Samuel Beckett once wrote a letter to Sergei Eisenstein. He wanted to go study film making at the Gerasimov Institute in Russia where Eisenstein had been busy teaching and still making history and fame. This was before Beckett himself of course had reached any such status, just after his college days, and after his father had passed away, and during a time when his mother was encouraging him to get out of the house and get a job, around 1936. The letter apparently never reached Eisenstein.
I don't know to what extent Beckett knew of Eisenstein's work, but obviously he must have seen it and been influenced enough to write the letter. And Beckett being the studious and curious type, must have known of some of the theory and history of Eisenstein's work with Meyerhold and Biomechanics. Beckett certainly had read Pudovkin's thoughts on acting and filmmaking.
That brings me back to the recent Beckett production I saw at Rogue Theatre, specifically Act Without Words. Now Beckett conceived of and wrote that piece for a dancer/mime friend of his and also based part of it on behavioral experiments he had witnessed involving gorillas and the stacking of boxes. Beckett's brother wrote music for the original production which was used to underscore the piece.
If you have seen Biomechanics training, you know many of the exercises, the more advanced ones, are usually based around a little scenario, a little story of activity. In that regard, it's easy to imagine Act Without Words functioning, played out, under the ideas, principles and aesthetics of Biomechanics. Its admittedly a jump at this point to say an influence of Meyerhold's Biomechanics had a conscious and immediate effect in that particular Beckett work. But its not a far fetched or impossible leap to say a long lingering infatuation and remembrance of it was combined with other influences to spur its creation. Act Without Words overall premise and style, along with the particulars of the activities themselves carried out by the actor, make it ideal for Biomechanics at its most mature.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Robert Montgomery Knight - Its a small world afterall
Well, Butler is in the final four and on a related note, Big Vance came through with his Annual from Cuyahoga High School 1963 - featuring Robert Montgomery Knight, fresh out of college and coaching JV Team and assisting the Varsity. Vance is basking in the glow of having walked in his presence.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The General
Casual talk in the office about the NCAA Basketball Tournament. Vance is an Ohio St. fan. I'm cheering for Butler because ....well, Hinkle Field House all that.
Me: Vance, you know Thad Motta (OSU Coach) used to coach at Butler. Went from there to OSU.
Vance: Really? I saw one game when I went to OSU. But it was right after Havilcek and Lucas left.
Me: Hey, you know who else was on that team? Bobby Knight.
Vance: Really? I didn't know that.
(Vance pulls out his fancy phone and uses the voice activated search. "Bobby Knight," he says. Results come up. He reads them).
Vance (Astounded): Oh my gosh! I can't believe this. It says Knight was at Cuyahoga Falls High School (in Ohio) for one year, 1962-63. That's my high school. I was there then!
Me: Wow! That is awesome!
Vance: Come to think of it. I think he might have been the guy that ran our Study Hall then and was always giving me detention.
Me: Did he slide the chair across the room at you?
Vance: I think he did!
Me: I love it! The General! Bobby Knight! Give me five Vance! You Rock!
Me: Vance, you know Thad Motta (OSU Coach) used to coach at Butler. Went from there to OSU.
Vance: Really? I saw one game when I went to OSU. But it was right after Havilcek and Lucas left.
Me: Hey, you know who else was on that team? Bobby Knight.
Vance: Really? I didn't know that.
(Vance pulls out his fancy phone and uses the voice activated search. "Bobby Knight," he says. Results come up. He reads them).
Vance (Astounded): Oh my gosh! I can't believe this. It says Knight was at Cuyahoga Falls High School (in Ohio) for one year, 1962-63. That's my high school. I was there then!
Me: Wow! That is awesome!
Vance: Come to think of it. I think he might have been the guy that ran our Study Hall then and was always giving me detention.
Me: Did he slide the chair across the room at you?
Vance: I think he did!
Me: I love it! The General! Bobby Knight! Give me five Vance! You Rock!
Three Reasons
why April should be a great month! Picnic at Live Theatre Workshop. The Trip to Bountiful at Waypointe Theatre. Othello at The Rogue Theatre.
John Sheedy New Work
Check out Chuck Graham's article on film-maker John Sheedy when you get the chance, there on the Tucson Stage pages. I bumped into John a couple of weeks ago when he stopped in at Prescott College, Tucson Center. (He earned and received his Masters at Prescott). He is a terrific, down to earth, caring person and a great film-maker with unique insight and perspective.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Principles of Review.
A panel session on criticism in the arts was held this past Sunday, sponsored by The Rogue Theatre and Arizona Daily Star. I did not attend. Not because of any reason pro or con. I was just otherwise occupied. I haven't heard a peep about it since but I bring it up to give me an excuse to put in my two cents about the subject, generally. I have no doubt others on that panel and at that discussion are better qualified and more informed than me when it comes to addressing specific issues around Tucson and newspapers and/or journals. So I'm sticking to a more vague, overall approach. And in this case I am talking about individual events, individual productions.
Personally I have two notions, or basis, or sets of principles that I work from. The first set is well known and applicable to all art in general I suppose. The second set specifically regards theatre and production of plays, spectacles as I like to refer to them these days.
I'm no expert on Thomas Aquinas (I know a little about the man and his work, but I'm not that well studied), but I believe my first set of principles has to do with his notion of beauty, or what makes a thing, a work of art, beautiful. And even here, I no doubt have adapted his concepts for my own, not knowing if I have added or subtracted anything. James Joyce and others have picked up readily on it, so if its good enough for them, I'm in too! Anyway, for Thomas Aquinas, beauty has three components - Wholeness, Harmony and Radiance. Briefly stated, wholeness is our ability to perceive and understand the form and concept of a piece, or perhaps its ability to show that form and concept to us clearly. Harmony has to do with the working relationship of individual parts within the form and concept, and to the form and concept itself. Radiance is that ooh-ahh factor, a distinct or noteworthy creative presence, lifeforce. These three things function, or can function, independently of each other. In other words, wholeness plus harmony does not make radiance.
If I am mulling over a play production after the fact, perhaps even trying to write about it, I try to keep this triptych concept of beauty in mind as a way to find, to discover certain values or shortcomings in a work.
