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. 

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'night, Mother Comment

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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.