Imagining Shakespeare in ‘Moral Terror’

On Sunday afternoon I saw a new production of a play called “Mortal Terror” at Suffolk University in collaboration with our own Boston Playwrights Theatre (also starring new faculty member Michael Hammond!).  Written by Robert Brustein (who founded the A.R.T), “Mortal Terror” is the second in a trilogy of newly conceived plays about the life of Shakespeare as he was writing his own plays. Set in 1605, King James urges Shakespeare to write a piece of work, which later becomes ‘MacBeth’, that will validate the king’s right to the throne. Although a wonderfully innovative and exciting premise, to me the show lacked a strong drive to push these characters along the story. I was not highly disappointed but I was left with a feeling of its… potential.

The show struck a new cord in me as I was reading Charles Mee’s preface to Divine Fire called “The Culture Writes Us” in tandem with a positive Boston Globe article on the production. Mee notes that he believes all artists take in what culture gives them and transforms it in their own unique manner while Brustein talks about the overwhelming inspiration of seeing Laurence Olivier’s film version of Henry V in 1944. This artistic thread of inspiration and transformation is very exciting to a young artist like myself. To be an audience member of a play which was written by a playwright who was inspired by an actor in a film which was presumably directed by someone who was transformed by reading a play by William Shakespeare who very well may have been inspired to write that very play by a King, a friend or a older poet ..is a pretty exciting linage to be a pivotal part of. Mee describes a “tension between what has been made and what can be re-made (which) lives in the very essence of the work – that our common human project of making life on earth, making a society, making a bareable or wonderful civilization, is alive in every particle of the work.” This very blog is just a inspired transformation of my thoughts from a play and a short essay and therefore continues the thread of the drama.

“Finding Joe,” and, Being the Hero of Your Own Life

I saw an excellent trailer for a movie last weekend. It hit me at the exact right time, with school getting back in full swing and my life as an artist coming back into sharp focus. I spent a lot of the summer figuring out what's important to me as a person outside of the theatre, and now it's time to dive back in, but how do I reconcile those people? How do I keep my sanity with an insane schedule and work load? How do I remember who I am and what I love when life moves so quickly around me? "Finding Joe" is a movie about Joseph Campbell, one of the most renowned experts on mythology of all-time. It follows the links between almost every story ever told, and how being a central figure, or a "hero" in one's own life story is the ultimate goal. The movie looks inspiring to me both as a "normal" person and as an artist. I think it's important for all of us, as artists and as people, to remember to be the hero of our own story, and to face our fears and doubts and push through to find the greatest parts of ourselves and finding satisfaction in our daily lives. My favorite quote from the trailer is, "I think people wake up to the fact that they are hero of their own life when they get tired of being the victim of it."...it's a nice thought to keep around, especially on the tough days when doing what we do becomes seemingly impossible and I think myself silly or impractical for wanting to be a part of such a magical world.

Handspring Puppet Company

I will be addicted to TED videos till the day I die, and here is an excellent one. It tells the story of the Handspring Puppet Company. You most likely know this company because of their amazing production War Horse on Broadway (which I have yet to see). This video brings some really cool insight into puppetry. For instance, when we see a hyena leap so realistically onto a table, why do we think it's real? What are the most important parts of the hyena? The joints are wooden; the skin is clearly fabric. But the movement is so hyena-like. The hyena puppet breaths like a real hyena. In the movement and a few choice physical features lies the imagination.

The reason I know and love Handspring is because they are based in Cape Town, SA (a city I lived in for the last year), and I saw a lot of their genius work. My favorite of theirs that I saw was Ouroboros. This was a gorgeous visual and emotional experience, and coincidentally, a few of my friends were puppeteers. Handspring is a groundbreaking company that brings true pathos to the world of puppetry. Before I saw Handspring I assumed puppetry was only good for Punch and Judy, and maybe something colorful at a circus. The moment I started to cry during Ouroboros was when I first realized how expansive puppetry can be. They are a beautiful company. Here is a review of Ouroboros. Hope you enjoy!

The “Cheezburger” and 21st-Century Culture

As budding dramaturgs, we’ve already been taught that we should go forth and feed ourselves on culture. But what if all that’s for dinner these days is commonly referred to as “the lowest form of culture”? Should this growing subset of our 21st-century cultural identity – internet memes – be able to whet our appetites? Apparently graduate student Kate Miltner, future recipient of a master’s degree in internet memes, thinks so.

