Life is tough, why must we make it tougher on ourselves? This is the message promulgated by award winning playwright Christopher Durang in his show Laughing Wild. Chronicling the course of events surrounding an ill-fated shopping trip for tuna fish, Mr. Durang suggests that life could indeed be easier if we all would just breathe, live, and empathize with our fellow humans.
Written during Durang's early years in New York City, a city which he regarded with the deepest fear and loathing, the damaged souls that he parades before the audience do what they can to cope, even if it requires violence. And yet, despite the fact that the minds of his characters are not merely twisted, but indeed are fully sprained, there is a hopeful call for understanding between fellow humans.
One of the limitations of this script, however, is its inherent topicality. Very much a product of 1980's angst, numerous references are made to Chernobyl, the rising AIDS epidemic, and the king-hell of all unsympathetic father figures, Ronald Reagan. Given this topicality, which borders on the level of stand-up comedy at times, one might wonder if Laughing Wild can still speak to audiences today. Indeed, topicality in scripts is an issue that one must wrestle with when considering production. Even hallowed Rent, very much a product of its times, has been considered a candidate for topical update, in the hopes that freshness will be retained if the transcendent message is leavened with fresh topicality. However, one should note that all truly great drama not only contains these connectors to transcend time and place, but also is firmly rooted in the milieu of the time in which it was created.
Laughing Wild is a product of the Boomer/Yuppie ennui of the 1980's, he who dies with the most toys wins. While there are striking similarities between that ennui and the existential boredom that currently infests the culture, one should note that they have distinct roots. While today's ennui is the outcome of failed economic policy, fear, and interminable war, that of the 1980's was far for affective upon the fringes. Given that the United States would soon emerge victorious from the Cold War as the world's last remaining superpower, there was a tinge of victory in those times. Yet, the ennui of Durang is very much that of one who will not share in the celebration. Thus, The Savannah Dramaturgy applauds the director, Ms. Bridget Tunstall, and Cardinal Rep for refraining from updating this script. Only Twinkies keep their freshness unsullied through the ages, and keeping Laughing Wild rooted in the original context of the 80's actually helps the audience build a greater understanding of their own disillusionment by seeing that of another age honestly depicted.
Further, Caridal Rep has constructed, in Laughing Wild, a strong argument for its consideration as the flagship of Savannah's theatrical community. Given the spare set, really a stripped and repainted version of the Little Theatre's Moustrap, one is allowed to focus far more on the talents of actor and director without being distracted by flash. Ms. Tunstall, in her professional debut, has molded a moving and entertaining piece that reaches across the almost twenty years since its writing to shake the audience roughly awake and shine an almost Beckettian light in their faces. The acting, ably executed by Cardinal Rep Literary Director Phil Keeling and stalwart Valerie Lavelle, navigates the twisting, thesaurus infected stream of consciousness Mr. Durang has provided. Foundering upon the rocks of obscure referentiality or simple, ridiculous absurdism in order to keep the audience laughing would be easy with this piece, and yet the cast navigates well. Mr. Keeling effectively conveys the fear of one living in the United States and yet trying to retain that small shred of dignity and coherence that could all too easily be whisked away. Ms. Lavelle quite simply glows in the dark with the crushing madness of one who has already lost everything and now seeks only to survive.
Indeed, much can be said about the acting here. Which is another of the strengths of this piece, and Cardinal Rep's choice thereof. Though Edward Albee's Seascape had originally been planned for this slot, only having to be abandoned due to certain personnel issues, Laughing Wild has a particular strength in service the Cardinal Rep's mission to build an indigenous theatrical community for the city of Savannah. The sparse nature of this production, along with the opportunity for virtuoso performance from the city's actors, provides much-needed exposure to the talents available to the city's growing theatre. While Seascape is a wonderful play, it provides far less of this and therefor may be considered of lesser service to the development of Savannah's theatre community. Savannah now knows, because if they have not seen then The Savannah Dramaturgy is telling them, that there are some true virtuosos at their disposal. Further, we issue a warning that such talents MUST BE fostered if there Savannah truly aspires to have a theatre of its own. This extends to those groups outside of Cardinal Rep, and should be addressed across the board.