The other set of principles I keep in mind is that the behavior of the actors that we spectators see on stage has three possible origins. One is the actor's personality, his or her way of moving, talking, looking, habits, thoughts, etc. Everything about them as humans. Second is a particular interpretation idea regarding the script or a character. For example, an actor may decide that a character walks with a limp, or speaks rather quickly or softly, or reacts angrily most of the time. Third would be a convention of theatre. Actors tend to face toward the audience for example. Or if its a particular style of theatre as in say Japanese Noh Drama, there is a way of walking, moving that is particular. So the overall behavior we see on stage is a result of one, two or all of these in combination. When I am watching a production, it is usually readily evident which behaviors arise for which reason. Further, its readily evident if the overall behavior has a cohesion among the three origins or if there is a kind of disconnect or conflict between the three both logically, aesthetically and within the actor him/herself.
That's a very, very general overview of the perception that plays in my mind while watching or later reviewing a production in my mind. I won't for now go into larger purposes or reasons for criticism, concepts like to "persuade and promote." Nor as I said at the beginning of the post do I have reason or handle on the details of the machinery available to us here and how to best make do with it all. But when it comes to a community, working, practical vocabulary and dialogue, I'm all for it.
Personally I have two notions, or basis, or sets of principles that I work from. The first set is well known and applicable to all art in general I suppose. The second set specifically regards theatre and production of plays, spectacles as I like to refer to them these days.
I'm no expert on Thomas Aquinas (I know a little about the man and his work, but I'm not that well studied), but I believe my first set of principles has to do with his notion of beauty, or what makes a thing, a work of art, beautiful. And even here, I no doubt have adapted his concepts for my own, not knowing if I have added or subtracted anything. James Joyce and others have picked up readily on it, so if its good enough for them, I'm in too! Anyway, for Thomas Aquinas, beauty has three components - Wholeness, Harmony and Radiance. Briefly stated, wholeness is our ability to perceive and understand the form and concept of a piece, or perhaps its ability to show that form and concept to us clearly. Harmony has to do with the working relationship of individual parts within the form and concept, and to the form and concept itself. Radiance is that ooh-ahh factor, a distinct or noteworthy creative presence, lifeforce. These three things function, or can function, independently of each other. In other words, wholeness plus harmony does not make radiance.
If I am mulling over a play production after the fact, perhaps even trying to write about it, I try to keep this triptych concept of beauty in mind as a way to find, to discover certain values or shortcomings in a work.
The other set of principles I keep in mind is that the behavior of the actors that we spectators see on stage has three possible origins. One is the actor's personality, his or her way of moving, talking, looking, habits, thoughts, etc. Everything about them as humans. Second is a particular interpretation idea regarding the script or a character. For example, an actor may decide that a character walks with a limp, or speaks rather quickly or softly, or reacts angrily most of the time. Third would be a convention of theatre. Actors tend to face toward the audience for example. Or if its a particular style of theatre as in say Japanese Noh Drama, there is a way of walking, moving that is particular. So the overall behavior we see on stage is a result of one, two or all of these in combination. When I am watching a production, it is usually readily evident which behaviors arise for which reason. Further, its readily evident if the overall behavior has a cohesion among the three origins or if there is a kind of disconnect or conflict between the three both logically, aesthetically and within the actor him/herself.
That's a very, very general overview of the perception that plays in my mind while watching or later reviewing a production in my mind. I won't for now go into larger purposes or reasons for criticism, concepts like to "persuade and promote." Nor as I said at the beginning of the post do I have reason or handle on the details of the machinery available to us here and how to best make do with it all. But when it comes to a community, working, practical vocabulary and dialogue, I'm all for it.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Rambunctious Enthusiasm
There is an awesome picture for Dance in the Red (Art.If.Act Dance Project) on the Tucson Stage List. To me it looks invigorating, cool, and full of love and life and enthusiasm. A little bit daring even, with an accelerated attitude. And those are the very things I often find missing, or finding myself longing for when I am at a theatrical spectacle. I sense things too contained, too stilted, too conventional, too controlled, too expected. I am speaking general experience - there are small exceptions. But commonly, even at productions I am enjoying, I find myself as a spectator longing for vibrancy, a reckless abandon within the boundaries, absolute joy, sense of adventure, these kinds of things, be it within a moment, a scene, or an entire production, something to make the spectacle "take off" and become "magical." I always feel I am watching re-created pretend life, no matter how interesting and compelling, rather than something that has come surprisingly to life. Mind you, this has nothing to do with style, i.e. realism, naturalism, etc. No matter how the form and content mesh, there is always the question, or problem, for artists and spectators of does this thing move on its own, does it have life, excitement? or is it earthbound, banal?
Friday, March 19, 2010
You Don't Bring Sonia Moore in This Household! and other tales.
This past Tuesday, I met up with Royce, Howard and Patrick for a two hours session of theatre talk (geeky, geeky, geeky). This event was supposed to take place before or after our trek to Rogue Theatre and the Beckett plays, a beer drinking, pizza grubbing, theatre talking macho-fest. But one of the four of us scheduled a date along. As I told this one, I would always recommend taking a date, especially one with the charm, good looks and education of this young lady, over going along with Cretans the likes of us. But don't mix the two! It won't work! And another of the four developed a birthday bash conflict. So, plan B became meet on Tues. And so we did.
This session was intense. I was the last to arrive and there were essays on the table! Patrick was a couple of expressos to the wind, just getting warmed up, Howard was in midday form with those compound questions, and Royce always has some new element or purpose he is in full study on...usually the Brits (heaven help me). And I was early! At least to our scheduled time. Needless to say, two hours flew by!
I railed at Royce that he needed to see the short clip of Gennadi Bogdanov doing Lucky's monologue from WFG. In fact, he still needs to do so and I'm awaiting his call as this goes to post. Somehow out of that Beckett/Bogdanov/NotellingwhatcrapIwassaying talk, Royce says..."David, what acting teachers do you like/recommend?" Now I can forgive Royce because you will not meet a more appreciative, respectful, and gracious young man. He is old school. Fathers all over this land are tying to arrange marriages between their daughters and Royce. Would we all grew up along these lines. If my own daughter were a little older...
I have met his mother, and while Royce is completely his own man, it's evident charm and personality run in the family. But enough of that. He said "David, what acting teachers do you like/recommend?" Said it very sincerely. Now, we knew in the moment Royce wasn't talking about someone local in town who runs a workshop or whatever. He meant anyone in the history of theatre. "David, what acting teachers...is there someone I should read?"