Miltner first got my attention on the Independent’s online Life & Style section, in an article about her carrying the unfortunately apt title “Memes: Take a look at miaow.” The 29-year-old London School of Economics student, who has devoted her years as a graduate student to the “often trite viral images and films” we call memes, has just handed in her dissertation. As her profile on the Independent says, “Miltner will soon be qualified to say ‘I can has master’s degree’, having completed a qualitative audience study of lolcat users.” Shocked as I was to read this much of Miltner’s profile, an explanation of this new field of cultural study given by one of her colleagues stopped me in my tracks: “The short answer [to why meme research is important],” says NYU grad student Patrick Davison, “is because these are the kind of cultural interactions that people participate in these days.” Do I wish I could argue with Davison, and contest this artistically disheartening “short answer”? Yes. Can I? No. As much as it pains me to admit it, no.

Look at the article here for a more thorough investigation of Miltner, Davison, and their work.

As an academic field of study, what Miltner has devoted herself to is completely legitimate. Culturally, her endeavor holds as much weight as any artists’ might. In a strange, Warhol-esque kind of way, she is studying what the people consume as a culture, legitimizing it therein, and making a living off of it. And it seems to be teaching her a lot about the people themselves, lestaways the trends they follow. So then what is it about this article and this brand-new field of study that is so maddening to me, a growing artist of the theatre? I suppose a large part of my angry confusion stems from a resentment that, as Davison says, people have chosen pictures of plump felines wanting ‘cheezburgers’ as a method of interacting culturally with their fellow man. Or rather, that they’ve chosen that cultural medium, and not mine. Or hey, who knows, maybe I’m just upset that Kate Miltner thought of LolCats as a way to make a living first. So should we praise the industrious Kate Miltner and follow her meme-tastic example? Should we as theatre artists continue to work with those in her field to further the relevance of our own art form? Or is there a cultural shift and separation the theatre should make for preservation’s sake?

Give a Girl Some “Wiggle Room”….

alg_nancy_upton2In a rush to check my morning e-mail, something stopped me: an add on my yahoo news about an American Apparel ad campaign scandal. Until the moment I read that article I didn't believe that owning a pair of American Apparel leggings and being a feminist were facts about myself that would, on this fateful day, conflict.

American Apparel issued a contest, "The Next Big Thing," to inaugurate their new "plus size" line of clothing. Expanding their line to include sizes above 12 (keep in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that the average American woman is, in fact, a size 12...thus 12 is not an enlarged size).  An excerpt from the campaign reads: "Calling curvy ladies everywhere!... [and] those of us who need a little extra wiggle room where it counts,We’re looking for... curvaceous bods to fill these babies out. If you think you’ve got what it takes to be the next XLent model, send us photos of you and your junk to back it up... We’ll select a winner to star in your own bootylicious photoshoot." (American Apparel Can't Take a Fat Joke by Alexander Abad-Santos)

As you may have guessed, some "plus sized"  women took issue with this request and one, Nancy Upton, decided to do something about it. Fearful that many women would end up objectifying themselves, Upton determined to take matters into her own hands. She entered the contest, hired a professional photographer and proceeded to address what she felt was a contest that mocked her size by mocking the contest itself. Upton commissioned high fashion shots of herself devouring and bathing in various foods, in an attempt to prove to the company that, in her words, "I can be fat and I can be beautiful. The two are not mutually exclusive." (ABC News: Consumer Report 09/15/2011)

Upton won the popular vote for her photographs, but the company refused to name her the winner, citing the fact that Upton had ignored the spirit of the contest and ignored the positive facets of the campaign. But Upton said she considered her endeavor successful because she had "provoked discussion and promoted awareness about the depiction of plus-sized women in the media." (ABC News: Consumer Report 09/15/2011)

Herein lies the connection to the theatre that this article incited in me, that Upton sought to provoke discussion about a raw question she had. She could have addressed this question in a quieter way. A more "appropriate" way. She could have written a letter to American Apparel. But that has been done, and what discussion would have developed from a letter? None. What publicity? By choosing the provocative route, Nancy Upton has forced the media to deal with an uncomfortable and unanswered question-- We raised this question in our class-- Why aren't we asking questions that we don't have the answers to? My dream is that as theatre artists we can be this aggressive (as aggressive as Upton) in our work so that the questions we are asking expand beyond the parameters of the institutions we are working within.

Thank you, Nancy Upton!

Creativity in Dramaturgy: re-imagining Measure for Measure

In class we have been discussing how dramaturgy is, indeed, a very creative job.  Contrary to the image of library monkey that we sometimes have of dramaturges, they provide an absolutely essential service to the play, playwright, director, and audience.  They contextualize the play and help to make it relevant to the current moment.  They discover the need for the play and make sure that that need is felt in the process and reception of the piece.

