Saturday, May 4, 2013
Show and Tell #3!: "Clybourne Park"
Given
the imminent production being produced by Cripple Creek Productions in New Orleans
this month, I decided to choose Bruce Norris’s uncomfortable hilarious play Clybourne Park. The play had its world premiere at the
Playwrights Horizons Mainstage Theatre on February 21, 2010. Despite its relatively
short initial run (only about four weeks), Clybourne
Park went on to have major productions in London (2010), Rhode Island
(2011), and Philadelphia (2012) before finally landing a sixteen-week limited
run on Broadway in April of 2012. The show has been immensely successful since
its first production and has earned the 2011 Laurence Olivier award for Best
New Play, the 2011 Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and the 2012 Tony Award for Best
Play. This information was gathered various articles on www.playbill.com and from my own copy of the
script which can be found online at sites such as www.amazon.com or in most major bookstores.
Act I of Clybourne Park takes place in 1959 in “a modest three-bedroom bungalow” on Clybourne Street in a predominantly white neighborhood of Chicago. At the top of the show, Russ and Bev, the married couple who owns the house, are packing up boxes and preparing to move after the recent suicide of their son. However, Russ and Bev have decided to sell their house to a middle-class black family. Their neighbors, Karl and Betsy, and a reverend named Jim arrive at the house in an attempt to persuade the couple to sell their home to a white family. These conversations are witnessed by the house’s black maid, Francine, and her husband, Albert. Act II picks up fifty years later in 2009. The house is now run down, in need of repairs, and situated in an all-black neighborhood. The houses new residents, Lena and Kevin, are looking to sell the house to Steve and Lindsey, a white couple looking to renovate the house and reinvigorate the neighborhood by buying houses and beautifying them. The discussions are negotiated by the couples’ respective lawyers. Ultimately, the negotiations lead to verbal conflicts centering on race relations in modern America.
One interesting dramaturgical choice that Bruce Norris makes is that he specifies that the actors in the show double up on roles so that they play one character in Act I and another in Act II (in the original production, one actor was tasked with playing three roles). For example, the actors who play Francine and Albert in act I also play Lena and Kevin in act II. In this particular case, the actors are tasked with playing African-Americans from two very different periods in American history. In act I, Francine and Albert are hesitant to speak out and get involved with the affairs of the white characters until asked for their opinions. In act II, though, Lena and Kevin are much more expressive. While not necessarily confrontational, neither individual is afraid to stand up for themselves and stand their ground against the vaguely racist comments that are made during the negotiations.
Another dramaturgical choice that caught my immediate interest is Norris’s choice to include the character of Kenneth, Russ and Bev’s Korean War veteran son who suffered from PTSD and committed suicide. The character and his actions are brought up and discussed in act I. However, Kenneth only appears at the end of act II after the “modern” characters have stormed out of the house in anger, thereby reversing time from 2009 back to 1959 for the last five minutes of the play. His physical appearance is accompanied by the digging up of his army trunk by Dan, an electrician working on renovating the house. Inside the trunk is Kenneth’s suicide note. In several ways, Kenneth acts to connect the two storylines by showing how history has an impact on the current events of the play. After all, had Kenneth not killed himself, Russ and Bev would not have been compelled to sell the house in the first place.
Act I of Clybourne Park takes place in 1959 in “a modest three-bedroom bungalow” on Clybourne Street in a predominantly white neighborhood of Chicago. At the top of the show, Russ and Bev, the married couple who owns the house, are packing up boxes and preparing to move after the recent suicide of their son. However, Russ and Bev have decided to sell their house to a middle-class black family. Their neighbors, Karl and Betsy, and a reverend named Jim arrive at the house in an attempt to persuade the couple to sell their home to a white family. These conversations are witnessed by the house’s black maid, Francine, and her husband, Albert. Act II picks up fifty years later in 2009. The house is now run down, in need of repairs, and situated in an all-black neighborhood. The houses new residents, Lena and Kevin, are looking to sell the house to Steve and Lindsey, a white couple looking to renovate the house and reinvigorate the neighborhood by buying houses and beautifying them. The discussions are negotiated by the couples’ respective lawyers. Ultimately, the negotiations lead to verbal conflicts centering on race relations in modern America.
One interesting dramaturgical choice that Bruce Norris makes is that he specifies that the actors in the show double up on roles so that they play one character in Act I and another in Act II (in the original production, one actor was tasked with playing three roles). For example, the actors who play Francine and Albert in act I also play Lena and Kevin in act II. In this particular case, the actors are tasked with playing African-Americans from two very different periods in American history. In act I, Francine and Albert are hesitant to speak out and get involved with the affairs of the white characters until asked for their opinions. In act II, though, Lena and Kevin are much more expressive. While not necessarily confrontational, neither individual is afraid to stand up for themselves and stand their ground against the vaguely racist comments that are made during the negotiations.
