Next to Normal

     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.

Show and Tell Post #2 - The Clean House

Basic Information about The Clean House

     After reading Eurydice and completely falling in love with both it and Sarah Ruhl, I decided to read another one of her plays. The first act of The Clean House was commissioned in 2000 by the McCarter Theatre Center in Princeton, NJ. It received its world premiere in its full-length form at Yale Repertory Theatre in New Haven, CT in 2004. It was also produced at the Goodman Theatre in Chicago in May 2006. An excerpt can be found here at Sarah Ruhl's website, but I read it in her anthology The Clean House and Other Plays, published in 2006. All of this information came directly from the text in the notes before the play. 

Basic Plot

     Lane and Charles, both doctors, are very busy and never see each other. Lane hires Matilde, a maid from Brazil, to clean her house. Matilde longs for her parents, who both died. Her father told her mother a joke, the best joke in the world, and she quite literally died from laughing, her father killing himself shortly thereafter. Matilde doesn't enjoy cleaning, so Virginia, Lane's sister, cleans for her while Matilde entertains Virginia with company and jokes. Coming up with and telling Brazilian jokes is Matilde's favorite thing to do.

     One day when Virginia and Matilde are folding clothes, they come across red, silk underwear, "surely not Lane's". Charles is having an affair with one of his dying patients, Ana. Ana is Jewish, and their is a Jewish law, bashert, that states that if you find your soulmate, you are not required to stay with your married spouse, or feel guilty for leaving. Ana proceeds to take Lane's husband and maid, whom Lane fired, but then gets angry, everyone deciding to split Matilde's time between Lane/Virginia and Charles/Ana. While Charles searches for a cure for Ana, she moves in with Lane, who takes care of her. Finally, when Ana can take no more, she asks Matilde to tell her a joke so funny it will kill her. She does, Ana dies, Matilde tells the audience the story of how she thinks she was born, and the play ends. 

     (Note: The above is such a bland plot summary that I almost feel guilty for watering down Ruhl's play to these brief paragraphs. It's funny, beautiful, and I highly recommend giving it a read if you even slightly enjoyed Eurydice.)

Critical Take

     The first dramaturgical choice Ruhl makes that I find noteworthy is the use of language as a binder and as a wall. Matilde, fluent in both American English and Brazilian Portuguese, has a very keen sense of humor that is hard to translate to English. Ruhl makes a note that all of her Brazilian jokes are just suggestions, and that she encourages the cast to come up with their own Brazilian jokes. Just like British humor, Brazilian humor is much different than what we're used to in the states. Lane and Virginia struggle to grasp her jokes, but Ana, from Argentina, delights in being able to communicate with Matilde in both Spanish and Portuguese. I find Ruhl's use of language very unique and exciting. When foreign languages are used in plays, we sometimes don't get translations (Chicago's Hunyak the Hungarian's "Not Guilty!" monologue is never translated). Ruhl included a section after her play with specific subtitles that are to be projected behind the actors. These subtitles include translating the Spanish and Portuguese that Ana and Matilde speak, as well as select stage directions that add another layer to scenes that are movement based and dialogue light. I thought it was brilliant that language could bond two characters together and simultaneously separate them from others.

     The second dramaturgical choice that Ruhl makes is that the singular, unchanging set functions as both Lane's living room, Ana's balcony, and Charles' hospital. At the beginning of the play, lines between where we are in a scene are never blurred, and action only takes place one location at a time. We move clearly from Lane's living room, to an entirely different scene that takes place on Ana's balcony, etc. As the play progresses, and lives become intertwined as relationships and stories overlap, the physical spaces start to blur as how people are connected to one another starts to blur. Lane is sitting in her living room, feeling bitter about her husband leaving her for his "soulmate", while Charles and Ana are picking apples from Ana's balcony. During this scene, apples from Ana's balcony fall in Lane's living room. Lane notices these apples, as these falling apples are intentional and clearing falling into Lane's world, not just on the ground. This blurring of worlds and relationships happens again, when Charles is in Alaska looking for a cure for Ana's cancer, and it snows from the balcony into Lane's house. Although we get to see characters change and interfere with others lives when they're speaking to each other, Ruhl creatively shows how you can affect someone else's life passively by just living yours. 

