I wish to revise my blog on revision...
I just finished showing a staged reading of Electra and now I think I may understand a little of what Peter Shaffer was thinking while he kept messing with Amadeus. Watching a performance, sometimes things just don't work. I would get frustrated at my writing or listen to the actors read the lines and think "what on earth is this rubbish?" and then go home, rewrite the scene, and give it back to my actors. Even then sometimes it didn't work. I think the most frightening moment was after my very first stumble through when I realized the entire play needed to be rewritten because I had completely failed to write characters people could relate to. So I went home, stayed up all night, and even then couldn't actually find a way to change it. Finally I met with both Matthew and Ella who were able to give me a third party look at the work and help me pin-point where things needed the most work and brainstorm how to do that. I wonder if Peter Shaffer had anyone to do that for him. I mean, editors sure, but I mean close friends. I feel like he probably does and I would love to know what they told him.
"Hey Pete- why is Amadeus saying this? He sounds like an idiot."
Who knows? But it is a fascinating idea to me. I think a cool idea for a play might center around a playwright and their friend. I'm sure it has been done before but I might want to try writing one anyway. Why not right? Then I can have it looked over by my friends, get told which parts are crap, and then full cycle the play!
So I guess what I am trying to say in this little mind spill is that sometimes revision really needs to come from an outside party. A playwright can be too close to the writing. Maybe it really isn't as dreadful as you think, or maybe it is. Revision needs to come both from the author and from the authors friends. People who know you and can tell you honestly and efficiently what needs to be changed. I like this idea. Collaborative destruction.
21 April 2009
Again and Again and Again
I love editing things. Looking at material and finding the holes, the plot flaws, the character inconsistencies, everything that is just - but not quite - there. I love making pages bleed... but I don't really like to make my own stuff bleed. I know there are scads of problems in my writing. Such and such character would never say something like that, or this plot point ruins the play, or "Wow Claire... grammar much?" So I really respect Peter Shaffer for going back and looking at his play. For one thing, it shows me how invested he is in the play. For another I think it really explains a lot about why the play is SO good. All this time and emotional energy is channeled through to a good play that has been so well thought of it can't be left alone. I like that. In high school I used to do a lot of revisions between competition. My district monologue was rarely what I presented at nationals (in fact... I don't think it ever was the same) and those I competed with who didn't change and revise and adapt never did well the second time around. There is always something to change. While my getting a medal or a special award at a high school history competition does not even come close to the awards and genius of Amadeus I feel that I (and again to a very very lesser extent) understand where Shaffer is coming from in thinking that, sure the thing did very well, but it can - slash MUST - improve. There is always something that can be better and sometimes you just have to fix it. If you put in all your efforts into researching and analyzing and writing your characters you become fixated with them. If I really invest myself into a play I tend to develop slightly split-personality disorders where I actually become my characters for awhile... not very healthy but very good for revising. Which actually makes me wonder just how far Shaffer went into the mind set of Salieri and Mozart. I mean... did he have Mozart days and then Salieri days where he just sat around thinking like them? Because I feel like, if he did, that would explain a lot about the play.
Going back to the idea of revision itself, I think that sometimes too much revision can be a bit of a bad thing. I respect and admire Shaffer's belief that the ending is just never quite right. This makes sense because such a monumental play HAS to have the perfect ending. But there is no such thing as perfection. So then what? Shaffer's answer seems to be writing and rewriting the ending... but I think he ended up straying from a good ending. Salieri putting on the mask himself is absolutely brilliant and I was really sad to see it go. Sure, it isn't historically accurate, but this is one case where I say, "Screw history." (and I very rarely say something like that). The scene where Mozart dictates the Confutatis to Salieri is one of my all time favourite scenes (despite the horror I experienced with that particular scene during Music Theory my freshman year) and it not being in the play almost broke my heart. Yes, yes, Shaffer was trying to make the play more dynamic and theatrical for the screen to really pop... but does theatre really have to shy away from that? I know that theatre can get away with a lot more then the screen can (and vice versa really) but I really love that scene and I really love the ending. I feel like there is more malice and depth there. That said, I love reading Shaffer's thought process as to why and how he reached his fifth and sixth versions. He knows these characters SO well. He can think with them, breath with them, and thus creates the ending he feels they would create for themselves. How he is able to actually do that... by which I mean more along the lines of how he can bring himself to change his ending knowing how wonderful it is, yet still needing it to be more... well it is simply astounding.