Finally, it is worth noting the intesly communitarian spirit felt in this production. The setting at the Freight Station Theatre is delightfully intimate and projects an aura of ongoing activity. In much the same way that mid-century movie houses would run their fare continually, including newsreels, on the off chance that one must step out and return, the feel around Cardinal Rep is very much that while you might miss one thing, the institution is here to stay. Indeed, if Mr. McCurdy and company keep this up, then The Savannah Dramaturgy prophesies that "The Rep" will soon become shorthand and an integral part of the Savannah lexicon.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Crossing the Footlights: Theatre and the Public
"You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete."
--R. Buckminster Fuller
Admittedly, The Savannah Dramaturgy stole that quote from Theatre Ideas, but it is fitting to our topic nonetheless. Conventional wisdom is that the theatre is dying. Of course, according to that same wisdom, it has been dying for almost four thousand years. It is, in quite simple economic terms, unwieldy. Take into consideration, for example, the resource input, in terms of manpower alone, for a production of Death of a Salesman. Even if, during a three-week run, this piece is a smashing success and fills its 500 seat auditorium, that is still a fraction of the total audience exposure compared to a comparable piece of cinema.
Quite simply, the theatre cannot compete with cinema and television in terms of sheer numbers. The march of technology, along with the need to pay theatrical artists a living wage, has made that impossible. Instead, the theatre must offer a substantial qualitative difference from these other two art forms. While volumes have been written about the specific power of live performance, and this article does not attempt to deny said power, this power is but a fraction of the possible qualitative difference that the theatre can offer to patrons.
The remainder of this difference, in my opinion, is where the concept of local theatres in various cities becomes involved. Theatre companies looking to be truly competitive need to reach out across the footlights and grasp the hands of the community as a whole. Indeed, the community needs to feel somehow involved with the theatre company, to develop a relationship, in order that they may then begin to look out for the welfare of the company.
This locality is the very heart of the qualitative difference between the theatre and film. The average film, while it will reach far more people, stands less of a chance of building a strong relationship with an audience that counts than an organized local theatre company. Films, made wherever taxes are cheapest and shipped to all corners of the Earth, can tend to be impersonal and lack a real connection to the community in which they are filmed. Take, for example, Glory. This piece ostensibly took place, primarily, in Boston. Yet it was filmed right here in Savannah, GA.
Theatre, on the other hand, is forced to be local. Unless one is dealing with a bus or truck tour, theatre is irrevocably rooted to the city in which it is located. And, in order to be their most effective, they must acknowledge and act as if they are beholden to their community. This means, and this may be something of a shock to many thespians, crossing the footlights and living in the community. This can take many forms, from partnership with local business to participation in civic events to simply cutting the locals a deal to ensure they can afford the best.
Benefits from such engagement run two ways. Not only does the community have the advantage of brightly plumaged birds (artists) that help to raise property values and general quality of llife, but also it has access to quality entertainment that is truly their own. One of the louder laments from the critics of the Regional theatre is that these institutions are often maintained as an object of civic pride, as opposed to artistic merit. However, what city would boast a shallow theatre? But the theatre itself also benefits, and not only financially. It has an engaged audience that, if fostered properly, will support the organization in taking certain artistic leaps.
However, all this is only possible if the theatre takes the initiative. Unfortunately, thespians are creatures of immense inertia. Indeed, Frank Rutledge once told his theatre history class, "The reason theatre people do certain things is because that is the way things are done in the theatre." Essentially, one can become so isolated that one becomes detached from the audience. To become so is to forget the most important of the collaborators, the audience. So, The Savannah Dramaturgy reissues its challenge to the city of Savannah and the theatrical community. Link up, all will be the better for it.