     

Blog Comments - Part II

The Glass of Water Comment

The Children's Hour Comment

Love! Valour! Compassion! Comment

Eurydice Comment

Show and Tell Post Comment

Eurydice

     The first quote I would choose to put on our publicity poster is "I didn't know an arguement should be interesting. I thought it should be right or wrong." Orpheus says this in The First Movement on page 213. I chose this quote because I think this encapsulates perfectly what I believe Sarah Ruhl's entire point to be in writing this play. Eurydice is filled with mirrors and parallels. A Nasty Interesting Man also happens to be played by the same actor who plays The Lord of the Underworld. Both Eurydice and Orpheus get frustrated when they both enter the underworld and stand on the things they are trying to read. Eurydice is separated by her father, and Sarah Ruhl was also struggling with losing her father in real life. The underworld and overworld look the same, yet hold entirely different feelings. On a very basic level, the fact that the Greek myth of Eurydice is ancient and yet is adapted into this modern, abstract retelling is a huge parallel. With all of that said, I think the quote I choose is a question posed that the play/Ruhl answers. Of course things aren't as simple as right and wrong. Things are never black and white. Life and death, relationships, language, setting... all "interesting" elements that most definitely aren't right or wrong/black and white. I like this quote because if it were on a poster, I think people would answer in their heads a soft "No." Eurydice responds to this quote beautifully. A production based on this quote would highlight the parallels. It would be full of life and vibrant imagery and beauty. It would be the antithesis of right/wrong/black/white. 

The second quote I would choose would be "How do you say good-bye to yourself?". Eurydice says this to the stones in The Second Movement on page 225. In the scene she is describing how she died and how Orpheus looked. When Eurydice asks this question, I think it can be asked on two different levels. On the first level, she means this quite literally.  Right before this question, she says, "I was not lonely / only alone with myself / begging myself not to leave my own body / but I was leaving. Good-bye, head -I said- / it inclined itself a little, as though to nod to me / in a solemn kind of way." As her soul made its journey to the underworld, she was leaving her physical self behind. She asks her question then, as someone would ask a question about a difficult experience they've yet to experience, like "How do you give up your first-born?" or "How do you tell your sister your mother died?" Eurydice is in a very distressful and odd situation.

     On the second level, Eurydice is asking, "How do you say good-bye to everything and everyone you know and love?" When you look at yourself, you did not become the person you are on your own. Experiences and people shape who you are. People, consciously or not, affect and shape your personality and who you are at your core. When Eurydice asks this, she's not only asking, How do I say good-bye to me, but how do I say good-bye to Orpheus and my life and where I live and the things I enjoy like music and dancing and a life on earth. How do you just say good-bye to life - to everything? The struggle in Eurydice is dealing with life in the underworld, learning the rules and language of death. Eurydice and her father have to time and time again come to terms with their current situations. Eurydice is a world where you never know what you're going to remember and forget, against your own will (by being dipped in the river) or just with the passage of time. Therefore, a production based on this quote would always have a sense of questioning, and would force the audience to think of what's important to them, or what they need to make important to them. This idea reminds me of Ben Watt's 100. What memory do you choose to relive for eternity? In Eurydice, the audience should leave with an urgency to discover what they hold as important, and maybe realize that the things they currently view as important, aren't. 

Love! Valour! Compassion!

     If a historian were to pick up a copy of Terrence McNally's Love! Valour! Compassion! and proceed to make a few conclusions about the worldview of the play's culture, that historian would most likely gather that USA circa 1994 was a fluid, abstract, existentialist, bizarre world that was struggling with AIDS. 

     I don't think this culture even views capital-T Truth, but rather abandons it altogether. Capital-T Truth is linear and realistic. L!V!C! is quite the opposite. At first glance the play seems naturalistic - set at a lake house over three prominent American holidays, with a bunch of men taking about all the things any good gay 90s man would discuss - musical theatre, Madonna, and AIDS. Pretty straight-forward. However, once that future historian started to delve into the work and started to notice the structure and dramaturgical choices in the play, he would see that this isn't a world where capital-T Truth exists. Capital-T Truth is dead. Characters break the fourth wall by not only addressing the audience, but also interrupting and commenting on what those fourth wall-breaking characters are saying. The plot, if given a 3D form, would look like this or maybe this. It loops back, repeats, or is fabricated by a character. Parts of the story are changed to better fit a character's memory. 

