Boston Turg Talk

Adapting

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 18:49:00 +0000

So, hey, I just went to London not so long ago. Like most Bostonians I suspect, I’m a bit of an anglophile, therefore a return to the spiritual homeland is refreshing and inspiring on many counts. While there, I saw very much theatre (shocking, I know), two of which were adaptations of two different classic novels.

A was performed at a small, out of the way theatre with an ensemble cast of about 8. B was at a large West-End house with a star and an ensemble cast of about 8 as well. A was brilliant, B was…not. However, instead of discussing the particular merits or lack-thereof of productions most of you won’t get a chance to see, I thought I’d speak a little broadly about adaptations.

Movies adapt books all the time, and Broadway is now adapting popular film for the stage. We are all looking for good stories, right? And if they’ve already proved themselves successful in one medium, surely they can try a few others? In my humble opinion, some stories lend themselves better to some media then others. I mean, the best way JK Rowling knew how to tell Harry Potter was in several books, Picasso could best express Guernica on canvas, and Shakespeare found his voice on stage. I don’t think this makes adaptation impossible, or a violation of the original intent, but I do think you have to have a means, or an idea, or a reason to move a story to a different medium. There are certain unique-ish characteristics of each mode of expression that have to be confronted in a translation between forms.

Narrative, for example, is the primary means of gaining information in a novel, and often in stage or screen adaptations, we get a Narrator or voice-over to fill the gap. The thing is, a narrator isn’t very “theatrical” because in film and theatre we get information through action – we see stuff happen. Part of why books like Harry Potter and Twilight are so successful in film, is the books are heavy on action, and light on existential reflection.

Now before you start getting upset, I’m not suggesting we abandon think-y books in favor of action ones. However, you have to think about how you are going to make the leap. B didn’t do that – in fact, B did very little thinking, as reinforced by the actors all struggling in their own individual plays, completely separate from one another. Dear lord, there is nothing worse in the theatre- well, few things worse, I suppose.

A, however, fit the narrative of the theatrical world into the framework of the novel. We were in the world of the novel, and were watching a reenactment as cautionary tale about the novel’s hero. By throwing in several Brechtian elements, puppetry and some hilarious pictograms, they made strategic use of the narration all while focusing on the action of the story.

So, the moral of the story is think good and hard, and your audience will be rewarded. Or at least, I will.

On French Braids and Truth or Dare

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 23:17:00 +0000

I saw the new Twilight Movie last night (I know, I know). Basically, in my defense, it’s a cultural phenomenon which, for better or worse, will influence many media for some time to come. I also saw the first one (commence judgment), and haven’t seen a movie in a while.

I’ll say before I begin, I haven’t read the books, nor do I have any plans to (I still haven’t finished Harry Potter, let alone the shelves of “serious” books at home). But I’m interested in the values of these films (and, I’ll assume of the books), how they build on vampire lore and what they say about us today. If you are a loyal adherent to the saga, you probably won’t enjoy this, and if you want the movies or the books to be a surprise, then don’t read any further.

The Heroine
While I appreciate that the character of Bella is an awkward, clumsy, blushy, angsty teen (as I was) I find her lack of agency disappointing. In a post-Buffy universe, I didn’t realize the damsel-in-distress routine was still copasetic. But she’s only human, and in a world of shape-shifters and vampires it’s tough for a girl to compete. However, her only substance seems to be from her all-consuming love for her vampy-beau. The Romantic-era the author apparently takes some of her inspiration certainly permitted less dynamic or engaging ladies, but we’ve come a long way since then, no? Also, two words for you: Jane Austen. Even her more lackluster heroines had depth, dimension and diverse interests. I don’t really get that here (maybe that has something to do with the actor, book-followers?). So, while, yes, I like my ass-kicking ladies, I’d take artistic or bookish or funny or athletic or something.

The Vampires
Each Vampire story I know builds on some of the same principals. Vampires are eternally young and usually beautiful (the appeal), often evil, dangerous and sexy. The sexual metaphor is more overt for some than others. So, while Nosferatu wasn’t as nice to look at as your more contemporary heartthrobs, the sneaking into ladies’ bedrooms at night while they slept to “have your way” with them conveys a similar idea. What’s interesting about Twilight’s vision, is the vampires have no “ugly face” literally and metaphorically. They are always very pretty, and seem to be able to choose if they will be good or evil. Really, being a vampire seems mostly pretty awesome – as opposed to other stories that really play up “the catch” (you have an insatiable urge to kill people, you are a monster, you are damned, you can’t go out in the sun without bursting into flames, no more Italian food, etc).

The Sex
My understanding is that these books (and therefore films) are supposed to, to some extent, extol the virtues of abstinence pre-marriage. So, while the movies portray gleaming, writhing, beautiful youthful bodies, the romance and the appeal is in the longing, not the fulfillment of desire. Sure, anticipation is fun, but do we really need to continue to stigmatism women’s desire for sexual fulfillment? Really? Also, Bella is torn between two men who might eat her, one of which she wants to die for. Because danger is hot, and a true woman can reform a man through her love? Thanks, Victorian era. Seriously, though, I don’t want to sound all, well, mom-ish or puritanical, but isn’t this a bit of a dangerous example to be setting for young girls? I mean, a VERY reductive version of the story could be he hurts her, but he also loves her, and because she really loves him, she’ll stick it out till he kills her. Um, gross. Not to mention 18 seems a tad young to get married, to me, but she literally doesn’t seem to have anything else to do, so why not?

To answer your question preemptively, yes, I probably will see the next two movies, further contributing to the franchise, because I am, in part, an angsty-pre-teen trapped in an adult body. And now that you know all of my secrets, I will go eat some cake.

Interim Update

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 22:25:00 +0000

I’m in Portland, Maine, dear readers. This little city has so much charm, even the guy peeing in the alley is wearing a Polo.

I’ll come up with something more… thoughtful soon, but I wanted to throw this bug in your ear: perhaps the reason Minor League Baseball can get 6000 people to come to the little stadiums is because adorable, furrowed brow mascots do back-flips. True Fact.

Boston Theatre, you may take that idea and run with it free of charge.

An Anti-Ode

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 13:28:00 +0000

It is difficult to avoid the lure of New York, especially as a theatre professional. Even if you aren’t dreaming of Broadway, New York has it all – or so it seems. Think your town has the goods? Maybe, but New York has ten times the goods you do. Communal costume storage. So many theatre festivals they double-up on spaces. And don’t even get me started on the food. Hey, artists have to eat to, and in New York you can eat just about anything you want at almost any time of day.

As I write this, I am being hurled out of the city by Amtrak after spending a truly wonderful few days with New York, some friends and the Fringe Festival. My dearest friends, mostly because we wish we spent more time together, continued a persistent nudging to extend my stay – permanently. There were moments – sipping my first egg cream, devouring a delicious Egyptian meal, tapping my foot to a delicious jazz quartet – when the notion was tempting.

