An American...Back in America.

Swimming in a sea of uncertainty

2007-02-13T17:20:00.000-08:00

Oversaturated.

Oversaturated.

Well then. To be living and working in a town with more theatre than it can possibly handle or support properly is a strange task for the early career theatre artist.

On the one hand, I've hooked up with Bricolage, a company I adore in both theory and practice, and who have generously embraced me.

And on the other there is this dark and twisted beast comprised of companies I am familiar with and generally frustrated by.

Plus, there's Hostile Takeover. A project that makes up for in beautiful women and lofty intentions what it lacks in direction and focus. Along with two other graduates of Point Park's acting BA, I am brainstorming what we can do. What is the point of jumping into the pool if we're just going to sink anyway? We were so excited to start our own company sans the regular bullshit of bourgeois theatre. Perhaps it was merely a trite rebellion against the middle-of-the-road standards we had pushed down our throats in college: "Throwing Our Bodies Betwixt the Cogs of the Bureaucratic Theatre Machine". But it's hard. Where do we fit into everything else? What are we creating that stands out? Or matters?

Another kick in the teeth: without those bureaucratic systems precious little actually gets done.

I know exactly what kind of theatre I DON'T want to be doing. But how do I actually turn intentions into action?

Our discussions seem limited to the room where we meet. We make lists and agree to contact people. We plan, shuffle pages of monolugues and other people's scenes, and we never seem to grab onto any of this...

Should we as artists create based on our need to push *something* into the world, or create only when we have conceived and developed this proverbial child, and can send it out with legs to stand on?

Argh.

Quotes are all I can muster. Save me from my world of retail hell!

2006-11-30T22:16:00.000-08:00

"Collaboration is marriage without sex, and subject to many vexations. But
pay no attention to them, because in one respect at least it is wonderful. The
total result is frequently far more than the combined abilities of two people
might give you."

---George S. Kaufman

Recap

2006-10-31T21:13:00.000-08:00

So where did we leave off? Well, we survived the festival and the pressure of being the 'flagship' production, even as our writing team disintegrated. I nervously lead a surprisingly well-received panel discussion, and soaked up the mixed reviews of our work. The overwhelming consensus was that we were clearly ambitious, but not altogether successful in the time frame or the execution. With such a breadth and scope of material to tackle, the play would have benefited from better research to replace weaker section and a serious reconsideration of our use of multimedia. Note to future collaborators: two days before you premiere may not be the day to start collecting and editing footage to play on your screens. Dramaturgy and feedback at a late stage like that was useless--I was frustrated because none of my notes could be acted upon, and everyone else was unsteady because they felt I wasn't giving what I should or could be.

In any case, it was what it was.

Elsewhere in the festival, you found the following:

*"Today's Special", adorable puppetry with food, right at the tables of the cafe. You could have been halfway through your lunch when a sideways glance would find Aya's like teabag giving birth or rowing fearfully away on a boat of chocolate cake.

*"The Bush and the Dog", a nomadic and silly performance that played equally well in empty classrooms, pubs, and the courtyard. Summed up perfectly by director Paul explaining his pitch in his French accent, "Well, you have zee bush and zee dog..."

*"No Expiration Date", a beautiful and evocative movement piece, exceedingly truthful about what we do to ourselves--and each other--for love. The lighting meshing with the glow of sweat on the performers? Sublime. The colors on their bodies? Subdued, neutral, and strangely naked. The undeniable? Vala's bruises after throwing herself against a concrete wall dozens of times in each performance...producing in me a wince each time, not to mention a familiar gnawing in my belly...we've all been here before.

*"Bisclavret", proof that good old-fashioned storytelling still exists. These girls (all girls, playing princes, werewolves, and anything else you can imagine) tackled the art of medieval lais, and struck a chord of intrigue and celebration with dancing, singing, and well-positioned candles.

*"Nothing to Declare", Colorful masks and daring costumes, incredible physicality. Three intertwined stories of immigration...perhaps spoiled by a large and unwieldy deus ex machina. Really makes you consider how to use masks to their greatest potential.

*"Furies", Stylish and clever. Entirely in black and white, based around an Edward Gorey plot and aesthetic, with a live cello, killer puppets, and one badass fight scene.

*"Remain", a site-specific event in St. Stephen's, a derelict church in Hampstead. Filled with light and imagination, not to mention the smells and sounds of life and texture. One memorable moment came when headed back upstairs through a darkened vestibule, where performers are curled into the ledges of stained glass windows just barely perceptible in the near total darkness...and one angelic voice starts singing a wordless a capella. Completely haunting. Also notable, Laura ascending the pulpit to do an impromptu tap number in the shadows. Proof that simplicity is key, work should emerge from the space more often, and also a grand example of what working WITHOUT a director---GASP!--- can accomplish.

*"One Man's Devil Is Another Man's God", Knowing what their intentions were went a long way toward appreciating this: 5 foreign women take on the cipher that is Sylvia Plath--her life, her work, her psyche. Gorgeous scenography in the form of floating books and silverware.

*"Hepworth", a one-woman show exploring the life of Barbara Hepworth. Sculpture recreated by the genius of one huge swath of white fabric that grew and changed as the woman herself did.

*"Heartbreaker", A mix of stand-up and sketch comedy by two of my favorite Canadians. Think self-referential drama school jokes mixed with an ongoing peek at Maddox Jolie-Pitt on a plane to Cambodia. He meets a girl, and I'll be damned if this show didn't show me moments of life and truth that I didn't know existed. They snuck it right in there among the comedy, those bastards. And they left you feeling absolutely jubilant about life when you walked out of there.

(*"Connect", yours truly in a limited engagement...playwright David and I prove that we have some talents outside of our usual roles. 5 minutes of displaced time, one boy, one girl, figuring it out...This was the extent of my onstage London career.)

A strange and wonderful collection it was. But I suppose I am partial.

Utter Confusion and my Impending Return

2006-10-04T20:40:00.000-07:00

If anyone is still out there, I wanted to say that I'm on my way back. I'm battling my post-postgraduate ennui (the end of education? What the hell do I do? do I go for a PhD just because I don't know how to function if I'm not in school? Or do I bask in my delicious laziness--days of sleeping in, reading plays, watching project runway, and painting my nails?)...

Soon. I promise. Something thoughtful, relevant even. My brain is retraining itself.

Just one little mini-rant before I go:

Why is it that my MA now makes me overqualified for what I don't want to do and underqualified for what I do want to do? I can't even get a mediocre job to pay the rent. I swear to god those letters on my resume scare people. Help!

Authorial Intentions

2006-05-22T13:03:00.000-07:00

As our team writing experiment has dwindled to 1 and a half writers, we're hard pressed to do justice to such a large amount of material in a matter of a week or so--which is when our final draft has been promised. Having our director involved with edits has been a plus, but I worry that she might be directing a play that does not yet exist, and is thereby informing choices in the text. With a writer in the room, I've been privy to many instances where a director might advocate a cut or line change rather than a serious effort to make the 'trouble-spot' work. In my experience, these rough patches can be the ones that give texture, detail, and conflict to the rest of the script. Not always, of course, but more often than not the writer has a full awareness of why they chose to include something in the first place. I would like to see them defend these bits more.

Back at my university, rumor has it that a first-time director was dissatisfied with the play she worked on, and decided to cut, edit, rearrange, and add to the original. Did she realize that this could very easily get her production shut down by the playwright? No. Neither did anyone at the theatre, apparently. (In the end, the writer came and saw it, making the concession that it did need to be changed from what it was, so she was okay with it. Her prerogative, really.)

I've been reading Playwright Versus Director: Authorial Intentions and Performance Interpretations, edited by Jeane Luere in an attempt to gain some perspective on the relationship I generally oversee as I bring new work through its transition to production.

Edward Albee has this to say:"I heard a distinction made that I didn't quite understand: the distinction was between responsibility to the playwright or responsibility to the text. It seems to me--well, first of all, nobody should go in rehearsal with a play that they don't respect. We're talking about a play with a composed text. You should not go into rehearsal assuming that the piece is going to be written during the rehearsal procedure because in the commercial theatre, anyway, there is no time in the four weeks to accomplish that. I claim that my plays don't change very much in rehearsal; I lie a little bit when I say that. I cut my plays because I overwrite. I get infatuated with the sound of my own voice and I out in all sorts of scenes and speeches that I am very fond of and I will probably use in another play if I take them out of the play that they are in. But I don't reconsider the play, because I think about it very carefully before I write it down. The responsibility to the text of a serious useful play is the same thing as the responsibility to the audience, it seems to me. If you mutilate, revise too much a play, the changes that take place in the commercial theatre of a play on the way to opening night are usually oversimplifications, removals of grit; they homogenize, they make it very, very smooth and less an act of aggression against the status quo; and these are very bad things that usually happen in the commercial theatre. Theatre is there for a playwright to give us his vision of what the world is, not the vision that the audience wants to have of the world."

Theatre with a cause

2006-05-15T14:34:00.000-07:00

Say what you will about Eve Ensler and her work. I don't care if you like it; it has changed lives. Directing the Vagina Monologues was one of the most important things that I have ever done.

"JUAREZ UPDATE

In the past decade, over 400 women and girls have been killed or disappeared in Juarez, across the border from El Paso, Texas. Many of the victims were raped, mutilated and tortured. One of the victims was a six-year-old girl. In 2004, V-Day dedicated its annual Spotlight to the missing and murdered women of Juarez, placing the issue in front of millions in the U.S. and internationally through the over 2000 V-Day benefit productions and the 7,000 strong V-Day and Amnesty International March on Juarez. Two years after V-Day went to the streets of Juarez, progress is starting to be made as the international community and the U.S. and European governments begin to recognize and address these crimes against humanity.
In the past month alone, several steps have been taken to raise awareness about the issues affecting the women and girls of Juarez and to assist in ending them.