This summer I saw this concept in action. In mid August, I went to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, Oregon.  I saw several plays, including Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare.  Before I saw this production, Measure for Measure was one of my least favorite Shakespeare plays because of the way that the Duke asks Isabela to marry him at the end, and she says nothing.  In the past productions I have seen, Isabela has always simply walked over to the duke happily, despite the fact that throughout the play she is seen as a pious, chaste, independent woman studying to be a nun.  There is also no evidence that she falls in love with the Duke in the text prior to his proposal.  So why does she want to marry him??  I have always seen this moment as an abandonment of morals, and a statement that in order to be happy, one must get married (everyone gets married at the end, would it be too sad to leave Isabela out?  Because marriage is assumed o make everyone happy?).  In the OSF production however, the play ends not with Isabela walking to the Duke, but Isabela walking to the Duke’s podium.  Throughout the last scene in the OSF production, the Duke stands at a podium to hear the complaints of the citizens (a role that is played by the audience with actors planted among them).  This podium has a microphone on it, a symbol of the Duke’s power.  In the last moment of the show, Isabela crosses to the podium, surveys the audience, realizes her power, puts a hand on the mic, takes a breath in, and the lights go out.  This final moment empowers Isabela rather than disempowers her.  It becomes clear that she is accepting the Duke’s proposal perhaps out of love, but more so because she sees that she can now have a voice, be a part of the political process in which she has found so much corruption.  As I understand it now, this is dramaturgy.  This ending deals with sexism inherent in the script and re-contextualizes it for modern audiences.  It turns Isabela from passive in the final moment to active (which is also more in keeping with her character throughout the show). The show also used a Latin American female band as its ensemble, but that’s an entirely different discussion, though also related to dramaturgy and keeping the show current/ culturally relevant.  For more info on the show (I highly recommend it!!) go to this link.

Interestingly, on the online page describing the artistic team for the show, the dramaturge is not mentioned.  The page that shows the artistic team for the entire festival, however, has three dramaturges listed: Lue Morgan Douthit, Gina Pisasale, and Ilana Stein.  I can’t imagine that there was no dramaturge on the show, especially when I saw so much dramaturgical impact in performance.  So why isn’t the dramaturge listed on the online Measure for Measure page?  An interesting question…

“I Will Not Stand Xenophobia and I Will Not Finance It”

If I were not a theatre artist, I would most definitely work in the political realm, as something along the lines of a diplomat or ambassador. In fact, for most of my life, I've been trying to figure out how I could do both. Unsurprisingly, the theatre news and literature I'm most drawn to exists at the intersection of these two fields.

A story that I've been following closely over the tail-end of the summer, is that of Robert Sturua, a Georgian director, who is perhaps best known for directing Alan Rickman in an acclaimed production of Hamlet at Riverside Studio in London in 1986, and is the former Artistic Director of The Shota Rustaveli Theater (since 1980), a state subsidized theater in Tblisi, Georgia. Sturua, long an agitator of dissent against the government, was fired from this position by the Georgian Minister of Culture, Nika Rurua, for making xenophobic comments, specifically about the President of Georgia. "I don't want the President of Georgia to be a representative of another nationality. I would like to see a Georgian heading the country, and not an Armenian, which Mikheil Saakashvili is," he said. Less reported, but perhaps even more unsettling, was his retort to the criticism of his initial statement, which included a racist diatribe stating that he was "under no obligation to love blacks, claiming they were culturally inferior to him." The salient details can be found here and here.

This is a very thorny issue, combining the ideas of freedom of speech and artistic expression with the role of a state-funded theatre and the duties and responsibilities of its employees to the government and to the citizens of the country. While I am a fervent supporter of civil liberties and freedom of expression, there is most certainly a line of what is tolerable. And these statements most certainly cross it. But it brings up many questions. Should the line be in a different place for artists and cultural agitators than public officials? Should the fact that a portion of an Artistic Director's salary is paid by the government/public censor the artistic expression of that person? Because an individual harbors xenophobic sentiments, does that mean they are present in the person's art? Is their art "bad" simply by virtue of these expressed or unexpressed subtextual sentiments? There's a lot of interesting stuff to unpack here, and while I instinctually come down very much on the side opposing the director and his abhorrent comments, what is the long-range effect of such a definitive stance? Sometimes politically incorrect and politically incendiary statements are necessary and useful in the public discourse, as opposed to the hateful destructiveness of Sturua's comments. Where is that line?