So, I find that I need to take a moment and remind myself – and perhaps you, dear reader, why New York is not the place for everyone.*

Ghosts: Despite being introduced to pockets to the contrary, New York has obliterated the majority of the architecture that indicates it was inhabited prior to the 20^th century. I find new, or relatively new, buildings a little unsettling. There are no ghosts. I like imagining the hundreds of lives that have played out in the rooms where I’ve lived. I feel tied to not only a sense of history, but to an extended distant family that I am helping to perpetuate.
What’s that smell?: Seriously. The distinct urban odor that can only come from the unique combination of 7 million people, billions of pounds of trash, exhaust and rodent excrement. Add the heat of summer, and you have a brew you can’t ignore. I only wonder what rotting horse corpses and open sewage added to the stew a century ago.
Oh, I see: Perhaps related to the smell, is the brown-grey grime that cakes every structure, in every neighborhood across the city from stem to stern. Nuff said.
You gonna pay for that: it’s expensive. No, really. The free show expects a two drink minimum, sure, but since you are likely far from home, dinner, transportation, and post-show drinks just jumped the cost of your free night out to endangering next month’s rent.
You can’t get there from here: New York is big – really big. So, even if you live in the same city as some of your dearest friends, don’t expect to seem them unless they live in your neighborhood. When I told my same nudging friends that I could consider living in Brooklyn, they all lamented that they would never see me. Sure, they love me, but Brooklyn? Might as well still live in Boston.
You are one in a million, or 7: For some, I imagine the anonymity is comforting, but I find it isolating. The constant battle for your place on the sidewalk, on the subway platform or anywhere wears on one’s politeness. Before you know it, you are elbowing old ladies and knocking over baby carriages just to get off the subway in time.
The dress code: I’m no fashion plate, but I manage to leave my sweatpants at home most days. But minimal effort is not ok in The Big City. Never have I been given the incredulous label stare as extensively or as often as in New York. Even their ball team has a dress code, for goodness sake!
You have to sleep in your Manolo box: Act now for your own overpriced, under-maintained shoebox. Seriously, bring your checkbook because a 1000 other people are waiting for that cardboard box outside.
Taxes: In addition to your Federal and rather high state taxes, the city of New York charges additional taxes for the pleasure of shopping there.
The privileged: Maybe you too found the elitism displayed in shows like Sex in the City and Seinfeld distasteful. But, not only are New Yorkers better than you, they are better than each other. Friends – dear friends and strangers alike reserve a special disdain for people from New Jersey, people who walk slow, the Bridge and Tunnel crowd, or the worst offenders of all – hipsters.

*This is list is not exhaustive and is highly subjective. I know there are many more things one could say in favor of New York, or to denigrate other cities. I am using a public forum to discuss my current personal emotional state. Nevertheless, I await your rebuttal.

Mati-NAY!

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 16:53:00 +0000

Oh, Boston,

If you aren’t in New York, you should be at FeverFest. Or should have been, at this point. I was there last weekend, and, sure, my company has a show in it, so I’m prolly a little biased, but there is some great local theatre in there.

If, however, you are in New York, you are maybe attending some of the Fringe Festival. I know I am. I could write “reviews” of what I’m seeing, but you know that’s not my style (for those keeping track, 4 plays in a day and a half, 2 more today). I want to talk about matinees.

Matinees have a strange vibe. It’s as if the air of the room hasn’t woken up yet. I saw this pretty magical show in Brooklyn yesterday in a cool club where banquet seating is surrounded by water. At night, this venue was clearly a cool, hip place to be. But, at 3:00 in the afternoon, it lost some of its darker charms. While the company tried to mask the day bleeding through the windows, there was no escaping it. We were at a matinee.

They had an open bar – and booze is becoming much more plentiful at the theatre these days. It loosens the strictures on theatre-going imposed by a snooty German sometime ago. Sit quietly in the dark, and applaud in the breaks. No, thank you. A longing for the rambunctious Elizabethan days can be felt in many a downtown theatre (however much longing one can have for an unwashed mass throwing vegetables and insults at the stage). Booze helps, for those who partake.

But I wonder something else. Actors have a higher social standing then they once did. So, back in the day, you went to the theatre to see people of your status or below, to pick up a prostitute and maybe get out some of the stress of your peasantry. Sure, you were probably perpetually pretty drunk what with water carrying fatal or just unpleasant disease, you have no choice but to drink wine all the time. So, maybe as one stepped into the playhouses of yesteryear, your inhibitions were fairly loose as is, but I have to imagine, the relative freedom one might have felt in the theatre within a rigid class system to come outside themselves. Like the senior stuffing the freshman in a locker because he was stuffed in a locker when he was a freshman.

I’m not suggesting that we relegate actors back to the dregs of society. I believe theatre is the highest art form – if you can even measure things like that – because it most clearly and directly evokes the human experience. I think some Greek guy said something similar. But, part of the magic in the theatre is lost when we divorce ourselves entirely from our dark and seedy past. Perhaps, a way to recapture it is to avoid the deadly matinee, and rekindle our transgressive intentions with more late night shows and open bars.

Of course, the MBTA would need to help us out a little more.

Resurrected

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 20:14:00 +0000

February. Really? I had a show, I moved, I worked 6 jobs, blah-blah…my actual life overtook my virtual one. But now, I am free. Mostly.

In keeping with the spirit of this silly thing, I will use an experience from my theatrical life to wax…didactic. But before I do, I’d like to throw the gauntlet down to my 3 readers (Hi Mom!). At the conclusion of each performance of my show, we had a small dessert reception (or SweetTalk, as we liked to say). During the reception, I would ask the people I didn’t know three questions. I will write my (rather lengthy) responses to these questions in my next entry, but I thought I might take this opportunity to ask you first. Are you ready for this?

1. What brings you out to the theatre? How do you find out what’s playing and how do you decide what to see?

2. Do you go to the theatre often? If so, who do you like in town and why? If not, what do you do for fun?

3. What do you feel Boston is missing? What have you seen other places or not seen at all that you would like to see in town?

PS. I feel the need to expand on my introduction with a small post-script. I am slow, especially as compared to the interwebs. I have yet to reconcile is the immediacy of the web with my desire to my thoughtful (I know what you are thinking – watch it!). Blogs really lend themselves to almost a garbage-dump of information and opinions. I am reluctant to just dump my often offensive and thoughtless remarks in so public a forum. Hence, why I am often delayed. I take a while with this thing. Seriously. Too long? Sure. I’m working on it. I’m going to yet again, attempt a more regular updating strategy, but I also don’t want to write just any old crap. I’d like to reserve this bit of cyberspace for when I actually have something on my mind. Is the internet removing our ability to be slow/thoughtful creatures or will the next generation just be quicker on its feet?

And Now, a Word from Our Sponsors…

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 17:12:00 +0000

I’m not really an endorsement kind of gal – cheap commercialism ranks low on my list of priorities. But the advent of low-cost, quality bus service like Megabus and Bolt Bus, have changed my life. Or at least changed my relationship to that behemoth to the south. I am able to pop down to New York on a whim, for relatively low dollars, while enjoying free wifi and keeping my lappy happily juiced. Megabus even offers an 11:30PM bus back to Boston, which is perfect for catching a show without having to harass your friends for a place to stay (or taking an extra day off from work). As we speak, I am heading to Nueva York to enjoy the musical stylings of Tally Hall and some piece of theatricalness tomorrow evening. More anon.
(And, yes, should Mega-or-Bolt-Bus decide to compensate me for my endorsement, I will gladly accept it - even artists on the internet need to eat).