V-Day Mexico City
On Tuesday, May 9th, V-Day returned to Mexico, with Eve Ensler, Jane Fonda and Salma Hayek joining the Mexico City cast of The Vagina Monolgues for a special V-Day production benefiting groups working on the ground to protect and assist the women of Juarez.

The sold out event brought the issue to millions of women and men throughout Mexico and the world via press conferences and news coverage in numerous Mexican and International news services such as Noticieros Televisa, TV Azteca, Reforma, El Universal, BBC, Associated Press, and more. Proceeds from the event were donated to four groups in Juarez, all of whom were represented at the performance: Casa Amiga, a crisis center that provides free, confidential, and professional services to people who experience physical, emotional, or sexual violence; Fundacion Maria Sagrario, a group working to improve the conditions and safety within the community, such as electrification of streets leading to the maquiladoras, among other necessary issues; Justicia para Nuestras Hijas, a group coordinating a grassroots postcard campaign to send to government offices demanding justice and legitimate investigations into the murders; Nuestras Hijas de Regreso a Casa, a group focusing on legal and social justice through three projects: scholarships for children and young relatives of the assassinated women, an internet radio station and employing lawyers from Mexico City to handle such cases.

In addition to the worldwide publicity that this production brought to the issue, the event also resulted in a plan of action to demand that the Mexican government investigates and prosecutes the perpetrators of past crimes, while agreeing to more vigourously investigate and prevent future crimes. Activists will create a platform of demands for protection and conviction that will be signed by prominent members of the Mexican society, including international star Salma Hayek, and publicly presented to the Mexican presidential candidates and governmental officials at an international press conference. Upon signing, and during the election, there will be a period of accountability - should the signee not meet the demands highlighted in the petition by the timetable agreed upon, there will be a demonstration in the streets of Mexico City.

European Parliament hearing denounces femicide in Guatemala and Mexico

On Wedneday, April 19th, 2006, the European Parliament's Committee on Human Rights and its Committee on Women's Rights and Gender Equality came together for two-days of hearings and debates regarding the systematic murder of women in Mexico and Guatemala, and the obvious impunity against the perpetrators. Statements and testimonies were heard from both countries and representatives of civil society and two intensive debates took place between Latin American and European politicians of various political affiliations and members of women's and human rights networks.
As a result of these two days, a final statement was issued calling for the Mexican and Guatemalan governments to honour the international agreements and treaties they have signed on human rights and against violence and discrimination against women. It also calls on the Mexican government to apply its national and constitutional laws and refrain from the detention of any person charged on the basis of confessions made under torture. It also calls on multinational companies to take steps to protect their women workers, since many of the young women who were murdered were working in maquiladoras.

House Passes Solis' Juarez Resolution

Resolution Expresses Support for Families of the U.S. Border City
In Washington D.C., on Tuesday May 2nd, the U.S. House of Representatives unanimously approved House Concurrent Resolution 90 (H. Con. Res. 90), legislation authored by Congresswoman Hilda L. Solis to address the disappearances and murders of more than 400 women in Juarez, Mexico.

"We are one step closer to bringing justice to the families of Ciudad Juarez," said Congresswoman Solis. "Passage of this important measure signifies strong U.S. Congressional support for the families of Juarez and the need to address this tragic human rights situation. Binational cooperation between the U.S. and Mexico will help bring an end to the murders of women in Ciudad Juarez and closure to their families," Solis said.
H. Con. Res. 90 condemns the ongoing abduction and murders of young women in Juarez and the city of Chihuahua in the state of Chihuahua, Mexico; expresses condolences and sympathy to the families of the victims; and proposes a set of actions to investigate and prevent the crimes. For the past three years, Congresswoman Solis has been working to bring more attention to the brutal murders of women and girls Juarez, a city located just minutes from the U.S. border.
The next step in the legislative process is for the Senate to pass an identical resolution, Senate Concurrent Resolution 16, was introduced by Senator Jeff Bingaman of New Mexico and has 18 cosponsors, including four Republicans.
For more information, please visit: http://www.house.gov/apps/list/speech/ca32_solis/morenews3/juarez.html."

Expand your horizons.

2006-05-14T12:09:00.000-07:00

"Theatre Without Borders is like a dating service for international collaboration.
I think it is becoming an essential connective tissue in the global theatre workplace."

--Michael Fields, Producing Artistic Director, DELL'ARTE INTERNATIONAL, Blue Lake, California
in American Theatre Magazine

Check out Theatre Without Borders.

The Impossible Theatre

2006-05-13T12:24:00.000-07:00

It's true. Theatre is always in crisis. We cycle.

"For some young artists there is wish-fulfillment in what we trust is only a fantasy. God is dead! says Nietzsche--and to look at their canvases or their sculpture, you feel them celebrating the triumph of Vegetation. When, as I do, you feel like punching them in the face on behalf of civilization, you are stopped by the fact that such art--the collage, the frottage, the sound blocks, the combine-painting, the Happenings, the whole iconography of feces, fetus, and demolition--is among the most formidable we have. The arms of Venus are mutilated still.

But in the American theater you'd barely know it, except by default."

"...As for the theater, where we have so long settled for next to nothing, it would seem the best way to start a revolution in the consciousness of modern man is to do what you can to start a revolution in the consciousness of people whose ears you may have. I am speaking not merely of readers, of audiences, but primarily of workers, those who must do the job. In the profession itself the human waste is incredible, as are the self-delusions, the dodges, the exacerbations of the rat race."

(Herbert Blau, 1964)

This is why we will continue to read Boal, Artaud, and Brook. It is a revolution that must not have an ending.

That's what it's called!

2006-05-09T16:24:00.000-07:00

"Twentieth -century performance theory and practice has clear perceptions about the nature and the function of the 'sense of the whole'; therefore, it is not surprising that the Russians have a word to describe this concept. The zamissel is, as Zelda Fichandler explains, 'the pervading sense...It's the thought that binds together all elements or the idea. The zamissel accounts for the whole--explains every action, every breath, every pulse, every second of the life of the play. It's like looking at a tree. The sap is in every leaf and it's also in the roots. I can spend months looking for the exact zamissel or idea or super-objective that will set a play in motion, unlock its hidden conflict.'

from Shadows of Realism: Dramaturgy and the Theories and Practices of Modernism, by Nancy Kindelan

Oh, and on a related note, did you know that phrases (or non-phrases) such as 'um', 'er', 'uh', or 'like' are called disfluencies?

And another thing...

2006-05-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

At the moment, my year group of 50+ (that includes performers, designers, directors, etc) is devising a piece of site-specific work. It has, hands down, been the most difficult working process I've ever encountered. While it remains to be seen, I'm hoping it will also be the most rewarding. The engagement with the site, the arrangements and flow of the experience, the act of sharing it with an audience (both primary and secondary), and the challenge to our traditional concepts of how theatre works are all huge issues. None of the rules apply. If you're ever in a creative rut and need to approach the world of performance, and the blurring of life and art, I highly recommend that you look into site-specific work.

Our mentor on the project, Bill Aitchison, wrote Collaboration With Location, which is proving to be amazingly helpful. Have a look.

How sweet.

2006-05-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

Playwright Dennis Kelly is a jokester. To paraphrase:

What is the difference between a toilet and a dramaturg?

A toilet doesn't follow you around.

Nice.

The Royal Hunt of the Sun

2006-05-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

Up for a challenge,it seems (and when is he not?), Trevor Nunn has taken on the vast ambition of Peter Shaffer's The Royal Hunt of the Sun. One look at the stage directions of this play and many would be at a loss; the scope and grandeur are stated simply on the page, but in practice sound impossible.

At the Royal National Theatre, a full house is granted rivers of gold, armies climbing the Andes, and a bloody sun, replete with god-on-earth. In this epic, sweeping narrative, Francisco Pizarro journeys on his famous expedition to Peru in search of gold and self-fulfillment. What he brings with him are soldiers, Catholicism, and a hefty dose of pride. However, we learned all of that in primary school. Shaffer has delved deeper into fact and crafted a grand account of the connected possibilities of such a history. It is a window into what we will never see, a clever speculation that sparks one's imagination.

Through the narrator, we are granted access to the voyage. Martin's memories wind carefully around the events as they occur, and his boyhood self participates in them, tragically naive to what his future self has learned about human nature. He is our guide through this journey, where men are men and depth of character is revealed gradually.

In this world of color, it isn't long before cultures meet: Incas and Spaniards confront each other for the first time. The Incas are butchered and their god, Adahuallpa is captured. In captivity, he and Pizarro become unlikely friends. The development of this relationship is the most rewarding aspect of the overall play, which tends to be long-winded and uneven. As I suppose is necessary in such a large landscape, certain events and characters are simplified, while others are granted a full turn at realizing themselves. Shaffer has taken the clear opportunities within the situation: those that are begging to be pulled out for longer passages of critique and comparison on obvious themes like proselitization and capitalism. Adahuallpa as the son of god would make a clear connection to any audience. It is hard to say what needs to be highlighted amongst so many vehicles for parallel.

The play stutters a bit, but builds in Act Two, as passions run high, and decisions must be made. Doesn't it just sound dramatic? It absolutely is. Every tactic seems to be used: swashbuckling battles, choreographed native dances, tremendous swathes of fabric animating the entire space...the list goes on. Bringing the past to life onstage, with all of the baggage of history, is indeed a mammoth task. What holds it together are the moments of real communication between characters, as in most plays. For such a wide view to be successful, the disparities between personal and cultural have to be smoothed. All in all, I salute their mostly successful efforts.

The Royal Hunt of the Sun continues at the Royal National Theatre. Part of Travelex Ten Pound Season.

Fancy That.

2006-05-03T15:59:00.000-07:00

You never know who you will meet, and how they might inspire you. My blog, I realize, is full of these superlatives. It's a total cliche that I'm living: always learning something new. About myself, about the work, about my peers. I absolutely need to work in theatre, if only for the sheer challenge of it all. It keeps my brain going, even if I constantly feel as though I am two steps behind.

