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     I put off doing this post till the end because I love this show with all my being and could write a book about it and I don't want to do this post because I know I'm going to over-write and months from now I'm going to reread it and think, "What was I thinking?! I should have talked about XYZ!" Anyway. Writing this post hurts. Physically. Without further ado…

     The first Hornby element in the script I'd like to talk about is rhythm in "Why Stay?" Diana speaks-asks-sings this twice to no music. As she begins to list off the problems she has, the piano is introduced, playing one solitary note at a time, slowly. When she wonders why Dan is still around, she quickens her pace, and the music lurches forward to catch up with her, playing faster and adding a frantic violin. Diana climbs up tonally as her anger and impatience rises. There are tiny moments of tension as Di hits a high note and holds it, kind of like a boiling point, before pressing forward. When Natalie joins in, it shows the common struggles they share with their counterparts.  (I'm not even gonna get into this because Stephanie covers Diana/Natalie and Dan/Henry parallels here). The music Kitt composed here shows Di's frustrations with a pulsing drum undertone and power-punch rock feel. 

     The second element I'd like to focus on is sequence. In Act II, Dr. Madden, Dan, Di, and Natalie work through Di's memory loss issues with "Better Than Before". Di has trouble remembering some things like her wedding ring, but remembers not going to Natalie's swim meet. It's a very bittersweet scene, Di making progress so soon, but also realizing that Natalie has had a pretty shitty life and than Dan has also struggled a lot throughout their life. What immediately follows this song is Gabe's lament "Aftershocks". He warns that even though he's not in Di's memory anymore, he's still in her soul. This song, a critique of the ECT treatment to mental illness, begs the question of "What's worse?". Placing these two songs back to back is a unique juxtaposition of progression and handicap, success and failure. While the family is working to rebuild Di's memory, Gabe is fighting to regain his place. 

Show and Tell Post #3 - Scenes from an Execution

        

          "Shut up, he says. Voice from the depths. Shut up. IT STINKS IN HERE. I do think you

          might change the straw, the previous occupant had crabs - no I haven't seen them, I        

          speculate - "  

                           -Galactia, Scene 15

     If this seems reminiscent of Judith, there's a reason. Scenes from an Execution, written by Howard Barker, premiered as a radio play for the BBC 1984. It later went on to be staged  in 1986 at the Almeida Theatre in London, with Glenda Jackson staring as the lead, Galactia, in both productions. It received a revival in 2012 by the National Theatre. I found this play in Howard Barker: Plays One published by Oberon Books in London, part of their Oberon Modern Playwrights series. I found this information at The Wrestling School ("a European theatre company based in London that explores the relationship between language, performer and audience through the work of Howard Barker") and its Wiki page. 

     The play opens with Galactia painting her lover Carpeta. Galactia is a painter who loves details and paints incredibly life-like bodies and scenes, while Carpeta paints more biblically, painting a picture of Christ in the flocks eight times. Galactia gets a commission to paint the Battle of Lepanto for Urgentino, the Doge of Venice. The painting is a huge work, three thousand square feet. The Doge's brother, Admiral of the Fleet, can't be "seen", even though he is 14 feet high. Galactia is painting the battle as it was, full of blood and bodies. The Doge, however, insists it celebrate Venice instead. As Galactia delves deeper into her work, she distances herself from Carpeta. Galactia's daughters warn her that her painting is offensive because it pities the enemy, but Galactia is more concerned with truth. When Galactia fails to bend to the Doge's ideas, he turns to Carpeta to do the commission instead. When the admiral sees he has been painted with talons for hands, he throws Galactia in prison. An art critic takes up for Galactia, and because Carpeta's work lacks the brilliant detail and power of Galactia's, she is taken out of jail and her work exhibited. Galactia has gone slightly mad, the whole point of her work being misinterpreted and the truth morphed into something unrecognizable.

     The first dramaturgical choice that stands out to me is the use of a Sketchbook as a guiding force and narrator in the play. The Sketchbook, found on the character list and given lines in the play, has no clues as to whether it is played by an actor on stage, or if it is a literal sketchbook given a voice from an actor off stage. The Sketchbook is very strong and prominent character in the first part of the play, but as the play progresses, it slowly disappears. The Sketchbook is quirky and ambiguous, often cutting off characters mid-line, only to be cut off itself as the scene abruptly ends. The explanation I came up with for the disappearance of the Sketchbook towards the end is that the line becomes blurred between the Sketchbook as a narrator and the subconscious of Galactia given a voice. When the Sketchbook speaks, it either observes what's being seen in the scene, or it provides an update of what portion of the painting Galactia is in. As the play progresses, Galactia begins to speak her thoughts aloud. She shares her internal struggles and her displeasure with the state of affairs she's in. The Sketchbook and Galactia's subconscious morph together to become one.  I also enjoyed that a sketchbook, a personal collection of rough, unfinished, quick, and usually never shown to others drawings is used to narrate. Barker is on to something by using something so primal and gritty to be so definite and illuminating.