You going to pay for that?

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 22:50:00 +0000

I literally wrote most of this post a year ago and only stumbled upon it now. Whoops. I think it is still mostly relevant.

Art and capitalism. Two subjects that have been dominating my conversation lately and with fascinating results. Part of this conversation was played out in a previous post about new work, but I felt like it really deserved a post of its own.

Art is not a natural fit with capitalism. First off, capitalism is about the individual, and Art, particularly Theatre, is about a community. (Does Hamlet die if there is no one there to see him?) Capitalism thrives on consumerism, an exchange of goods and/or services. Art is a different kind of exchange but in a land without subsidy, Art needs your money to happen.

Art invites you to participate, in fact, it needs you to participate to function. The story of a book exists more in your mind than on the page. A book sitting on your shelf doesn't "tell you" what its about - you have to read it, you have to engage with it, participate in it to get the story. Why would this be any different in theatre, where a live audience sits in close proximity to the action on stage?

Theatre requires an audience to be sitting up, to be paying attention, to be engaged. Paula Vogel once said the play isn't what happens on stage, but what happens between the stage and the audience. So, if a play isn't working, it might not just be what's on stage. Part of schism is the theatre's own fault. As a friend of mine pointed out, we don't encourage people to yell at the stage anymore. We usually have the house lights out and expect everyone to watch in respectful silence.

I'm not suggesting throwing rotten fruit and veg is entirely the way to go. But OFTEN I have had the experience (and most often in America) that an audience just sits there, almost combative. "Come on," you can hear their brains' taunting, "just try and entertain me." That production is not going to be enjoyable for anyone. It's understandable. If you just dropped $80 of your hard-earned cash, you want to get $80 of experience - whatever that means to you. But don't you want that to be a good experience? Do you expect it to be good if you dropped a meaningful amount of money?

I guess for some people, a good time is being unhappy. More importantly, this is why art transcends a standard commercial model. Ok, that's elitist and fundamental to the objection Republicans have to the art. I think it is also true. It's why art is subsidized pretty much everywhere but here. Can we get on that, Mr. O?

Will All the Fake People Please Rise?

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 18:09:00 +0000

My boss just handed me an article from the Boston Globe, in which Michael Kranish quotes Rep. Jack Kingston from Georgia expressing doubt that I am a real person. Quote:

“We have real people out of work right now and putting $50 million in the NEA
and pretending that’s going to save jobs as opposed to putting $50 million in a
road project is disingenuous.”

My first thought is: FUCK YOU, GEORGIA! But, that’s not really constructive, so here's an attempt at reason. Did Republicans not learn in the last election that arbitrarily dividing the nation between “real” and “fake” people is neither popular nor constructive? Apparently, no.

I am a person, Mr. Kingston. I eat, I breathe, I talk, I walk and I vote (not in Georgia, fortunately for you). But, especially I work. I work roughly 50 hours a week in a university arts department and I work anywhere from 10 – 40 hours a week to make art independently. My friends and I are making a positive cultural contribution to our society. In a thousand years, future generations will look to what we’ve made to find out who we are today. The greatest societies of all time are marked by their art. We wish to be in those ranks.

But, you don’t care about that. You don’t care about future generations, as demonstrated by your reluctance to support constructive environmental policies. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to subsidize the arts when that money could subsidize oil, a clean and renewable energy source that will help future generations thrive…Oh, actually, I don’t understand, cause that’s stupid.

But, again, if postive cultural impact and better lives for this generation and the next aren’t good enough for you, I refer, once again, to the hard numbers provided by the Phoenix editorial staff last year:

“Undeniable too is the economic impact of the nonprofit arts sector. Total
spending exceeds $53 billion by organizations and $80 billion by audiences. The
tax revenues they generate exceed $10 billion for the federal government, $7.3
billion for states, and $6.6 billion for cities and towns. This impact is even
more pronounced in Boston. In 2002, the city’s so-called creative industry — its
seventh largest industry— added $10.7 billion to Boston’s total economic
output, and $12.7 billion to the greater metro area.”

Maybe the reason you are so quick to jump on the “real-fake” bandwagon, is you are having a crisis of conscience, Mr. Kingston. Maybe you realize you have absolutely no connection with reality (which your website supports), therefore endangering your “real” status. Maybe you, sir, are fake?

No, I don’t think so. I think, unless you are revealed to be a synthetically-created robot programmed with all of the worst rhetoric the Republican party has cooked up in the last 75 years, you too are real.

Now that reality has been established, do you think we might elevate the level of debate a little? Maybe with facts and statistics on all sides to make a well-reasoned vote? Or, were you not programmed that way?

Ruminations from a Mourner

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 06:01:00 +0000

This past weekend, I made a quick venture south to theatrical mecca to see Stolen Chair's Theatre is Dead and So Are You, a "vaudeville funeral for the stage." I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. However, like all good theatre, my mind was left spinning. Is theatre actually "dead?" One of the actors posits a comparison between theatre today and theatre in the time of Shakespeare when (to paraphrase) audiences fingered oranges and orange-sellers, straining to hear men dressed as women outdoors in overcast London light. And that's when theatre was supposed to be alive?

The actor whose name escapes me makes a good point. I've always found the declaration of theatre's passing a might premature and not terribly apt anyway. It's like saying the nerds were dead in high school. Theatre isn't dead, like colloquial Latin, say. It just doesn't sit with the cool kids at lunch anymore.

But if High School taught us anything, it's that the cool kids weren't very interesting and often don't end up making any important contributions to society. The socially down-trodden, however, motivated by a desire to belong somewhere or their own special brand of crazy-genius, revolutionize the world to their liking (and hopefully, for the better). So, maybe theatre isn't going to fit in with cooler cousins TV and live sports. It doesn't mean it, and we theatre practitioners, can't do some awesome stuff. So, enough of the dead talk, already!

And, frankly, if in the extension of this metaphor, the cool kids are cultural millstones like American Idol or Ultimate Fighting, I think theatre is better off with the weird kids.

(Sorry, once I grab onto a good metaphor, I have to run it into the ground.)

The Eve of Eves

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 05:40:00 +0000

On the eve of the inauguration of not only a new president but what could be a new era of optimism, I am reading Plato’s Republic. I’m prepping for class in which we will be discussing Aristotle’s Poetics which is (arguably) a response to Plato’s challenge to defend the role of arts in his ideal state. I am in no way an expert on Greek philosophy, and honestly have only ever studied Aristotle as relevant to dramatic structure. That won’t stop me from publicly musing. You’ve been warned.

When Plato wrote, poetry was an essential component of education. Art didn’t need to be championed, as it was the norm in the social order. In fact, art was so not-fragile that it could easily stand Plato’s (reluctant?) criticism as potentially disruptive to the ideal state and a corruption of the populous.

If tomorrow really ushers in a new era, is it folly to think the arts may play a larger role in reshaping our national identity? Our almost-president talks about art more than any president has since Kennedy. He has a task-force and everything.