Does anyone else out there feel like they can never relax into their work and just BE with it? I can't be proud/happy/satisfied with much of anything, because I know how it fell short, how it was intended to be different and better. My accomplishments in theatre (and, let's face it, my accomplishments in life) are being overshadowed and forgotten by me, of all people.

Well, that was a detour. I've been meaning to introduce you all to:

nightswimming,

a dramaturgical company that commissions and develops new works of theatre, dance, and music.

Brian Quirt, who is also the LMDA Canada chair (and incoming LMDA president) runs it, and it really seems like an incredible resource for artists of all sorts. They encourage and facilitate the kind of long-term projects or research that don't usually seem feasible.

check them out here.

Another reason to love Canada.

Dance [Dance] Revolution?

2006-05-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

In my previous experience, dance has left me wanting more. I've never connected to it, never felt moved or especially inspired. For me, it has always presented itself as a showcase of physical skill: the ability to complete a combination without a wobble, or a perfectly synchronized sequence of repetition between a company. At a conservatory whose primary focus was dance, the most moving choreography I witnessed came in the form of a girl (wearing too much eyeliner) twirling violently to Christina Aguilera's "I Am Beautiful". So you see my disappointment.

Cut to the Place, an intimate venue in Euston where dance is an entire language. The body is suddenly the instrument it should be, pushing limits and potentials all the time. I was there to see Theatre enCorps and WELD present a double bill, as my tutor (and mentor) Ana Sanchez-Colberg shared a piece of her work that was particularly personal and courageous.

Efva Lilja has choreographed two pieces for three distinct people. These are dancers, lovers, mothers, full and complete, becoming vulnerable. They are moving to say the unsayable. They are no longer "traditional" dancers--Sylwan and Abramson are 65 and 69 years old--but it runs deeper than that. They are actively engaged in a process that is revealed to the audience; it is our shared process of working things out, of simply expressing. This is not about technical prowess anymore, as these dancers push to the limits of choreography and beyond. What is difficult is allowed to be, and watching it is equally as challenging. Here they have developed such a familiar human vocabulary that words are not necessary.

You may watch Ana dance, thinking 'I have no idea where that came from, but I know how that feels'. If you are lucky enough to know her (the woman is a goddess), then the experience is doubled in intensity. As we see her making these choreographed movements her own, she is simultaneously living moments of her life, taking charge and living fiercely on this stage. The piece clearly anchors somewhere deep inside of her, and that is enough to root it in the spectators as well.

So maybe modern dance isn't my bag, and I still don't know exactly how to treat the official 'dancetheatre'. For years I've been watching dance with this enforced notion that if I don't 'get it', then it must be my ignorance. Yay for art elitism...I'm really glad to be getting over that.

Pina Bausch and I may make peace yet.

www.theplace.org.uk

Rachel Corrie Remix

2006-04-29T03:09:00.000-07:00

I was going to delve into the workings of postmodernism, but I thought better of it.

There is something else on my mind.

For all of my Americans, I know I promised to revisit the phenomenon that is My Name is Rachel Corrie; forgive me, I've been busy sorting out my own thoughts about the matter. We're putting the weight of the world, or at least an industry on this play right now, and so few have actually seen it or read it. Of course that doesn't mean we all can't dialogue on its aftermath; undeniably, it is showing us certain aspects of ourselves that were difficult to articulate without a major incident to highlight their existence.

So the production? Intimate, faceted, careful, but full of life--the kind of spark that makes Rachel Corrie herself play-worthy. Incredibly humbling. Immediate. Fierce at times, introspective at others. This is a portrait of a girl, just a girl...and yet it somehow connects us internationally. There is an undeniable power here. And whether it made you feel (as with me), or just think, then it has served its purpose. I won't apologize for understanding it from my perspective: that of a girl, about the same age, away from home and trying to find her place in the world. If that makes me naive and simplistic, I don't care.

This is a performance of someone's words. Obviously this is not Rachel Corrie herself reading the words. We can't forget that. Placing the subject matter onstage filters it through a particular lens. There are certainly details that aren't included onstage--who hasn't seen those pictures of a wild-eyed Rachel burning an American flag?--but that should go without saying. These are her words. One version of events. Those who attack it as not really being a play may be unfamiliar with the workings of the form; documentary theatre operate under a different set of rules than your standard naturalism, and it all the better for it.

If you hate it, find it banal and capitalistic, then hate it fully, protest it, but don't protest if for more than what it is. Don't invest this play with characteristics it lacks. I'll agree that it's time to put an period on this chapter and hopefully use it to move forward to something greater. The response to it has been undeniable, and we can't just dismiss such a large shuffle in our theatrical atmosphere as some giant mistake.

This is all very strange for me, as I've been fortunate enough to approach it from the British angle, where very few I've spoken with have inflated the importance of this piece beyond what it was originally.

As for freespeechlover, if you're still reading, let me know what you think when you see it.

Simple Pleasures

2006-04-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

Go ahead, chat with me about how the West End and Broadway are perpetuating this dull and complacent bourgeois theatre. How we should want and expect more from our art. How we should consider it a reflection of ourselves and our culture, and be embarrassed. Tell me that 'they' are keeping us fed on a diet of the pedestrian and outdated. I will always agree.

That said, I will willingly admit that I spent my evening with grey-haired upper class (these are the type who still consider theatre a night out, and get all dressed up for it) at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, where I paid a ridiculous amount for a seat that was one row away from being the very last one in the balcony, miles and miles away from the stage. "I hope she can project", said a flamboyant man beside me.

Seeing Judi Dench in Noel Coward's 'Hay Fever' was something I couldn't help but like. I don't want to feel like I'm betraying the progressive side of my work for enjoying it. And while the production is of incredible quality in both acting and scenography, Judi is the star of the show. With so much expectation in my head, people are usually bound to fail, but no. I hate writing glowing reviews like this, but she is the consummate actress, and it shows in every moment she's onstage.

Rumor has it she came to CSSD as a designer, and left an actress.

'Hay Fever' was a diversion, a jolly night out with dance hall music and witty one liners. And Judi did a little 'winsome' dance across the stage that pretty much justified my ticket price in and of itself.

It was--gasp--entertainment.

Say What?

2006-04-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

Oh, that's what Rainbow Kiss means. Wow. And I thought the original title--Fuck Off-- was bad enough.

When asked what I thought of this play, I though for a moment, searched for a statement to sum up the experience, and came up with, "It was almost...almost...good? You know?" I'm gloriously articulate, but nonetheless that is how it felt to watch some moderately talented actors tackle this script. I felt a bit of their residual fear, their preparatory breath for what they were probably up against. And I what came next was energy, focus, and near-total commitment to the text, which is always nice to see. Simon Farquhar's play is very clearly the doing of a young playwright (and even more so, of a young man). Here we have Keith, abject failure and struggling single father, reaching out for contact and support in a world that continues to ignore his pleas. Enter Shazza, the most average of sluts, who he meets at the bar one night. This is the essential equation we are given to work with, and it persists into some semblance of a story, almost in the way that Keith forces their dalliance into some sort of emotional connection. There are some moments of amazing acting between Keith and his kindred-spirit neighbor, who confesses regularly on his similarly depressing life. The money-lender is convincingly terrifying, and his presence results in a few gory and visceral sequences that prove at least mildly exciting.

The main question: What can you do with a one-night-stand--can it become a relationship? Or, better yet, can you make a play of it?

Farquhar seems to be wearing his heart on his sleeve. It may not be possible to encounter a playwright penning a relationship play who doesn't chuck himself somewhere in there, for better or worse. While his dialogue is sharp, contemporary, and amusing, the play is often clumsy. There were a few times, I winced, thinking, 'why did you have to do that?', but there were also times when I cheered him on in my head, congratulating on a particularly clever or illuminating section. If the junctures of this play weren't so visible, it would be something.

What he has succeeded at is creating a sense of context, giving life and depth to an entire way of life in Aberdeen. The texture of this city emerged through the words, and gave life to the circumstances. (Even if David had to explain most of the slang to me).

Rainbow Kiss continues at the Royal Court Theatre through the 6th of May.

Playwrights + Dramaturgs= Bosom Buddies

2006-04-22T17:07:00.000-07:00

I'm in the thick of a conference presentation, so no updates as intended, but I thought this was funny. David was feeling sympathetic to our dramaturgical cause:

"Learning To Love Your Dramaturg' by Deacon MacEvoy

So you've entered another collaborative process. You've got a director (sometimes just for a bit), some actors (that have to call themselves performers) and a bunch of guys that do technical stuff that you don't understand...

But wait! Who's this? In the corner. Whose that rather devilishly attractive stranger? Who are they? What do they do? My friends, it is a dramaturg.

They are not there to assist another role. They are a genuine entity to themselves, as everyone else is. But don't feel bad if you don't understand what they do. No one does.

BUT

Perhaps they can offer more than you realise. Perhaps you can talk to them. Perhaps you can befriend them. Maybe they can go for a sneaky cigarette (and an even sneakier chat) with them. Perhaps they are a cheeky bugger and are actually a better playwright than you. They're probably ginger. Perhaps they're in your Top 5... What Top 5 exactly depends on... Well... Let's just not go there...

If no one knows what a dramaturg is then I would like it stated for the record that as individuals in every project I've done - the dramaturg has been indispensible to ME and I couldn't have got by without them. Always feeling the love and thank you all so much.

So I tell you all to ask your dramaturg questions. Embrace your dramaturg. Use your dramaturg. Heavy pet them. Love them. Spoon them. Be the big spoon. Be the little spoon. Ravish them. They need it. They love it. The filthy sluts.

If loving your dramturg is wrong, I don't want to be right..."

Oh, and on a more serious note, if anyone wants to suggest some questions for the panel discussion I'm holding in June, fire away. It's on the state of political theatre--how, why, and what.

Some say a good dramaturg always comes armed with a good quote...