     The second dramaturgical choice that stands out to me is the parallel of the definition of truth and the definition of perceived gender norms. The "point" of Scenes is well-known "Artist's Struggle". Do you paint what you are told, or do you paint the truth, also known as "for yourself". The Doge tells Galactia she was commissioned to paint the "greatest triumph of Venetian History". There's a great moment in scene two where the doge asks Galactia if she loves Venice. She replies she is Venetian. Right from the start, we see where Galactia stands. Throughout the play, everyone from the art critic to Galactia's own daughters to the upper echelon critiques her work for being too raw. Her work is nothing but blood, torn flesh, and "chopped up genitalia". This, to Galactia, was the battle. The Doge and his supporters, however, have a "you do what you gotta do" mentality, and see the battle purely as a victory for Venice, no matter how dirty it was. After all is said and done, the painting is a huge success. Visitors who view it weep from the power it holds. A group of male painters scoff at it, saying that if a man had painted it, it would have been an indictment of war, but because it was "painted by the most promiscuous female within a hundred miles of the lagoon" (WHAT???) it is instead viewed as "aggressive, coarse, and shrill". The painting is nicknamed "The Slag's Revenge". Because a woman fought against the male dominated notions of what art is and what should be put on display, she is suddenly whorish and her art is shrill? (At the beginning of the play, Galactia's daughter Supporta supports (eh, eh?) Galactia by telling her she would be a breakthrough for women if she painted for the doge). The parallels here are fascinating. Galactia is told she would be a breakthrough, she does what she wants (the truth), gets reprimanded for it, her work is wildly successful, but Galactia herself is seen as sub-par because of her sex? The things truth gets you and the things being a woman gets you are horrifyingly similar here. 

(Apparently, I never learned what a word count is in this class. Sorry. Just call me a whorey Galactia because I do what I want.)

Topdog/Underdog

     SLP's Topdog/Underdog includes the two mirrors mentioned in the original prompt: the Lincoln assassination performance and the card game. The Lincoln assassination performance is a mirror to the actual shooting of President Lincoln during a play, and the card game is a mirror to the real card game Three Card Monte. But why these two mirrors in the same play?

     I think SLP chose to include these two mirrors in the same play to show the similarities in trickery, power, deception. The Three Card Monte is all about convincing the mark they have a chance of winning, getting others involved to make the situation seem real, and ultimately duping the mark out of money. The Lincoln game is all about tricking the player into thinking they have the power (while holding the gun) and ultimately hold the fate of "Lincoln"'s life in their hands. 

     What I found interestingly similar between these two mirrors is the pseudo-relinquishing of power in the relationship. The TCM dealer makes the mark feel comfortable enough that they can win. They orchestrate the game in a way that the mark is thinking, "Ha! I've got this. I can't wait to see his face when I pick the right card! Idiot." The same with Lincoln. He makes the player feel like they can sneak up, shoot him, and win. However, when you think about it, the TCM dealer and Lincoln are the real winners. They hold the power, they know what's coming next. It's a mind game, like when a child plays hide and seek with a parent. Mom can obviously see her horrible-at-hiding child, but feigns ignorance and pretends to search more. You make your mark feel like they're winning, but you know you already have it in the bag. 

     This power deception strategy is the heart of Topdog/Underdog, and I think SLP has a very crafty and unique way of weaving this into her story. 

Blog Comments - Part III

The House of Trials Comment

'Tis Pity She's a Whore Comment

Water By the Spoonful Comment

Topdog/Underdog Comment

Next to Normal Comment

Show and Tell Post Comment

Water By the Spoonful

     A part of the script where I enjoyed realities interacting was in Scene Eight, where Elliot, pretending to be haikumom, has a conversation online with orangutan. Elliot and Yaz have just visited Odessa, asking her to contribute money for flowers for the funeral. Odessa, no money on hand, tells them to go get her computer and pawn it for cash. When Elliot and Yaz go to get the computer, they log on, presumably to wipe it clean, and the chatroom pops up. Elliot and orangutan get into a scuffle, but Yaz reveals that he's haikumom's son. Orangutan, in turn, reveals Odessa has told the forum about Elliot's addiction to pain meds, which Yaz didn't know about.
     I think Hudes has these particular realities intersecting at this particular moment in the plot because it intelligently shows that all characters are linked by the central struggle of drug addiction. It also shows the mirror between fountainhead's keeping his addiction from his wife, just like Elliot never told Yaz about his problem. I think Hudes was trying to show that the same problems can be found in the online chatroom world just as easily in the real world. Elliot says at one point, "What I am: sober. What I am not and never will be: a pathetic junkie like you." He tries to think of himself as above the people his mom is talking to online, but he's really no better off. Orangutan makes Elliot face his fears, both with the self-realization that he too has a problem, and that he's never told Yaz.
     At a later point in the play, fountainhead is having trouble saying that he has an addiction ("it's more psychological"), and the other chatroom members prod him until he finally says it. Elliot again faces the same problem, saying "the only thing left from those days is the nightmares". This moment in the scene is a way for Hudes to show that everyone can be connected by the same issues, but people deal with them in different ways. 