I don’t mean to suggest that with all the poop the new administration inherits tomorrow, the arts ought to be their top priority, but it sure would be nice if all this change brought about a renaissance of American art. The “greatest” political leaders of history not so coincidentally overlap with the “greatest” artists.

Fingers crossed, B.

In Defense of Dramaturgy, Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 17:45:00 +0000

In a scant few hours I will begin infecting young minds with the art of dramaturgy. As I prepare for the class, and reread all the sordid history of the subject, I am reminded of the shear breadth of the discipline. Some of the earliest uses of the word incorporate the varied aspects of theatrical production into non-theatrical contexts (see Jewish War by Josephus, 75-9 ce). Granted, the uses of the term are not always...complimentary. Nor do they encompass the many tasks of the contemporary American dramaturgy. But, it is this very vagueness, openness that has always attracted me to the field. I think over the next few weeks, I will share what I have learned from class, and what I have imparted on them. A new, ongoing series, if you will, to defend the likes of dramaturgy.

Change Like We Used To

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 16:34:00 +0000

A gloomy peace this Monday brings...and news of some homegrown political activism. Our soon-to-be president (which I will rant about sooner or later) as spent his inter-election-inaugural period soliciting the views of the people. He claims he would like a participatory public/government relationship. So, let's call his bluff, shall we?
There is a petition you can sign asking the president-elect to include the arts in his stimulus package - 1% of the package to be precise. We, artists and art-enthusiasts, are not a couple of hippie freaks. We are a major constituency contributing real dollars and jobs, in addition to our immeasurable cultural impact. Don't believe me? Read this article in the Boston Phoenix from last year.
So, sign the petition already!

New Year's Resolutions

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 20:53:00 +0000

Happy New Year's, readers (or Meg).
I hope 2008 ended well for you and that 2009 brings health, wealth and many a good time.
I find something inherently false about New Year's resolutions - this isn't entirely my idea, but the more I think about it, the more I agree. If you REALLY wanted to make a change in your life, you'd make it regardless of what month it is. New Year's resolutions have a whiff of setting yourself up to fail, by setting up pipedreams on an arbitrary day with everyone else.
That being, said, January 1st is a little easier to remember than July 23, so why not set some turg-resolutions here and now? Apparently the trick to a good resolutions is to identify measurable, realistic goals. These aren't very good resolutions by those standards.
First, foremost, and the most obviously, I will write more frequently. Full stop.
Second, I will see more theatre - I will pay to see more theatre. I tend to be a bit of selective (I'm a snob) about what I will see, nevermind pay to see. This frugality is misplaced and doesn't make me a constructive member of the Boston Theatre Community.
Third, I will see more art, music, film and dance and write about it.
Don't think you are getting off that easily. Here are some resolutions I'd like to see for the Boston Theatre Community.
* I would like to see more new work. Brand, spanking new.
* I would like to see more collaboration between companies and between artistic disciplines.
* I would like to see theatres attempt to attract new audiences by trying out different work that might appeal outside their comfort zone.
* I would like audiences demand more from artists and artists demand more from audiences.

To a bold, new year. Salute.

Art, Politics and the Other Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 04:48:00 +0000

What will we all do when the election is over? What will we think about, talk about, wake in the middle of the night screaming about? I both crave and mourn the approach of November 4, regardless the outcome.

In the spirit of the season, I will continue my political diatribes.

So, I’m at a bar with some theatre folks and we are making a wish list of what we’d like to do in the art world. I say I would like to engage more actively, and unite the Boston Theatre community as a whole to engage more actively in local politics. Everyone is immediately skeptical. Therefore my rebuttal:

Anne Bogart argues in her book A Director Prepares that American artists disengaged from the public political sphere in the McCarthy era. No one wanted to incur the HUAAC wrath, so not only did artists stop talking about politics, but they stopped talking to each other. As a result American Theatre revolved around individual struggles in the domestic sphere. Debate, dialogue, engagement with contemporary life bigger than oneself virtually disappeared. Sure, there was and continues to be fringe work that challenges authority, engages in the community, etc but these small, revolutionary companies tend to have more life in history books than in their contemporary popular theatre. She goes on to suggest that this is when the distrust of the artist in popular culture began. We were all red, pinko commies working to bring down democracy by infiltrating popular media with our propaganda.

I’ll go further. I don’t think America has ever really liked artists. Sure, there is the class association that theatre people were synonymous with prostitutes, but those assertions predate our country and originated in nations with hearty arts scenes to this day. Heather Nathans outlines in her book Early American Theatre from the Revolution to Thomas Jefferson the colonial struggle to establish a unique, American identity unrelated to their British cultural roots. Theatre, like tea, being a British-ism was therefore out. In short, we established early on a preference to straight-talking farmers over poets who might be trying to trick us with UnAmerican propaganda disguised in lyrical verse.

Artists are a constituency. Along with our audiences, we believe that arts are important in the cultural vitality of the nation. Therefore, our politicians should know who we are. They should know what we want and they should care. It’s not just about funding. It’s about a larger integration into the consciousness of our representatives and our communities. Look at that word: representative. These people act in place of you in various legislative bodies. If they don’t know what you think is important, how well are they actually going to represent you and your interests?

Is it that you are embarrassed? Because whenever you say “I think the arts are important” some asshole says “more important than eating or cancer research, or reducing infant mortality rates or preventing meanness to puppies?” And you think, “shit, if I had to choose between the arts and a sandwich…I’m actually pretty hungry, and how could I choose Shakespeare or Mozart over babies and puppies?” Here is a crazy paradigm switch for you: why do we have to choose? We are the wealthiest nation in the world. Why do we have even one person without healthcare, without heat, without food, without access to excellent education, inspiring arts and culture?

What really muffles my omelet is artists seem to have given up. I just read this article from Seattle that offered a top 10 suggestion list for small theatres with some “tude”. It instructed artists to give up working towards earning a living wage in the field. Now, I don’t expect to drive my gold-plated Cadillac up Newbury Street anytime soon, but if we are satisfied reducing ourselves to amateurs, hobbyists and extracurriculars, how can we possibly expect to make GREAT ART. We must ALWAYS be working towards legitimizing our profession. It took some time to shake the prostitute thing, but that turned around. We have to be thinking long term.

The arts are important for countless reasons – reasons that I attempt to highlight in this silly thing. But one chestnut that never goes out of style is the arts have always been the lasting cultural artifact of an age. What remains of Elizabethan England, Ancient Athens, Renaissance Italy? I watched a documentary on PBS a while back about Sparta, a culture that thought Athens was a bunch of pansies, that only valued war and physical dominance. Pretty much all we know about Sparta is what Athenians wrote about them (surprisingly unflattering) and what could be gathered from skeletal remains. A bright and varied picture you can imagine.

We can yell "U.S.A." as loud as want at sporting events, they aren’t going to hear us in a thousand years. (You know, if the polar ice caps don’t melt and the planet doesn’t careen into the sun.) If we are so gosh darn proud of this little nation of ours, why don’t we want anyone to remember us except by skeletal remains?