2006-04-19T13:07:00.000-07:00

"Only people who want to create can be as children and enjoy as children. Your bed is in the open air. You find your way in empty space. Stand upright...See the dancing pulse of the sun and trust your brimming heart. The trembling in your limbs is the trembling of truth."

Peter Handke

The word of the day is prosaic!

2006-04-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

Ah, the classics. There remains a great many of these feted pieces that I have yet to experience. All of the ancient and traditionally praised work of centuries before stands before me in this enigmatic mess. I read them, expecting great impact...but the truth is, I am not as receptive to the large strokes, the big ideas, the deus ex machina. Don't get me wrong; I love Shakespeare just as much as the next dramaturg on the block. I absolutely respect the time-honored work of the Greeks.

But I rarely see them treated as new, sometimes they are produced on their good graces alone. I feel that we have collectively lost touch with these works, and very few people are trying to get them back.

With my boyfriend in tow, I stumbled upon Frank McGuinness' Phaedra at the Donmar Warehouse. Not only had this unfortunate production been pushed back, but it was because one of the leads had to be replaced at the last minute, resulting in a girl with a flashlight throwing lines to replacement Hippolytus when he dropped them. Props to him for jumping into a role so late in the game. But what is everyone else's excuse?

This telling, after Racine's, is aimless. With vague costumes and setting, we are left floating in an equivocal mess. We could be in ancient Athens, but no one wants to say. Instead of creating a world where these events and passions are possible, a world where the acts of the gods upon these hapless humans is a foregone conclusion, we have a strange attempt at a middle ground. Phaedra wants to be naturalistic and modern; McGuinness has taken the language to a muddled middle ground where the ideas can't mesh with the awkward interruptions of modern phrasing and vernacular. These are characters without a properly matching voice for their action. And of course, as in other Greek tragedies, the 'action' lies in wordy description of offstage events and interior desires. Phaedra never accepts this, and instead tries to be what it is not. We cannot sympathize with these characters the way we would in a kitchen-sink-drama, because they are not set up that way. Even the actors were aware of that, as the actress playing the title character explained, "The one thing that you don't do with the Greeks is ask what sort of woman am I playing. The process is not one of finding out what sort of shoes she wears. When you play this kind of role you are a blank canvas who is affected by outside forces. It is a primal and mythological experience, not small and internalised like western drama."

It isn't enough anymore---for me, at least-- to put these works up for their own sake. As with the selection of any play, we have to ask why this, and why now? Is there some new insight to be gained? How can we illuminate some part of this story, and how might we do it with respect to this play and this audience?

Purists will fight to leave these plays as is, but I agree with Robert Brustein, who writes, "...charges of 'desecration' are meaningful only if you subscribe to the idea of a 'definitive' production. I don't. The specialness of theatre--alas, the poignance of the theatre, too-- is its impermanence." Besides, how do we decide what is and isn't faithful to a text? Isn't it faithful to bring out the embedded ideas of a text, to penetrate what is there and find a heart, whether or not that aligns with what we may have come to know as the accepted traditional staging? If we don't look at these works with fresh eyes, they will become decrepit and ragged; they will show their age.

Magic realism onstage

2006-04-06T05:35:00.000-07:00

I am in love with the words of Jose Rivera. He paints a universe onstage with reckless abandon, a world where anything might happen. Instead of worrying about what is an is not possible, he explodes his dreams onto paper, and trusts actors, directors, and designers to bring them to life.

And I find that very reassuring.

*********

"Might there be some sort of overall Theory? A theory unifying all the fundamental forces? You see, even if you could conceive a theory which covered all the basic interactions, for one thing you theory would be far from comprehensive, as Poincare said, you can examine each individual cell of an elephant, but that wouldn't help you grasp its zoological reality, and you still wouldn't have eliminated the paradox of the cosmos! How can we grasp the world as it is? How can we close the gap between reality and representation, the gap between object and word, what are these, chocolate fingers, delicious, how, in short can we think of the world without out thinking being part of the world?"

from Life X 3 by Yasmina Reza

The American sees The American Pilot

2006-04-05T02:36:00.000-07:00

Soho never lets me down. David Greig script has been paired up with direction that brings us back to good old-fashioned story-telling. How refreshing to see a piece that embraces its own qualities of theatricality. At the opening, we are greeted by the image of our American pilot, spread-eagle on the ground in this unnamed village, with an onstage musician plucking his strings, filling the theatre with a feeling of folk music and cultural identity (even as it remains unspecified). The villagers enter one-by-one, casually as we seat ourselves, with glasses of tea and colorful clothing. When they begin to speak, we realize the bravery of this production, where these foreign villagers have simply been cast as people, with unexpectedly blonde or red hair who purposely keep their various UK accents. They do so with so much assurance that it is impossible to stop and worry about it.

I know from experience that there are those who would clamor for 'truth' and specificity and take this same playscript and corrupt it with the casting that you might expect--dark actors playing in heavily accented Russian or Bosnian or whatever else they find politically satisfying at the moment. But what I adored about this production is that it denied those expectations and came out stronger for it.

The story itself follows the effects of the presence of the American pilot, whose plane has crashed in the mountains, breaking his leg and stranding him god-knows-where. Mostly unable to communicate, he waits for rescue, while the villagers each weigh their options and decide what should be done with this unwanted visitor. He represents so much of the outside world, and this clash is what produces the events of the play, handled with incredibly sensitivity by Greig.

Throughout the piece, we have the cast looking on at the action, stepping in and out of the allegory, but always present. They support each other with natural sound effects on hand-held instruments, and share their thoughts in turn as monologues. The quiet solitude of this village is only interrupted once, in a sequence I will not reveal, but suffice it to say, it represents something specific with all of the height and bombast it deserves. My heart was beating wildly, I was shocked out of a complacency of viewership, and I walked out a bit shaken. It was a astounding, brave, and heartfelt risk. And as the actors rose from the final action alive and well as people in the world, I felt a peaceful sense of community overtake the room. These are the sort of stories we shouldn't be afraid of telling; this spirit would do well to replace a lot of the small-minded kitchen-sink fare that writers are still trying for.

*********

In the past few weeks, I've seen an innocuous, little life-affirming piece (The Best of Friends at the Hampstead). It was amusing and completely watchable. The actors were thoroughly competent. The lessons were charming and universal. But it was simple.

I suddenly need BIG things. Big risks. Big statements. Big, unapologetic, sprawling, wandering, undeniable things in my theatre.

And so I saw My Name is Rachel Corrie.

It is no understatement to say that I will be forever altered by this experience. The circumstances surrounding the play are enough to spark a debate: American peace activist is run over by Israeli bulldozer as she stands in defense of a Palestinian home. Oh, and don't forget that the politics of the play have resulted in hesitancy by producers, who backed out of a scheduled NY run. We as theatre professionals should be absolutely offended by this cancellation. We should be pissed. As I recall, when Behtzi was run out of the Birmingham Rep by Sikh protests, someone (forgive me, I'm blanking on who it was, and from which theatre) said that it didn't even matter if the play itself was good, what mattered is that it got an opportunity to be put out there. These are voices that need to be heard.

Megan Dodds performs this role with a furious pride and effervescence. I want to write volumes on this, so look out for more to come. In the meantime, see it, read it, read about it. After watching, I'm finding it extremely difficult to justify my own small life, my lack of conviction.

The truth is, I am discovering, that I am political. Whether I like it or not. For so long I have managed to avoid educating myself on issues that should have formed a basis for a personal fight against a great many injustices. It's too easy to put aside these things when they are half a world away...

The Winterling

2006-03-19T14:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes my naivete can be a benefit. Having never read any of Jez Butterworth's work before, his ear for dialogue was what hit me first. The rhythm and repetition, so poetic and integral to his characters, was dovetailed into a story that played out like a snapshot of some larger tale. What I loved was the way that each character's present in these circumstances was just a section their lives, their individual metanarrative. With the Winterling, there is a strong sense of before and after, and yet you submit to enjoy the interceding moments, the present of a play which is only simple at the surface.

Had a conversation in the foyer with Paul, concerning the origins of this sort of male centered, London criminal storyline. Which came first: the Guy Ritchie craze, or the soulful crafting of Jez Butterworth? It certainly hope it was the latter. And as much as I liked Snatch, I have to say I preferred the Winterling, even in its imperfections, for giving me such a sense of mystery, hope, and humor all wound up into one. He has given each character an opportunity to have their fears and flaws, while still remaining likeable, the sort of people we hope achieve what they wish to achieve.

(And kudos to the girl who held her own in this male-centric world.)

The Winterling continues at the Royal Court through April 8---which happens to be my birthday!

It's like sexual frustration, but artistic.

2006-03-16T12:36:00.000-08:00

"We're artists, not scientists. Thank God for that."

Been feeling a little lost and misguided lately. Sounds so cliche.

It's as though I've spent so much time encouraging and facilitating the creativity of others, that my own creativity has drawn itself into a dark corner, infuriated and pouting. It doesn't want to come out. I want to do everything--write, direct, act, find new writing... But how do I get good at all of those except by focusing on one thing at a time? How many successful indie film actresses do you know who also run a theatre company or work as a literary manager? Exactly.

Eh, anyway, the last thing I saw was a cycle of three new plays at the National. Burn/Chatroom/Citizenship were all commissioned specially to target a teenage audience. They are meant to address the issues of growing up in our modern society. Chatroom (by Enda Walsh) ends up as an overly-stylized after-school special, but Burn (by Deborah Gearing) is a beautiful and haunting tale of a foster kid, whose life becomes a legend retold before our eyes. And Citizenship is Mark Ravenhill's latest effort, funny and socially conscious, although still smacking of a heavy-handed "It's okay to be different" message for sexually confused teens.

Call me crazy, but I don't think we need to talk down to adolescents. Let's challenge them instead.

Burn/Citizenship/Chatroom continue at the Cottesloe, National Theatre through 3 June, although not all three run at every performance.

Yes, this is me playing catch up!