The general response to these events of the past month has been intriguing and at times shocking. Among the numerous protests and petitions circulating Russia and Georgia, was an open letter to Nika Rurua from several high profile, respected British actors who have worked with Rurua (including Alan Rickman, Vanessa Redgrave, and Thelma Holts) protesting his dismissal (here). What does this say about them? Are they just supporting his artistic output and freedom of expression, or does their letter implicitly condone his statements? Regardless of the ultimate judgement passed on Sturua, it has already become clear that his directing career is not over, as he has just recently accepted a job working at the Et Cetera Theatre in Moscow, Russia (here).

Is this a victory for personal liberties and artistic expression, or a loss for the perpetuation of human decency in the arts?

Ganesh Versus The Third Reich

This article jumped out at me while browsing some theater news today. At first I clicked on it because I found the premise to be quirky and amusing, but after viewing the text and video within, it got the dramaturgical gears turning in my brain. In short, the play is about the Hindu god Ganesh traveling back to Nazi Germany to reclaim his holy symbol -- the swastika. Listening to the director discuss his company's new creation was rather interesting, and hearing Hindu leaders enter a theatrical conversation with the work was also intriguing  (even if their reaction was quite negative). Give it a look, it will certainly provoke many questions/thoughts of your own.

Stick Fly!

Ever since our discussion on the trials of regional theatres, I've been thinking a lot about what kind of theatre should be produced in regional theatres, and on broadway, and why? Before I came to BU, I was a part of the subscription audience for Seattle theatres such as ACT and Intiman (before it closed), and I saw some fairly amazing work there. Intiman definitely had trouble in it's last years with filling their seasons with reinvented classics that just didn't hit home for audiences. These two theatres, although dependent on ticket sales, have done a rather admirable job, in my opinion, of drawing a diverse audience in. I've seen Streetcar there, as well as Ruined by Lynn Nottage, and new plays in their premieres, but still the majority of the audience I was usually surrounded by were upper middle class over 50 white couples. And although most of the time the work this company was doing was of high quality, doing these new, off the cannon works weren't drawing big enough audiences for the theatre. What's to be done?

Last year I went to see Stick Fly at the Wimberley, and not only was it one of the best pieces of theatre I have seen in a long time, it was written by a relatively young black woman, and for the first time in my life, I felt like the minority of the audience. It was amazing. I've been tracking the NY Times coverage of Lydia's broadway debut, and I found this article today which comments on the novelty of finding three African American women producing plays on broadway in one season. The rarity of this didn't surprise me, as I have long seen broadway as a commerical, economy driven theatre scene, which doesn't accurately represent the American people. The article also commented on the regional theatre movement, and shared experiences that both Lydia and Katori Hall went through when producing their plays at regional theatres. Lydia personally commented on how when regional theatres would produce her plays, she would have to take over marketing the plays to black audiences, because the marketing department wasn't interested in appealing to new audiences who might not bring in the same money.

I guess where I'm going with this is, yes, it is fantastic, that two black female playwrights made it to broadway this year, and yes, it would be awesome if regional theatres and broadway would represent a more diverse community of theatregoers. All I know, is that when I saw Stick Fly for the first time, I was the minority, and it was refreshing. Lydia's play drew a great new audience to a regional theatre, but it also opened my eyes to a theatre experience I had never had before. I didn't feel excluded, or like an outsider, as with black plays for black people which generally leave me walking away feeling guilty. I felt represented, and educated. To me, Stick Fly is more of a universally human play that appeals to a wide range of audiences. Call me white and ignorant, but I can't help feeling that we don't need more plays catered to a specific audience, what we need is more universal theatre, that can appeal to people from all kinds of different backgrounds. I think the reason that most of these regional theatres are being accused of being misrepresentative is that they keep catering to one audience, as opposed to choosing theatre they think needs to be performed, not for the money but because it is artistically interesting and fulfilling to produce. I don't think we need more plays for white people, I think we need more universal theatre, that can look at all of us who are so worried about offending each other and getting our people onto the stage, laugh at them, cry with them, and come away feeling educated, surprised, and touched. I don't have to have the life experiences of anyone on that stage to be moved. And I'd rather learn about something I haven't experienced that watch the same stories people still seem to think are what needs to be said today.

I put the link to the article below in case anyone wanted to check it out.

NY Times Article

Look at the moon!

Hello!

One of my friends from Whitman University is studying abroad in Britain, and he just wrote me about seeing a show at Kneehigh. He sent me a link to their website, and I was introduced to a trove of theatrical inspiration.