Another dramaturgical choice that caught my immediate interest is Norris’s choice to include the character of Kenneth, Russ and Bev’s Korean War veteran son who suffered from PTSD and committed suicide. The character and his actions are brought up and discussed in act I. However, Kenneth only appears at the end of act II after the “modern” characters have stormed out of the house in anger, thereby reversing time from 2009 back to 1959 for the last five minutes of the play. His physical appearance is accompanied by the digging up of his army trunk by Dan, an electrician working on renovating the house. Inside the trunk is Kenneth’s suicide note. In several ways, Kenneth acts to connect the two storylines by showing how history has an impact on the current events of the play. After all, had Kenneth not killed himself, Russ and Bev would not have been compelled to sell the house in the first place.
Reading Response to "The Drowsy Chaperone"
First
of all, I would like to start by saying that I enjoyed reading (and listening
to) this script much more than I originally thought I would. When I was first
introduced to the musical several years ago, I thought the whole thing was too
campy and simplistic for my own personal tastes. However, after looking at the
show from a more analytical angle, I have gained an appreciation for the
deceptive simplicity of the show and what it aims to achieve with its
meta-commentary on musical theatre. Ultimately, I can’t wait to write my final analysis
on this musical
That being said, the flow of the action of The Drowsy Chaperone follows an interesting pattern. The musical begins with the Man greeting the audience and inviting them to “escape” with him into the world of a famous (fictional) 1920’s musical comedy. In fact, in most productions, the Man’s apartment turn s into the various scenes and sets that are used throughout the play-within-a-play so that the Man quite literally escapes his dreary surroundings. In a similar way, the musical begins with the celebration of an imminent marriage between Janet and Robert. Janet, like the Man, is attempting to pull off her own escape by leaving the world of show business behind to settle into a happy marriage like any average young woman of her age. In fact, much of the show revolves around individual characters attempting to escape some aspect of their lives. Mr. Feldzieg wishes to escape an unpleasant demise at the hands of two gangsters, Kitty is trying desperately to escape mediocrity and achieve stardom, and the chaperone herself is just trying to get away from sobriety. Tension results when other characters and situations do their best to prevent such escapes from occurring as a means of keeping the stasis.
That being said, the flow of the action of The Drowsy Chaperone follows an interesting pattern. The musical begins with the Man greeting the audience and inviting them to “escape” with him into the world of a famous (fictional) 1920’s musical comedy. In fact, in most productions, the Man’s apartment turn s into the various scenes and sets that are used throughout the play-within-a-play so that the Man quite literally escapes his dreary surroundings. In a similar way, the musical begins with the celebration of an imminent marriage between Janet and Robert. Janet, like the Man, is attempting to pull off her own escape by leaving the world of show business behind to settle into a happy marriage like any average young woman of her age. In fact, much of the show revolves around individual characters attempting to escape some aspect of their lives. Mr. Feldzieg wishes to escape an unpleasant demise at the hands of two gangsters, Kitty is trying desperately to escape mediocrity and achieve stardom, and the chaperone herself is just trying to get away from sobriety. Tension results when other characters and situations do their best to prevent such escapes from occurring as a means of keeping the stasis.
Reading Response to Hatcher's "Three Viewings"
Perhaps
the best way to first approach Jeffrey Hatcher’s Three Viewings is by finding a thread that ties the three separate
(but intertwined) stories together. Obviously the three extended monologues in the
play each take place at the same funeral home, but there exists a singular
theme between them that gives the play a cohesive whole.
First, though, I will focus on some of the surface similarities or those that are most obvious. Emil, the director of the funeral parlor, acts as the undertaker for Nettie James (Mac’s grandmother) and Ed Carpolotti (Virginia’s husband) and is thus indirectly connected to the two women who deliver the subsequent monologues after his own. Emil is perhaps the most obvious connecting thread between the monologues simply because he is so intimately involved with the preparations of the bodies of the deceased loved ones.
However, on a much deeper level, a common theme throughout the three monologues is that of recognizing love only after it has been lost. For Emil, what first started as an obsessive infatuation with a frequent funeral-goer named Tessie turned into a legitimate longing for her once she passed away. Once Emil was tasked with the incredibly intimate task of preparing the body for cremation, he found that her pacemaker was still ticking. So, Emil holds onto the device as a way of holding on to her memory. For Mac, attending her grandmother’s funeral leads her to the realization of how much she misses her husband and children after accidentally killing them while she attempted to commit suicide by car exhaust inhalation. For Virginia, the loss of her husband enables her to reflect on their long marriage and realize just how much he loved her all these years. As unfortunate as it is, for each of the characters, death acts as an agent to help the characters recognize and cherish the love in their own lives.
First, though, I will focus on some of the surface similarities or those that are most obvious. Emil, the director of the funeral parlor, acts as the undertaker for Nettie James (Mac’s grandmother) and Ed Carpolotti (Virginia’s husband) and is thus indirectly connected to the two women who deliver the subsequent monologues after his own. Emil is perhaps the most obvious connecting thread between the monologues simply because he is so intimately involved with the preparations of the bodies of the deceased loved ones.