So vote. Write your reps. Talk to your friends. And your Mom. And crazy Uncle whozits that thinks you’re a hippie and is waiting for you to cut your hair and get a real job. Talk to them all the time. Watch The Daily Show and The Colbert Report because, at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, they are saving America. These shows are reviving public discourse and critical thinking through satire. The really good kind.

And for God Sake’s, Vote No on Question 1. Don’t make me bring up the puppies again…

Stop Me If You've Heard This One

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 03:36:00 +0000

Dear readers,

A challenge has been issued. Well, maybe not a challenge, but a redirection of focus has been…requested. A reader, and dear friend (is it possible I don’t know all 3 of my readers?) asked me why I didn’t write more about what was happening in Boston. While I am loathe to review area productions, I agreed that I could speak more specifically about area trends, etc. Here goes:

About a month ago, StageSource, Boston’s best theatrical resource, held the biannual Boston Theatre Conference. I’ve been to all three (if there have, in fact, been only three) and I found this gathering the most successful, even though will all my hand-raising, I was only able to speak at the Small Theatre break-out session (boo for me, yay for you). What better place to raise my salient points then my own blog?

At one of the earlier group sessions, Paul Daigneault (Producing Artistic Director of SpeakEasy Stage Company) gingerly brought up that he finds his company and several others in town are frequently vying for the same shows. He politely wondered if, perhaps there could be more communication between like-minded companies (Paul, if you are reading this and I am paraphrasing incorrectly, my apologies). I don’t recall any particular answer to his query, but fast-forward about an hour to the Artistic Directors Break-Out session – a veritable who’s-who of everyone who is anybody in town.... and people like me. No one really spoke to Paul’s point earlier to my recollection, but one of Boston’s giants did mentioned last year’s Boston Foundation Study, which he said called smaller arts organizations to merge or close.

A lot of people got all up in arms when this study came out. For the city’s major grant-making institution to say that not every arts organization is sacred is disconcerting at best. I mean, if they don’t think all arts are worthy, does anyone in this country love the arts – all the arts - equally?

Cue awkward kid in the front of the room with her hand up. “But, teacher, that’s a misrepresentation of the study.” It’s like American interpretations of Stanislavski – they didn’t get the most important part. If you are so inclined, you can read the study for yourself, but basically, the Boston Foundation study suggests that struggling non-profits have three options. The first, and arguably most important, is that organizations should clarify or refocus their mission, so they are more specific, more targeted in their work. If the organization is unwilling or able to get clearer about what they want to do, they should merge with like-minded organizations or close and shift their funds and audience to another like-minded organization. This calls to mind Mr. Daigneault’s comment earlier. If several companies are frequently competing for the same material, doesn’t it follow that they are competing for the same audiences and donors? The Boston Foundation seems to think so.

That being said, many of the smallest companies have clear missions, are doing work unlike the mid-and big guys, and are more apt to attract younger audiences. But lots of them fail all the time and it’s because of money.

Recently Chronicle did a profile of several arts organizations, including Snappy Dance – one of the most innovative, fun dance companies Boston has ever seen. Their complaint about the study is that the Boston Foundation treats arts organizations like businesses, and they are not businesses. Unfortunately, this is America, and we don’t believe in government subsidy for anything but corn. Medicine shouldn’t be a business, but it is here. Education shouldn’t be a business, but it is here. And this goes extra-true for the arts. Until the Federal, state and local government starts funding social services; they are forced to behave like businesses. Snappy closed their (metaphorical) doors earlier this year and Boston will be the lesser without it.

The real problem with the Boston Foundation isn’t their study, it is their refusal to fund small organizations. The tiniest amount of money would make a significant difference for any of the companies you might see at Boston Playwright’s Theatre, The Factory Theatre or the rehearsal rooms at the BCA. But, TBF, like most grant organizations, want their names on walls. Then they can prove to their donors that they are giving their money to worthy causes. So if you don’t have a wall (as in, you are a non-resident company) you are likely screwed. Besides, if you can’t afford the black box at the BCA, you probably don’t have a grant writer on staff and wouldn’t make it through the first cut anyway.

I am in thousands of conversations about what Boston needs to do to have a vital arts scene. I’m not about to suggest anything revolutionary – I think we all know the answers. We need to be able to sustain local artists. We need to originate more work than we import. We need to develop audiences. We need an attentive press (this is another post altogether – more anon). Almost all of this requires money.

And money is the problem, right? Well, I would like to offer two counter-suggestions to the Boston Foundation and two to the Theatre Community.

First, Boston Foundation, why not start a grant program aimed specifically at small arts organizations or artists? A handful of $500 grants with a minimal application process and turn-around time that you give to the 5 or 10 projects you find the most interesting. These would not be about investing in the longevity of the institution but supporting artistic innovation and risk where it is most likely to happen – call them innovation grants. Be a hero.

Not worth your time? Well, then, why not subsidize the most important, and most expensive part of a budget for any company – space? The state is already starting this (sort of), but if it cost, say $100 a week to use a room instead of $1000, I bet more companies would be taking advantage of the state-of-the-art facilities cropping up all over the city. This way, you get your name on the wall, and smaller companies have a better chance, and everybody wins.

Now you, Boston. To make a blanket statement: theatre people are not very generous in this town. We don’t like to see each other’s work. We don’t like to share our actors. We don’t even seem like to talk to each other about Art very much. Sharing was good for you in Kindergarten, its even better for you now. Share resources. All the time. A common storage for props and costumes (like in New York?) would be a good goal.

Finally, vote, artists, vote! Subsidy works. Massachusetts is 25th (or at least we were the last time I looked) in state arts funding and the NEA isn’t likely to pick up the slack anytime soon. Lobby your local representatives. Vote for candidates who have an arts platform and don’t be embarrassed about it. Arts subsidy is important, damn it. This is obviously not an immediate fix, but if art is important to the public, it will be important in the government too.

I mean, I could be wrong, but that all sounds pretty good, right?

PS. I'm taking requests for topics. I can rant about just about anything.

Give me a P

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 07:36:00 +0000

Hello dear readers,
Insert the usual axioms here about being a delinquent blogger. I’m a little riled up. No, not about another musty production of a once great play bungling the Boston’s boards into oblivion and mediocrity. It’s politics, with some theatre thrown in for good measure.

I don’t want to bring another tuna casserole to the church supper, but I cannot keep still about Ms. Palin. To make a categorically blanket and unfair statement, she is everything that is wrong…well, I was going to say with America, or with politics, or Seventeen Magazine, but I think I will just end there. She is everything that is wrong.

Before I go any further, I have to aside. Why does every person who gives his or her opinion about politics have to qualify his or her identity? “As a veteran…” “As an Alaskan woman…” “As the brother of a man in Iraq…” “As an African-American…” It seems to me you are saying either a. Let me speak for my people or b. What I’m about to say would be otherwise ridiculous, unsound, offensive or just plain irrelevant, but since I’m a fill-in-the-blank that makes my point valid and you must - MUST - give credence to it. I mention this because I was tempted to begin my manifesto with a similar apologetic preamble. Cut that daisy train off before it’s been picked.