I guess the main points of all this gushing is that
A) Shaffer is the embodiment of those who walk the line between genius and insanity
B) Revision is very good, very hard, and can be taken too far... but that is ok-ish
C) Loving what you are working on is a blessing and a curse.
D) Did I mention how much I love this play?
E) The play is good, revision makes it amazing
Going back to the idea of revision itself, I think that sometimes too much revision can be a bit of a bad thing. I respect and admire Shaffer's belief that the ending is just never quite right. This makes sense because such a monumental play HAS to have the perfect ending. But there is no such thing as perfection. So then what? Shaffer's answer seems to be writing and rewriting the ending... but I think he ended up straying from a good ending. Salieri putting on the mask himself is absolutely brilliant and I was really sad to see it go. Sure, it isn't historically accurate, but this is one case where I say, "Screw history." (and I very rarely say something like that). The scene where Mozart dictates the Confutatis to Salieri is one of my all time favourite scenes (despite the horror I experienced with that particular scene during Music Theory my freshman year) and it not being in the play almost broke my heart. Yes, yes, Shaffer was trying to make the play more dynamic and theatrical for the screen to really pop... but does theatre really have to shy away from that? I know that theatre can get away with a lot more then the screen can (and vice versa really) but I really love that scene and I really love the ending. I feel like there is more malice and depth there. That said, I love reading Shaffer's thought process as to why and how he reached his fifth and sixth versions. He knows these characters SO well. He can think with them, breath with them, and thus creates the ending he feels they would create for themselves. How he is able to actually do that... by which I mean more along the lines of how he can bring himself to change his ending knowing how wonderful it is, yet still needing it to be more... well it is simply astounding.
I guess the main points of all this gushing is that
A) Shaffer is the embodiment of those who walk the line between genius and insanity
B) Revision is very good, very hard, and can be taken too far... but that is ok-ish
C) Loving what you are working on is a blessing and a curse.
D) Did I mention how much I love this play?
E) The play is good, revision makes it amazing
02 April 2009
Let's Try This Again... for Mellow is not Yellow.
I am trying something slightly different for my blog style today- I'm going short style. However what I really learned from all of these plays is that comedy needs to be intelligent and clever, otherwise it is really just not that funny. Also, as always, character Character CHARACTER! Boy are characters important.
So...
Aimee: I’m not really sure how I feel about this play. I suppose it has some interesting bits I can use- like a ten minute play can go pretty fast and doesn’t really have to make a whole lot of sense. Well, more like it doesn’t have to be about something necessarily feasible. There are some interesting ideas in this play but I am unsure exactly whether or not they are expressed in a way I can fully get behind. I mean- really? Plus I feel that maybe it is trying just a little too hard to put comedy and tragedy together and instead it just seems contrived.
Anything For You: Well, one thing is for sure. Sex is funny. Most of the time anyway- but definitely in the case of this play. For me what is really the best part of this play is the language. The discourse is rapid and clever. Repetition – like the “time bomb, tick tick” to be followed later with a “no. tick” is really funny. Subject-wise, not so much, but language-wise very very hilarious. But what really gets me about this play is how touching it is. I mean- I just feel for Gail. She is in such a dreadful situation and she just has to keep going. It is simply heart wrenching. I think this is the mark of good writing. You want to make an audience laugh through the tears. Funny and sad, but mostly real. I believe this play. Nothing about it seems outside the realms of possibility and the dialogue just solidifies its naturalness. I love that. I think really good writing is the kind that is believable. The situation doesn’t have to be but the characters do.
Duet for Bear and Dog: This play is utterly ridiculous and I love it. I love the strong characters and the way they speak. I have seen more than a few bears in my life and the brown ones really do seem like they would be worried about being carted off to walk tight ropes in tutus- and a lot of the dogs I know (especially the ones with dumb names, although I suppose Boris isn’t really a dumb name compared to something like Sunshine Bimbo) probably do think and talk like the dog. I suppose Homeward Bound really did make me ready for a play like this. Of course animals speak but we can’t understand them. But mostly it is just really cute- but also fascinating. Also, rhyme can be funny. As can cussing. The moment when She tells Dog to Sit, and Dog answers with “shit”- that is very clever and funny to me. I don’t feel like reality was lost with this play. Sure, we are watching a rather ridiculous intercourse between a dog and a bear (and a few silly humans) but they are still realistic, or natural. I feel for them. And the ending is still really beautiful. But mostly the key is that I respond to the characters. The play has believable characters, interesting plot, all the things I like in the plays I read and all the plays I would like to write.