However, on a much deeper level, a common theme throughout the three monologues is that of recognizing love only after it has been lost. For Emil, what first started as an obsessive infatuation with a frequent funeral-goer named Tessie turned into a legitimate longing for her once she passed away. Once Emil was tasked with the incredibly intimate task of preparing the body for cremation, he found that her pacemaker was still ticking. So, Emil holds onto the device as a way of holding on to her memory. For Mac, attending her grandmother’s funeral leads her to the realization of how much she misses her husband and children after accidentally killing them while she attempted to commit suicide by car exhaust inhalation. For Virginia, the loss of her husband enables her to reflect on their long marriage and realize just how much he loved her all these years. As unfortunate as it is, for each of the characters, death acts as an agent to help the characters recognize and cherish the love in their own lives.
Reading Response to Overmyer's "On the Verge"
First
of all, if I were asked to design a poster for Eric Overmyer’s On the Verge, or The Geography of Yearning,
my initial impulse is to slap a picture of a dictionary on there since that’s
what the audience will need to bring with them if they want any hope of
understanding what the various characters are saying.
On a more serious note, however, I would show an imaged of the three women scaling the face of a cliff. However, instead of using a rope, I would find a way to photoshop the image to make it look as though the women are using a timeline as a means of scaling the cliff. Cheesy, I know, but it emphasizes the play’s idea of facing the future as though it is an uncharted territory ripe for exploration and discovery. The tagline from the script at the bottom of the poster would be “I am experiencing a definite, a palpable – yearning for the future!”
Also, one particularly intriguing aspect of the play is the character of Mr. Coffee. He is one of two characters that only Fanny ever interacts with, the other one being the dream figure of Grover, her husband. Mr. Coffee, dressed all in white, does not seem to be from any particular era in history yet he knows Fanny and Grover well enough to inform her of her husband’s death. Judging from the fact that Mr. Coffee says he only had one meeting with Grover and that he says that he will meet Fanny yet again, it is incredibly possible that Mr. Coffee acts as an angel of death in the play. After all, since the women are in fact exploring aspects of the future, part of every person’s future is the inevitable end of one’s life.
On a more serious note, however, I would show an imaged of the three women scaling the face of a cliff. However, instead of using a rope, I would find a way to photoshop the image to make it look as though the women are using a timeline as a means of scaling the cliff. Cheesy, I know, but it emphasizes the play’s idea of facing the future as though it is an uncharted territory ripe for exploration and discovery. The tagline from the script at the bottom of the poster would be “I am experiencing a definite, a palpable – yearning for the future!”
Also, one particularly intriguing aspect of the play is the character of Mr. Coffee. He is one of two characters that only Fanny ever interacts with, the other one being the dream figure of Grover, her husband. Mr. Coffee, dressed all in white, does not seem to be from any particular era in history yet he knows Fanny and Grover well enough to inform her of her husband’s death. Judging from the fact that Mr. Coffee says he only had one meeting with Grover and that he says that he will meet Fanny yet again, it is incredibly possible that Mr. Coffee acts as an angel of death in the play. After all, since the women are in fact exploring aspects of the future, part of every person’s future is the inevitable end of one’s life.
Reading Response to Smith's "Fires in the Mirror"
For
many audience members and readers, it is all too easy to get caught up in the
story behind Anna Deavere Smith’s Fires
in the Mirror: Brooklyn, Crown Heights, and Other Identities. I know that I
personally was not at all familiar with the events of the Crown Heights riots
until reading this play in class, and I was immensely intrigued both by the
story and Smith’s own presentation of the events from various perspectives of
the community.
Many audience members and readers will want to dismiss the play’s first sixteen or so monologues because they do not have any direct bearing on the story of the riots; however, Smith’s choice to include these monologues about identity (both racial and religious) reveals much about the social forces in effect that brought the Crown Heights riot to its climax. After all, if audience members do not first understand how black and Lubavich members of the Crown Heights community express their own identities and how they regard one another, it can be very difficult to understand why the tensions that led to the riots even existed in the first place.
Monologues from some Lubavich women describe various religious practices, such as keeping their hair short and wearing wigs and now using electronics on the Sabbath, as a way of illustrating how they are a close-knit community that is dependent upon one another for help and support. In a similar vein, one young black girl talks about how the other students in her class use their hair as a way of expressing their racial identities. Already, we see how something as simple as hairstyle can be used to express and shape a person’s identity.
Many audience members and readers will want to dismiss the play’s first sixteen or so monologues because they do not have any direct bearing on the story of the riots; however, Smith’s choice to include these monologues about identity (both racial and religious) reveals much about the social forces in effect that brought the Crown Heights riot to its climax. After all, if audience members do not first understand how black and Lubavich members of the Crown Heights community express their own identities and how they regard one another, it can be very difficult to understand why the tensions that led to the riots even existed in the first place.
