Goethe(n) Abend!

The master was spared nothing, says the subtitle, and the evening proves it with three centuries of parodies — witty ones and spiteful ones, from his misuse in advertising through to genuinely brilliant dramatic send-ups, as the house's own billing has it. There is a Goethe game for the audience that thinks it knows the work, and the complete works compressed into three minutes. Weimar makes its living from taking this man seriously, so an evening that does the opposite is a public service, and the parodies are also a form of proof: nobody bothers to mock a writer who has stopped mattering.