The Philadelphia: Oh David Ives. I think what I love so much about his writing is the pace and rhythm of the dialogue. That and the popular culture references. I know some people are really against pop culture references in plays but I personally love them. There is so much scope in pop culture. I also find Ives excessively clever. He uses rhyme a lot in his plays and I think it just adds to the humour. It’s funny when things rhyme because you can feel smart and laugh. He doesn’t hit you over the head with “look it’s funny” he actually makes you think at the same time. I think writing needs to be clever and for comedy well thought out, fast paced, well-developed characters, and an interesting plot makes a huge difference.
Moral of my story:
Good characters + Interesting Plot + Naturalness + Occasional rhymes + Cleverness
= Good 10 Minute Play!
So...
Aimee: I’m not really sure how I feel about this play. I suppose it has some interesting bits I can use- like a ten minute play can go pretty fast and doesn’t really have to make a whole lot of sense. Well, more like it doesn’t have to be about something necessarily feasible. There are some interesting ideas in this play but I am unsure exactly whether or not they are expressed in a way I can fully get behind. I mean- really? Plus I feel that maybe it is trying just a little too hard to put comedy and tragedy together and instead it just seems contrived.
Anything For You: Well, one thing is for sure. Sex is funny. Most of the time anyway- but definitely in the case of this play. For me what is really the best part of this play is the language. The discourse is rapid and clever. Repetition – like the “time bomb, tick tick” to be followed later with a “no. tick” is really funny. Subject-wise, not so much, but language-wise very very hilarious. But what really gets me about this play is how touching it is. I mean- I just feel for Gail. She is in such a dreadful situation and she just has to keep going. It is simply heart wrenching. I think this is the mark of good writing. You want to make an audience laugh through the tears. Funny and sad, but mostly real. I believe this play. Nothing about it seems outside the realms of possibility and the dialogue just solidifies its naturalness. I love that. I think really good writing is the kind that is believable. The situation doesn’t have to be but the characters do.
Duet for Bear and Dog: This play is utterly ridiculous and I love it. I love the strong characters and the way they speak. I have seen more than a few bears in my life and the brown ones really do seem like they would be worried about being carted off to walk tight ropes in tutus- and a lot of the dogs I know (especially the ones with dumb names, although I suppose Boris isn’t really a dumb name compared to something like Sunshine Bimbo) probably do think and talk like the dog. I suppose Homeward Bound really did make me ready for a play like this. Of course animals speak but we can’t understand them. But mostly it is just really cute- but also fascinating. Also, rhyme can be funny. As can cussing. The moment when She tells Dog to Sit, and Dog answers with “shit”- that is very clever and funny to me. I don’t feel like reality was lost with this play. Sure, we are watching a rather ridiculous intercourse between a dog and a bear (and a few silly humans) but they are still realistic, or natural. I feel for them. And the ending is still really beautiful. But mostly the key is that I respond to the characters. The play has believable characters, interesting plot, all the things I like in the plays I read and all the plays I would like to write.
The Philadelphia: Oh David Ives. I think what I love so much about his writing is the pace and rhythm of the dialogue. That and the popular culture references. I know some people are really against pop culture references in plays but I personally love them. There is so much scope in pop culture. I also find Ives excessively clever. He uses rhyme a lot in his plays and I think it just adds to the humour. It’s funny when things rhyme because you can feel smart and laugh. He doesn’t hit you over the head with “look it’s funny” he actually makes you think at the same time. I think writing needs to be clever and for comedy well thought out, fast paced, well-developed characters, and an interesting plot makes a huge difference.
Moral of my story:
Good characters + Interesting Plot + Naturalness + Occasional rhymes + Cleverness
= Good 10 Minute Play!
Look Ma- I'm funny
I am trying something slightly different for my blog style today- I'm going short style. However what I really learned from all of these plays is that comedy needs to be intelligent and clever, otherwise it is really just not that funny. Also, as always, character Character CHARACTER! Boy are characters important.
So...
Aimee: I’m not really sure how I feel about this play. I suppose it has some interesting bits I can use- like a ten minute play can go pretty fast and doesn’t really have to make a whole lot of sense. Well, more like it doesn’t have to be about something necessarily feasible. There are some interesting ideas in this play but I am unsure exactly whether or not they are expressed in a way I can fully get behind. I mean- really? Plus I feel that maybe it is trying just a little too hard to put comedy and tragedy together and instead it just seems contrived.