     What separates L!V!C! from the other well-made plays we've read is that this play is unconventional. It's sporadic. In The Glass of Water and The Children's Hour, things are clearly laid out and obvious. Stage directions are specific, characters almost seem like stock characters out of a commedia dell'arte piece, and by the end of the show, everything is tied up neatly in a nice little well-made play package. Not so with L!V!C!. Stage directions are vague and almost non-existant. One actor plays twin brothers. There's no bow at the end of the play either, instead ending with the line "Anyway."

     Lines between reality and and fantasy are blurred. We don't really know if what characters are saying is true or not, nor do we know if anything is even on stage (Is there a lake, where a space like the Reilly could come in handy, or is it an imagined lake, with a portion of the stage doused in blue paint? Are there beds, or is the stage just cleverly lit? Does the house, an image so central and grounding, even belong on stage?) Order and firm conclusions are thrown out the door. Mr./Mrs. Historian would definitely enjoy presenting their findings on L!V!C!, because this play is the exact opposite of a well-made play, and the notion of any capital-T Truth.  

The Children's Hour

    While Lillian Hellman's The Children's Hour definitely has very strong elements from the well-made play, she often deviates from this formula and adds her own twists and turns. ("Take that, Scribe!" Hellman probably thought as she wrote angstily about lesbians and the catty youths who agonize them.)

     One significant departure from the well-made play form in this play is the focus on character rather than plot. While plot is significant in this play, the characters of Karen, Martha, and Mary take precedence. The "tragic lesbian" trope is present, so the focus on character deviates from plot over character. This is a significant dramaturgical choice because Hellman is showing how one small girl's words can ruin a woman's life, even pushing her to the point of suicide. 
     Another departure is the substance of the obligatory scene. After the secret had been set (Mary telling her grandmother her teachers were engaging in some "unnatural" acts), I thought for sure that the obligatory scene would be Karen and Martha revealing that they did in fact love each other. However, Martha reveals her love for Karen, Karen reveals the feeling is, in fact, not mutual, and then Martha kills herself. Mrs. Tilford reveals she made a mistake in accusing them, but this happens too late. 
     A third departure I found is from the Just-in-Time Revelation. Mrs. Tilford swoops into the living room of the Wright-Dobie School, ready to beg for forgiveness because sweet little Mary made quite the blunder and, like, you guys aren't lesbians after all, lol, right?? But Karen gently lets Mrs. Tilford down with a polite, "Martha is dead." Whoops. Mrs. Tilford has come to apologize, but definitely not just-in-time. 
     I would even go so far as to say The Children's Hour does not end with a logical resolution. Mrs. Tilford asks Karen if she'll let her help her (Tilford help Karen), and if she'll write, and Karen responds vaguely and distantly. Mrs. T leaves, and the stage directions read "(Karen smiles as Mrs. Tilford exits. She does not turn, but a minute later she raises her hand.) Karen: Good-bye." Well. If that's not an ending that lacks logic and leaves you feeling empty, slightly confused, and wondering what just happened, I don't know what is.

     As far as if The Children's Hour should be performed today, I say, "Why not?" Yes, it is problematic, and an extreme case of what happens when homophobia pushes people to the edge, but I think it's an important piece of theatre. Reading this question I think of Leigh Fondakowski's The Laramie Project and the Ole Miss football team. Ironic that another play with gay themes is causing a stir. At the same time, imperative that it be performed. Obviously, it's a functioning great piece of theatre because it showed the need for it to still be performed. That's the whole point of that play! Like TLP, TCH could easily be done today. The need for it to be seen and the message it carries can only help extinguish homophobia and hate. 
     A "technically good but probably shouldn't be produced today" piece of theatre that comes to mind is Dutchman by Amiri Baraka. It was performed as part of LSU's lab season a year or two ago, and while important and necessary when it was first written and performed in 1964 during the civil rights era, today it seems dated and blatantly racist. It had no place being performed for a modern, 2012 audience. I rarely sit in a show and think, "What the hell am I watching and why is this being staged?" but I did then, the only answer I came up with being that experimental college theatre students love shock and controversy and were going for an "insightful, call to action" show. I guess. Yikes. 