Monologues from some Lubavich women describe various religious practices, such as keeping their hair short and wearing wigs and now using electronics on the Sabbath, as a way of illustrating how they are a close-knit community that is dependent upon one another for help and support. In a similar vein, one young black girl talks about how the other students in her class use their hair as a way of expressing their racial identities. Already, we see how something as simple as hairstyle can be used to express and shape a person’s identity.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Show and Tell #2!: "Angels in America: Millennium Approaches"
My
favorite play, Angels in America, is
a two part “gay fantasia on national themes” by Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award
winning playwright Tony Kushner. However, for this show and tell post, I will
only concentrate on the first part of the play titled Millennium Approaches. First written and workshopped in 1990, Millennium Approaches had productions in
London (1992) and Los Angeles (1992) before being performed on Broadway at the
Walter Kerr Theatre in 1993. This production earned Kushner his Pulitzer Prize
for Drama and first Tony Award for Best Play. Both parts of Angels in America were adapted into an
HBO miniseries in 2003 directed by Mike Nichols. This information was garnered from the production notes at the beginning of my copy of the script. This play can be purchased
online on sites such as www.amazon.com or
in most major bookstores.
Millennium Approaches tells the story of seven individuals living in New York City from October 1985 to January 1986 during the height of the AIDS crisis and in the middle of Reagan’s tumultuous tenure as President. Early in the play, Prior Walter, a gay designer, discloses to his boyfriend, Louis Ironson, that he is dying from AIDS. Louis, who is HIV negative, struggles with the prospect of losing his lover to illness and considers abandoning the relationship. Throughout the play, Prior hears the disembodied voice of an Angel. At the same time, a Mormon couple, Joe and Harper Pitt, fight over whether or not Joe should move to Washington D.C. for a better job opportunity. Harper’s addiction to Valium makes her hallucinate frequently, and Joe struggles with his own same-sex attractions. Towards the end of part one, Louis and Joe leave their respective partners and begin to find comfort in one another. The play ends with the Angel appearing to Prior in all her glory and proclaiming him to be a prophet. Other major characters include a conservative lawyer with AIDS, a former drag queen named Belize, and Joe’s doting Mormon mother who comes to live with Harper after Joe leaves her.
One interesting dramaturgical choice that Kushner makes is that, despite there being eight actors who play the eight main roles (this includes the Angel), there are twelve other supporting roles that are also played by the eight actors, creating what Kushner calls “an actor-driven event.” Kushner goes so far as to dictate which actor should play which roles, often creating some interesting dichotomies. For example the actor playing Prior also plays a man in Central Park that Louis goes to have anonymous sex with after he has left Prior’s hospital bed. However, the act is abandoned when the condom breaks and the man fears contracting HIV. Essentially, the man has Louis experience a lesser form of the rejection that Prior will feel when he realizes that Louis has left.
Another interesting and excellent dramaturgical choice Kushner makes is having two scenes play out on stage at the same time. In scene eight of act I, Joe and Harper discuss Joe’s latent homosexual feelings while Louis theorizes about justice and hypothetically asks Prior what would happen if he abandoned the relationship. The scenes play out at the same time, but the couples take turns having their own conversations. However, later in scene nine of act II, Louis tells Prior that he is giving up on their relationship at the same time Joe tells Harper that he is a gay man. Because the tension and energy is higher, the lines frequently overlap each other as each individual struggles to cope with the difficult situations that they are facing. To list another example, Harper’s hallucinations and Prior’s fever dreams brought about by his illness also occur simultaneously at one point, bring the two hurting characters into a safe, almost celestial world where they can experience the “threshold of revelation” (scene 7, act I).
Kushner, Tony. Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia of national Themes. 1995. New York: Theatre Communications Group, 2006. Print.
Millennium Approaches tells the story of seven individuals living in New York City from October 1985 to January 1986 during the height of the AIDS crisis and in the middle of Reagan’s tumultuous tenure as President. Early in the play, Prior Walter, a gay designer, discloses to his boyfriend, Louis Ironson, that he is dying from AIDS. Louis, who is HIV negative, struggles with the prospect of losing his lover to illness and considers abandoning the relationship. Throughout the play, Prior hears the disembodied voice of an Angel. At the same time, a Mormon couple, Joe and Harper Pitt, fight over whether or not Joe should move to Washington D.C. for a better job opportunity. Harper’s addiction to Valium makes her hallucinate frequently, and Joe struggles with his own same-sex attractions. Towards the end of part one, Louis and Joe leave their respective partners and begin to find comfort in one another. The play ends with the Angel appearing to Prior in all her glory and proclaiming him to be a prophet. Other major characters include a conservative lawyer with AIDS, a former drag queen named Belize, and Joe’s doting Mormon mother who comes to live with Harper after Joe leaves her.