Anything For You: Well, one thing is for sure. Sex is funny. Most of the time anyway- but definitely in the case of this play. For me what is really the best part of this play is the language. The discourse is rapid and clever. Repetition – like the “time bomb, tick tick” to be followed later with a “no. tick” is really funny. Subject-wise, not so much, but language-wise very very hilarious. But what really gets me about this play is how touching it is. I mean- I just feel for Gail. She is in such a dreadful situation and she just has to keep going. It is simply heart wrenching. I think this is the mark of good writing. You want to make an audience laugh through the tears. Funny and sad, but mostly real. I believe this play. Nothing about it seems outside the realms of possibility and the dialogue just solidifies its naturalness. I love that. I think really good writing is the kind that is believable. The situation doesn’t have to be but the characters do.
Duet for Bear and Dog: This play is utterly ridiculous and I love it. I love the strong characters and the way they speak. I have seen more than a few bears in my life and the brown ones really do seem like they would be worried about being carted off to walk tight ropes in tutus- and a lot of the dogs I know (especially the ones with dumb names, although I suppose Boris isn’t really a dumb name compared to something like Sunshine Bimbo) probably do think and talk like the dog. I suppose Homeward Bound really did make me ready for a play like this. Of course animals speak but we can’t understand them. But mostly it is just really cute- but also fascinating. Also, rhyme can be funny. As can cussing. The moment when She tells Dog to Sit, and Dog answers with “shit”- that is very clever and funny to me. I don’t feel like reality was lost with this play. Sure, we are watching a rather ridiculous intercourse between a dog and a bear (and a few silly humans) but they are still realistic, or natural. I feel for them. And the ending is still really beautiful. But mostly the key is that I respond to the characters. The play has believable characters, interesting plot, all the things I like in the plays I read and all the plays I would like to write.
The Philadelphia: Oh David Ives. I think what I love so much about his writing is the pace and rhythm of the dialogue. That and the popular culture references. I know some people are really against pop culture references in plays but I personally love them. There is so much scope in pop culture. I also find Ives excessively clever. He uses rhyme a lot in his plays and I think it just adds to the humour. It’s funny when things rhyme because you can feel smart and laugh. He doesn’t hit you over the head with “look it’s funny” he actually makes you think at the same time. I think writing needs to be clever and for comedy well thought out, fast paced, well-developed characters, and an interesting plot makes a huge difference.
Moral of my story:
Good characters + Interesting Plot + Naturalness + Occasional rhymes + Cleverness
= Good 10 Minute Play!
So...
Aimee: I’m not really sure how I feel about this play. I suppose it has some interesting bits I can use- like a ten minute play can go pretty fast and doesn’t really have to make a whole lot of sense. Well, more like it doesn’t have to be about something necessarily feasible. There are some interesting ideas in this play but I am unsure exactly whether or not they are expressed in a way I can fully get behind. I mean- really? Plus I feel that maybe it is trying just a little too hard to put comedy and tragedy together and instead it just seems contrived.
Anything For You: Well, one thing is for sure. Sex is funny. Most of the time anyway- but definitely in the case of this play. For me what is really the best part of this play is the language. The discourse is rapid and clever. Repetition – like the “time bomb, tick tick” to be followed later with a “no. tick” is really funny. Subject-wise, not so much, but language-wise very very hilarious. But what really gets me about this play is how touching it is. I mean- I just feel for Gail. She is in such a dreadful situation and she just has to keep going. It is simply heart wrenching. I think this is the mark of good writing. You want to make an audience laugh through the tears. Funny and sad, but mostly real. I believe this play. Nothing about it seems outside the realms of possibility and the dialogue just solidifies its naturalness. I love that. I think really good writing is the kind that is believable. The situation doesn’t have to be but the characters do.
Duet for Bear and Dog: This play is utterly ridiculous and I love it. I love the strong characters and the way they speak. I have seen more than a few bears in my life and the brown ones really do seem like they would be worried about being carted off to walk tight ropes in tutus- and a lot of the dogs I know (especially the ones with dumb names, although I suppose Boris isn’t really a dumb name compared to something like Sunshine Bimbo) probably do think and talk like the dog. I suppose Homeward Bound really did make me ready for a play like this. Of course animals speak but we can’t understand them. But mostly it is just really cute- but also fascinating. Also, rhyme can be funny. As can cussing. The moment when She tells Dog to Sit, and Dog answers with “shit”- that is very clever and funny to me. I don’t feel like reality was lost with this play. Sure, we are watching a rather ridiculous intercourse between a dog and a bear (and a few silly humans) but they are still realistic, or natural. I feel for them. And the ending is still really beautiful. But mostly the key is that I respond to the characters. The play has believable characters, interesting plot, all the things I like in the plays I read and all the plays I would like to write.