The Glass of Water

     Unfortunately for me, my dramaturgical spidey sense failed me both while reading and after reading Eugène Scribe's The Glass of Water. 
     Fortunately for me, I was paying attention in class when we briefly discussed Water and the two odd pieces changed by the translator were made clear to me. 

     The first moment in the play that did not fit in with the rest was when the Duchess and Bolingbroke kiss and then slap each other smartly on the cheek. For the first two acts of Scribe's play, the Duchess and Bolingbroke are at each other's throats. They engage in a 24-hour armistice, where they complete small favors for each other, and then resort back to their sneaking, battle-like relationship. They are a threat to the other and are always competing in a battle of wits. And yet, after all of this back-and-forth-ness, they realize... they've been in love all this time? "You are the first man who has ever defeated me . . . and, if I were not already married, you would know no peace until I had wed with you," the Duchess remarks. They then claim the first and second privileges of husband and wife (a kiss and a slap, respectively) and then bow to each other and leave. Ok... A very strange moment in the play that was never even hinted at in the previous two acts. 

     The second moment in the play that did not seem to fit in with the rest was when the Queen looks out of her window and takes notice of the new, handsome guardsman. Again, what..? Looking strictly from a level of class perspective, a queen would never be involved or even take up an interest in a mere guardsmen. That aside, it just doesn't fit in with the rest of the plot. Why would the queen fall in love at the end of the play? Her story line should have ended when Masham and Abigail got together, and yet, the Queen has this odd wave of a love interest just as the curtain falls. While the bulk of Water fits together, this last moment definitely seems out of place in this otherwise well-made play. 

Show and Tell Post #1 - The Death of the Last Black Man In the Whole Entire World

     The play I chose for my first show and tell post is Suzan-Lori Parks' The Death of the Last Black Man In the Whole Entire World. It was written in 1990 and was originally produced at the Brooklyn Arts Council's BACA Downtown Theatre (Salem Press). Although popular amongst critics and scholars, Black Man has seen a very small amount of staged performances due to "defying traditional notions of plot, character, and structure, the work calls for a sizable cast of 11 actors, all of them black, and a facility on the part of the entire team to make sense of lines like 'do in dip diddly did-did'" (Chloe Veltman, 2013 San Francisco Fringe Festival). I found this play in Parks' anthology The America Play and Other Works. 

     The play opens with an overture, followed by five "panels", and closes with a final chorus. The central character in the play, called Black Man with Watermelon (BMWW), dies over and over again, each way representing a different way black people have died in the past. In the overture we are introduced to the chorus, including the characters Black Woman with Fried Drumstick, Lots of Grease and Lots of Pork, Yes and Greens Black-Eyed Peas Cornbread, and Queen-Then-Pharaoh Hatshepsut, among other characters who all represent definitive black stereotypes. In the Overture, BMWW dies by falling 23 floors out of a ship to his death. In Panel I, BMWW dies in an electric chair. In Panel II, we learn more about each of the stereotypes and that Before Columbus, the earth used to be roun (flat) but after Columbus added a /d/, the earth became round (round). BMWW drowns in a river. In Panel III, BMWW gets lynched. In Panel IV, Ham explains how the black race mixed and expanded, and then sells everyone off in a slave trade. In Panel V, BMWW remembers which foods he likes to eat. Finally, in the final chorus, everyone talks of documenting the past so the future will know how and why they exist. (I know that was really easy to follow so sorry if it got a little DUH, I know this already!!)

     The first dramaturgical choice that Parks focused on is repetition repetition repetition. I felt like I had deja vu throughout reading this play. Parks chose to use a variety of repetitions. The first type involves a character repeating a line of dialogue or phrase over and over again. An example is when BMWW says, "You: still is. They: be. Melon. Melon. Melon. Melon: mines.", or when ALL say, "Ham Bone Ham Bone Ham Bone Ham Bone." The line, "This is the death of the last black man in the whole entire world." is repeated often. A stage direction of bells ringing also pops up multiple times throughout the script. The second type of repetition is a section of dialogue between two characters being repeated: 

• (Page 127, The America Play and Other Works)
• Black Woman With Fried Drumstick: Sweetheart.
• Black Man With Watermelon: SPRING-TIME.
• Black Woman With Fried Drumstick: Sweetheart. 
• Black Man With Watermelon: SRPING-TIME. 
• Black Woman With Fried Drumstick: This could go on forever. 
• Black Man With Watermelon: Let's. Hope. Not. 
• (This section of text is literally repeated again. Not posting to save space.)