--R. Buckminster Fuller
Admittedly, The Savannah Dramaturgy stole that quote from Theatre Ideas, but it is fitting to our topic nonetheless. Conventional wisdom is that the theatre is dying. Of course, according to that same wisdom, it has been dying for almost four thousand years. It is, in quite simple economic terms, unwieldy. Take into consideration, for example, the resource input, in terms of manpower alone, for a production of Death of a Salesman. Even if, during a three-week run, this piece is a smashing success and fills its 500 seat auditorium, that is still a fraction of the total audience exposure compared to a comparable piece of cinema.
Quite simply, the theatre cannot compete with cinema and television in terms of sheer numbers. The march of technology, along with the need to pay theatrical artists a living wage, has made that impossible. Instead, the theatre must offer a substantial qualitative difference from these other two art forms. While volumes have been written about the specific power of live performance, and this article does not attempt to deny said power, this power is but a fraction of the possible qualitative difference that the theatre can offer to patrons.
The remainder of this difference, in my opinion, is where the concept of local theatres in various cities becomes involved. Theatre companies looking to be truly competitive need to reach out across the footlights and grasp the hands of the community as a whole. Indeed, the community needs to feel somehow involved with the theatre company, to develop a relationship, in order that they may then begin to look out for the welfare of the company.
This locality is the very heart of the qualitative difference between the theatre and film. The average film, while it will reach far more people, stands less of a chance of building a strong relationship with an audience that counts than an organized local theatre company. Films, made wherever taxes are cheapest and shipped to all corners of the Earth, can tend to be impersonal and lack a real connection to the community in which they are filmed. Take, for example, Glory. This piece ostensibly took place, primarily, in Boston. Yet it was filmed right here in Savannah, GA.
Theatre, on the other hand, is forced to be local. Unless one is dealing with a bus or truck tour, theatre is irrevocably rooted to the city in which it is located. And, in order to be their most effective, they must acknowledge and act as if they are beholden to their community. This means, and this may be something of a shock to many thespians, crossing the footlights and living in the community. This can take many forms, from partnership with local business to participation in civic events to simply cutting the locals a deal to ensure they can afford the best.
Benefits from such engagement run two ways. Not only does the community have the advantage of brightly plumaged birds (artists) that help to raise property values and general quality of llife, but also it has access to quality entertainment that is truly their own. One of the louder laments from the critics of the Regional theatre is that these institutions are often maintained as an object of civic pride, as opposed to artistic merit. However, what city would boast a shallow theatre? But the theatre itself also benefits, and not only financially. It has an engaged audience that, if fostered properly, will support the organization in taking certain artistic leaps.
However, all this is only possible if the theatre takes the initiative. Unfortunately, thespians are creatures of immense inertia. Indeed, Frank Rutledge once told his theatre history class, "The reason theatre people do certain things is because that is the way things are done in the theatre." Essentially, one can become so isolated that one becomes detached from the audience. To become so is to forget the most important of the collaborators, the audience. So, The Savannah Dramaturgy reissues its challenge to the city of Savannah and the theatrical community. Link up, all will be the better for it.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Does Theatre Spend too Much Time Navel Gazing?
Recently reading my way through various theatre blogs, I was struck by the fact that many posts were simply "interviews" where a list of questions had been sent to one artist or another and their answers listed. Questions such as "What role does anger play in your work?" seemed to abound, and yet there really seemed to be very little said. This is not to insinuate that the questions were not answered, in many cases they were, but there seemed to be little real substance.
One, however, should not mistake this reference to "real substance" as a condemnation of the answers afforded by these artists. For the most part, the questions were answered truthfully and thoughtfully. However, what was lacking was that essential aspect of a good publication, the concept of significance.