I didn't fall out of my chair. I suddenly realized for the time I have spent with Royce, working on monologues, hanging out talking, I have given him many references, never seemingly stressing one over another, just running a litany of great artists past and present, each wonderful and applicable to the moment and purpose.
But let's pause more. Reflect. "David, what acting teachers...is there someone I should read?"
Several levels to consider. There is a tired old someone out there somewhere wagging a finger perhaps and saying "You can't learn to act from reading a book!" To which I say emphatically "No shit, Sherlock." (I cuss when I'm playing basketball, teaching Actor's Gymnasium, and sometimes writing this blog. Rarely otherwise). But there is a world of inspiration and ideas and practical substance out there in books about acting for those would seek it. But which books? When the words Stanislavsky and Strasberg roll out of my mouth in response to Royce's question, which actual writings will I send him to?
The problem was I didn't get that far in my considerations in that precise moment. I just said "Lee Strasberg." and then I said kind of comically "I like Stanislavsky too." And Royce said "Which one? I've Read his first book?" (referring to Stanislavsky). I didn't hearken back as I should have, to the days when I wanted to know what book to read and my teacher/mentor patiently loaned me book after book after book with quiet and thoughtful explanation of each. Instead I said "Royce! Weren't you at my Stanislavsky talk?" He said, "Which one?" O.K. I've given a few over the past couple of years, but to me they all equal one. Everyone should have been at each session - thereby, equalling one talk! Then I remembered, Royce came late, missed all that crucial stuff on the publications of Stanislavsky's work, etc.
The years go slowly by...
Then Royce asked about Sonia Moore...if I liked her work. I ripped up the marriage contract I had just drafted between Royce and my young daughter. Sonia Moore. No. The only one who likes Sonia Moore is Phil Bennett. In like twenty seconds I was exasperated. All my years of work and preparation and patience, even the normal licking of my chops and glimmer in my eyes when someone says things like "David, who do you like in acting?" was gone. If we were father and son it would have went to one of those old fashioned love/hate/can't communicate fights. I would have stood up and shouted "You don't bring Sonia Moore into this household!" Stormed out. Mother (played by Howard in this case) would have come to comfort him, baby him. "Son, your father just wants you to love the real Stanislavsky as much as he does." "I can't help it Mama, I was reading Zeami, the Flower in Drama..." "Talk to your father about that then. He mentioned Zeami just the other day in his talk. Let that lead you back together. But don't mention Sonia Moore. Afterall, your father is right. She is junk." "Do you think he will let me keep the Sarah Bernhardt biography?" "Let's keep that between you and me. We will let that be our little secret. If your father asks, I will tell him its mine. That I'm doing comparative study research." "Thank you mama." "Oh, and by the way son, don't mention to your father about that musical theatre class you are taking either." "But why not? Uncle (Patrick) is in that class." "Just don't mention it! Now off you go to read My Life in Art for the one hundredth time! Scoot!"
On a more serious note. My answer to Royce came down to Lee Strasberg, A Dream of Passion. You see Royce has been among the Brits, and the LAMDA's and the Phil's. In their household, you cannot mention Lee. These things happen. So we have to go directly to the source, to the beginning so to speak. We have to get directly to the heart of the matter. In other instances, I might make a different recommendation, related closely of course, but different.
I believe in Royce. He is smart and talented. With or without Lee Strasberg, Royce will do wonderful things. But if he wants the specifics his talents deserve - Lee is the one.
This session was intense. I was the last to arrive and there were essays on the table! Patrick was a couple of expressos to the wind, just getting warmed up, Howard was in midday form with those compound questions, and Royce always has some new element or purpose he is in full study on...usually the Brits (heaven help me). And I was early! At least to our scheduled time. Needless to say, two hours flew by!
I railed at Royce that he needed to see the short clip of Gennadi Bogdanov doing Lucky's monologue from WFG. In fact, he still needs to do so and I'm awaiting his call as this goes to post. Somehow out of that Beckett/Bogdanov/NotellingwhatcrapIwassaying talk, Royce says..."David, what acting teachers do you like/recommend?" Now I can forgive Royce because you will not meet a more appreciative, respectful, and gracious young man. He is old school. Fathers all over this land are tying to arrange marriages between their daughters and Royce. Would we all grew up along these lines. If my own daughter were a little older...
I have met his mother, and while Royce is completely his own man, it's evident charm and personality run in the family. But enough of that. He said "David, what acting teachers do you like/recommend?" Said it very sincerely. Now, we knew in the moment Royce wasn't talking about someone local in town who runs a workshop or whatever. He meant anyone in the history of theatre. "David, what acting teachers...is there someone I should read?"
I didn't fall out of my chair. I suddenly realized for the time I have spent with Royce, working on monologues, hanging out talking, I have given him many references, never seemingly stressing one over another, just running a litany of great artists past and present, each wonderful and applicable to the moment and purpose.
But let's pause more. Reflect. "David, what acting teachers...is there someone I should read?"
Several levels to consider. There is a tired old someone out there somewhere wagging a finger perhaps and saying "You can't learn to act from reading a book!" To which I say emphatically "No shit, Sherlock." (I cuss when I'm playing basketball, teaching Actor's Gymnasium, and sometimes writing this blog. Rarely otherwise). But there is a world of inspiration and ideas and practical substance out there in books about acting for those would seek it. But which books? When the words Stanislavsky and Strasberg roll out of my mouth in response to Royce's question, which actual writings will I send him to?
The problem was I didn't get that far in my considerations in that precise moment. I just said "Lee Strasberg." and then I said kind of comically "I like Stanislavsky too." And Royce said "Which one? I've Read his first book?" (referring to Stanislavsky). I didn't hearken back as I should have, to the days when I wanted to know what book to read and my teacher/mentor patiently loaned me book after book after book with quiet and thoughtful explanation of each. Instead I said "Royce! Weren't you at my Stanislavsky talk?" He said, "Which one?" O.K. I've given a few over the past couple of years, but to me they all equal one. Everyone should have been at each session - thereby, equalling one talk! Then I remembered, Royce came late, missed all that crucial stuff on the publications of Stanislavsky's work, etc.