Now back to our regular tirade: Here are just some of the reasons Sarah Palin really tweaks my spleen. I’m not going to talk about her policies (even though she banned books from public libraries and fired the librarian who refused to remove them) or her politics (even though she believes the war in Iraq is a holy war to crusade against infidels in the name of a Christian god) or her daughter (even though she proves that her stance on abstinence-only education isn’t effective for parents and teens who don’t want babies before they can vote) or her ignorance (even though “her brilliant speech” didn’t actually say anything and she is CRAZY racist, sexist, crusadist – I’m coining that term right now – formal definition below). No, I’d like to explore what Sarah Palin means to me.

A lot of the “Passion for Palin” is the same malarkey that gets me all frothy about the current administration and Republican maneuvering in general. Republicans have strategically aligned themselves with core American ideology and their rhetoric reinforces the belief in the American Myth. Who doesn’t want to believe in the American Dream? Maybe, I should ask who doesn’t like puppies, rainbows and dewdrops? It makes sense, logically, that if you work hard it will pay off for you and your children. If you work a full-time job, or two, or three, you should be able to afford a roof over your head, food, health care and education for you and your family. But, it is categorically untrue. If it were even a little bit true, why would 23 million children have no or little access to healthcare?

The 1% of the population that pulls themselves up from nothing under a fortuitous coincidence of circumstances is exceptional – as in they are the exception. I don’t mean to downplay the achievements of people like, well Mr. Obama. What he and some others like him have been able to do is extraordinary. But that doesn’t mean that Democracy and specifically Capitalism works. In fact, by focusing on these individual achievements, or more appropriately, the idea of them, we set up unrealistic expectations for everyone else in the country. It’s like absurdly thin models in magazines. Just because they exist out there in the world, doesn’t mean that it’s realistic for everyone to look like them.

And just like magazine phenomena, the millions of Americans who aren’t making it, are judged by themselves and others because they don’t fit the model. But this isn’t the only aspect of Americana that our elephant pals encourage. They perpetuate the falsehood that they are “just folks.” They are just like you. The fact that nothing in their personal actions or policy decisions supports the idea that they give two muffin crumbs about you is apparently irrelevant. The fact that they are millionaires, and have the support of billionaires and do not live anything like you (assuming here that “you” is your average middleclass American citizen), is also irrelevant. The fact that they are willing to prostitute their religious beliefs to exploit yours is not disturbing and offensive, but just another part of the charm. If W. wasn’t the heir to one of the most powerful political families of the 20th century, I doubt he would have gone to Yale or successfully dodged the draft let alone survived past his 40’s and run for office (drug & alcohol abuse + repeated on-the-job failure is not an equation for success unless LOTS of money and influence are involved). But you feel like you could have a beer with the guy, even though you never, ever will and therefore he is the right choice to be the leader of one of the most powerful nations on earth? I’m sorry, I don’t understand, but that’s a post for another day.

The myth that anyone can be President goes to the founding of the nation and the establishment of the American identity. Almost across the board, the Founding Fathers had little faith in the common man to govern themselves – a notion that persists in the Electoral College. We have only been able to directly elect our senators for about the last 100 years. But it was important in the branding of this new nation to differentiate itself from the old one. Whatever was British could not be American. Therefore it became patriotic to reject political as well as cultural imports of Mother England. No tea, no king, no theatre (I told you I would work that in there).

The few early American plays that survived the anti-theatrical tracts of both the religious and patriotic agendas consistently contrast two archetypes. The first is the smart, sophisticated, European noble who is tricky and generally no-good, if not explicitly evil. The second is the dull but hard-working American, usually a farmer. He might get outfoxed by his European counterpart, but his goodness (and occasionally brawn) will eventually triumph. The reverberation of this fundamental contrast can be felt over and again as with McCain’s “Straight Talk Express” and the (albeit shockingly racist) recent assertions from Republicans that Obama is “uppity.” Of course one of the many problems with this dichotomy is that it requires or at least encourages Americans to think of themselves as stupid – to value simpleness – or the inability to understand or articulate complex thought. And, if you are capable of complex thought, you better keep it to yourself. Debate may have been the foundation of Athenian democracy but buzz words, jingles and catchphrases, well, ain’t that America?

Palin plays right into the role. But now, in addition to being a good Republican / American, she’s just like the majority of voters – female. I’ll admit that six months ago the notion that a woman was a viable candidate for the presidency was exciting for many people, including me. But, I also have more in common politically and ideologically with Ms. Clinton than with a breadbox, for example, and therefore my ability to be excited about the prior notion was based wholly on the later. I don’t know where the breadbox stands on a lot of issues, but I know it holds bread, and I’m ok with that. I can not say the same about Mc-Pal. This leads me to my deep-seated Sarah-loathing.

Her appointment is not a shallow attempt to lure wayward female voters in search of va-jay-jay in the Oval. It is indicative of at least 100 years of blindly sexist rhetoric and policy. You would think Republicans would be more adept at identifying sexism appropriately since they have been so good at gift-wrapping it but it seems they need a refresher course. Women were denied the right to vote till 1920 because it was believed they did not have the capacity for rational thought (among other reasons) and Palin is leading the charge to resurrect that rationale. Even though her platform and her actions in her (brief) time in public office have kicked women’s rights and needs in the guts, she’s good for women? Even though, she fundamentally undercuts all women’s advancements throughout time by intentionally countering legitimate criticism with cries of sexism, she’s good for women? She demands the choice she would deny all other women and is good for women? She thinks women are stupid enough to buy that and she’s good for women? Oh, I forgot, she is a woman. By that logic, Bush should have a rocking human rights’ record – he is human afterall. What’s that Amnesty International? I can’t hear you over the deafening cries of Guatanamo Bay.

Even if I put the hypocrisy and the bad policies in a corner for a well-deserved timeout, I can not get away from the damaging example to women Palin is. If you are pretty, and carefully manipulate people to think you are dumber than you are, you can get what you want. This is literally advice you can read in Teen Magazines if you are looking for the attentions of 16 year-old boy. Sarah deliberately plays against the public portrayal of women like Hillary Clinton. Hillary is smart, successful and ambitious and not afraid who knows that about her and is therefore a bitch. Sarah is a member of the NRA, a former beauty queen and a vicious sports competitor, but none of these things apparently make her a bitch (I’ll leave the wrongful terminations aside for now). Her basketball nickname is cute because of its perceived hyperbole (That pretty, little girl is a terrifying fish? – How sweet!) The pageant life not only prepared her to look pretty and polished in challenging circumstances but trained her to speak persuasively without actually saying anything of substance. And when she holds a semi-assault rifle for a photo shoot, she could just as easily be posing for a male fantasy magazine, thereby further undercutting the idea of a strong woman as only existing for male gratification. In short, she presents herself as non-threatening, the traditional hallmark of the good American woman. Be pretty and not too smart and the boys will like you. Thanks, Sarah.