While there is nothing inherently wrong with such questions, they must be posed for a specific reason. If a playwright's work is based in anger... what does this mean for the theatre? Similarly with a director, dramaturg, or any other given discipline, what is the significance of their mindset? Samuel Beckett, poet laureate of the Theatre of the Absurd, lamented his Nobel Prize in literature, assuming that commentators would then search to find meaning in his plays from the context of the man's life when, according to Beckett, his own life experience had little impact on his dramatic theory and expression. Beckett refused questioning, as opposed to embracing it, but had a significant reason for doing so.
The fact that playwrights do/do not draw much of their work from anger and frustration must be given a context. Quite simply, what does it mean? Might such a fact point to a decline in the standard of living, or other such source of frustration, and thereby the drama be turned outward as a weapon against the root of said frustration? Such would be the ideal.
Aristotle viewed good drama as having medicinal qualities. Brecht posited that impulses could be directed to affect social change. The Savannah Dramaturgy encourages these artists, particularly the originator of the questionnaire that is the centre of this article, to try and draw some significance from their attitudes. It will not only inform their drama, but also might assist in curing what ills them. Attitude without context is simply navel gazing, much akin to simply "being avant-garde" for the sake of being edgy, as opposed to finding it to be the most effective method of dramatic expression for one's own particular message.
One, however, should not mistake this reference to "real substance" as a condemnation of the answers afforded by these artists. For the most part, the questions were answered truthfully and thoughtfully. However, what was lacking was that essential aspect of a good publication, the concept of significance.
While there is nothing inherently wrong with such questions, they must be posed for a specific reason. If a playwright's work is based in anger... what does this mean for the theatre? Similarly with a director, dramaturg, or any other given discipline, what is the significance of their mindset? Samuel Beckett, poet laureate of the Theatre of the Absurd, lamented his Nobel Prize in literature, assuming that commentators would then search to find meaning in his plays from the context of the man's life when, according to Beckett, his own life experience had little impact on his dramatic theory and expression. Beckett refused questioning, as opposed to embracing it, but had a significant reason for doing so.
The fact that playwrights do/do not draw much of their work from anger and frustration must be given a context. Quite simply, what does it mean? Might such a fact point to a decline in the standard of living, or other such source of frustration, and thereby the drama be turned outward as a weapon against the root of said frustration? Such would be the ideal.
Aristotle viewed good drama as having medicinal qualities. Brecht posited that impulses could be directed to affect social change. The Savannah Dramaturgy encourages these artists, particularly the originator of the questionnaire that is the centre of this article, to try and draw some significance from their attitudes. It will not only inform their drama, but also might assist in curing what ills them. Attitude without context is simply navel gazing, much akin to simply "being avant-garde" for the sake of being edgy, as opposed to finding it to be the most effective method of dramatic expression for one's own particular message.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Whence from the Academy?
For theatrical educators, especially in towns with a developing indigenous theatre community and numerous theatrical education programs, the question that often crops up from students, and which the educator might ask himself from time to time, is "where to from here?" Undergraduates who are not bound for a graduate program, and Graduates who are coming from anything other than a well-connected conservatory, is going to be faced with the difficult challenge of finding work. As Dr. John Hanners of Texas A&M University- Commerce once said, finding anything is a challenge, but it is worth it because one is "in theatre" no matter how poorly it pays.
While this is laudatory, and The Savannah Dramaturgy is inclined to agree, the necessities of modern life invariably assert themselves. Our actors (since the grand majority of them are actors) need to eat, and be shod, housed, and medically looked after. And, unfortunately, they wind up waiting tables, stocking shelves, or doing less savory things for the requisite cash. And, mores the pity, should they get theatrical work, then they often must abandon their "day" job in the name of their career... and as such the cycle perpetuates. Keep in mind that Actor's Equity, a trade union, boasts an 80% unemployment rate as an accomplishment.
So, my eager students, I fear I cannot answer that question well. The obvious suspects (New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago) are all possibilities. But The Savannah Dramaturgy joins with Theatre Ideas in recommending an idea a little closer to home. Many cities have the sufficient size and infrastructure to support a theatre! Thespians need to spread out! Sure, Sioux City and Kalamazoo aren't the most glamourous of places... but they still have audiences that need contacting! They still seek truth and art (all except perhaps Lubbock, TX... which I am convinced is primarily populated by refugee Visigoths).