The years go slowly by...
Then Royce asked about Sonia Moore...if I liked her work. I ripped up the marriage contract I had just drafted between Royce and my young daughter. Sonia Moore. No. The only one who likes Sonia Moore is Phil Bennett. In like twenty seconds I was exasperated. All my years of work and preparation and patience, even the normal licking of my chops and glimmer in my eyes when someone says things like "David, who do you like in acting?" was gone. If we were father and son it would have went to one of those old fashioned love/hate/can't communicate fights. I would have stood up and shouted "You don't bring Sonia Moore into this household!" Stormed out. Mother (played by Howard in this case) would have come to comfort him, baby him. "Son, your father just wants you to love the real Stanislavsky as much as he does." "I can't help it Mama, I was reading Zeami, the Flower in Drama..." "Talk to your father about that then. He mentioned Zeami just the other day in his talk. Let that lead you back together. But don't mention Sonia Moore. Afterall, your father is right. She is junk." "Do you think he will let me keep the Sarah Bernhardt biography?" "Let's keep that between you and me. We will let that be our little secret. If your father asks, I will tell him its mine. That I'm doing comparative study research." "Thank you mama." "Oh, and by the way son, don't mention to your father about that musical theatre class you are taking either." "But why not? Uncle (Patrick) is in that class." "Just don't mention it! Now off you go to read My Life in Art for the one hundredth time! Scoot!"
On a more serious note. My answer to Royce came down to Lee Strasberg, A Dream of Passion. You see Royce has been among the Brits, and the LAMDA's and the Phil's. In their household, you cannot mention Lee. These things happen. So we have to go directly to the source, to the beginning so to speak. We have to get directly to the heart of the matter. In other instances, I might make a different recommendation, related closely of course, but different.
I believe in Royce. He is smart and talented. With or without Lee Strasberg, Royce will do wonderful things. But if he wants the specifics his talents deserve - Lee is the one.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Frozen Heart Revisitation
I got a notice that Frozen Heart, a new play written by Dawn Sellers and directed by Phil Bennett will be playing at Live Theatre Workshop in the Etcetera Series, late night. I can't stay up late enough hardly to see it, but hopefully it will get plenty of turnout and reception. Last summer I went to a staged reading at Beowulf Alley of this play. I even wrote about that event on this very blog. I was not personally taken or captivated by the script. However, its music to my ears or eyes, to read of its continuation into production. It speaks to the desire and the commitment of the individual artists involved, and to the framework and infrastructure of the producing organizations helping to make it possible. And, I don't have the answer to this, but I want/need to ask the question, how many brand spanking new plays have been produced in this town recently? No theatre (separate concept from producing organizations) is complete, mature, without generating its own playwrights, and/or its own plays. Events such as this one are always important and noted steps along the way.
When I was at the reading, and the talkback afterward, Phil mentioned that he thought the script represented a "new form of theatre." And I was thinking to myself "Phil, have you lost your mind?" And then Dawn said her next step would be to add dancers in some expressive context she had in mind. And I was thinking to myself "Dawn, have you lost your mind too?"
Luckily they never for second paid me any attention, or would have had I opened my mouth.
A reading is just that - a reading. What I perceived in the script at that time that could transfer to the stage who knows...I would have to go back and read my post on it. The important thing is that Dawn and Phil and those working with them sense something and I'm happy to report that it seems dancers have indeed been added.
So, we need to find a way collectively to endorse this process, to relish it. The theatre activity in this town is crazy great right now, awesome really. And Frozen Heart has its place and time.
When I was at the reading, and the talkback afterward, Phil mentioned that he thought the script represented a "new form of theatre." And I was thinking to myself "Phil, have you lost your mind?" And then Dawn said her next step would be to add dancers in some expressive context she had in mind. And I was thinking to myself "Dawn, have you lost your mind too?"
Luckily they never for second paid me any attention, or would have had I opened my mouth.
A reading is just that - a reading. What I perceived in the script at that time that could transfer to the stage who knows...I would have to go back and read my post on it. The important thing is that Dawn and Phil and those working with them sense something and I'm happy to report that it seems dancers have indeed been added.
So, we need to find a way collectively to endorse this process, to relish it. The theatre activity in this town is crazy great right now, awesome really. And Frozen Heart has its place and time.
Act Without Words
I didn't see Slava's Snowshow when it came to town two years or so ago. I wish I would have. By all accounts Slava Polunin is the greatest clown performer in the world right now. If you are my generation, or above, you probably saw Red Skelton or Carol Burnett when they had TV shows. I'm gonna say I was really young then, but I remember. I tried to copy the antics and routines. My family will tell you so. Those ways they were so fascinated by or slaved over some small thing, some object or some seemingly trivial happening, how it would get out of hand. I loved that. In fact, a few years ago when Howard Allen talked me into being in The Birthday Party I put in a sequence of pouring and drinking coffee, full to the top of the cup, having to sip, spilling etc, that was my kind of tribute to that clown style. I believe my partner in the scene probably hated it, but he was great. To this day, I have a character named Mr. X that I originated in our family Gong Shows - held annually during our family reunions. (Why I always get gonged though I don't know). Mr. X is in that tradition, with a little Jerry Lewis slapped on for good measure. Anyway, the point is, most of us have some fond memories and admiration for those kind of performers. And I think they have been a dying breed - It sure seems like it.
Enter Patty Gallager and Joe McGrath, playing respectively in Act Without Words and Krapp's Last Tape for Rogue's Production of Beckett plays. While I might have preferred a more physically dynamic and exacting rendition by these performers, I found something charming, simple and glorious about their work. Their thoughts, their actions, their attitudes were ordinary everyday, put one foot in front of the other, just trying to solve a problem or lead a nice life. Which in turn as we all know can result in great achievement or great failure.
Why do we laugh when we see someone slip on a banana peel? And what happens when they almost slip, but don't? I hate those kinds of questions! But people somewhere use them for some basis, some theoretical foundation of comedy. Good luck with that. But I guess they speak to fate and chance and luck anticipation and imbalance and all that. I'm smart but not that smart.
