With ‘energy’ as its primary leitmotiv, Wolf-Dieter Ernst's study on the affective actor takes no hostages in the formulation of its central claim, and it is therefore all the more fitting that the book's main conceit is entirely encapsulated in its title. To the author, post-dramatic theatre at heart beats to the pulse of the energy it exudes via its one vital constituent: the actor. The opening chapter, entitled ‘Der affektive Schauspieler als “Theatertier”’ (The Affective Actor as ‘Theatre Animal’), strikes a comparable discursive drive doubled by the bestial motif it develops. Indeed, to Ernst, the affective – that is, fiery, energetic, non-calculating – actor embodies no less than one of the most challenging epistemological problems in contemporary theatre studies on behalf of the resistance to conceptual encapsulation s/he represents.

Structurally, though, the book's energy starts to lag at quarter-distance, after the first thematic cluster of theoretically oriented chapters. This is not to say that the four following parts are uninteresting or less original in their own right, but simply that reading experiences may veer from the action-packed intellectual rigour of the aforementioned introductory section, over two similarly innovative and conceptually taut chapters on ‘Trial and Training’, to a rather surprising sense of imbalance generated by detailed yet primarily descriptive case studies. Another (relative) point of criticism would concern the scarcity – again, with the exception of the first three chapters – of cross-referencing between the book's various sections, just as the absence of an overarching conclusion. On the whole, this is regrettable because it unjustly diminishes the book's heuristic reach. Just so, the concluding chapter, ‘Nachwort und Ausblick’ (Afterword and Outlook), offers yet another descriptive analysis before abruptly taking its leave. Make no mistake, though, the individual examples of affective acting in – high-profile, one should add – post-dramatic productions are particularly well chosen. On top of that, the decision to break up the book into two distinct parts was an admittedly conscious one, whereby Ernst urges us to bear in mind the distinction between the affective actor as concept and as concrete, biographically rooted externalization of artistic practice (p. 23). Accordingly, chapter 4 tackles the technical and moral challenges inherent to playing Adolf Hitler by focusing in particular on Bruno Ganz's performance in Bernd Eichinger's Der Untergang (2004) before moving on to the countless YouTube spoofs it has spawned. Next up is Thomas Tieme's impersonation of the Dirty Rich character in Luk Perceval's highly subversive Shakespeare adaptation/conflation Ten Oorlog! (1997), followed by an analysis of the embodied problem of scenic imagination by the actor in Jan Lauwers's Images of Affection (2002). Chapter 7, in turn, tackles the (re)presentation of affect via a critical take on capitalism in Katja Bürkle's scene of fury in René Pollesch's Liebe ist Kalter als das Kapital (2007), before the ‘Nachwort und Ausblick’ returns to the work of this German director to state its final claim: in post-dramatic theatre, energy-laden affective performances express the (verbally) inexpressible, and so enable a dialogue that transcends rational considerations (p. 213) – a bit like this book, then.