The third type of repetition is the reinforcement of an idea. The worl/world story is told over and over again by different characters, slightly varied each time it's repeated. 

     Why all of this repetition? As I was reading I began to discover a slight lyrical pattern to the text. There were also obvious places where rhyming with yourself or with another character was intentional. (I really hope this doesn't come off as offensive), but black people, especially during the civil war period, often used song to tell stories and communicate. Parks' choice of repetition and rhyme might have been a way to channel that lyrical way of telling a story. 

     The second dramaturgical choice Parks employed was the motif of death. Yes, obviously, BMWW dies over and over again. But through careful reading, I think I was able to grasp what Parks was weaving throughout her zany acid-trip of a script. Parks killed off more than just her main character. Parks killed off the idea of accurate, truthful history. She altered history by spanning thousands of years, including a character who's an Egyptian queen but setting her play in the present. Parks killed off the typical way of keeping track of history, suggesting instead to write something down and place it under a rock. The last scene is perhaps the most shocking example of this idea, when Yes and Greens Black-Eyed Peas Cornbread is telling everyone else, (he's speaking of keeping history here) "It will be of us but you will mention them from time to time so that in the future when they come along theyll know how/why they exist." I kept reading, but later went back and realized that that "them" is, dare I say it, white people!!! And even more shocking, "when they come along"! As in, Parks has written a world where white people do not yet exist. She has taken the foundation of history and flipped it on it's head. She has killed the idea of history in general.

     I apologize for exceeding the typical S&T post length, but hope that the long play title and character names, as well as my carefully thought out ideas and examples, make up for the few extra minutes you, Dr. Fletcher (and Jenny?) and any brave, patient students took the time to read. Thanks!!

4000 Miles

     I totally agree that an incredibly strong motif in Amy Herzog's 4000 Miles is disconnection. Vera's use of the term "whaddayacallit" (her disconnect with words and memory) and Vera and Leo's disability to fully communicate with each other are among many examples of "disconnect", but I am tempted to delve into another, more specific motif - Leo's failing relationships with women. 

     Leo has a handfull of women he is struggling with during the course of 4000 Miles. He can't stand dealing with his mother, Jane. "Jane and I are at a juncture where more talking is not better than less talking," and, "...if this is gonna be about calling Jane, and a last minute hellaciously overpriced plane flight for which she has to take a Valium because she's a phobic freak..." are two examples of Leo's struggle to connect to his mom. The fact that he refers to her as "Jane" and not as "mom" is alone a strong message of the space between them (space here meaning both figuratively and literally, Leo biking across the country, very far from home.) 

     Leo's relationship to Grandma Vera is another failing relationship. I mean, really, who smokes weed with the grandmother? And on top of that, who brings up their ex-girlfriend's "weird pussy"? But hey, who am I to judge? Maybe it's a northern thing... Anyway, Vera's preliminary excitement that Leo has decided to stay for a while slowly fades to distrust and annoyance. Vera begins to think Leo isn't being truthful about his money borrowing, and suspects Leo of breaking things and not telling her. It becomes muddled whether this is Vera's old age or the strain on Leo and Vera's relationship. 

     Leo fails, dare I say epically, with Amanda, his off-putting Asian fetish fulfilling pseudo-one-night-stand. First he calls her Amelia ("Who's Amelia? Ex-girlfriend?" Amanda questions), but then really turns her off with her fearing he's a communist like his grandfather. After being caught by Grandma V, Amanda offers her number, but Leo "probably wouldn't use it? So..." Smooth, Leo, smooth. Leo doesn't even try to be polite here, almost blatantly recognizing his own struggle with women. 

     After examining Leo's relationships I realize these could also all work as examples of the "disconnect" motif, but I think the focus on the women in Leo's life is important. Herzog only wrote one male into her play but chose to include three women that are parts of Leo's life. Micah, an incredibly important male in Leo's life, is talked about and brought up, but isn't a character seen on stage. Neither is Leo's dad, or grandfather, etc. I believe the number of men to women is important here. What did Fuchs say? "Nothing occurs 'by chance,' not even chance." 