Does this mean we have to give the 19th Amendment back?

cru-sadist: n. one who admires, encourages or wishes to pursue a war in emulation of the European Christians in the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries to recover the Holy Land from the Muslims and exterminate any opposition to Christianity, demonstrating a desire to cause great pain in strangers and a questionable grasp of reality.
[from Latin crux, cruc-, cross. And the French sadisme; see Sade, -ist]

Why FDR is the Coolest: a Fable

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 19:45:00 +0000

The subject of the Federal Work programs of the 1930's has come up a couple of times this week, and I thought I would celebrate it here, because it was a rare moment in American history and gives me hope about the future of the arts in this country.
Once upon a time, the country was awash in prosperity at the hands of a new fangled invention: the stock market. For reasons that have nothing to do with the arts, the market crashed and plunged the country into a great depression - the Great Depression, in fact. Bread lines. Extreme poverty. Former millionaires jumping out of skyscrapers. The president pretended there wasn't actually a problem, and soon, he wasn't president anymore. The new president had all these great plans to get the country out of this terrible depression, most of which congress wanted no part of. However, one plan, the Federal Work Project, that went through for a glorious few years. FDR thought it was not only silly, but bad for America for violists to build roads, or dancers to work at Woolworths, so he established various federally funded arts organizations (the Federal Theatre project, being one) to get artists working doing art. Sculptors sculpted statutes. Musicians played symphonies. Actors acted in plays. It was a beautiful thing.
But like so many beautiful things, it had to be stomped to death. Wasn't this just like communism? And what were these plays and sculptures and symphonies really about? Were they really proper American work, or red-commie-propaganda? No one really wanted to know the answer so, it all stopped.
Democrats have been paying for that glorious moment in the early 30's and in the mid-sixties, when liberal became associated with terrible things. Like free art, equal protection under the law, and, worst of all, government subsidy.

Ode to a Blackout

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 22:53:00 +0000

You get two posts this week - that's right. I have to make up for being such a slacker most of the rest of the time. Don't get accustomed to it.
Anyway, now for my Ode to a Blackout (many of you have heard early rantings on this subject). O, Blackout, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.
Arguably the most over-used shortcut on the American stage today, the blackout is a plague attacking otherwise good (and often mediocre) theatre across the nation. Let me be clear, I do not refer to a play which requires complete darkness as an element of plot - Black Comedy comes to mind, in which a good portion of the story depends on being told in darkness (there is a power outage, or something). I guess I refer to the blackout as transitional device. The play needs to move from scene A to scene B, to get there, all the lights go briefly out, actors and possible technicians scurry in darkness - knocking into things, whispering - only to reset for lights up and the new scene. This is my first problem. Here I sit, interested, engrossed in the story maybe, wrapped up in the world of the characters and BOOM! Blackout. Pause. Removed from the engaging world of the story, to watching and listening to figures trip in the dark. I swear, I have almost yelled out, "We can see you!" But proper etiquette demands I ignore these interludes, that I sit quietly in limbo, perhaps to check my watch or examine my program, and enjoy the inevitable transition music. One too many blackouts, though, and even your most patient theatre-goer isn't going to stay with you for long, and your second act, or second scene in some cases, will play to empty seats, or the music of the program orchestra.
Putting aside the arcane game of hide-and-seek, my real problem with the blackout speaks to trends in American theatre that are far more disturbing - disrespect for the audience, disrespect for the medium and generally lazy, uncreative thinking.
First, there are cases when you see a blackout and you can almost hear the director whispering in your ear (if you are a neurotic snob like me, anyway) "this next scene takes place later, somewhere else. I just wanted that to be clear." As if the audience, dolts that we are, couldn't pick that up from a myriad of other clues, not the least of which is the script OR the fact that the scene follows the previous scene. I find this particularly maddening when there isn't even a change to set, but two characters switch position, or put on a different coat or something.
Now, before you get snippy, yes, there are plays that do not move sequentially, they move in reverse, or scatter shot through time. But, is a blackout really necessary to make those distinctions? I think not. I think if these directors had a little more faith in me and their storytelling ability, we would all be better off. This brings me to my third point (I'll get back to number 2) - maybe the director isn't thinking about me at all, because he or she isn't really thinking about it. The blackout has become a necessary convention, and how else are you supposed to get from A to B? The problem here, of course, is they aren't asking that question. They are not challenging the convention. They are allowing the crusts of about a century's worth of dust to cake around their brains and their productions. If we can't be cleverer about our transitions, is it any wonder our plays aren't any better? This is harsh, but come on, you can be smarter. Theatre is art, after all, this is an opportunity to showcase your creativity in all its glory.
Finally, to return to point two, blackouts feel like an apology for the medium. In film and TV we can be anywhere, actually there, instantly. People can be in a room, and quick cut, they aren't anymore. This is not a failing of theatre. It's not a failing of an apple that it wasn't designed for easy peeling, like a banana. Theatre is a different medium from film and TV, and the more live theatre attempts to be like film and TV, the more it will fail. Without any irony, there is a magic and wonder in live theatre that film and TV do not have. Namely you don't feel life through your TV screen - they try, with the things like mood music, to generate a similar feeling, but its not going to come close because it isn't live. Film and TV are more suited to "realism" - they can pull it off better. Don't despair that realism on stage is played out - its a fairly recent invention, and pretty much every other nation in the world has gotten over it. That's a rant for another day. Nonetheless, the blackout, those moments of hide-and-seek, only reinforce a filmic superiority in performance. Maybe if we focused on what we do well, instead of what works for film, we would be better off for a whole host of things.
So, in conclusion, the next time you are faced with an unnecessary blackout, write the director and ask why he or she hates you, theatre, and his or herself. (I'm kidding - don't actually do that. You get the point though, right?)

A Note About New Plays

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 22:46:00 +0000

See them. Always. Or, at least, whenever you can. This country needs more, good, new plays, but theatres are reluctant to do them because of you, yes YOU. They are afraid you won't come. So, prove them wrong.
You might want to keep your expectations...reasonable. Shakespeare got 400 years of workshop and performance to get it right, the play you are seeing only got about 4 weeks. Think of yourself as a pioneer, or even better, as part of the development process. Because you are. Playwrights learn more about their play from you than anyone else.
I deeply believe if Boston is ever going to become any kind of first-rate theatre town, we have to originate work here and export it. We are going to continue to be on the sidelines if we let other cities take the risks, test out the new material, and get the glory. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I swear, if I see one more "Boston Premiere" of a recent-ish play from New York or Chicago or Seattle or Minneapolis or Atlanta...well, let's just not let that happen.

