Samuel Beckett

This being St. Patrick's Day, I've tried to do my Irish duty - and so I think I can write and have a lot of important things to say right now. JK - not that bad - only one brief, single Guinness.



I have yet to finish writing my thoughts (still forthcoming) on the production of Our Town which happened at the Rogue Theatre, but I am "skipping ahead" to write about their production of three Samuel Beckett plays. But before I even get to that, I want to make, if not a proclamation, at least one hell of a plea. (You know you can do such a thing when its your own blog). This proclamation/plea will get me in trouble with friends and foes alike. And that's o.k. Perhaps it will even warrant a comment or two - there is that feature available here to all who would not abuse it, so please feel free. The proclamation/plea is this; all of us here in Tucson, especially those of us who like and are involved in theatre as spectators, actors, directors, etc, should swear an oath to defend and protect the Rogue Theatre at all times...bear any burden, pay any cost...



Why write such a thing? Afterall, I'm not personally enthralled with every action undertaken by the Rogue. But my answer is simple as pie. I know a theatre when I see, hear, touch, taste and smell one - and the Rogue is such an animal. What do I mean by saying its a theatre? Aren't there lots of theatres? NO. No, no, no, no, and no. Not in my book. There are producing organizations, entities which consists of administrators, often well run, who job in artists for single productions, which are often very well done, who envision and carry out their work like eclectic library keepers. Then there are Theatres, organizations which consists primarily of a group of artists, who share common philosophies and ideas about art and life, and who band together on a permanent basis to create theatrical productions which bespeak those ideas and philosophies. The artist's individual talents and skills are used in proportion and are developed relative to the whole. A clear example of a producing organization is Arizona Theatre Company. An example of a theatre is The Rogue. And as far as I know, and I wish and could only hope that I was somehow gravely wrong about this, it is the only such one for hundreds of miles. Therefore, it should be recognized and held as a community treasure.



Now I have near and dear friends who would readily knock certain practices and criteria adopted by the Rogue. I hear all the statements and "complaints,' and I throw out a few myself - though not on the same order of business as others I hear. Have you heard this one? "Cindy and Joe and Patty play all the parts!" Or this one? "Cindy and Joe and David M. direct all the productions!" That's right. And Tom makes all the posters, and Harlan organizes all the music and Clint does all the lights. That is what happens in a Theatre. Like it or not. Think of going to see a band, or a single musician even, or your favorite sports team. The players are not constantly changing out, but rather they are developing and integrating and hopefully growing in their art and craft. Guess who played all the roles in the Moscow Art Theatre at the beginning. Yep, Stanislavsky. Guess who directed. Yep, Stanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko. Guess who directs almost one-hundred percent of Odin Teatret's productions. Eugenio Barba. Guess how many artists/actors in Odin Teatret to perform in every production for the last forty years. About eight. Would those who have been lucky enough to see Odin's repertoire of productions conclude that they need more or different actors or another director? I doubt it. I wouldn't.



The cause and origin of mine and my friends "complaints" in that vein stems from professional longing and the habits of being a jobbed-in, piecemeal-worker actors. We so accept and are so dependent on the status-quo of those Producing Organizations, that we forget how art is made, or can be made in the theatre. The fact is, as I said earlier, there are a bunch of producing organizations around - and that's great. Let the Rogue be what it is - a theatre with a point of view. Don't make or want them to be something else. Cherish what is there as rare.



When Tucson Art Theatre was in operation back in the day, we had all the same kind of knocks and labels used against us. "It's cult-like." "Same people play all the roles in every production."

It comes down to a matter of understanding intent, and to understanding that not every play has to take shape in four weeks of rehearsal by a group of freshly introduced actors. Nor should they. My feelings about what constitutes a Theatre are particular and strong, and rooted in the work and teachings of Harold Clurman. These go in detail well beyond the established practices of The Rogue. Never-the-less, The Rogue is well in the door - and in this day and age, that is no minor feat. So I say again, let's embrace them as a community treasure.



Now I can get to my complaints about the Beckett plays...plus all the things I liked too. First of all, let me refer to the comment feature again, as I'm about to say something to send my friends scrambling to say I'm only a friend and they don't share all my beliefs, and for my foes to say "see, I told you he was crazy." (Comment feature - I don't edit as long as you don't personally slander anyone). Ok, here goes. With all due respect to the talents and skills of Patty Gallagher who played in The Rogues production of Act Without Words, the first feature of three, I think you just have to have a man, a male, play that role. Yea, yea, it goes against certain basic beliefs of theatre and life to say that - but once in a while, to me it seems, there are those roles which just have to be played by a certain gender, or ethnicity, or shape or size, etc. This is not an insult or even a comment for or against race, gender, size and shape, but rather a specific requirement within an artistic structure - in this case, Act Without Words. You need the man to make it holistic, and give the full effect, purpose and consequence to the spectators. It can be done with a female, as Rogue and Patty showed, with effectiveness, but not with full effect...and consequence etc. (Comment feature). I would say its especially important to have a man in a production where you are attempting to display strictly the author's personal imagining of a piece, as Rogue seemed to be attempting to do throughout otherwise. My companion complaint, and I might be wrong on this one, but I don't think I am, so I have to proceed as if I know exactly what I'm talking about, is that the Patty as the character chewed her fingernails on a couple of occasions. I can't claim to recall this script as written by Beckett, but I think, I think, it says the man looks at his hands...or studies his hands...something along those lines. I don't think it says "chews or bites fingernails." I'm pretty sure that later it says the man uses the shears for cutting his nails, but I don't think it indicates or says chews them prior to that. And that is important to me in the grand sequence of actions and logic of the play. Very important. And my third complaint, which also falls in relation, is that there was an object on the stage prior to the appearance of the man! I mean, gasp! Seriously, gasp!