2006-03-11T14:57:00.000-08:00

Our Verbatim team awaits a final decision on the CSSD festival this week. Keep your fingers crossed that we get accepted. We went out to see the popular and publicized The Exonerated at the Riverside Studios earlier this week. The show has made its way to London from New York, where is experienced a very successful run, and countless celebrities lining up to be involved. It comes with such a feeling of momentum attached to it.

This documentary piece explores the stories of 6 innocent people (5 men, one woman; 3 black, 3 white) unjustly imprisoned on death row. These are their words, and there is no need to embroider such vivid accounts. The play presents itself as a seated-reading, with onstage scripts, stands, stools, and microphones. But the telling remains eloquent and full of life. When you realize that this has actually happened, the drama is almost unnecessary. There is a certain bravery in telling these stories, over and over again. That is the beauty of verbatim: getting the word out. You can't write this stuff. Seriously.

This one on time when I felt strangely alone in an audience. Here I was, alone and American in a room full of expectant Brits and Europeans, listening to stories that I almost knew before they began. The cultural temperature was interesting only because I was caught in its cross-wind. Certainly, I received this piece much differently from most others in the room. The jokes about OJ Simpson, the fashions, the prison situations. The Racism. Sexism. Government and political corruption. The fact that we perpetuate the Death Penalty at all. I know the context, the north and south, the place where things like this are possible. They do happen. Speaking to my group afterward, it was clear that the issues raised by the play are different here than they are at home. Racism isn't as black and white in the UK. Jess couldn't comprehend the south; she didn't even know what a confederate flag was. Or the confederacy itself for that matter. And I tried, fumbling, to adequately explain how black men barely have a chance sometimes. That the cycle of crime perpetuates itself, and boys can get caught up in it. That the public outcry for justice will often result in a media frenzy just to get a conviction so someone pays the price for the crime. That the political divides are as cartoonish as you might imagine. That our president was responsible in his days as governor for administering lethal justice to numbers that cannot be matched. And that there are people who support this emphatically.

The Exonerated didn't raise any questions for me. It was a fairly straightforward detailing as you might expect. It was enough to be what it was. Colleen and I agree, however, that one of the best opportunities presented by verbatim theatre is the ability to present the gray area between issues, where you are left with more questions than answers. Inspiring change, provoking thought, you know? Maybe it was too easy to forget about this play because the ending was so neat; they were all freed. They suffered, and are forever damaged, but they are free.

(But basic percentages tell us there are others. What do we do about them?)

The Exonerated continues through 11 June 2006 at the Riverside Studios. Check with the box office for celebrity participation.

Other Hands

2006-03-11T14:38:00.000-08:00

So I've obviously been struggling with this question of finding our contemporary voice in the theatre. Not that it has to be any one way, but I've been waiting for something refreshing and true to our times and circumstances.

Thank you, Laura Wade.

In her new Other Hands, Wade has managed to give us a glimpse into modern life. No big dramatic devices. Just real people, letting us into their lives, almost as if a wall was removed for us to peek inside. These are people we know, the ones we both love and get frustrated with. We see Hayley and Steve's cohabitation and lack of communication, the internet, the office environment--all of these modern forms of isolation that we are familiar with. This play is for today, no doubt. And the physical affliction they suffer--a sort of repetitive activity nerve damage destroying the use of their hands-- serves to manifest the paralysis and deterioration caused by these modern habits. But there are no huge statements to beat you over the head. Her dialogue is hilarious and moving at the same time. Her characters are real; we know these people. And as you get your bearings, and are certain that the next event will be predictable, she disrupts your expectations. First and foremost, this is the story of a relationship misplaced and finally rediscovered.

Even the writers I work with are so often tempted to raise the stakes of their work by inserting illogical and forceful outer circumstances, contrived pressures to push something forward. But that isn't necessary.

And it isn't necessary to cut down your play into some unrecognizable streamlined form all the time. Maybe we need that entire scene to introduce or enjoy a character or an idea, maybe we need time alone with them. I know I have the tendency to encourage economy, and ask if we really need to see this or that. But Laura Wade has made me rethink that. Sometimes viewing a simple truth onstage is enough, and it deserves its own time to just exist in that space. She has layered events and meetings, conversations, exchanges, and disagreements with incredible success.

Deep Cuts

2006-03-05T12:35:00.000-08:00

Well I've returned from my hiatus, enforced because I dropped my beloved laptop late last week and had to send her off for repairs. I feel so disconnected from modern culture when alone in my flat with only books to read and journaling to do. I planned to do all sorts of interesting and alternative things with my time, but sadly, I was stuck in rehearsal most of the time, as Colleen did several rewrites in the span of two days, sacrificing sleep and sanity for a show that goes up on Friday.

And just briefly, please let me vent. Working in a bookstore has only intensified my hatred of 'chick lit'. If these books are telling the truth of the feminine experience, then I don't want to be a woman anymore. For the love of god, stop embarrassing yourselves with your tacky formulaic writing! Perhaps this is but residual bitterness for the days I spent reading "In Her Shoes" when I was laid up after my wisdom teeth extraction. I want that time back, Ms. Weiner, you bitch! Whoever is buying these books and perpetuating the existence of a genre without any merit whatsoever should be punished. Their penance should involve a hefty dosage of Jane Austen or Sharon Olds or something [Ed. Note: It used to say Any Rand here, but then I realized I actually hate Ayn Rand--sorry, Judy--for being a pretentious twat. It was just a feeble attempt to come up with relevant female writers. Funny how when you need to think of an example of something, the options just fall out of your brain.]

Anyway! I had the distinct pleasure of standing through Mark Ravenhill's newest play, the world premiere of The Cut at the Donmar Warehouse recently. I purposely avoided reading Shopping and Fucking beforehand, in order to reserve judgment. And so, I have no scale on which to reference this play, except on its own merits.

When the acting is placed in such trustworthy hands, you can relax and let the script do its work. I'm not certain that it was saying anything new or as entirely provocative as it fancied for itself, but the tone was intense and the story carried. It takes a lot of guts to be so purposefully vague, never revealing your hand, so to speak. The eponymous cut is never divulged. Ian McKellen is responsible for much of the momentum, although even he can't save it from feeling somewhat incomplete. The atmosphere of Orwellian threat, heavily Pinteresque, is haunting and spare in a thoroughly modern way.

I found out after I had seen it that the actors had just discovered an extra page in their scripts. It had one line, the new last line. Just a few words, but what a difference they make. Economy of dialogue, kids. Keep it focused.

The Cut continues at the Donmar Warehouse (sold-out except for standing tickets) until April 1.

Our Style is Legendary

2006-02-23T13:52:00.000-08:00

Writers' Block is a brilliant idea. The Operating Theatre Company has brought together a week of new plays, all given readings at the Tristan Bates Theatre. The key to the benefit of a seated reading is that it comes at the right time for the script and its writer. With minimal light, no sets, and only a short rehearsal process, you put your piece up for scrutiny. And I've seen a lot of plays crack under that pressure, laid bare and flattened by the exposure that it simply wasn't ready to handle. Luckily, this time the play was more than prepared, and so it was a pleasure.

Daniel Hoffman-Gill is a graduate of my course, a performer, writer, and director. He has written Our Style is Legendary with a completely absorbing tone of familiarity. The detail and depth of character in these teenaged boys is genial and real. They are the type of guys that everyone knows, and yet Daniel avoids the temptation to make them cliche and vague. And while it is clear that the writer knows these circumstances all too well, it never crosses the line into distractingly self-referential; the characters are built strong enough to stand on their own. What a pleasant experience for my first proper London play reading. I look forward to more, and wish Daniel and his lovely cast good luck.

From the program sheet,
"Our Style is Legendary is the true story of three boys growing up in the St. Ann's area of Nottingham. It takes place over a period of five years from 2001-05, following the boys transition from 12 to 16 and charts the essential nature of teenage male friendship, hewn from the reality of the estate, the waste grounds, the car parks, the boarded up shops and empty community centres. It is a story of boys becoming young men and struggling to escape the background they're born into: railing against the poverty and the emptiness around them and turning to each other for someone they can trust to go with them on their journey."

More readings at the Tristan Bates each night at 7:30 pm through Saturday!

Dramaturgs have feelings too...

2006-02-21T16:00:00.000-08:00

Okay, chances are you won't think this is funny.

But if you're reading this, you are a) a confessed theatre dork, or b) my boyfriend.

The director of our text project left the following valentine for me after a rehearsal, printed out on the tiniest scrap of paper with sticker hearts attached:

'Dear Ann,

You have the most beautiful (outside) eyes."

Ha.

My Week of Celebrity Encounters and More Indecision

2006-02-19T12:54:00.000-08:00

Fate found me in the offices of Out of Joint Theatre Company earlier this week. I had a cup of tea and a chat with their literary manager, Alex. She was regaling me with her tales of unsolicited scripts, when I asked after their experiences with Talking to Terrorists and the Permanent Way. Long story short, she referred me straight to Max Stafford-Clark himself.

I was unprepared to this sudden turn of events. It was more than surreal to walk into his office, sit in his chair, and converse about his work with David Hare and Robin Soans. I was completely, utterly star-struck. This man is a legend of directing, and I (ME! A bumbling, unrehearsed mess of a girl from a middle-sized town in Pennsylvania) was asking him questions, telling him about my work. He gave me advice and wished me luck...and thank God, I was able to avoid looking like an total idiot (I think). As cliche as it sounds, his work with new writing is an inspiration. Had it been a major filmstar that I met that day, I would have been less intimidated/impressed/in awe.

And go figure, yesterday, Helena Bonham-Carter, Tim Burton, and their son needed help finding a book when they came into the bookshop where I work.

On Friday, Coll and I met with a journalist from the London College of Communications. We're hoping he can help give us some perspective and grounding on our verbatim venture. We're still weighing the pros and cons of involving our performers in the interviewing process. Any thoughts?

I almost saw a play I loved last night. It wasn't Blackbird by David Harrower, it was the play it came so close to being.