Judith

"Oh, virgin! / Oh, widow and mother! / Oh, everything! / Fuck this! Hard going, this!"
     -The Servant, p. 61

     I feel like The Servant captured my feelings while reading this play quite well. At times I was confused, others I (thought) I understood what was going on, sometimes laughing, and sometimes feeling like I shouldn't be laughing when I was. 
     With that said, I think (using Barker's emphasis tool) the major dramatic question of Judith is "Will Judith, and by extension, the country of Israel, regain her power?"
     What led me towards this question was the hint given in the prompt and Judith's interactions with the servant. I found it ironic that the servant, not even given an actual name, held so much power in the play. Judith and Holofernes were engaging in a battle of wits, but the servant was keeping score in the background. Towards the beginning of the play, the servant had the most power, prompting Judith to say certain things to Holofernes, getting both characters to undress and become vulnerable, even giving Judith the sword to chop Holofernes' head off. For the first two thirds of the play, the servant is really in control. 
     However, once Holofernes is killed off, Judith begins her ascension to the top. Her country has already won due to Holofernes' death, but now Judith must regain power over her servant. There is a slight struggle, and Judith even needs her servant's help to become "unfrozen", but as soon as she is able to move again, she steps on her servant and takes control of the situation. Judith has her servant hack her hair off (the biblical story of Samson is ringing a bell here) and instructs her servant how to carry the head and how to walk with Judith. 
     Does Judith regain her power? Absolutely. "My body was but is no longer / Israel / Is / My / Body!" Judith exclaims. To break the two thoughts apart: 1) My body was but is no longer Israel, and 2) Israel is my body! In her eyes, Judith has become the physical manifestation of her country. She has become so enveloped in power that she believes she is the flesh representation of Israel. After her final words, the servant shows her respect to Judith and leaves the tent. The final image we see is Judith alone in the tent, before leaving. Judith is queen of the mountain, and revels for a moment in her journey to the top. 

Blog Comments

Overtones Comment

Trifles Comment

'night, Mother Comment

Judith Comment

4000 Miles Comment

4000 Miles Comment #2

'night, Mother

     At first glance, I think it's very easy to think that Jessie is the central character in 'night, Mother, and in turn explains the hypothetical director's MDQ. However, if you were to change angles and look at the play from Mama's point of view (or rather, look at Mama as the central character) I think a better major dramatic question would be, "Will Mama stop Jessie from killing herself?"
     For the majority of the play, Jessie really shies away from answering Mama as to why she wants to kill herself. To try and get an answer out of her, Mama employs a number of techniques. First she tries to remind Jessie of the "good times" by offering to make hot cocoa and caramel apples. Then Mama moves on to threatening to call for help, and repeatedly goes back to the phone, with diminishing efforts each time. Finally, instead of beating around the bush, Mama finally just asks why.
     "It has to be something I did," Mama says. And later, "...and I was here all the time and I never even saw it. And then you gave me this chance to make it better, convince you to stay alive, and I couldn't do it."
     Mama spends the length of the play trying to make herself comprehend why her daughter would want to kill herself. The ways she tries to figure this out moves the play forward, and as she progresses, he attempts get more and more desperate, ultimately physically standing in the way of Jessie.
     "I can't stop you because you're already gone!" Mama says at one point. Mama's struggle, in my opinion, is a much more interesting thread to follow than the answer to "Will Jessie kill herself?" Jessie has grounded herself into her decision, and it seems inevitable, almost more of a when/how/why will Jessie kill herself instead. I think focusing on if Mama can stop her is a much more interesting major dramatic question.