One interesting dramaturgical choice that Kushner makes is that, despite there being eight actors who play the eight main roles (this includes the Angel), there are twelve other supporting roles that are also played by the eight actors, creating what Kushner calls “an actor-driven event.” Kushner goes so far as to dictate which actor should play which roles, often creating some interesting dichotomies. For example the actor playing Prior also plays a man in Central Park that Louis goes to have anonymous sex with after he has left Prior’s hospital bed. However, the act is abandoned when the condom breaks and the man fears contracting HIV. Essentially, the man has Louis experience a lesser form of the rejection that Prior will feel when he realizes that Louis has left.
Another interesting and excellent dramaturgical choice Kushner makes is having two scenes play out on stage at the same time. In scene eight of act I, Joe and Harper discuss Joe’s latent homosexual feelings while Louis theorizes about justice and hypothetically asks Prior what would happen if he abandoned the relationship. The scenes play out at the same time, but the couples take turns having their own conversations. However, later in scene nine of act II, Louis tells Prior that he is giving up on their relationship at the same time Joe tells Harper that he is a gay man. Because the tension and energy is higher, the lines frequently overlap each other as each individual struggles to cope with the difficult situations that they are facing. To list another example, Harper’s hallucinations and Prior’s fever dreams brought about by his illness also occur simultaneously at one point, bring the two hurting characters into a safe, almost celestial world where they can experience the “threshold of revelation” (scene 7, act I).
Kushner, Tony. Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia of national Themes. 1995. New York: Theatre Communications Group, 2006. Print.
Checkpoint #2 Comment Links
http://mpret7.blogspot.com/2013/03/noses-off.html?showComment=1365793095441#c3522007400837574508
http://sstev31.blogspot.com/2013/04/show-and-tell-post-2-asssassins.html?showComment=1365793498949#c5813197043299761641
http://tweber7.blogspot.com/2013/03/noises-off.html?showComment=1365793985620#c643304571923661088
http://tweber7.blogspot.com/2013/04/detroit-city.html?showComment=1365880550316#c6639339464395673789
http://comingsoontotheatrenearyou.blogspot.com/2013/04/insert-door-puns-here.html?showComment=1365881110509#c2216461163293891004
http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/03/buried-child-by-sam-shepard.html?showComment=1365883567372#c343545776915700109
http://sstev31.blogspot.com/2013/04/show-and-tell-post-2-asssassins.html?showComment=1365793498949#c5813197043299761641
http://tweber7.blogspot.com/2013/03/noises-off.html?showComment=1365793985620#c643304571923661088
http://tweber7.blogspot.com/2013/04/detroit-city.html?showComment=1365880550316#c6639339464395673789
http://comingsoontotheatrenearyou.blogspot.com/2013/04/insert-door-puns-here.html?showComment=1365881110509#c2216461163293891004
http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/03/buried-child-by-sam-shepard.html?showComment=1365883567372#c343545776915700109
Friday, April 12, 2013
Reading Response to D'Amour's "Detroit"
So…
why title a play Detroit if it isn’t
about Detroit, it isn’t set in Detroit, and the characters never even so much
as allude to Detroit? Assuming Lisa D’Amour isn’t just trying to give readers
and audiences an answerless riddle to ponder over, a good dramaturge will
research the possible connection between the “Motor City” and the characters
and events in D’Amour’s play. Based on my own research into the subject matter,
I have reason to believe D’Amour is trying to connect the current plight of
middle-class Americans, such as Ben and Mary, to the economic and social
decline of Detroit, Michigan, which was once the tenth largest city in the
country just thirteen years ago.
Much like the 1950’s cookie-cutter neighborhood that Ben and Mary live in, Detroit in the early 21st century is merely a shadow of its former glory. Unemployment rates are obscenely high (around 15%) due to the closure of factories and other places of business in and around the city, forcing many residents to look for opportunities in other states. This flight from the city only compounds its dismal financial situation. According to one New York Times article, there are nearly 70,000 abandoned buildings in the city of Detroit that one resident stated leaves the children of the city psychologically traumatized (Binelli). Detroit reached its peak population in the 1950’s at about 1.8 million residents; this was right at the beginning of the city’s automobile industry renaissance (U.S. Census Bureau). However the population has been declining significantly since then. From 2000 to 2010, the city went from being the tenth largest city in the nation to just eighteenth, experiencing a drop in population of roughly 25% (Wisely).
Much like Detroit, the couples in Detroit face many of the same struggles. Ben and Kenny both struggle with unemployment and the thought of not being able to provide for their wives and be the breadwinner in the family. The house that Kenny and Sharon move into was abandoned for quite some time before they moved in, according to Ben and Mary, and it may very well continue to be left unoccupied after they leave in a hurry. Ultimately, the neighborhood that once offered the promise of a “bright” new life for families in the 1950’s can no longer live up to its name. Houses have been changed beyond recognition and neighbors refuse to get close to each other, perhaps because they fear these new people who just moved next door may only be passing through.