'Tis Pity She's a Whore

     What a picky director. The first quote I would recommend for the poster would be "Che morte piu dolce che morire per amore?" (Annabella, Act IV Scene 3). This line, translated into English, reads, "Can there be any sweeter death than to die for love?" First off, it's in a different language than English, so people will definitely be intrigued- Is this play in English? What does that mean? I must go see this show! I chose this quote because it takes place during a pivotal moment in the play. Soranzo is forcing Annabella to tell Soranzo her lover's name, and is threatening to kill her. Annabella's fierce bravery to sing in another language in response to Soranzo's "I'll hew thy flesh to shreads! Who is't?" is pretty badass. The line is also some nice foreshadowing to when Annabella dies by her lover Giovanni's hand, apparently dying because Giovanni loved her that much. (Let's be honest, Giovanni. You wanted that kill for yourself so Soranzo couldn't do it. That's sick man. Worse than that time you impregnated your sister. Creep.)
     The second quote I would put on my poster would be "Revenge is all the ambition I aspire: To that I'll climb or fall; my blood's on fire." (Soranzo, Act V Scene 2). What a line. This line, paired with the show title, would having me buying tickets immediately. It really sets up what the show is about. Ok, a poster viewer would say, so there's a play about a whore and revenge? I'm interested! Again, another line filled with foreshadowing, or rather, irony, considering Giovanni gets revenge on Soranzo by killing his sister. The desperation also adds another layer that gives a good glimpse of what the play's about. "To that I'll climb or fall." He's going to stop at nothing to get revenge. The stakes are high. You also get that nice recurring image of blood. Pretty great quote. 
     Finally, a quote that lays it all out on the line. The Cardinal's last line that closes the play in Act V, Scene 6, "But never yet incest and murder have so strangely met." Hey, what's 'Tis Pity She's a Whore about? Incest and murder? Got it. Why avoid the subject matter? First, it would help parents maybe keep their kids at home. It would prepare audiences for something they might not normally see. It could even be seen as humorous, like bringing up the elephant in the room. And what the Cardinal says is true. He's summarizing the events that have just taken place, and overall, 'tis pretty strange. Impregnating your sister only to turn around and stab her heart, planning an elaborate hoax disguised as a masque... I like this quote because it's straightforward and gets any awkwardness out of the way pretty quickly. 
     As for images and colors, we obviously want to avoid hearts, daggers, and the color red. Unfortunately, those are precisely the images and colors my brain immediately turns to. So what then? I like a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving-esque large dining room table. All of our main players are sitting around the table, but in simple masks covering the tops of their faces, and covering the table are a plethora of raw meats. Maybe we can still see animal heads. The grossness of the raw meat is the feeling I would want to create on stage, with the whole "I had sex with my sister" thing.
     I also like the scene of a graveyard, with everyone who dies names' on tombstones. Death is such a resonating theme in Whore, and I think it sets the tone for the show. On the central headstone, I'd want a glass of wine (or blood??) and in front of the headstone, on the ground, I'd want people to look like they're having sex. How offensive right? Fornication on top of the dead! Ha! Another sick image, but an image I feel represents the work well. A little alcohol, a little sex, a little death- all this and more in 'Tis Pity. For colors, I'd want to keep things simple. Gray scale, black and white.

The House of Trials

     If I were using the play The House of Trials to make some conclusions about comedia conventions, I would probably first point out the fact that comedia plays often dealt with the subject of honor. In modern American theater, I'm not even sure the word honor would pop into my head when I was describing a play, but honor is a prominent theme in Trials and most likely other Spanish Golden Age plays. The whole "I'll fix things so I'm found in the same room alone with the man I'm in love with" and the "My wife isn't a virgin so I must murder her immediately and should probably kill myself too" ideas found in Trials reinforce the theme that honor is important.
     Another conclusion to be made about comedias is that there is a certain element of controlled chaos. Often times while I reading, I pictured a pretty simple set that really just consisted of a bunch of doors. There are plenty of well timed entrances and exits, and barely missed conversations that makes the play just work. Just like my previous example where women would choreograph a situation to get a man, characters were often finding themselves stuck in situations where they just had to go with it. Another example of controlled chaos is Castano disguising himself as a woman. Castano has to deliver a letter but doesn't want to be recognized so he disguises himself, but just before he embarks, Pedro thinks Castano is Leonor. With all of these quick, rapid-fire scenes and scenarios, I definitely think that the controlled chaos idea was used prominently in Spanish Golden Age plays.