In summary, it is an emotionally charged story of a relationship between of 12 year old girl and a 40 year old man, 15 years on from their affair, when they meet again for the first time.

For a play with so many heavy-handed and over-obvious devices in place (mostly due to the direction by Peter Stein...I'm talking musical underscoring for monologues, literal metaphors in the design, and trite moments...), it remained an engaging experience. Nothing new is revealed; you know everything you need to know just from the advertising outside of the Albery. And so, the circumstances are set. You know you are about to view a major confrontation, and it unravels as you would expect: with awkward sensuality, familiarity, passion, anger, misunderstanding, confessions, memories, tears, shouting, questioning, and a few chairs getting thrown. But it is beautifully ambiguous. The most satisfying part of this piece was the fact that I left not knowing what I thought of it; and I still don't.

Jodhi May and Roger Allam were both engrossing and exhausting to watch. The writing seemed off somehow, like it couldn't or wouldn't stylistically acknowledge what it was or how it was, vacillating between poetry and naturalism. The pauses were off, the cut-offs poorly timed, and the monologues segued imperfectly. But it was absorbing!

And here I indulged, as I imagine many of my fellow audience did as well. We were given the opportunity to go past watching the action in front of us. You are intentionally prevented from establishing a clear sense of who is to blame in the situation onstage. You go into your head, into the relationship that defined your existence, the one that is inescapable and unforgettable, for better or worse. And you realize it still haunts you, that it helped bring you to the present day, and that it defies judgment. It was what it was.

Blackbird, written by David Harrower and directed by Peter Stein, continues through 13 May 2006 at the Albery Theatre, London.

Odds and Ends

2006-02-12T15:13:00.000-08:00

All of this talk about In-Yer-Face theatre got me to thinking. To generalize an entire genre without reading or seeing much of it seems a bit risky, and so I'll ask you all to look past the Sierz book (although it is a good resource to complement the experience). The shock tactics that got people up in arms have now taken on their own energy, separated from the plays that birthed them. It seems dangerous to give fragments such a power of their own. Go back to Bond's Saved and Brenton's the Romans in Britain. All you hear about these works centers on one of their respective scenes: the baby in the carriage, and the soldiers raping the young man, right? Read the damn plays, and you might realize that these scenes are not necessarily the most brutal statements within them, nor are the plays themselves necessarily brutal. But the acknowledgement of violence and obscenity are integral.

Edward Bond explains: "Violence shapes and obsesses our society, and if we do not stop being violent we have no future. People who do not want writers to write about violence want to stop them writing about us and our time. It would be immoral not to write about violence."

And Bond himself refers to Saved as a work of incredible, hopeless optimism.

Sarah Kane? A Romantic at heart. Look at the final line of Blasted, where a simple "Thank you" is proof of the extreme humanity at the source of the entire affair, all babies eaten and rapes aside.

These aren't all plays constructed to capitalize on shock and disgust. It isn't just violence for the sake of violence. Not every contemporary playwright is trying to be purposefully provocative; sometimes they actually mean what they are writing. These are elements of our experience, honestly and truthfully depicted with nothing held back, and carefully brought into focus.

*****

At the tiny Gate theatre in Notting Hill, you will find a heartfelt and resonant production of Strindberg's last play, The Great Highway. Rare productions like this will get any dramaturg in a state of excitement. Oddly enough, this was my first station drama, and its status as such intimidated me...that is, until the production unfolded. The traditional stations were replaced by a staggered and overlapping system of gigantic photographs, the images lost to almost all of them and the corners curled with age, and it is here the action unfolds. The proximity of actors to audience in this tiny black box made it strangely and hauntingly accessible. The text itself ebbs and flows with Strindberg's poetry and prose, made immediate by the remarkable lead. We follow this man on his journey through memory, and are rewarded by the things he meets along the way, even unto himself at the close. It is a long play, but an investment in art and classic means that we should be careful not to lose sight of in the theatre we make today.

The Great Highway continues through March 4 at the Gate Theatre.

Wrights of Play

2006-02-10T15:05:00.000-08:00

What is the play that has changed your life? Have you seen a production that changed the way you look at the world, or read a work that altered your entire perception?

I joined the playwrights for their lecture this morning. (I'm an honorary writer, it seems.) On most occasions there is more conversation than lecture, which is definitely a good thing. An interesting point was raised: Do we ever really see, or read, or even write plays that take us to the pinnacle, that exemplify all that they are capable of? Or, rather, do we simply keep up with our attempts in the knowledge that some grander good is possible (having seen glimpses of it), even if we never reach such a summit? We may recognize moments of sublime truth in bits and pieces, and so we continue to chase that elusive completion of the whole.

It is that reaching that keeps us writing and creating, that striving that pulls us in new directions and allows new tactics, new voices to emerge.

I traveled to Trafalgar Studios this evening. Theatre has now become my prime means of relaxation: the thing to do when I want to turn off my echoing thoughts (well, that and watching What Not to Wear/ Project Runway...*sigh*...such a weakness for fashion-related programming. Please don't judge me adversely.) Colin Teevan has been on my list of contemporary writers to read for quite some time. Instead of reading, I listened to a little under 2 hours of incredibly melodious and textural speech, his written words flowing through the mouth of actor Greg Hicks. In Missing Persons: Four Tragedies and Roy Keane, Teevan reveals his poetic and rhythmic voice by giving us 5 monologues . The variety and depth of each separate character was an unraveling mystery to behold. And the space had accepted that same textural sensitivity as the text, with smoke, flame, wood, leaves, fabric, chains, water, smells,....every detail in place. Teevan himself describes it: "Missing Persons are stories of modern men in crisis, alienated and isolated from society: in other words, apt men to find in a black box."

This morning we discussed the notion that every play was in fact political. As was the process of writing one, of sending out a message into the world. You can't say anything interesting about human beings unless you are engaged with the world at large.

We've been grappling with our entry point into verbatim theatre and it's political/social responsibility. "Issues" are daunting, but people aren't. Just read Hare's "The Permanent Way" for proof that ANY subject or historical event has a human connection that should be explored.

And shouldn't we do our part to stir up a consciousness? To a degree, we want to be confrontational; asking questions should create a reaction of some sort. And perhaps we can start to inspire heated debates in the foyer post-performance. It's a hard thing to do nowadays, or at least it seems that way. We each wrote down a list of the five things we considered to be the most pressing issues in the world today, and what was #1?

Apathy.
(Getting someone to care. Drawing people out of their reality-tv bubbles. Educating ourselves. Becoming involved in politics. Looking past our own kinespheres. Finding a relationship to the bigger picture. Taking responsibility.)

Missing Persons: Four Tragedies and Roy Keane continues at the Trafalgar Studios through 25 February.

Steal This Post

2006-02-07T12:29:00.000-08:00

Originality is the fine art of remembering what you hear but forgetting where you heard it. ~Laurence J. Peter

Stealing in my field is encouraged. You have to take things, make them your own, acknowledge your sources, but it is stealing nonetheless. Accept it. Embrace it. Find originality in it. As Ana says, acknowledging our sources makes us bigger, not smaller.

The moment I decided to disregard much of my undergraduate experience came when reading Peter Brook's The Empty Space, and realizing that a particularly fine production of Marat/Sade I had witnessed a few years before had been shaped by production methods laid out as an example in this book. And had anyone else who had viewed the play established that connection? No, not that I had ever heard. It bothered me for a long while. But I still cannot figure out precisely why...

I want to think that our minds will put together endless combinations of astounding and life-altering beauty and ingenuity. Even so, it appears that there are only 8 archetypal stories in existence. Subvert them, repeat them, chop them up in tiny pieces, but they remain.

Phelim McDermott, director of Improbable, has been our mentor for the Devising Project. He's a proponent of 'whatever you have, that is the right thing'. His environmental quest exercise enables one to find an answer to any question you might have, right there in your field of vision. And don't forget to thank the environment for providing that answer.

We provided an open-ended stimulus. There was no question to be answered, no theme to adhere to, just a collection of objects, images, and music. Do with them what you will. I thought this would be remarkably freeing, a liberation from the guidelines we are trying to escape from on this course. But I heard endless complaints about it: What was the point? What do we do with this? How do these things go together? What do we do next?

Well, no one knew because the answers to those questions don't exist. I was just providing a starting point. Completely arbitrary. I wanted to see what might happen. And so "Collected//Connected" was born.

Phelim is an extraordinary and imaginative soul. He advocates the things that seem so simple, and yet prove so challenging in practice: Follow your curiosity. Value your mistakes, let them take you somewhere. Follow your hunches. Turn up. Tell the truth about what is happening. Pay attention. Don't be attached to results. Find the story you are telling, but also find the story of the people that are telling it. Do the thing you think you cannot do.

The idea of 'happy accidents' is my favorite. If you have a dream with a ravenous tiger attacking you, put that in, see what happens. Bring these things onstage, into your work.

Say yes; always, always choose to go through the door. Stop inventing excuses to stay on this side of it.

Everyone's a Critic

2006-02-04T13:10:00.000-08:00

Our text-based project is looming. Each of four companies gets a writer, the goal being that said writer will show up to the first rehearsal with script in hand. The challenge? Source the new work from a stimulus. And that stimulus, after hours of half-hearted searching, is the oeuvre of one Dave Eggers (namely the short short stories).

I've never had so much fun doing my production protocol!

I read so much crap theory all day long that it becomes a welcome burst of reality when practitioners and theoreticians can admit that a lot of what they do is filler, fluff, or plain speculation. There comes a point where you have to stop talking about making art AND JUST MAKE ART.

I'm sick of audiences passing judgment without rational thought and experience behind it. I don't want to be a drama critic, because quite frankly, who am I to tell you what is good or bad, right or wrong? Especially in regard to art and expression...

Kathy Acker said:

"I've never been sure about the need for literary criticism. If a work is immediate enough, alive enough, the proper response isn't to be academic, to write about it, but to use it, to go on. By using each other's texts, we keep on living, imagining, making, fucking, and we fight this society of death."