Such an action might not lead to immediate stardom. Indeed, it most likely will not. Yet, many of the regional theatres in smaller and more marginal population centres have produced major work. How I Learned To Drive (Pulitzer Winner) was developed at the Perseverance Theatre in Juneau. Anna in the Tropics (also a Pulitzer Winner) originally came from Coral Gables! There is, at the very least, a better chance at recognition in a smaller town. You might not break into stardom in Juneau, but you definitely will not waiting tables at Yazoos in the Village.
Which brings us, dear reader, back to education. Most of modern theatrical education, unfortunately, is training our students for an industry that does not really desire their presence. Competition is too high, investment is too important. We must begin to teach our aspiring thespians not only skills for survival (something which this writer is still deeply indebted to Marcus Olson and Jeff DeVincent for) but also for artistic leadership. Lessing sought a theatre where even the "candle snuffer" was a Garrick. And educators must take those steps to prepare them. Not only must they know what to do, but why and how it is to be done.
While The Savannah Dramaturgy differs with Theatre Ideas on the desirability of the tribal structure, we are in agreement that we must spread out. As we all, intellectually, sprang generations ago from Yale and George Pierce Baker, we must push for a further expansion. Which leads me to once again lay a challenge at the feet of the city of Savannah. A sustainable, professional, indigenous theatre community is needed, and needed sorely. Reach.
While this is laudatory, and The Savannah Dramaturgy is inclined to agree, the necessities of modern life invariably assert themselves. Our actors (since the grand majority of them are actors) need to eat, and be shod, housed, and medically looked after. And, unfortunately, they wind up waiting tables, stocking shelves, or doing less savory things for the requisite cash. And, mores the pity, should they get theatrical work, then they often must abandon their "day" job in the name of their career... and as such the cycle perpetuates. Keep in mind that Actor's Equity, a trade union, boasts an 80% unemployment rate as an accomplishment.
So, my eager students, I fear I cannot answer that question well. The obvious suspects (New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago) are all possibilities. But The Savannah Dramaturgy joins with Theatre Ideas in recommending an idea a little closer to home. Many cities have the sufficient size and infrastructure to support a theatre! Thespians need to spread out! Sure, Sioux City and Kalamazoo aren't the most glamourous of places... but they still have audiences that need contacting! They still seek truth and art (all except perhaps Lubbock, TX... which I am convinced is primarily populated by refugee Visigoths).
Such an action might not lead to immediate stardom. Indeed, it most likely will not. Yet, many of the regional theatres in smaller and more marginal population centres have produced major work. How I Learned To Drive (Pulitzer Winner) was developed at the Perseverance Theatre in Juneau. Anna in the Tropics (also a Pulitzer Winner) originally came from Coral Gables! There is, at the very least, a better chance at recognition in a smaller town. You might not break into stardom in Juneau, but you definitely will not waiting tables at Yazoos in the Village.
Which brings us, dear reader, back to education. Most of modern theatrical education, unfortunately, is training our students for an industry that does not really desire their presence. Competition is too high, investment is too important. We must begin to teach our aspiring thespians not only skills for survival (something which this writer is still deeply indebted to Marcus Olson and Jeff DeVincent for) but also for artistic leadership. Lessing sought a theatre where even the "candle snuffer" was a Garrick. And educators must take those steps to prepare them. Not only must they know what to do, but why and how it is to be done.
While The Savannah Dramaturgy differs with Theatre Ideas on the desirability of the tribal structure, we are in agreement that we must spread out. As we all, intellectually, sprang generations ago from Yale and George Pierce Baker, we must push for a further expansion. Which leads me to once again lay a challenge at the feet of the city of Savannah. A sustainable, professional, indigenous theatre community is needed, and needed sorely. Reach.
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