Trifles

     After reading Susan Glaspell's Trifles, I'm not sure that a minimalistic, abstract concept would work well for this play or even do the play justice. 
     As I was reading Trifles, a number of images stuck out to me. The haphazardly left house and kitchen in disarray was the first. As the audience eventually finds out that there is a murder investigation occurring in the Wright household, you get a feeling that someone left in a hurry (or in Mrs. Wright's position, was removed in a hurry). Another image in the kitchen that was talked about in detail by the characters was the dirty towel on a roller. An exchange about class levels and gender roles unfolds, and sets a tone that men are superior to women in the world of Trifles. The bread box and jars of preserves are also images that pop up time and time again. Both women are almost unsettled at the sight of bread out of the bread box (the horrors of an unkept kitchen!) and the jars of preserves seemed to worry Mrs. Wright more than the recent death of her husband.
     Other significant images are the bird cage, the sewing box, and the quilt and pieces of fabric, to name a few. Most, if not all, of these props are small yet vital pieces of the complete story. It's very difficult to image a staged performance of Trifles without these physical, literal objects on stage, as opposed to blank, abstract, neutral colored versions. 
     It's hard not to compare the two because we just read Overtones one or two days ago, but I feel you could absolutely get away with an abstract, bare stage, black and white version of Overtones. Although written in the early 1900s, it could be set in the here and now and be equally as compelling. It almost seems as though this hypothetical director is confused as to what show he is proposing. Overtones is definitely a play where I would want both audiences and actors to put their focus on the words and emotions. 
     The focus in Trifles seems to me to be more about understanding why Mrs. Wright killed her husband and the motive for the other women to protect her. Without critical props like the bird cage and sewing box, especially in the final scene, the scene would lose its power and purpose. I think going with a minimalist design would alienate an audience. This isn't a make believe, magical, fantasy show which requires an imagination. It does, however, require an understanding of what's going on in between the lines, which can only be aided and made clearer by the use of sticking to the stage directions and props/costumes listed. It would also make it more difficult on the actors. If you were in Harry Potter, would you want to act next to a dragon or pretend in front of a green screen? If I was in a production of Trifles, I would not want to pretend to see a dirty house, pretend to see a rocking chair, and pretend to be cold as I'm wearing simple black pants and a shirt. Having realistic props and costumes only helps the actors feel more comfortable and makes the entire situation seem more "real". I don't believe this is a type of show that could get away with a bare stage - it's just not written that way. There are too many instances in the play where it would almost seem ridiculous to an audience to see any actor reacting so vividly to nothing. 

Overtones

     In Alice Gerstenberg's one act entitled Overtones, I do believe that the "inner selves" of Harriet and Margaret do see and hear each other. While the levels of interaction grow from the beginning to the climax of the play, there are always subtle hints that the primitive selves are aware of and can hear/see each other. 
     When Harriet and Margaret are first seen together, we as readers only get to witness the inner selves talking to their physical forms. As the conversation starts to open up and formalities are gone, Margaret's motive for coming allows the inner selves to start to interact. The way the physical selves communicate reminds me of swelling waves. They start out calm, then the inner selves begin to talk to the physical selves (Hetty to Harriet and Maggie to Margaret), and as the conversation starts to escalate and enter a more sensitive, personal subject matter, or motive, the inner selves begin to communicate with each other. There are multiple conversational "bouts" that take place throughout the play, and after the small goal is achieved, whether it be Margaret sneaking cream into her tea or Harriet getting Margaret to ask her to pose for a painting, the inner selves become subdued and resort to talking to their counterparts again. 
     The majority of the play follows this pattern of conversational bouts - the inner selves beginning to see/hear each other as the dialogue heats up, and then fade as the heat dies down. 
     As readers, we gain insight into Gerstenberg's concept by her stage directions. We are able to see when an inner self is talking to its physical self or the other woman's inner self. An audience, however, does not benefit from seeing who's supposed to be talking to who. It is then up to the actor to convey through emotion and physical movement who they're talking to. Gerstenberg sometimes puts emphasis on what an inner self is saying to their physical self by either mimicking what the physical self is doing (when Maggie anxiously reaches for a tea cake as Margaret delicately takes a cake) or by obviously talking directly to a physical self (when Hetty leans in and whispers in Harriet's ear). With these two techniques an audience would have no confusion over who is talking to who. 
     The pattern above is briefly broken at the very end of the play, when Hetty and Maggie have their final confrontation. At this point I think all four characters can hear and see each other at the same time. At this moment Harriet and Margaret really reveal themselves and who they are, and the subtleties that previously existed are extinguished. Both women's true motives are revealed: Harriet's lust for Margaret's husband and Margaret's want of Harriet's money. Although the inner selves are speaking here, it's obvious that these statements aren't just inner thoughts.