I've always been interested in theatre that has ties to the natural world, to environmentalism, to our origins, etc.  I find western society's insistence on divorcing itself from nature both fascinating and appalling. As a society we consistently disown any relationship with nature; we take a hatchet to our roots again and again. I feel that theatre is THE art form to re-awaken this connection. The ritual of gathering to work out grand questions of life, the universe, and everything through performance is inherently connected to the natural world. Nature provides the original inspiration, means, and amphitheater. Unfortunately, for me, all "nature based" theatre I've seen has savored strongly of self rightousness, body odor, and wishy washy new age nonsense. If anyone has seen taking Woodstock, most of my collisions with nature-theatre have been uncomfortably similar to the theatre troupe living in Dimitri Martin's barn.

Obviously I was less than excited when the first thing I read about Kneehigh was that they rehearsed in barns. I prepared myself for hippie dippie doo da day. I was proved wrong. I HIGHLY recommend reading Kneehigh's "About Us" page in depth, but for those who haven't the time, here's the skinny:

-Kneehigh is a British theatre company based in Cornwall.

-They renovated some ancient barns and built some new one's as their rehearsal spaces. They also rehearse their plays in site specific locations, i.e. Tristan and Yseult rehearsed in the ruin of Restormel Castle before moving to an indoor stage. They almost always rehearse in the open air before they move inside.

-Everyone in the ensemble is expected to aid in the cooking, cleaning, building, technical production, music, and lighting.

-They are dedicated to providing theatre for the community they are a part of, and seem to be some of the most conciencious, thoughtful theatre folk I've ever heard of. To them, the audience is not a beast to be wrangled with, but rather a friend to invite in and sit down.

-They cite the natural world as the inspiration of all their devised theatre.

Please, go and check out their website. It's incredibly rich and interesting.

http://www.kneehigh.co.uk/

Thanks!

Audience in the Hot Seat!

A new play that opened at the Jackie Liebergott Black Box Theatre at Arts Emerson puts the responsibility for a satisfying theatrical experience into the audience's hands. "How Much is Enough" is a show that provides an interactive experience with the audience by using their answers to various questions posed throughout the show as fodder. While there is a outline of a script the show is largely improvised around the dialogue that occurs between actors and audience. It is in the hands of the audience, therefore, what type of show they want to see that night, one that is dry and unconnected or a show where the content is engaged, thoughtful and honest. While the show has received mixed reviews it marks the potential of a shift back to when audiences were very involved in the productions they were seeing, back when the audiences cheers or boo's would fuel the show. "How Much is Enough" is putting the audience back in the hot seat by not allowing them to sit in the A/C and drowse and instead forcing them to engage and be an active part of the theatre making and their own experience.

Read More »

Ruhl… RULES!!!

I'm finally hopping on the Sarah Ruhl train.. I had always liked her work in the past, but I guess it had just never left a strong impression on me after I was done.. UNTIL! Now. These past couple weeks I read 3 of her plays in succession - Dead Man's Cell Phone, The Clean House, and In The Next Room (or the Vibrator Play). After I was finished, I felt so fulfilled and moved by each of these 3 stories, yet in such different ways. All 3 stories seemed so uniquely different and encapsulating of their own worlds, filled with dynamic characters, plenty of idiosyncrasies, and moving, wholly rounded plot lines and themes. Yet there was something, a je ne sais quoi (besides having the same playwright), that seemed to link these different planets together. So I've been dwelling upon it for quite some time, and here I am to address is. Has Sarah Ruhl found out how to create the contemporary version of the 19th century well-made play? I couldn't help but notice that many of the aspects of the 19th century well-made play (plot, climax, casually related plot complications, many of them comedic or farse-like) are found in her plays as well.

We can't ignore her popularity -- I haven't met a person who hasn't expressed some variation of love or interest in her yet, and I'm wondering if its because the structure of her writing ties it all together into a wildly contemporary, yet all the same, perfect example of a well-made play. I don't necessarily think I've found the answer -- why her plays do what they do and the effect they have on us, but this theory certainly has me wondering.

Some more articles about Ruhl/her work

The New Yorker
Bomb Magazine

NY Neo-Futurists on O’Neill

http://theater.nytimes.com/2011/09/13/theater/reviews/neo-futurists-present-stage-directions-from-oneill-plays.html?ref=theater

The New York Neo-Futurists are doing a different take on O'Neill. Whereas his plays are usually performed in a serious manner focusing on the dialogue he provides, they've decided to do the opposite. The Neo-Futurists are putting stage directions center stage and interpreting them in a more humorous manner. This take on O'Neill is quite interesting to me because it is so different from what we normally see in the world of theatre. We all know that theatre is about the journey the characters take, but that has significantly less room here. Instead, the importance of stage directions is being brought out. The audience is now able to fully understand how O'Neill saw his plays, rather than a director's, producer's, actor's, designer's, etc interpretation. The author, Charles Isherwood, states that the show is "an impish illustration of how lively entertainment can be create from theatrical spare parts." This is a great explanation of the show itself and shows how the New York Neo-Futurist came to decide upon what story they wanted to tell and how.