To say those things about the production infers that I know a little about Beckett. I came as a spectator to this production with some general knowledge. And now because of that knowledge I hold some criticisms and prejudices against the production. But what if I hadn't had the previous knowledge of Beckett? No expectations in that regard as a spectator. Perhaps just general theatre going experience. What would be, or what was my experience then? Impossible to say for sure but believe I would have been questioning, not heavily, but in the sense of "ok if this is suppose to be funny, how come its not that funny, and if its supposed to be serious, how come its not that serious, and if its supposed to be profound, how come its not that profound, etc." I would have been confused I believe, in general. Bored at times and interested at times. Surprised at times dying from the obvious at other times. Now you may think that is bad. And if this was your everyday, daily newspaper review perhaps so - because aren't spectators supposed to know what is happening and why at all times and be entertained one-hundred percent of the time? Nah. Beckett gets you differently. I don't know if they intended it, but I like the stop action in Rogue's production. The stillness. And the slowness. So against the grain, I loved it. Not alot happened. And when it did happen, it wasn't complicated. Just a few critical things.



But in my prejudiced and preconceived mind, those few critical things that happen, and must happen in particular sequence, were warped, contaminated if you will, by having an object on stage prior to the man's appearance on stage, and by the chewing of the fingernails. The logic and reasoning of the sequence of actions, and subsequently their collective depth and meaning is confused and partially lost by these additions. Now Rogue's production was still "about" something, and that something is totally up in the air, but it has a changed logic and sequence of actions from Beckett's as he described it on the page. Rogue's production had a life and immediate theatrical impact within the moment on the spectators, and that's naturally different for all of us, but we are left more to guess perhaps than even Beckett would have wanted on any emotional and intellectual understanding of it.



There is (or should be) a bare-bones magnitude to Act Without Words. One single, simple, clear action at a time, slowly brings the man, and the spectators, to conscious awareness and decision, instinct and choice, innocence found and lost, and a whole host of other things real and imagined. It's a lonely, or rather a solitary experience, for the man and the spectators, undertaking and contemplating each action. Gaining experience, prejudice and preconceptions along the way. Wondering what part of those are real, which will reoccur, and how and why do I handle them. There is in a sense a birth when the man is thrown on stage...an empty stage I might add...and through sounds and movements and actions and reactions, the man develops awareness of self. And there is the discovery of environment, and needs of the self, physical needs, emotional needs, intellectual needs. There is the discovery of the interaction and control or non-control of over ones environment (thus the observation and use of the hands...one of the keys for mankind), and so on it goes. But this is all done, or intended to be done, with the supreme simpleness that only a supreme "clown" as performer can do. Because Beckett builds the bigger ironies that way, of theatre and life.



At the beginning of Beckett's script, as the man is thrown onstage, there is only "self." There is no "place." As the stage is empty. However, in Rogue's production, place was already present prior to the man being thrown on stage. It was there in the form of that object on the stage, as rock or piece of ground, (however difficult it was to identify). That is what I mean by the logic being changed. It doesn't discount Rogue's production for what it was, but it made it different from Beckett's very precise sequence of logic and actions. In an otherwise empty space, or dark space if you will, I see only the man. But in Rogue's I saw the man and the rock, or earth, or at least object in relation to him. I am aware of a certain "on stage" and a certain "off stage" already - way to soon. It was a change of sequence, and change of logic, and even story.

One school of thought might say Beckett gives you so little at a time but it adds up to a lot somehow. Another school of thought would be Beckett always gives you a lot, but in a deceptively small form and it adds up to a lot, (or to nothingness). In an English garden you see layers and layers of plants and colors. In a Japanese garden you might only see one plant among one or two colors or rock or water. But don't forget there are hundreds of those black rocks. A lot in a deceptively simple form. I am in the second school of thought. And that placement of the plant in relation to the rocks is the logic and sequence for me. Critical. Its all very crucial and even delicate. Even the title, Act Without Words, like all good titles, plays its own little part. For what do we see soon enough on the stage but a word - WATER. In written form, but a word none-the-less. We don't see two words, just one. One word. It's appearance is silly, ironic, reasonable, theatrically appealing, and loaded with meaning, as form and content.

I'll have to pause and finish reference to the last two pieces later - and the many things I enjoyed or questioned. I look forward to more reflection on them.