music take on symbolic connotations. The Warm Shop builds this symbolism particularly beautifully, compellingly and multifacetedly. Versatile in the sense of: both dramatic and ironic, both realistic with historical images and as surreal, as in a trip. Chopin's death march sounds as the Austrians hear that their beloved crown prince has been killed. Their cosy evening is ruined. On the film footage, their world tilts. The glory of the empire dissolves and dissolves into tears, blood and Chopin's distorted sounds. A man and a woman turn into defenceless dwarfs on a billiard table. The billiard table is another example of genius, from the awkward scene in a working-class pub where the resistance group is formed, and ending in a pitiful image of the fallen upper class. And to end all romantic feelings about this, the death march dissolves into screeching sirens.
'Gavrilo Princip' is about authenticity in the face of sweeping personal choices. The oath of allegiance in the people's café sounds like a prayer mumbled after by church folk. But Gavrilo, a well-read, educated student who thinks a lot, expresses his own sacred motive with it.
The Warm Shop makes you breathtakingly feel what it is like when a young person from the bottom of society outgrows his limited existence and feels the urge to do something of significance in the world. Energy is released that cannot be put back into the quietly rippling existence that dominated large parts of the Habsburg Empire.
Isn't it predictable that The Warm Shop draws a line at the end to the Syrians, the idealistic perpetrators of violence of our time, and perhaps of our country? It is, yes. What is its function? In the Netherlands, people hardly dare to let the fear evoked by the jihadists get to them. Compared to the adventure the fighters plunge into, existence in the Netherlands is rippling. The actors of The Warm Shop put themselves in the shoes of jihadists. We hear one of them talk about his ideals, but also about the ordinary life he leads in the Netherlands, in the hair salon where he works. Both forces are intertwined in such a person. We do not yet know what to make of young people who want to fight Assad. In the long run, are they not also a danger to ourselves? As we form our thoughts about them, it is good to realise that both forces live in them: the will to do nothing to fight injustice and the habitual desire to work in their hair salon in an environment that accepts them.
Still to be seen:
Sat 21 June, 9pm; with introduction by Florian Hellwig at 8.15pm
Wed 25 June, 21.00; with introduction by Florian Hellwig at 20.15 and after the performance: meet the artist with Vincent Rietveld and Florian Hellwig
Thu 26 June, 9pm; with introduction by Florian Hellwig at 8.15pm
Fri 27 June, 24:00
Location: Amsterdam Roest, Van Gendthallen
English (UK) 
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