Read “The Pleasure Principle: Sex, Backlash and the Struggle for Gay Freedom!”

Hey Folks,

Last Fall, I was attempting to write a film treatment for a class led by filmmaker Jennie Livingston (who made Paris is Burning) that directly connected Charles Atlas, exercise extraordinaire, to the hypersexual gym culture that exists within the gay community. In my research, I found that a queer theorist, Michael Bronski, who is a professor in the Women and Gender studies department at Dartmouth, had already made the connection. This was revealed through his 1998 analytical literature, "The Pleasure Principle: Sex, Backlash and the Struggle for Gay Freedom." The book seemed like an important read for the future, so I put the amazon book link in my bookmarks.

This summer, I decided I would order the book and read it before I arrived to school, thinking it may be useful for the queer research I was in the process of conducting in my compositions. Little did I know how much the analysis would make an impact on me. This literature in an unbelievable study of Western gay culture (especially American gay male culture) and its relationship to other subcultures and the mainstream. Bronski discusses the history of the fight for gay rights and safe visibility, providing theories and explanations for the many failures and successes of the movements that have occurred through questioning cultural associations to pleasure (i.e. the title's reference to Freud's famous text). The piece explores mainstream appropriations and rejections of subcultural ideas and practices and asks specifically how gay culture combats and compromises with a dominantly white, heterosexual, Anglo-Saxon patriarchy. The work also struck me as an artist because Bronski writes about the tradition of gay artists and how gay art figures are and always have been crucial to the growth of the "gay community" and society as a whole (The book opens with a reference to the 4 gay artists whose NEA grants were vetoed in 1990).

I HIGHLY recommend reading this book, as not only a source on gay culture and the construction of gender, but also to inform one's understanding of the heterosexual, nuclear-family in relationship to viewing and making art. Here's the link on Amazon:

The Pleasure Principle: Sex, Backlash and the Struggle for Gay Freedom

Please let me know if you read this book at some point! This information I hold near and dear to my heart.
Stuart

Porgy and Bess

Ciao!
I wanted to bring to light the controversy surrounding the recently revived production of PORGY AND BESS.

Personally I have yet to come to a conclusion about my sentiments around the controversy yet. Where I understand why people are not interested in reviving such a scarring part of history via the content of PORGY AND BESS, I see the validity of redeeming and restructuring this classic.

The dialogue in this video is extremely insightful.

Check it out-- what do you think?
Controversy Surrounding The Art's Porgy and Bess

Cloteal

keyword: violence

As some of you probably know, one of the things I did this summer was Masked. For anyone who doesn't know, it's a play by Ilan Hatsor, about three Palestinian brothers whose family has been damaged and who have been pulled in different directions by the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and how they choose (or are forced to choose) to engage with it.

It's not a very happy play.

When I was invited to do it, I was in tech for the other show I did this summer, RENT, and finishing up Physics, and starting Genetics and Shakespeare. And planning to move the week Masked would open. I wasn't looking to get sucked into something I didn't want and begin the fall semester already burned out. I gave it a lot of thought. I weighed my pros and cons. And, ultimately, I emailed Stephen (the director) this:

Read the play. Enjoyed the play? Well, no, probably not accurate to say I "enjoyed" it (it's pretty depressing), but I did find it compelling and a story worth sharing.

I think about what that means a lot - "a story worth telling." "Theatre with a purpose." All those things we say, that I usually feel like mean something to me, but sometimes I feel like might just translate to "memory play and/or dead child and/or plight of the working man DARKNESSSSS art is painnn." And I think about when I Googled Dutchman for class last year, and found this article, where Dulé Hill (The West Wing, Psych, and soon STICK FLY!!!!!) says:

"I'd spent seven years playing Charlie on The West Wing, but I never forgot about the stage. In fact, the entire West Wing experience was about hanging around actors who ingrained in my mind that theater is where you go to work on your craft. TV is where you get paid and take care of your family, but theater is where the real work is done (emphasis mine)."

This is not about whether I think any "real work" can be done in TV, or even what Dulé means, because I think what he's saying is at least in part specific to his job as an actor. It's about how all the time I find myself taking that clause out of context and trying to unpack it further. What's the "real work," for me? What are the things I want to say? What's the play I need to write, and what are the things I can talk about every day, so I'm always working and teaching (and learning!)?