Eggers has his own comments, from a 2000

interview

with the Harvard Advocate:

"I think criticism, more often than not, completely misses the point, yes. The critical impulse, demonstrated by the tone of many of your own questions, is to suspect, doubt, tear at, and to take something apart to see how it works. Which of course is completely the wrong thing to do to art. I used to tear books apart, and tear art exhibits apart - I was an art and book critic for a few years in San Francisco - but my urge to do that was born of bitterness and confusion and anger, not out of any real need to help or edify. When we pick at and tear into artistic output of whatever kind, we really have to examine our motives for doing so. What is it about art that can make us so angry? Is it healthy to rip to shreds something created by an artist? I would posit, if I may, that that's not really a healthy impulse. Now, as far as I know, out of maybe 100 or so reviews that I've been made aware of, my own book has received only one negative example. That's pretty lucky, especially when you consider that Wallace, for example, has gotten pretty abused by some people, people who for the most part don't have the patience his work requires. But criticism, for the most part, comes from the opposite place that book-enjoying should come from. To enjoy art one needs time, patience, and a generous heart, and criticism is done, by and large, by impatient people who have axes to grind. The worst sort of critics are (analogy coming) butterfly collectors - they chase something, ostensibly out of their search for beauty, then, once they get close, they catch that beautiful something, they kill it, they stick a pin through its abdomen, dissect it and label it. The whole process, I find, is not a happy or healthy one. Someone with his or her own shit figured out, without any emotional problems or bitterness or envy, instead of killing that which he loves, will simply let the goddamn butterfly fly, and instead of capturing and killing it and sticking it in a box, will simply point to it - "Hey everyone, look at that beautiful thing" - hoping everyone else will see the beautiful thing he has seen. Just as no one wants to grow up to be an IRS agent, no one should want to grow up to maliciously dissect books. Are there fair and helpful book critics? Yes, of course. But by and large, the only book reviews that should be trusted are by those who have themselves written books. And the more successful and honored the writer, the less likely that writer is to demolish another writer. Which is further proof that criticism comes from a dark and dank place. What kind of person seeks to bring down another? Doesn't a normal person, with his own life and goals and work to do, simply let others live? Yes. We all know that to be true."

(It's a great interview. Click the link and continue down for a spectacular rant on the idea of selling out.)

And so I am hopeful. If you need me, I'll be in the corner reading some pretentious assertion or another. But I'll be doing it with a smile on my face, and a better understanding of myself in relation to it.

Another Reason to Love Life on the Fringe

2006-02-03T14:13:00.000-08:00

I knew before I even sat down to write this that nothing I could say would do justice to Toby Clarke's Imogen. Even as it was going on, I bemoaned its ephemerality in my head, knowing that I would never again be able to capture the spirit of this gentle little show. That's the nature of the form; Shunt's 'turg has said, "If you can write it down on a line, what's the point of doing a live performance?" I hate program and promo blurbs for this very same reason. I find it reductive to write them at all, but alas, they fall into my realm of responsibility, so at least I can maintain some control over what is and isn't fitting.

Imogen was written by an MATP grad, so I went out of sheer curiosity. His play has made it from Edinburgh, and is a gorgeous reminder of everything that is right with the fringe theatre scene. You may have to slog through some really irresponsible rubbish, but occasionally you'll be rewarded by a gem like this.

It's a simple story done with extraordinary care: a man loses his family and discovers that you don't have to die for your life to be over. Scenes flow into each other, memories piece themselves back together, the past and the present undulate in his head and our experience. The moments are what make this exceptional--a sudden freeze of one scene and Leo is at once making love to Amie, and the two are barely touching...he slips a ring onto her finger as she sleeps...Leo literally wanders as his mind leaves the conversation with his boss...he and Imogen are swimming through space (best movement sequence I've seen all year) fighting not to lose contact. The puppet Imogen is the triumph of this show, proving what kind of incredible humanity puppets (and their masterful manipulators--the true force behind this show ) can add to a work. The scenes between Leo and Imogen were indeed the most moving. Watching her come to life-- stomping about, coloring with crayons, climbing into her father's arms--was a pleasure.

Everything in this show just fit. It was lovely. The performers looked so shocked to see a full house; I, on the other hand, wanted to thank them personally for sharing this remarkable play.

Imogen continues at the Oval House through February 11, and tours from there.

The Anderson Project

2006-02-01T14:58:00.000-08:00

My secret pleasure these days? Listening to the post-show audience murmur as the theatre empties. Yes, that's me spying on your thoughts and observations. I'm the inside-outsider; I'm supposed to. In the past, I would get incredibly frustrated when people couldn't just let a performance sit and resonate quietly for awhile, but our nature is toward immediate judgment. I'm beginning to sympathize with that need to formulate a response and articulate your experience: It fills me with wonder to see the essence of theatricality rediscovered, when someone realizes that by virtue of the form, the content is communicated in the best possible way.

[Ed: To Justin and all of my other casual readers, my apologies. I'm still getting the hang of this, and figuring out my audience. How apt. Anyway, The Anderson Project is a one man show, starring LePage as a number of characters involved with the eponymous commission and writing of an opera version of The Dryad by Hans Christian Anderson. The first excitement comes during a title sequence in which a hooded thug leaps onto the wall and 'graffitis' the cyclorama to reveal a portrait of Mr. Anderson--and the clever tricks continue. We see the Canadian Writer, the French contact, and the Dryad herself, all played by LePage. The staging just breathes life and energy that far surpasses the story itself. With projections, screens, invisible cables, and simple light and shadow manipulation, this one man brings an entire universe to life.]

On the exodus from Robert LePage's Anderson Project, the patrons were aflutter (seriously) with questions of "How the fuck did he do that?" or "He was amazing. No other way to describe it." It's that magic that keeps us going to the theatre: the hope for something that will utilize its inherent beauty and imagination in a new and unusual way. What I appreciate most about the work of Mr. LePage is that he is speaking a theatrical language, but it is today's theatrical language, altered and augmented by our relationship to new and mixed media, entertainment, and art. For two hours (no interval), he kept us leaning forward in our seats, delighted by the possibilities onstage. There were surprises, suggestions, and moments of truth. I recall quoting him in a presentation I did, a haughty little venture entitled 'New Media: Expanding Our Performance Vocabulary': he said, "We were wondering how to connect poetics and dramaturgical ideas and heartfelt emotions with the new tools we have around. Technology comes in with a new vocabulary, and we're still stuttering, trying to figure out exactly how to use it."

That presentation of mine was borne out of total frustration with the use of mixed media in scenography these days. For me, whose job is often is to cut what isn't necessary or intentional, technology can hinder more than help. The choice to use it cannot be arbitrary, especially since it is the most fluid and changing of our current scenographical methods; it has to be understood for its qualities and weaknesses. His is a welcome dexterity.

(Not to mention the fact that I was endeared by the many self-conscious theatre references embedded in the text of the show--a 'theatre person' will write for a 'theatre audience' at times...we enjoy our inside jokes as much as the next person).

The Anderson Project continues at the Barbican through February 18 as part of the BITE 06 Festival.

History in the making?

2006-01-28T13:14:00.000-08:00

New writing is a pet project of mine. Part of my job is to keep a pulse on movements and trends in the literary sphere, and encourage the development of innovative new work. Selfishly, I'll admit that part of my interest lies squarely in the fact that I'm bored by a lot of what is out there. Or perhaps, more idealistically, the incredible minds ARE out there writing plays, and I just haven't found them yet. Well, I've found three: David Gregg, Colleen Campbell, and Clare Pophale. Remember those names; once these three hit their stride, they are going to be amazing. I hope you're all happily awaiting our foray into verbatim theatre, to be premiered early this summer. Writers are curious creatures. They have to be coaxed; you have to gain their trust. As one of Dietz's characters in Fiction once said, writers don't like to write, they like to have written.

With that in mind, I've been ushered in the direction of the Royal Court Theatre, whose tradition of new writing is in its 50th year. This is where Osborne's legendary Look Back in Anger was first staged (1956). The current celebration is stretching over the next few months as well, with rehearsed readings of contemporary memorables and new productions staged. Today, I found myself the happy recipient of a 10p standing ticket, which was upgraded to circle seating. Take advantage of those matinees, I tell you! Most London theatres do two shows on Saturday.

Stella Feehily's O Go My Man turned out to be a pleasant, if fragmented, peek into the state of new writing. Directed by Max Stafford-Clark, I was expecting big things. I hear his name often, tossed about by schoolmates as if he were Christ himself. That happens to me quite a bit here, as I find my footing in an entirely different theatrical environment. On the upside, I have very few preconceptions of my own, and shows that would otherwise be hyped have no special importance to me--a foreigner with the lovely chance to make her own judgments. There were bits of the script that stood out, rhythmically and dramatically fluent, while others fell into a more common tone. And while the storyline grew convoluted and unsure, I was fighting for a way in; whose story was this? I can't help but think that O Go My Man is a beautiful play waiting to be liberated from its trappings by the swift and effective hand of a dramaturg or editor.

O Go My Man continues through February 11, in the Jerwood Theatre Downstairs at the Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square.

Howard Barker on a Tangent

2006-01-21T16:41:00.000-08:00

I love libraries. (Incidentally, however, I tend to hate academics. Nick says it is a necessary evil and that I have to maintain one foot in the world of academia, and the other in the rehearsal room). In the University of London's Senate House Library, I've often found myself overcome by the sheer possibilities. The shelves just speak of all the beautiful things I do not know. The smell of books intoxicates me. The objects themselves are treasures; I prefer to own them, so I can write my name in the back cover, make notes in the margins, and dog-ear each page. I see that as the mark of a book well-loved, like an ancient teddy bear missing an eye and a few patches of hair.

On this particular occasion, I was continuing my quest to discover the direction of contemporary playwriting. For anyone who doesn't know, I'm working with the three MATP writers as research toward that goal. Only problem is, the supporting literature for modern drama stops at about the year 2000, right after Kane and Ravenhill shook things up. Please, if you have any intriguing leads, let me know.