I've seen Dario Fo on tape, improvising, and I've seen Corporeal Mime training with Etienne Decroux. There is wonderful inventive use of the body in that work, and when constructed in action holds forth a compelling logic, all including chance and fate and anticipation, reason, desire and gratification (or not), etc. Decroux was a fan and admirier of the great French boxer Georges Carpentier. I wrote of this in some earlier post. Decroux wanted his performers to possess the same kind of balance, grace, power, speed, and control that Carpentier displayed in the ring, executing "The Sweet Science." (Note to all you Ultimate Fighting fans...not even close, so don't go there).
In order to start many of these actions, clown-like or otherwise, you need a good old fashioned big breathe of fresh air - inspiration - and later expiration - life to death so to speak. When that man gets thrown on stage in Act Without Words, tumbling out perhaps, somehow landing on his feet, his first action is a big old breath. Welcome to life baby! Or so I would imagine it. In Rogue's production, Patty was more subtle with her use of technique and action, less exacting and less obvious than I would have asked for. As a spectator I don't need or want to be hit over the head with a stamp, but Patty's rendition made it more difficult to determine what, if anything, was going on. In many respects that was just fine. I enjoyed that even to a degree. The work was of a more general nature and an acceptance of the script as vague. Given Patty's talents and background in Clown work, in Balinese Mask, I think a more specific and tightly woven set of actions could have been constructed which would have built the intensity and anticipation and consequences of the actions accordingly.
We all know the word text (often glorified by intellectuals of the theatre, and those who consider theatre an outreach of literature) is short for texture, meaning a weave...think rugs and all that. There are tight weaves and loose weaves. On stage, a text is created by actors composing a series of individual actions. These actions include physical movement, thought, emotion, etc, all the characteristics of human nature and behavior, including use of words and language sometimes. What the actors create is the performance text - that which us spectators see and hear. As we experience the text (the sequence of actions) unfolding on stage, we as spectators begin to identify certain behaviors. We begin to understand a certain logic unfolding. We start to harbor expectations and anticipations. And this being America with a mostly upper class British culture influencing our social, educational and entertainment commitments, we suppose we have to pay attention to every moment in polite fashion - which only furthers our expectations and our ideas for what is happening in our presence on stage. In some production, our expected logic plays out fully right to the end and we as imaginative spectators follow it right through with satisfaction. It meets our emotional and intellectual expectations and needs, moment by moment. Other productions interrupt or change the established logic. This sends our senses scrambling. Sends our intellect scrambling. Sends our emotions scrambling. We hate it. Or we love it. This can happen in big or little jumps, slowly or quickly, often or rarely within a production. In Rogue's Act Without Words, and Krapp's Last Tape as well, to me it seemed to follow the established logic through to the end. We could say the initial set up was unconventional - we didn't have all the story and bells and whistles we spectators like to have to indulge our intellect and emotions - but once established, the logic of each piece was carried through by the performance text created on-stage, beginning to end. And so as a spectator, you get left wondering what was it all about. You try to arrange the events in your mind in the same consistently it was presented in. Hard to make sense of that way.
On the other hand, its not easy to craft Beckett's work on the stage with the same spirit that he crafted in on the page, with disruptions of established logics, and biological impact on the spectators senses. You can't throw out all conventions of polite theatre practice - you need them. But you have to craft some violation of those into the performance. You have to give the spectators some unusual considerations, within unusual considerations. One level of unusual consideration is not Beckett. Beckett needs at least two, maybe three levels. Unusual within unusual, within unusual.
OK - I'm calling time out again for now. Hopefully I'll more to say as I continue to mull it all over. Like good theatre makes you do!
Enter Patty Gallager and Joe McGrath, playing respectively in Act Without Words and Krapp's Last Tape for Rogue's Production of Beckett plays. While I might have preferred a more physically dynamic and exacting rendition by these performers, I found something charming, simple and glorious about their work. Their thoughts, their actions, their attitudes were ordinary everyday, put one foot in front of the other, just trying to solve a problem or lead a nice life. Which in turn as we all know can result in great achievement or great failure.
Why do we laugh when we see someone slip on a banana peel? And what happens when they almost slip, but don't? I hate those kinds of questions! But people somewhere use them for some basis, some theoretical foundation of comedy. Good luck with that. But I guess they speak to fate and chance and luck anticipation and imbalance and all that. I'm smart but not that smart.
I've seen Dario Fo on tape, improvising, and I've seen Corporeal Mime training with Etienne Decroux. There is wonderful inventive use of the body in that work, and when constructed in action holds forth a compelling logic, all including chance and fate and anticipation, reason, desire and gratification (or not), etc. Decroux was a fan and admirier of the great French boxer Georges Carpentier. I wrote of this in some earlier post. Decroux wanted his performers to possess the same kind of balance, grace, power, speed, and control that Carpentier displayed in the ring, executing "The Sweet Science." (Note to all you Ultimate Fighting fans...not even close, so don't go there).
In order to start many of these actions, clown-like or otherwise, you need a good old fashioned big breathe of fresh air - inspiration - and later expiration - life to death so to speak. When that man gets thrown on stage in Act Without Words, tumbling out perhaps, somehow landing on his feet, his first action is a big old breath. Welcome to life baby! Or so I would imagine it. In Rogue's production, Patty was more subtle with her use of technique and action, less exacting and less obvious than I would have asked for. As a spectator I don't need or want to be hit over the head with a stamp, but Patty's rendition made it more difficult to determine what, if anything, was going on. In many respects that was just fine. I enjoyed that even to a degree. The work was of a more general nature and an acceptance of the script as vague. Given Patty's talents and background in Clown work, in Balinese Mask, I think a more specific and tightly woven set of actions could have been constructed which would have built the intensity and anticipation and consequences of the actions accordingly.