I like this article quite a bit. It's called "Reading Shakespeare in Kandahar," and it begins:

"Thank you for coming," Prof. David Kastan told the half-full auditorium. "You did not have to be here this morning. I did. It means the world to me that you came." I looked around at my fellow classmates; we were all tired and dazed. The night before, the acrid, unforgettable smell of melted steel, atomized concrete, and human remains had drifted seven miles north, from southern Manhattan up to Columbia University's campus.

It was Sept. 13, 2001, and I was 21 years old. Two days earlier, I had walked into Kastan's Shakespeare class before the attacks began and walked out after the second tower had already fallen. Columbia canceled classes for two days. I spent my time at the daily student newspaper, the Spectator, where I was managing editor. On Thursday morning, the first class back was Shakespeare.

"I will not make a political statement today," Kastan continued. "But I will say this: This play we will discuss today is about revenge -- and what demanding revenge can do to a person. I only hope that the people who will be making decisions on how to respond to Tuesday's attacks read Titus Andronicus."

When he finished, the class gave him a standing ovation.

Nine-and-a-half years later, I found myself standing outside a large house in Pakistan. It was 1:00 p.m. on May 2, 2011, and I was a correspondent for ABC News. Twelve hours earlier, the United States had finally taken its revenge. In the middle of the night, Navy SEALs shot the man who ordered the 9/11 attacks in the head and chest. After loading his body onto a helicopter, they flew it to Afghanistan and then to a ship at sea, where they dumped the prepared body in the ocean. I was the first American reporter to arrive at Osama bin Laden's compound in Abbottabad. My team and I aired the first video from inside the compound and filed 11 stories in five frantic days.

It was only after I had returned to my home in Islamabad, about a 90-minute drive away, that Titus Andronicus and Kastan's warning came to mind.

It's not a very popular play, Titus Andronicus. I've never read or seen it. Until now, I don't think I knew what it was about. (Revenge.) It hasn't been consistently well-liked through history, because it's super-bloody. If you read a couple synopses, like I did, it'll be hard for you to keep track of who raped/killed/framed who. It's about cycles of hatred and violence, and how we do horrible things to one another because we think an-eye-for-an-eye is the way to go (spoiler alert: womp womp). I think we all know where this applies; with 9/11, in Masked, all over the place. Scarily. Even Harry Potter, if you think about what needs to happen between the last chapter and the epilogue...

(Bonus link: "Post-Conflict Potter")

One of my papers this summer was about Kenneth Branagh's adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing. It praised how accessible he made it, to the point it could top a high-schooler's lists of favorites - a "Top Ten" that included movies like Titanic and The Matrix. Now, personally, I find Much Ado easy to love in any form (it's short for a Shakespeare, and full of shenanigans that totally lent themselves to middle school, when I first encountered it), but this article has actually made me curious about unfortunately-relevant Titus Andronicus, which I so was not before. Oh, Shakespeare, you are never over. Now, I don't have time to read the play and report back this week, but maybe over Thanksgiving...

On Hiatus until September

Hello readers,

We are on hiatus until September, when a new class of blog posters will take the reins.  Please come back in a month or so!

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Drowning Beautiful

I know class is done but just in case anyone comes to this blog like you might wander into your old classroom just to see if there are any ghosts around, here's something that was on a BU grad student's Facebook page (Alicia Hunt's) that just sparked me.

The play I'm working on is called Turtles and I'm sort of swimming around in its theatrical world the same way a turtle might meander underwater. (Is it randam or is it highly selective?  Who knows!) But the feeling of these images made me think about the pacing of the play. Why? I have no idea. And I don't want to know. That's for the dramaturg to figure out. (And I know Ilana is going to say, why don't you try being your own dramaturg? Am I right, Ilana?) Right now I'm only concerned with the feeling.

Anyway, check these out. If for any other reason than because it's kind of a cool idea.

The Book of Mormon – a short critical essay

I don't know what took me so long, but it suddenly hit me that I should download the soundtrack from The Book of Mormon in iTunes. Nothing short of seeing the show would be such an informative view on what all of the fuss is about. I have not been disappointed. For starters, the soundtrack is one of the best I've ever heard produced for a musical at the time of its release. The recordings are crisp, the vocals are fantastic...the overall quality is what you expect from a movie soundtrack but rarely get for a Broadway show. So good job, guys.

TBOM is quite a ride. Having grown up amidst Mormons in Spokane, and then living near the Temple in Oakland, I've always found the religion to be a bit of a mystery, mostly because the people I knew would never really explain anything about it. So full of secrets! I have come to learn that there seem to be a lot of good reasons for this. But I digress...