What was the point of this? Ah, yes, I was about to tell you that I discovered a glossy new book: Death, the One and the Art of the Theatre by Howard Barker.

Having just read his play Victory, my interest was piqued. It seems this is the logical follow-up to Arguments for a Theatre. Poor Howard, though. For all of us, from Artaud and Craig through today, who dream of that vague, fantastic, and unprecedented new theatre, he is speaking out. It's always frustrating to realize that audience don't necessarily care about the Art of the Theatre as we do, this child we have created in our minds, just out of reach...

This is an excerpt of the book, which is written thusly, in small sections of philosophical thought and theory, all aimed to defend what is sacred in theatre:

"The theatre thus: 'let us describe what the audience feels. It will thank us for it.' The art of theatre thus: 'let us describe what the audience does not know it feels. So what if it reviles us for it?'

Perhaps disturbing at points, he carries us into the heart of the art of theatre: death, and our human obsession with it. Certainly an interesting approach. I get the impression that he says the things others are thinking, but they are too frightened by the status quo to speak out.

As I read Dominic Dromgoole's The Full Room: An A-Z of Contemporary Playwriting (I've discovered in Dominic Dromgoole my theatrical kindred spirit. His careful explanations of modern theatre and its creators are grounded in real experience and expertly related to the canon at large. I'm letting him hold my hand through the rough spots.), I learned that Barker is no stranger to controversy. "The audience is sick", he said.

Dromgoole himself goes on to ask, "If we love good work, rigorous work, demanding work, provocative work, pure work, then why does it always empty the houses? If audiences are upset by moments of truth and honesty, and love charm and manipulation, what does that say about them? If they prefer last year's tricks to genuine imagination, conservative comfort to hard questions, or unambitious achievement to wild ambition, then how should we respond?"

Both books are available on Amazon. Check them out. I'm anxious to find some answers.

Absence and Presence

2006-01-20T23:58:00.000-08:00

Andrew Dawson at the London International Mime Festival, ICA

For a long time, I have been searching for that one performance that would reinvigorate my appreciation for theatre. I see so much mediocre Shakespeare, fledgling collaboration, and pseudo-performance art, that I often find myself fatigued by being an audience member. I'm usually keen to give each piece a judgment on the basis of its own merits, taking into account things like time, incomplete/uneven talent in a cast, or weaknesses in writing. All in all, I'm too forgiving.

Andrew Dawson didn't need my forgiveness.

Perhaps I'm swayed by the sheer emotion of my experience while viewing this piece; I'll admit that I cried quite a bit. However, my emotional indulgence is beside the point. In telling the tale of his father's death, he has told the tale of himself, and their relationship. Dawson has woven together a show that is subtle and honest, one that surpasses its own subject material. Here is a case where mixed media has a place intrinsic to the show. His physicalities were enchanting, but they also comprised huges portions of the script where words would never have fit. I'll stop raving here. I usually find glowing reviews to be tedious...

In any case, I overheard some spectators in the lobby after my transcendent experience, decrying his efforts as 'drama therapy'. They felt manipulated, because the subject matter was too universal: everyone has lost someone they love. Normally, I might agree; I've seen enough people masturbating themselves onstage in my day. But that doesn't fit this circumstance.

This very easily could have become a horrible, heavy-handed wank, So what keeps it from being gauche?
When it comes down to it, the show isn’t about his father dying. It’s not even about death, but rather life.

How do we negotiate those memories, those insufficient moments that meant nothing on their own, into a tapestry of life and our relationships?

I Am My Own Wife

2005-12-06T15:07:00.000-08:00

I went to a show about a senior citizen transvestite with my homophobic friend. This was probably not the wisest idea. In the lobby, the ushers handed us complimentary strands of pearls. Steve was confused; I was intrigued.

“I Am My Own Wife” has quite a reputation to uphold, as winner of awards and critical acclaim all around the world. And it doesn’t disappoint. Jefferson Mays is unreal, more a testament to a life than a simple character. Even upon his initial entrance, his acting is ferocious. I could feel his spit and sweat landing on me throughout the show. Mays has created a detailed representation of this life, while giving form to time and place. It is a one-man-show of heightened proportions, as he pushes through transitions one after another, weaving each thread of the stories together. It is no wonder he has an incredible dexterity, however, Mays has been starring in this production since 2003, winning the Tony Award for his Broadway performances. His commitment to Charlotte van Mahlsdorf, the central figure of the play, allows her to transcend her own story, and leads this account into something much bigger.

In the world of her museum, created with scrupulous detail behind her, Charlotte reveals herself as the valuable artifact. Her life, as playwright Doug Wright discovered in their interviews, is an unbelievable account of history and humanism. Her life bridges the gap between World War II and the Cold War, and beyond; not only does she survive transvestitism in the time of the Nazi’s, she lives through the constantly changing political, social, and personal conflict of East Germany into modern day. Wright’s own journey to find the truth of Charlotte’s existence, looking past her carefully measured stories, gives us an intimate account of an uncommon woman in uncommon circumstances.

More than a retelling of chronological events, “I Am My Own Wife” explores the notions of truth in the context of one life. Like her collections of imperfect and aged furniture, Charlotte’s life is a tale in itself, preserved and explored here, despite the flaws and cracks we might find. It’s less about being gay or transvestite than it is about simply being a person in this world. My friend Steve, thank God, could see that.

“I Am My Own Wife” continues through February 4, 2006 at the Duke of York’s Theatre in London.

The God of Hell

2005-11-23T15:12:00.000-08:00

The European premier of Sam Shepard’s “the God of Hell” at the Donmar Warehouse has been billed as a “zany black comedy” Then why isn’t it funny?

As a liberal American, I went into this show expecting a charged and relevant attack on the state of my government. I wanted intelligent political humor, perhaps something veiled by an actual plot. What I got instead was a mismatched rendering of an American playwright’s heavy-handed ideas with the execution of a well-meaning British company. I was certainly in a bizarre position, as I sat silently among British citizens, watching particularities of my homeland get castigated onstage; I felt like a silent spy. I was the object of their hatred, they were laughing at me and my people, feeling sorry for us and what we had done to ourselves. Of course, I can’t blame them, but the play itself fell flat.

I could have done without hearing Heartland dialects butchered by Lesley Sharp. The closest this piece comes to their intention is with Welch, who at least can vary his delivery and intention to produce a moderately creepy USA government official. It felt like none of these people had actually bothered to rehearse together. It appears that no one onstage has decided whether this is a serious piece or a farcical rendering.

I would have been fine had this play gone one way or the other. Please, Shepard, there’s not an in-between that these actors can handle right now. Whoever directed this show, I’m sure had the very best of intentions, but she probably should have had the cast reacting to one another. Just a thought. If this was to function as a parable for “Republican fascism”, then it would warrant a depiction of Middle America that mattered.

The play itself is a departure for Shepard. His family dramas usually implode from the inside as some dark history devours everyone involved. Here, we have an outside threat to contend with. This democracy is indeed a frightening concept. And Shepard does manage to install a few thought-provoking questions about the average American state of awareness. He wrote this in an attempt to influence the last elections, and certainly, there is truth in the threats of this new democracy, and the dangers posed by the conservative right. This administration, however, deserves a hard-edged exploration of truth and values, and this is simply not it.

“The God of Hell” continues at the Donmar Warehouse, London through December 3, 2005.

Making a Mess

2005-10-26T23:18:00.000-07:00

A Conflicted Viewer, on Forced Entertainment’s 20th Anniversary Show.

Bloody Mess resists a plot, and therefore the inevitable question of the audience that is trying to figure out their viewing experience: Where is this going? What does it mean? This audience is forced to respond to a show that challenges their preconceptions by openly resisting them. What do we expect from a play? What is our role in watching it? Nothing in this piece is clear; plot and structure have purposely been avoided, and we are left to deal with what is left behind. Those remnants, chaotic, fierce, and fast-paced, form a genuine experiment in focus. It veers unpredictably, as intended, and gears its general melee toward establishing a new dynamic for the audience to recognize (or not) as the modern mode of ingesting information. It is an exercise in defying definition.

From the start, the atmosphere is unsure: is this funny or serious? Well, the answer is both. Dark humor is rampant, and there are many ridiculous acts and images to respond to, but most times, the laughter fades into an awkward silence, as we the audience realizes what a fine line we walk between the hilarious and the grotesque. The process of negotiating that boundary is one we are not accustomed to in entertainment; in general, messages are packaged into neat and specific types, clearly understood and rather obvious. Their use of humor is unique because the comic is never confirmed or denied as explicitly comic. The vibe is serious, and yet the action proceeds as ridiculous.

Bloody Mess, hence it’s name, is all over the place. Action happens simultaneously, and distracts both audience focus and other performers onstage, who are trapped in an imaginary performance situation. Images collide with words and more images. They have fastened beauty and truth to humor and farce, ugliness to beauty, creating an undeniable tension. When one character pulls for a meaning, tries to communicate something he or she believes important, as with John’s storytelling attempts, it is difficult to watch. John fights through sound, movement and lights, to share something, some bit of himself, and that attempt is foiled and denied.

Onstage events subject the characters in the show to the same challenges as the viewers themselves. A sort of social contract has been identified by Etchells, and his actors onstage must acknowledge that link between one another, as well as finding it with the spectator. Within all of the clutter and cross-fire, there emerges an inconsistent but ever-present responsibility to deal with the audience, whether through passionate display, direct address, or otherwise. I was left feeling manipulated by the relationship, and indeed Etchells discussed that impulse in a post-show discussion. As with all of our modern communication, signals are crossed. Like late-night channel-surfing on a television, Bloody Mess serves to leave us conflicted, confused, and overwhelmed. It says something about our world and the messages we receive, as well as the messages we put out.

Bloody Mess is currently on tour in Europe and the USA.