The Philadelphia: Oh David Ives. I think what I love so much about his writing is the pace and rhythm of the dialogue. That and the popular culture references. I know some people are really against pop culture references in plays but I personally love them. There is so much scope in pop culture. I also find Ives excessively clever. He uses rhyme a lot in his plays and I think it just adds to the humour. It’s funny when things rhyme because you can feel smart and laugh. He doesn’t hit you over the head with “look it’s funny” he actually makes you think at the same time. I think writing needs to be clever and for comedy well thought out, fast paced, well-developed characters, and an interesting plot makes a huge difference.
Moral of my story:
Good characters + Interesting Plot + Naturalness + Occasional rhymes + Cleverness
= Good 10 Minute Play!
31 March 2009
And... Go!
Ten minute plays really freak me out. I mean, say all you have to say, and you have ten minutes to say it? I probably shouldn't be so freaked out by the concept of ten minutes - because that was the time limit for about everything I have ever written has had some strict rules about time) - but somehow it feels daunting to me. So how can one fit everything into ten minutes? Do you even need to? Each of the plays we read offers a slightly different take on the important elements of a script. A Bowl of Soup worked with mostly monologue, letting one character develop through language and the other develop physically. An interesting blend that helps to show that just because I character doesn't have a bunch of lines doesn't mean they aren't vital to a play. The Road That Leads Here was interesting and gripping but utterly confusing. Exposition cannot be as in-depth in a ten minute play but it really is rather useful. The two ten-minute plays that helped me the most were The Midnight Rodeo and The Man Couldn't Dance because they are the two that blended the most elements together for me. I think that just because a play is short doesn't mean that anything should be sacrificed. Strong characters, strong plot, actual desires and drives, and a purpose are useful things to have in any plot- let alone one that is so short. This means that everything needs to be well thought out and organized before the writing process in order to avoid superfluous information- but sometimes it is well worth the struggle. Take The Man Couldn't Dance for example. I don't really want to know what happens after they dance because I want my own imagination to make that decision, just as I don't really care what happened before because they tell me everything I need to know.
More Specifically:
A bowl of soup : Interesting character development- what with one verbal growth and one nonverbal growth. Sometimes silence is louder than words. It is amazing how much can be learned from a small amount.
That Midnight Rodeo: Mystery and plot do not have to be sacrificed for ten minute plays. Midnight Rodeo was gripping- keeping the suspense alive, even allowing for a non-committal ending. The characters were quite well developed (although a few more pages of development would have been nice). Big controversy can be presented well in ten minutes.
The Man Couldn’t Dance: I remember really loving this play when I saw it at the Directing Class One Acts a couple of years ago and I still love it on the page now. In such a short conversation we learn so much about these characters- learn to love them and to feel for them- and there is a point to the conversation. Character development and plot. I also have a weak spot for the writing that makes me laugh and cry and I can emotionally grow with the characters. Such a simple act as showing an old friend your child- especially an old boyfriend- is a really interesting way to jump into a scene. What I Like the most I think is that when the play ends I don’t focus on wishing it was a longer play- it is just right. I don’t want to know what happens next because I like guessing and I don’t need to know what came before. Exactly what a short play should be.
The Road that Leads Here: Well… I’m confused. I think I liked this… I think. The vagueness of the story, the lack of exposition, it was all very intriguing but I also had a lot of trouble becoming invested in the play or the characters. The ending was funny but also confusing. Why the religious undertones? Why would their father send them on the project? Why torch their cars? I just don’t understand. I think this is a great example of a good idea that needs to be seen not read- although I’m not sure I would appreciate it even on stage. I like the confusing but I do like some exposition…
While each play brought something new and exciting to my toolbox, I feel like what I really gleaned from the different approaches to writing shorter plays is that characters have to become strong quickly and within their words while plot is still vital. Interesting characters do not carry a short play, and no plot will make it harder to watch. Real life, human stories, even crazy abstract adventures, all need to connect with an audience quickly and sufficiently to make them fall in love with the characters as much as we do. The smallest things can reveal the most substantial moments in a human life and sometimes ten minute plays are the best way to salute such a mundane act as showing an old friend your baby or get up early before an operation. Letting out information slowly, letting comedy speak before tragedy, having a clear vision of what everyone will do, all are important parts of any play- no matter what length. Each of these plays offer something equally interesting and useful and I don't have to personally like them all in order to appreciate the concept.