TBOM is an interesting mix of "things that really happen," like young 19-year-olds being sent out as Elders on missions, with the sole purpose of proselytizing the new gospels, and "things that really are," which in this case are the realities of life in a third world, AIDS-infected country like Uganda. The call of the people there is "F-U God," about which an entire song or two is devoted. Discussions of genital mutilation become prominent because, of course, this is a very real aspect of life in African societies, regardless of our Western sensibilities. At the moment that I felt myself cringe, I realized that theatrically, this show is ready to deal with life on it's own terms, and strike for something deeper than farce or simply poking fun at our too-youthful missionaries.

What the musical achieves in the process is something we expect from our plays but rarely from musicals: a synthesis of real, dynamic and deadly issues in a part of the world that has been overtly romanticized (think: Lion King, etc.) with the very -American notion that with God, money, our presence, etc., we can fix something or make it better. Elder Price, the show's co-hero, goes to Uganda believing that his work will be fairly simple. It is not, and he retreats in fear and frustration. Elder Cunningham, with few expectations for himself, finds the holy grail in modifying God's message to suit the situation at hand, invoking frogs and Jesus and a host of other images to create an outlandish new pathway to bring the people to the church. It is only outlandish because it's trying to be, the real point is that the church has been in the story modification business since the dawn of Christianity. So why not the Mormons?

That the show has been a hit is a testament to it's high quality production and humor, but also because it pokes fun at a faith that seems to keep changing its mind about things. Polygamy, black people, caffeine, the list goes on and on. And even a short research session on Joseph Smith uncovers that the "prophet" had a closet full of unbecoming inclinations: an affair with a teenage girl, betting and gambling, treason and more. Whether Mormons like it or not, there is plenty of ammo for people who question where this all came from, and how one can see past the sordid history of the church to something that reads like comic book fiction. Be that as it may, that Mormons seem to embrace change and fluidity in their faith certainly offers up a different choice and way of thinking. Christians of other faiths, of course, dismiss outright the notion that anything has changed after the delivery of the New Testament, but for the most part, their practices indicate quite a different story. Catholics, for starters, have changed everything more than once. Although not by name, most religions are convicted in TBOM, and we should remain vigilant against excluding ours own from the lampooner's sword.

A note about the music: it's not cutting edge, it's fairly old school. But it works. It's well produced, and draws upon a littany of other songs from musicals. You will hear Lion King, The Producers, Wicked, Little Shop, a few Sondheim shows, disco and more. It certainly is celebratory of the traditional Broadway fare, and its fine. The magic is in the lyrics, and the music is a vehicle for establishing the Broadway Musical format.

There is the usual Trey Parker sense of the crazy and disconnected that make this a hell of a lot of fun. Someone has "maggots in [his] scrotum!" No great reason for this, but that's why it stands out.

I understand that ticket prices to TBOM are pretty ridiculous...so if you're at all interested in what's on the cutting edge of musicals, spend 11.99 and enjoy yourself at home.

Sourcing characters

As I'm moving the chains forward on a play that involves an aspect of politics as well as home-grown attitudes,perspectives and ingrown prejudices, I am constantly wrestling with the way to summon forth what each of my characters believes, and why they believe. It's important to build in oppositions that feel genuine, because I don't want to write a play that gives a leg up to the conservatives or the liberals, or what have you. Who wants to be so predictable?

Research is one thing, and it's plenty easy to read the news for examples of people with firm beliefs about any number of hot-button items. Of course, good plays often work because one or more characters doggedly represent just one view only, which leads them to victory or destruction. I want my characters in the play I'm writing to be a little more conflicted than that. I want to create past experiences for them that inform their views and inner contradictions, and present them with options or choices with which they will become truly uncomfortable. I guess there's nothing earth-shattering in this, but the question always remains, "Where does one find these conflicts?"

I like what playwright Charles Mee writes about this topic:

"I don't write "political plays" in the usual sense of the term; but I write out of the belief that we are creatures of our history and culture and gender and politics—that our beings and actions arise from that complex of influences and forces and motivations, that our lives are more rich and complex than can be reduced to a single source of human motivation."

He goes on, and I recommend you read it and explore his website – it's a treasure trove of information and plays. But what Mee says at the end, that our lives are more rich and complex than can be reduced to a single source of motivation is really the gold nugget here. But I think what is true is that within each of us is a well of information about our characters, their oppositions, and motivations. Part of the experience of writing is digging away the top layer of self-professed "I believe" statements and unearthing the events and choices that led us to such statements of certainty. Think about anything you're sure of, and think back to a time when you weren't so sure. What happened? What are the seminal events in a life that tip the scales? As I read most of my favorite plays, it is these moments that are most significant in the way that we see a character change. It's less about research and more about introspection.

Use the force, Luke.