Binelli, Mark. “How Detroit Became the World Capital of Staring at Abandoned Old Buildings.” New York Times 9 November 2012. Web. 10 April 2013.
Wisely, John and Todd Spangler. “Motor City population declines 25%.” USA Today 24 March 2011. Web. 11 April 2013.
Much like the 1950’s cookie-cutter neighborhood that Ben and Mary live in, Detroit in the early 21st century is merely a shadow of its former glory. Unemployment rates are obscenely high (around 15%) due to the closure of factories and other places of business in and around the city, forcing many residents to look for opportunities in other states. This flight from the city only compounds its dismal financial situation. According to one New York Times article, there are nearly 70,000 abandoned buildings in the city of Detroit that one resident stated leaves the children of the city psychologically traumatized (Binelli). Detroit reached its peak population in the 1950’s at about 1.8 million residents; this was right at the beginning of the city’s automobile industry renaissance (U.S. Census Bureau). However the population has been declining significantly since then. From 2000 to 2010, the city went from being the tenth largest city in the nation to just eighteenth, experiencing a drop in population of roughly 25% (Wisely).
Much like Detroit, the couples in Detroit face many of the same struggles. Ben and Kenny both struggle with unemployment and the thought of not being able to provide for their wives and be the breadwinner in the family. The house that Kenny and Sharon move into was abandoned for quite some time before they moved in, according to Ben and Mary, and it may very well continue to be left unoccupied after they leave in a hurry. Ultimately, the neighborhood that once offered the promise of a “bright” new life for families in the 1950’s can no longer live up to its name. Houses have been changed beyond recognition and neighbors refuse to get close to each other, perhaps because they fear these new people who just moved next door may only be passing through.
Binelli, Mark. “How Detroit Became the World Capital of Staring at Abandoned Old Buildings.” New York Times 9 November 2012. Web. 10 April 2013.
United States
Census Bureau. U.S. Department of Commerce, 15 June 1998. Web. 11 April
2013.
<http://www.census.gov/population/www/documentation/twps0027/tab18.txt.>.Wisely, John and Todd Spangler. “Motor City population declines 25%.” USA Today 24 March 2011. Web. 11 April 2013.
Reading Response to Hudes's "Water by the Spoonful"
While
many plays may have several different “worlds” or realities that exist within
them, a good playwright will have these realities coexist with one another in such
a way that the overall play as a whole gains a level of depth worthy of
analysis. In her play Water by the
Spoonful, Quiara AlegrÃa Hudes expertly weaves a great play by creating two
realities, the real world of Elliot and his family as well as the various users
of Odessa’s website and the virtual world of the website itself, and having
them interact with one another at key points to emphasize the complexity of
certain relationships or themes.
For example, the first time these two realities mesh is when Odessa and John’s lunch meeting is interrupted by the arrival of Elliot and Yaz. When the scene begins, Odessa and John are discussing their lives and addictions as though they are still in the safe, virtual world of the website. While both individuals are incredibly friendly with one another, the conversation is almost too light for such serious subject matter. As audience members later realize, neither person is being completely honest with the other, leaving many important pieces of information left unsaid for fear of judgment. Their real world rendezvous is just as safe as a conversation on the website because Odessa and John can still hide behind the mask they want the other to see.
However, when Elliot and Yaz arrive on the scene to chastise Odessa for not contributing to her sister’s funeral costs, the real world breaks apart the illusions created in the virtual world. Odessa becomes almost hostile and shows a more severe side to her personality that audiences have not yet seen and most likely did not expect since her demeanor on the website is so calm and maternal. The dissonance that results from this clash between the two realities underscores how various characters in the play hide behind a virtual mask so as to avoid taking responsibility for past actions or mistakes. However, as Odessa finds out after this confrontation with Elliot and Yaz, sooner or later a person’s “real” self will have to face what he or she has done if any closure is to be gotten.
For example, the first time these two realities mesh is when Odessa and John’s lunch meeting is interrupted by the arrival of Elliot and Yaz. When the scene begins, Odessa and John are discussing their lives and addictions as though they are still in the safe, virtual world of the website. While both individuals are incredibly friendly with one another, the conversation is almost too light for such serious subject matter. As audience members later realize, neither person is being completely honest with the other, leaving many important pieces of information left unsaid for fear of judgment. Their real world rendezvous is just as safe as a conversation on the website because Odessa and John can still hide behind the mask they want the other to see.