We all know the word text (often glorified by intellectuals of the theatre, and those who consider theatre an outreach of literature) is short for texture, meaning a weave...think rugs and all that. There are tight weaves and loose weaves. On stage, a text is created by actors composing a series of individual actions. These actions include physical movement, thought, emotion, etc, all the characteristics of human nature and behavior, including use of words and language sometimes. What the actors create is the performance text - that which us spectators see and hear. As we experience the text (the sequence of actions) unfolding on stage, we as spectators begin to identify certain behaviors. We begin to understand a certain logic unfolding. We start to harbor expectations and anticipations. And this being America with a mostly upper class British culture influencing our social, educational and entertainment commitments, we suppose we have to pay attention to every moment in polite fashion - which only furthers our expectations and our ideas for what is happening in our presence on stage. In some production, our expected logic plays out fully right to the end and we as imaginative spectators follow it right through with satisfaction. It meets our emotional and intellectual expectations and needs, moment by moment. Other productions interrupt or change the established logic. This sends our senses scrambling. Sends our intellect scrambling. Sends our emotions scrambling. We hate it. Or we love it. This can happen in big or little jumps, slowly or quickly, often or rarely within a production. In Rogue's Act Without Words, and Krapp's Last Tape as well, to me it seemed to follow the established logic through to the end. We could say the initial set up was unconventional - we didn't have all the story and bells and whistles we spectators like to have to indulge our intellect and emotions - but once established, the logic of each piece was carried through by the performance text created on-stage, beginning to end. And so as a spectator, you get left wondering what was it all about. You try to arrange the events in your mind in the same consistently it was presented in. Hard to make sense of that way.
On the other hand, its not easy to craft Beckett's work on the stage with the same spirit that he crafted in on the page, with disruptions of established logics, and biological impact on the spectators senses. You can't throw out all conventions of polite theatre practice - you need them. But you have to craft some violation of those into the performance. You have to give the spectators some unusual considerations, within unusual considerations. One level of unusual consideration is not Beckett. Beckett needs at least two, maybe three levels. Unusual within unusual, within unusual.
OK - I'm calling time out again for now. Hopefully I'll more to say as I continue to mull it all over. Like good theatre makes you do!
New Seasons
For those theatres and companies which operate with "seasonal" series of plays, is it getting earlier and earlier each prior year that announcements are being made as to what the schedule will be for the next year? Or does it just seem like it to me. What about companies announcing two seasons in a row? I guess I don't have much of an opinion about it, except its nice to know of all the plans being made, all the activity happening, the second stages, etc.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The Glass Menagerie - How is Truth Revealed?
I have yet to see The Glass Menagerie at ATC - but of course I have been hearing about it, and reading about it. And waiting - hoping to hear the insight from a reviewer or a spectator of what this play and production is. I have heard mostly "good" things. And those good things are mostly about the set, and the manner of presentation of the events of the play. But I haven't heard about the "soul" of the play - the reasons its a brilliant story, the subtle specifics that can only live, come to life, in the thoughts, feelings and actions of the actors. I haven't heard the how and why. Not yet anyway. The logic and reason hasn't come forth. That is not to say its not in this production or doesn't happen. But I haven't heard or read of it yet.
What do I mean by this?
First of all, I am as Meyerholdian/Vakhtongovian as they come. Give me a few proscenium servants and the back wall anyday! If you open the window all the better too! It other words, I have nothing against what people think of or consider to be "theatrical" or "non-realistic" etc.
I'm all for it.
But here is one of the questions of the play - when Tom, the narrator, says "I give you truth disguised as an illusion," what does he mean by that and more importantly WHY does he say it? Why does he want to represent and present his story that way? This was (as it should be) one of the lines, ideas, discussed by the director and written about within various articles. Yet the nuts and bolts of it were never mentioned in those articles- that why? And isn't that the fist question you learn to ask as a director/actor? Journalist? Why? In this case its not to celebrate the joys of theatre and theatricality and non-realism. It has to be specific, and with cause. The answer to this why is simple - but comes with complex and meaningful history. When he (Tom/Tennessee) has been obvious with the truth before, he has had the shit kicked out of him! emotionally and physically! Tom/Tennessee is shy, scared of people in that sense now. He needs to tell this story and he needs it to be completely honest and truthful - but he is reserved, trepid in his approach. And so he chooses to put it the context of "truth disguised as an illusion." He doesn't want the shit beat out of him again! He wants/needs to ease into it all, soften it so to speak. And so he says "truth disguised as an illusion." That makes us all pause and think - allowing him to slip in all the truth and get away unharmed.
Ok, that's one part. Tom/Tennessee as shy, afraid, trepid, insecure - but desperately needing to tell the truth, somehow, someway. The follow-up question to that is why does he need to tell the truth? What is it that happens that makes this story relevant? The answer is his sister was sacrificed in such a way as to makes him become who he is, makes him become truthful and daring as a person, an artist. Without that sacrifice, he might not, in fact its doubtful, ever would have gotten to that. Its a sad but brilliant story. And it has many layers of depth and meaning and intrigue.
Here's a catch, or rather an insight, perhaps just a fact, of interest. In one draft of this play, Jim (the Gentleman Caller) and Laura, make a second date! And Amanda (Tom's mother) tells him that he will always have a home to come home to! A happy and hopeful ending! That's how Tennessee wrote the play prior to learning the dire reality and consequences of his sister Rose's lobotomy. But something didn't sit right with Tennessee about that. He couldn't leave it that way. He had to tell the truth, to reveal it. And along with that, find a way to proceed in life, that somehow preserves the love, displays the guilt, and honors his sisters life, her fate, and speaks to who and what we are as humans. He needed, wanted to live the truth for the rest of his life, somehow, someway, difficult and risky as that might be - for the alternative to that, the lies and the disguises, is much, much worse. And so he changed the play, to the truth. And in the play, through confrontation, Tom/Tennessee shatters the illusions, the games, the distractions created by his mother and society and says this is who I am, this is who we are, and this is what the world is. He cries out that his sister was sacrificed so that we might know the truth - (biblical like that even).
I haven't heard or read of this shy, scared young man, attempting to tell the truth to us. I haven't heard how he would approach the audience with trepidation at first, and whether or not he does, or would, develop a trust with and for this same audience, a compassion, an understanding through the means he uses to tell his story. I hope it happens in this production. I hope it does. Its a fragile process - like a glass menagerie. You can be distracted by its form and beauty - like a glass menagerie. You can lose yourself in its glamour, its light - like a glass menagerie. You can wander lost its fantasy and illusion - like a glass menagerie. Or you can see and find it for what it is...really is...love to cruelty turned back to love.
What do I mean by this?
First of all, I am as Meyerholdian/Vakhtongovian as they come. Give me a few proscenium servants and the back wall anyday! If you open the window all the better too! It other words, I have nothing against what people think of or consider to be "theatrical" or "non-realistic" etc.
I'm all for it.