More Specifically:
A bowl of soup : Interesting character development- what with one verbal growth and one nonverbal growth. Sometimes silence is louder than words. It is amazing how much can be learned from a small amount.
That Midnight Rodeo: Mystery and plot do not have to be sacrificed for ten minute plays. Midnight Rodeo was gripping- keeping the suspense alive, even allowing for a non-committal ending. The characters were quite well developed (although a few more pages of development would have been nice). Big controversy can be presented well in ten minutes.
The Man Couldn’t Dance: I remember really loving this play when I saw it at the Directing Class One Acts a couple of years ago and I still love it on the page now. In such a short conversation we learn so much about these characters- learn to love them and to feel for them- and there is a point to the conversation. Character development and plot. I also have a weak spot for the writing that makes me laugh and cry and I can emotionally grow with the characters. Such a simple act as showing an old friend your child- especially an old boyfriend- is a really interesting way to jump into a scene. What I Like the most I think is that when the play ends I don’t focus on wishing it was a longer play- it is just right. I don’t want to know what happens next because I like guessing and I don’t need to know what came before. Exactly what a short play should be.
The Road that Leads Here: Well… I’m confused. I think I liked this… I think. The vagueness of the story, the lack of exposition, it was all very intriguing but I also had a lot of trouble becoming invested in the play or the characters. The ending was funny but also confusing. Why the religious undertones? Why would their father send them on the project? Why torch their cars? I just don’t understand. I think this is a great example of a good idea that needs to be seen not read- although I’m not sure I would appreciate it even on stage. I like the confusing but I do like some exposition…
While each play brought something new and exciting to my toolbox, I feel like what I really gleaned from the different approaches to writing shorter plays is that characters have to become strong quickly and within their words while plot is still vital. Interesting characters do not carry a short play, and no plot will make it harder to watch. Real life, human stories, even crazy abstract adventures, all need to connect with an audience quickly and sufficiently to make them fall in love with the characters as much as we do. The smallest things can reveal the most substantial moments in a human life and sometimes ten minute plays are the best way to salute such a mundane act as showing an old friend your baby or get up early before an operation. Letting out information slowly, letting comedy speak before tragedy, having a clear vision of what everyone will do, all are important parts of any play- no matter what length. Each of these plays offer something equally interesting and useful and I don't have to personally like them all in order to appreciate the concept.
29 March 2009
Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph This Play is Weeker.
Now I may be slightly biased here, but I truly and utterly love this play.
The Troubles in Northern Ireland have been a particular interest of mine for awhile now and watching such a complex psychological conflict come to life onstage was pretty incredible. What is even more rewarding is looking at the progression of the script. Granted, my interaction with the script of The Celtic Cross before its production was rather limited but there are quite a few things I have noticed between my initial reading of the script and watching the performance.
One important lesson I learned was that things that don't appear to work on the page aren't necessarily bad things. For example, initially I had a rather large problem with the idea of the non-entities being onstage, interacting with the main characters, and (most importantly) killing Thomas. However, up on the stage, it worked. I believed the existence of these other characters and the fact that only Thomas and Jacob are the ones onstage became extremely important. There was one part during the final stages of tech and dress when we were trying to figure out a scene change and Alyson and I were thinking that maybe we really did need a third person helping with the change but Matthew made an excellent point when he refused. This world is all about the two lads from different sides. If anyone else appeared it would defeat the entire conceit of the play. We must believe that these two are alone in a world outside of their control. Any other presence would dim that effect.
Something else that changed for me was the philosophical and religious discussions between Thomas and Jacob. While reading it I was worried that an audience would find the action slow and long winded and wouldn't buy it. I mean, the fact that a friendship between two lads from opposite sides of the wall were even able to last as long as 20 is a bit far fetched so I was worried that adding in university size discussions on religion and morality was going to push the envelope too far. However, those discussions ended up being some of the highlights of the play for me. Two friends, sitting down, having a conversation about the things we think all the time but don't necessarily say, can be powerful. Besides, how else can a bunch of Americans with limited to no knowledge of The Troubles understand the complexities of the situation? There are so many different facets to each side and sometimes debate is the only way to bring them out.