However, when Elliot and Yaz arrive on the scene to chastise Odessa for not contributing to her sister’s funeral costs, the real world breaks apart the illusions created in the virtual world. Odessa becomes almost hostile and shows a more severe side to her personality that audiences have not yet seen and most likely did not expect since her demeanor on the website is so calm and maternal. The dissonance that results from this clash between the two realities underscores how various characters in the play hide behind a virtual mask so as to avoid taking responsibility for past actions or mistakes. However, as Odessa finds out after this confrontation with Elliot and Yaz, sooner or later a person’s “real” self will have to face what he or she has done if any closure is to be gotten.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Reading Response to Shepard's "Buried Child"
How
best to tackle the fundamental mystery of Sam Shepard’s Buried Child? For being a play filled with a good deal of realism (“slice-of-life”
dialogue, realistic setting and characters, etc.), there exist certain elements
within the play that don’t quite fit in with the common definition of
theatrical realism. Part of this has to do with the ambiguities that lie at the
center of Buried Child; they drive
the action of the play but are never fully explained by the characters’
dialogue or the stage directions written by Shepard.
Each act includes the introduction of a particular mystery into Dodge’s farmhouse that leads to confusion and, as a result, intense conflict between the members of the family. In the first act, Tilden brings in a huge armful of corn from the fields behind the house and deposits them all over Dodge. Naturally, the patriarch of the family is confused by this because no crops have grown or been planted since the 1930’s, leading Dodge to wonder if Tilden has stolen the corn. A similar event happens in act II when Tilden brings in a large number of carrots and has Shelly skin them, presumably so they can be eaten later. When Bradley enters the house later in the act, he is outraged to find an intruder in his home as well as the vegetables that Tilden has brought into the house.
However, the mystery at the center of Buried Child is the actual child buried in the yard behind the farmhouse that Tilden brings upstairs at the end of act III. Although its true identity is never revealed, leaving the mystery up for debate long after the curtain has fallen, Dodge drops hints that the child was the result of an incestuous union between Tilden and Halie. Even more mysterious than the child’s identity is the circumstances of its death. Did Dodge actually drown his son's own flesh and blood? Or is there another truth that refuses to reveal itself?
Despite being mostly realistic, the ambiguity that pervades Shepard’s Buried Child gives the play an almost dreamlike or surreal atmosphere that refuses to be ignored.
Each act includes the introduction of a particular mystery into Dodge’s farmhouse that leads to confusion and, as a result, intense conflict between the members of the family. In the first act, Tilden brings in a huge armful of corn from the fields behind the house and deposits them all over Dodge. Naturally, the patriarch of the family is confused by this because no crops have grown or been planted since the 1930’s, leading Dodge to wonder if Tilden has stolen the corn. A similar event happens in act II when Tilden brings in a large number of carrots and has Shelly skin them, presumably so they can be eaten later. When Bradley enters the house later in the act, he is outraged to find an intruder in his home as well as the vegetables that Tilden has brought into the house.
However, the mystery at the center of Buried Child is the actual child buried in the yard behind the farmhouse that Tilden brings upstairs at the end of act III. Although its true identity is never revealed, leaving the mystery up for debate long after the curtain has fallen, Dodge drops hints that the child was the result of an incestuous union between Tilden and Halie. Even more mysterious than the child’s identity is the circumstances of its death. Did Dodge actually drown his son's own flesh and blood? Or is there another truth that refuses to reveal itself?
Despite being mostly realistic, the ambiguity that pervades Shepard’s Buried Child gives the play an almost dreamlike or surreal atmosphere that refuses to be ignored.
Reading Response to Frayn's "Noises Off"
There
are a number of motifs that are common in nearly every farce that has been
written since the form was first created. These include motifs of
miscommunication, mistaken identity, and misplaced items of importance, just to
name a few. And while Michael Frayn’s brilliant comedy Noises Off has all of these motifs, there is another one that is a
bit more specific to this script. Frayn includes the motif of the “real” world
intruding into the world of the play within a play as a way of adding a level
of complexity that many farces tend to lack. For example, Selsdon’s senility
and poor drinking habits affect his performance in Nothing On just as the quarrel between the feuding lovers, Dotty
and Garry, must be prevented from manifesting itself onstage in the form of
Garry sabotaging Freddy’s own performance. Act II in particular shows that the
dividing line between the “real” world and the world of Nothing On is tenuous at best as the actors struggle to get all of
their cues right while maintaining peace between one another backstage.
An appropriate unifying principle for Noises Off would be "Curtain!" or bring the curtain down. Each act ends with Lloyd begging for Poppy to bring the curtain down on the show so that the act may end and the barrier between the two worlds of the play can be reestablished. Once the curtain is down, the actors can return to the “real” world conflicts without having to worry about whether or not the show will quite literally fall apart around them. Each act, then, is a desperate struggle to reach Selsdon’s final tagline (IF he remembers it) so that the cast can return to their own lives. In this way, Noises Off shows how a play rarely exists as its own self-contained world. The relationships between the actors and crew and their own conflicts and personal struggles often make their way onto the stage no matter how strong the wall between the real world and the world of the play may be.