Willy Don't Give A Damn

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 21:57:00 +0000

I need to rail. I have heard some silly, silly assumptions of late, and, while I am by no means an expert, I feel the need to rant my little knowledge here. Forgive the indulgence.
Shakespeare's plays were meant to be performed. They just were. So much so, that almost all the editions of the text we have were published posthumously by actors who played the roles. One reason for all those textual confusions (e.g. "too sullied flesh" vs. "too solid flesh"), prepare yourselves, is because sometimes actors mess up lines. In truth, without any hard evidence, I suspect the number of professional actors who are consistently letter perfect, never mind know an entire script years after they performed it, is quite small.
Shakespeare didn't intend for his plays to be read. He wrote plays cause he was pretty good at it and wanted to make a living, and when he made enough that he didn't have to work anymore, he stopped. The majority of his audience was likely illiterate anyway except for the people who paid him to write them sonnets. I'm sure he doesn't mind if you read his plays alone in your room to yourself. He might even be flattered, if he hadn't died 400 years ago, that is.
But the text is widely available, if you are upset with any stage productions you see. The "sanctity of the text" is protected in print and the millions of other productions happening around the world at this very moment. I mention again, the author and all his descendants of consequence are long since dead, so they don't mind either.
But, what of these productions? Why don't they do it like Shakespeare did? Well, this is a complicated question, so it requires a multiple part answer.
First, it was 400 years ago. We can't be sure how the plays were performed because we weren't there. None of us. For all you know, we are doing it EXACTLY like they did.
Second, based on what we think we know, some things have changed since then. It's no longer considered indecent for women to be seen on stage, so young boys no longer need to play women's roles. Most of our theatres are indoors and productions are accompanied by sets and lights. We are also more of a visual culture than the Elizabethans. As in, we believe they were able to take in information aurally much faster/better than we can, because that was pretty much the main form of communication. Therefore, the actors probably spoke a lot faster so, the plays were a lot shorter (there are several references in the plays about the play itself only being 2 hours long). This is to say nothing of the cultural changes - domestic abuse, antisemitism, and slavery aren't as funny as they used to be in popular culture. Contemporary productions often try to make the play relevant to today so it doesn't stand as a museum piece, which leads me to my next point.
Thirdly, the nature of live theatre is that it is never the same twice. It is temporal experience that experiences vast changes based on all kinds of things, most especially the audience. Therefore, it is impossible to do Shakespeare like Shakespeare did it. Even he was unable to do it the same way he did it.
Finally, after 400 years, don't you think the plays would get a little old if they were done EXACTLY the same way all the time. Part of why these plays have been so popular for so long is the room they allow for interpretation and experimentation.
Maybe you disagree. If that's the case, then you can sit in your room, alone, and read him to yourself. Willy don't give a damn.

A Post Script: I'm at a production of As You Like It a few years ago, and Rosalind comes to the edge of the stage and delivers the epilogue. The young woman behind me leans over to her companion and whispers, "I hate when they break the 4th wall." No one likes a nosy dramaturg, so you must suffer. The 4th wall is a late 19th - early 20th century invention. While the hallmark of most American theatre today, the notion that the characters on stage believed themselves to be real and living life in the world, unaware of the hundreds of people watching them was completely foreign to Elizabethans. You would be hard-pressed to ignore an Elizabethan audience, as they were generally loud, smelly and obnoxious. Willy makes fun of them and makes jokes specifically to them all the time. I believe that many characters motivations throughout the plays are to get the audience on his or her side before they do something terrible (Look at Richard III).
Thus endeth the lesson.

In Short, Everything Wrong With Trying to Do Art in America

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 00:13:00 +0000

"Every time x tries to do a classic, they mangle it. They try to make it relevant."
-a patron to a box office employee

A Small Stand

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 23:44:00 +0000

After railing last week, I have decided to try my small part to influence the search committee for the new ART artistic director. Please read, consider signing, and pass on this petition.
http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/saveart/
Thank you.

Panic Time

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 19:46:00 +0000

I was all prepared to rail against irresponsible criticism this week, but then, I read this article in the Boston Globe. I am now in HIGH panic mode. Let me explain.
For the last 28 years, the American Repertory Theatre has been a pioneer in avant garde theatre in this country and they are in need of a new Artistic Director. Whatever you hear about the ART is true: it can be pretentious, long, loud, weird, boring, but it can also be stunning, exhilarating, challenging, engaging, unique and original. Whatever you think about it, they are one of the only theatres (I can think of maybe 5) doing this kind of work in this country. Period. What the Globe article suggests, is the candidates whose current body of work demonstrates a commitment to aesthetically-challenging work, in keeping with the aesthetic the ART is renowed for, won the Tony for, was named one of the 5 best theatres in the country for, are being bumped from the short list, and candidates whose work has been commercially successful are staying on. James Lapine is a librettist for Broadway musicals. Broadway has its place - its in Manhattan between 77th and 35th streets. It has no place in Cambridge. Period.
This news comes on the heels of news that Theatre de la Jeune Lune, a frequent ART collaborator, and recent Tony-Award winning company, is facing a crushing financial crisis (you can read about it here. ) If this country cannot support this kind of work, we are doomed. I don't mean sound melodramatic, but I speak very, very true. Without this level of work happening somewhere, there is no forward momentum in the medium and we will be cursed with boring, kitchen-sink, self-centered, tv-style junk.
And while we are on the subject, when Stanislavski came to the States in 20's and infected millions of Americans with the idea of realism, he was pretty much done with the concept. He had written about it, he had been working on it for a good number of years. When he returned to Russia, he renounced the concept entirely, and moved onto what we would consider much more avant garde work. The ENTIRE rest of the world has moved on. We, as a whole, have not. Strike 1 Cold War victory for Russia.
Why go to the theatre to see something you could see at home for free? The live experience of theatre is peerless, in my opinion, but I don't want to see another sit-com plot played out on the stage in 90 minutes. Just as the style of painting radically changed with the advent of photography, shouldn't the style of theatre change to play to its unique strengths (namely, a live audience) in the face of the rise of television and film?
Apparently Harvard University, the decision-makers, would like to perpetuate its long and embarrassing history of trying to obliterate the arts from the campus, the Commonwealth and the nation. There is historical evidence to suggest that Boston's lagging arts scene is in no small part due to the University's stance. I could bore you with it, but I would rather suggest that if you care about the future of the ART and the future of the arts in this country, consider doing the following:
Write Harvard's Provost Steve Hyman and implore the search committee to be be brave and stay true to the mission of the theatre in the hunt for the new leader.
Contact your local representatives and encourage them to support funding for the arts.
Tell everyone you know do to the same.

Give Us Your Hands

noreply@blogger.com (Turg Talker) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 20:43:00 +0000

Sit with me in the theatre one evening, and you will find me a polite and attentive theatre-goer. I will do my best to suspend my judgements till the final curtain. Once we get to the end, however, you may find me somewhat disgruntled, regardless of my opinion of the show. It's those damn bows. I speak of no company or production in particular - the culprits know who they are. (Pause)

I have set out to find the origins of this strange theatre-custom. I have even employed the services of a reference librarian (we're related). We haven't come up with much, so much of the following rant is educated speculation. If you find better sources to the contrary, please elaborate. (Resume)

The OED defines curtain-call as "a call by an audience for an actor or actors to take a bow after the fall of the curtain." What this means, ladies and gentlemen, is that the AUDIENCE, not the actors, are supposed to lead curtain call. Anything else is self-indulgent, ego-massage.

Bowing is (again according to the OED) "a token of respect, reverence, submission." Until the beginning of the last century, actors were considered no better than criminals, so to play before ANYONE they had to show respect, reverence, and submission to their betters. In fact, actors would bow to the audience before every scene, in a sense asking permission to speak.

There is little acknowlegement of the humility of the custom in the self-congratulatory prancing I see more than I would care to remember. I am not suggesting that we should return to those days of gratiutous self-deprecation. To bow more than the audience asks you to is self-indulgant and rude - clapping hurts.