But here is one of the questions of the play - when Tom, the narrator, says "I give you truth disguised as an illusion," what does he mean by that and more importantly WHY does he say it? Why does he want to represent and present his story that way? This was (as it should be) one of the lines, ideas, discussed by the director and written about within various articles. Yet the nuts and bolts of it were never mentioned in those articles- that why? And isn't that the fist question you learn to ask as a director/actor? Journalist? Why? In this case its not to celebrate the joys of theatre and theatricality and non-realism. It has to be specific, and with cause. The answer to this why is simple - but comes with complex and meaningful history. When he (Tom/Tennessee) has been obvious with the truth before, he has had the shit kicked out of him! emotionally and physically! Tom/Tennessee is shy, scared of people in that sense now. He needs to tell this story and he needs it to be completely honest and truthful - but he is reserved, trepid in his approach. And so he chooses to put it the context of "truth disguised as an illusion." He doesn't want the shit beat out of him again! He wants/needs to ease into it all, soften it so to speak. And so he says "truth disguised as an illusion." That makes us all pause and think - allowing him to slip in all the truth and get away unharmed.
Ok, that's one part. Tom/Tennessee as shy, afraid, trepid, insecure - but desperately needing to tell the truth, somehow, someway. The follow-up question to that is why does he need to tell the truth? What is it that happens that makes this story relevant? The answer is his sister was sacrificed in such a way as to makes him become who he is, makes him become truthful and daring as a person, an artist. Without that sacrifice, he might not, in fact its doubtful, ever would have gotten to that. Its a sad but brilliant story. And it has many layers of depth and meaning and intrigue.
Here's a catch, or rather an insight, perhaps just a fact, of interest. In one draft of this play, Jim (the Gentleman Caller) and Laura, make a second date! And Amanda (Tom's mother) tells him that he will always have a home to come home to! A happy and hopeful ending! That's how Tennessee wrote the play prior to learning the dire reality and consequences of his sister Rose's lobotomy. But something didn't sit right with Tennessee about that. He couldn't leave it that way. He had to tell the truth, to reveal it. And along with that, find a way to proceed in life, that somehow preserves the love, displays the guilt, and honors his sisters life, her fate, and speaks to who and what we are as humans. He needed, wanted to live the truth for the rest of his life, somehow, someway, difficult and risky as that might be - for the alternative to that, the lies and the disguises, is much, much worse. And so he changed the play, to the truth. And in the play, through confrontation, Tom/Tennessee shatters the illusions, the games, the distractions created by his mother and society and says this is who I am, this is who we are, and this is what the world is. He cries out that his sister was sacrificed so that we might know the truth - (biblical like that even).
I haven't heard or read of this shy, scared young man, attempting to tell the truth to us. I haven't heard how he would approach the audience with trepidation at first, and whether or not he does, or would, develop a trust with and for this same audience, a compassion, an understanding through the means he uses to tell his story. I hope it happens in this production. I hope it does. Its a fragile process - like a glass menagerie. You can be distracted by its form and beauty - like a glass menagerie. You can lose yourself in its glamour, its light - like a glass menagerie. You can wander lost its fantasy and illusion - like a glass menagerie. Or you can see and find it for what it is...really is...love to cruelty turned back to love.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
OMG!
Ok, I'm not a big movie buff. I watch 'em, but I don't keep up on current releases and all that. And I know little about and follow the Oscar Awards even less. But of all the movies I did not see this year, the one I did see was "Up In The Air." Today, I discovered this movie has been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture! And got three nominations in the Acting categories. OMG! (always wanted to use that). Now really I couldn't care any less about these awards. They interest me only as trivial conversation. But...But...How in the hell did this movie get nominated for Best Picture?! I mean seriously, if this is one of the "best" I would hate to have to watch the worst. I didn't hate the movie or anything, but it is mostly trite, totally one-hundred percent predictable, downright boring at times, and nothing about the way its filmed or presented bespeaks of creativity. It is Hollywood workmanship, average through and through, at best! Somebody would have to have extraordinary insight into to some hidden gems about this baby, something approaching a miracle, that they could explain to me to make me even consider watching or caring about an awards ceremony where this flick is one of the stars. I'm no high-falutin kind of person but lets me real. Average crap is average crap.
I'm Hip!
Back in 1975-76, I was in Junior High School. The popular music was like Shake Shake Shake Your Booty and Earth Wind and Fire, The Hustle, probably the Eagles...stuff like that I remember. Anyway, I played on our school basketball team and we had a guy in 8th grade named Alex. He was mostly soft-spoken, but could occasionally be loud and funny, had a good sense of humor and a really big giant afro that kind of went all over cause it wasn't a tight curl. I believe Alex was multiple ethnicity's. Anyway, I liked him and always got along with him, and we depended on him on the court - he was one of our "big guys." He could run and move well but had suffered some kind of accident when he was younger so he always had a kind of limp, as if one leg was a little shorter than the other, which I think was true. I had long hair at the time and had been nick-named "Hippie" by the track coach. (My hair wasn't all that long, but you know, such were the days). Our basketball coach was from inner-city Detroit, and had played a stint in the ABA, and had come west to work and teach, but still had a shoe on the court and an eye and ear out for another contract really. He could do some pretty amazing things on the court. At some point in the season something happened, some conflict and Alex was off the team. Later he got reinstated though and finished out the season. Late in the school year, after the school basketball season was over, coach organized a three-on-three tournament for us. Alex was one of my two teammates for the event.
Flash forward over the years, and I had forgotten about Alex, about the three-on-three tournament, and what became of a few other friends from that time. Then by chance I read an article about a murder trial. Alex's name (he has an uncommon and unusual last name) appeared on the page as a witness who had been testifying. Apparently Alex had met and befriended the suspect when the charged party was doing some time in prison. Alex was, and still is locked up - serving a very long sentence apparently, for what I don't know. I vaguely remember hearing rumors or discussion somewhere, someplace of some event that happened...but I can't recall. My memories are we were just kids, and he had a good turn around jump shot in the key, and came from or lived at a place or a home that was "different," like supervised or something...I don't really know, can't remember. I remember him laughing and arguing and all the things we did, hair flying, and all of us saying "I'm hip" in response to any and everything.