An appropriate unifying principle for Noises Off would be "Curtain!" or bring the curtain down. Each act ends with Lloyd begging for Poppy to bring the curtain down on the show so that the act may end and the barrier between the two worlds of the play can be reestablished. Once the curtain is down, the actors can return to the “real” world conflicts without having to worry about whether or not the show will quite literally fall apart around them. Each act, then, is a desperate struggle to reach Selsdon’s final tagline (IF he remembers it) so that the cast can return to their own lives. In this way, Noises Off shows how a play rarely exists as its own self-contained world. The relationships between the actors and crew and their own conflicts and personal struggles often make their way onto the stage no matter how strong the wall between the real world and the world of the play may be.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Reading Response to Scribe's "The Glass of Water"
Despite
the various characters and plot points competing for attention in Eugene Scribe’s
The Glass of Water, one character in
particular stands out as the protagonist to me. Without the careful plotting
and planning of Bolingbroke, the events of the play would not occur since it is
he who drives the action forward time and time again despite the attempts made
by the Duchess to thwart his political plans. It is Bolingbroke, driven by his
desire to gain political power in the Queen’s court, who brings the French
ambassador to St. James Place and who helps Abigail to obtain a position in the
court so that she can make a living. While it is clear that Scribe wants the
audience to “root for” Masham and Abigail (the audience is sympathetic to their
romance), these two lovebirds would never have been able to be united in
matrimony had it not been for Bolingbroke’s intervention. Whether or not he
does this out of the kindness of his heart is another matter entirely. He knows
that the union of the lovers will infuriate the Duchess, his sworn rival and
equal in political intrigue, so he could very well be acting in a beneficent
manner simply for his own pleasure at seeing the Duchess scorned. Without
Bolingbroke, there would be no play at all. Or, at least, it would be an
entirely different story. Even the secret of the glass of water would not have
been revealed had Bolingbroke not so carefully intervened so as to spite the
Duchess once more. He also brings about the play’s happy ending by freeing
Masham from incarceration, uniting the two lovers, and giving the French envoy
an audience with the Queen, thus fulfilling all of his political desires.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Reading Response to Glaspell's "Trifles"
For
a play as reliant upon on images and descriptions as Susan Glaspell’s Trifles, directors face the unique
challenge of how best to stage the production in a way that remains true to the
nearly one hundred year old script while still being widely accessible to
modern audiences. Essentially, directors can either stage the script with
period sets and costumes or with minimal staging and props and simple costumes
so as not to distract audiences from the words, emotions, and actions of the
actors on stage. The first option makes the play more true to life since it
gives audiences a definite setting in which to place the scene. The small “trifles”
that abound throughout Minnie Wright’s kitchen would give members of the
audience a better understanding of how she kept her house and what life must
have been like in the harsh Nebraska environment. However, the latter option is
equally plausible because the dialogue spoken on stage gives audience members
all of the information they need to know that is relevant to the plot,
including descriptions of the jars of preserves, the birdcage, the quilt, and
the appearance of the farmhouse in general. Personally, I find the first option
to be more practical for several reasons. To begin with, the play is already
fairly dated, but performing the play as a “concept” production might
disinterest audience members even more since it combines surreal staging
elements with a script that relies heavily on an understanding of what life was
like for rural women during the early 20th century. If the play is
staged with full sets and costumes, the production then fuels the audience’s
collective imagination and brings the material to life before their very eyes.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Reading Response to Gerstenberg's "Overtones"
Alice
Gerstenberg's short play Overtones explores the relationships and methods of
communication that exist between individuals' cultured facades and the more
primitive emotions that rage beneath this peaceful exterior. The characters of Harriet
and Margaret function as the “real-world,” cultured women of society, while
Hatty and Maggie are each woman’s respective “primitive” self. Hatty can speak
to Harriet, and Maggie can speak to Margaret, though neither cultured woman sees
either “primitive,” as I will refer to them. To the audience, this
dramaturgical choice may be a bit confusing at first, at least until Harriet
and Hatty explicitly discuss their relationship to one another:
Once the connection between the two has been established, audiences will understand that this relationship also exists between Maggie and Margaret. Since the physical presence of either primitive is never acknowledged by Harriet or Margaret, any attentive audience member should quickly glean that Hatty and Maggie act primarily as unseen, unconscious forces. These conventions are relatively clear and unchanging. However, the rules that dictate how Maggie and Hatty interact with one another are much less strict, which may lead to some confusion among audience members. For the most part, when one primitive addresses the other (it might be more accurate to say “when one attacks the other”), the remark is ignored; the primitives are too busy trying to achieve their own ends through their cultured selves to respond to petty insults… at first. Hatty and Maggie only confront each other face to face towards the end of the piece, once both of the women have achieved their goals. Each primitive feels as though she has won the battle and throws aside the veil to gloat in the face of the other.HETTY: My passions are deeper than yours. I can't keep on the mask as you do. I'm crude and real, you are my appearance in the world.HARRIET: I am what you wish the world to believe you are.
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