Flash forward over the years, and I had forgotten about Alex, about the three-on-three tournament, and what became of a few other friends from that time. Then by chance I read an article about a murder trial. Alex's name (he has an uncommon and unusual last name) appeared on the page as a witness who had been testifying. Apparently Alex had met and befriended the suspect when the charged party was doing some time in prison. Alex was, and still is locked up - serving a very long sentence apparently, for what I don't know. I vaguely remember hearing rumors or discussion somewhere, someplace of some event that happened...but I can't recall. My memories are we were just kids, and he had a good turn around jump shot in the key, and came from or lived at a place or a home that was "different," like supervised or something...I don't really know, can't remember. I remember him laughing and arguing and all the things we did, hair flying, and all of us saying "I'm hip" in response to any and everything.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Reflecting on Our Town - Part One
There was a time in America when the identifying symbols of a city or town were the courthouse and the churches, representing our commitment to the ideas of democracy and freedom of belief. That has since been replaced by sports glory structures and corporate high-rises, representing the emergence of our desire for vicarious fantasy and money as primary pursuit and value.
Reflecting on Thorton Wilder’s play Our Town and the recent production given it by Rogue Theatre, is not just an exercise in nostalgia or longing for different or simpler times. But rather it’s an immediate examination of current actions, current hopes and dreams, crisis and catharsis, and a question of what drives us onward, what do we hold near and dear to our hearts. I love this play for many reasons, and in fact consider it to be one of the best plays ever written. Its stigma as a “high school” play with accompanying perpetrated cliches is too bad – because that it ain’t. So when Rogue announced its production, I was elated.
Rogues theatrical manifesto holds language and imagination as joint and primary conveyors of story and theatrical expression. My own manifesto if written would hold event and ritual as the essential components. With that difference defined, let me say I include language and imagination and Rogue includes event and ritual. The degree of emphasis though, and the reasoning behind it, separates us. I may talk more of this later but I bring it up now to offer a clue as to my own bias and taste, and to try and appreciate and understand what it is to be a spectator at a particular theatrical function.
Returning to the facts of the first paragraph: If change and relief are going to come again to our cities and towns, from where and how will it happen? Like all good answers today, I believe the “Green” Revolution holds the best hope. When Wilder penned his play and chose the time and place of the story, he crossed from agrarian society to industrial society, and from one calendar century to another effectively – the “big boom” of change. In our present day and age we hold the next change at hand, and perhaps it will take us back to something agrarian like.
In Our Town, cause and effect is measured and understood by the inch, neighbor to neighbor, rippling out eventually to the larger world and back again. “Green” Revolution ideas ask us to consider life the same way, inch by inch. What happens next door socially, politically, psychologically and ecologically when I build this, or say this, or do this here and now? What systems and applications will create the ways and means for us to have a healthy and holistically sound living environment? What is the reasoning behind our infrastructures, and what are the goals? And what is actually happening there within the infrastructure? The promise of America still waits. Green Revolution ideas create things that hold both individual meaning and value, as well as collective meaning and value – based on every single individual in daily life, daily action – whether you are famous or recognized or not – simple and practical and understandable. The industrial revolution on the other hand created what we have today – systems and infrastructures based on general economic leverage, whereby the unique individual is by-passed for convenience, profit and uniformity. (And then is asked to stay healthy.). Cultural symbols of the Industrial Revolution represent fame or glory, and/or the vagueness of monetary wealth and power.
Reflecting on Thorton Wilder’s play Our Town and the recent production given it by Rogue Theatre, is not just an exercise in nostalgia or longing for different or simpler times. But rather it’s an immediate examination of current actions, current hopes and dreams, crisis and catharsis, and a question of what drives us onward, what do we hold near and dear to our hearts. I love this play for many reasons, and in fact consider it to be one of the best plays ever written. Its stigma as a “high school” play with accompanying perpetrated cliches is too bad – because that it ain’t. So when Rogue announced its production, I was elated.
Rogues theatrical manifesto holds language and imagination as joint and primary conveyors of story and theatrical expression. My own manifesto if written would hold event and ritual as the essential components. With that difference defined, let me say I include language and imagination and Rogue includes event and ritual. The degree of emphasis though, and the reasoning behind it, separates us. I may talk more of this later but I bring it up now to offer a clue as to my own bias and taste, and to try and appreciate and understand what it is to be a spectator at a particular theatrical function.
Returning to the facts of the first paragraph: If change and relief are going to come again to our cities and towns, from where and how will it happen? Like all good answers today, I believe the “Green” Revolution holds the best hope. When Wilder penned his play and chose the time and place of the story, he crossed from agrarian society to industrial society, and from one calendar century to another effectively – the “big boom” of change. In our present day and age we hold the next change at hand, and perhaps it will take us back to something agrarian like.
In Our Town, cause and effect is measured and understood by the inch, neighbor to neighbor, rippling out eventually to the larger world and back again. “Green” Revolution ideas ask us to consider life the same way, inch by inch. What happens next door socially, politically, psychologically and ecologically when I build this, or say this, or do this here and now? What systems and applications will create the ways and means for us to have a healthy and holistically sound living environment? What is the reasoning behind our infrastructures, and what are the goals? And what is actually happening there within the infrastructure? The promise of America still waits. Green Revolution ideas create things that hold both individual meaning and value, as well as collective meaning and value – based on every single individual in daily life, daily action – whether you are famous or recognized or not – simple and practical and understandable. The industrial revolution on the other hand created what we have today – systems and infrastructures based on general economic leverage, whereby the unique individual is by-passed for convenience, profit and uniformity. (And then is asked to stay healthy.). Cultural symbols of the Industrial Revolution represent fame or glory, and/or the vagueness of monetary wealth and power.
Tennessee and Glass
Sheila OMalley is a terrific writer and has yet another wonderful post in her blog "The Sheila Variations" - this one on Tennessee Williams and his journal, with reference to The Glass Menagerie. Check it out at sheilaomalley.com
Also, a friend of mine who saw Glass at ATC (preview performance I believe) said Laura wore a cane brace on her arm. Is this possible? In the sense of "a little defect?" Would mom have gone that far in either allowing it or that far in denial once it was there?
Also, a friend of mine who saw Glass at ATC (preview performance I believe) said Laura wore a cane brace on her arm. Is this possible? In the sense of "a little defect?" Would mom have gone that far in either allowing it or that far in denial once it was there?
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