In class we talk a lot about the need to balance comedy and drama in order to keep a play interesting. I think Matthew has done a really wonderful job with this balance throughout the play. There are some moments that make me laugh out loud and moments that have me balling my eyes out. Every night a new spot had me welling up, but also had me doubling over with laughter (a dangerous thing when I need to hit the sound cue at the same time...). The potential danger in the comedy however, is that character cannot be sacrificed for humour. A lot of the jokes are made by Thomas but how far would Thomas be willing to go for a joke? How much of a prat is he willing to make of himself? Even if it is just Jacob watching? How far would Jacob go? These are questions that I was worried about in the beginning. What is both a good thing and a potentially problematic thing, is that Matthew has written a part he knew he was going to play. So how can a playwright reach a balance? He did a very good job, and wrote himself a part he would is not normally seen in, which is also a very good thing but potentially problematic as he is generally known as a comedic actor. The UPS audience is naturally going to expect the funny and instead they get the brooding, the angry, and the jeans.
What I love so much about this play is the emotional journey it forces an audience to go on. The characters are so real. They feel and act and think so naturally I have no trouble feeling as if I have known them my entire life. Their reality makes me invested in them so that by the end of the show I truly love and care about these characters. I learn to love Emily as a special light in Thomas's life, which made her death even more poignant to me. At that moment, seeing Emily's burned lifeless body in Thomas' mind, I can completely and utterly forgive him for what he is about to do. Well, ok, not kill Jacob, but for the anger that would drive him to kill someone with his bare hands. I almost want him to. But then the knowledge that only Jacob and Thomas are the characters in the show means that the figure Thomas will kill is his best friend. Will he notice in time? If he does, will he be able to stop himself? It's an adrenaline rush and utterly emotionally draining. To me that is good theatre. The kind that makes you so completely invested in the characters that you feel along with them.
Jacob and Thomas are very real to me and I think that is a testament to Matthew's excellent writing. They are lovable, intelligent, gorgeous people and good examples of well-defined and complex characters. This is an excellent show and Matthew should be very proud of his work for it is amazing.
The Troubles in Northern Ireland have been a particular interest of mine for awhile now and watching such a complex psychological conflict come to life onstage was pretty incredible. What is even more rewarding is looking at the progression of the script. Granted, my interaction with the script of The Celtic Cross before its production was rather limited but there are quite a few things I have noticed between my initial reading of the script and watching the performance.
One important lesson I learned was that things that don't appear to work on the page aren't necessarily bad things. For example, initially I had a rather large problem with the idea of the non-entities being onstage, interacting with the main characters, and (most importantly) killing Thomas. However, up on the stage, it worked. I believed the existence of these other characters and the fact that only Thomas and Jacob are the ones onstage became extremely important. There was one part during the final stages of tech and dress when we were trying to figure out a scene change and Alyson and I were thinking that maybe we really did need a third person helping with the change but Matthew made an excellent point when he refused. This world is all about the two lads from different sides. If anyone else appeared it would defeat the entire conceit of the play. We must believe that these two are alone in a world outside of their control. Any other presence would dim that effect.
Something else that changed for me was the philosophical and religious discussions between Thomas and Jacob. While reading it I was worried that an audience would find the action slow and long winded and wouldn't buy it. I mean, the fact that a friendship between two lads from opposite sides of the wall were even able to last as long as 20 is a bit far fetched so I was worried that adding in university size discussions on religion and morality was going to push the envelope too far. However, those discussions ended up being some of the highlights of the play for me. Two friends, sitting down, having a conversation about the things we think all the time but don't necessarily say, can be powerful. Besides, how else can a bunch of Americans with limited to no knowledge of The Troubles understand the complexities of the situation? There are so many different facets to each side and sometimes debate is the only way to bring them out.
In class we talk a lot about the need to balance comedy and drama in order to keep a play interesting. I think Matthew has done a really wonderful job with this balance throughout the play. There are some moments that make me laugh out loud and moments that have me balling my eyes out. Every night a new spot had me welling up, but also had me doubling over with laughter (a dangerous thing when I need to hit the sound cue at the same time...). The potential danger in the comedy however, is that character cannot be sacrificed for humour. A lot of the jokes are made by Thomas but how far would Thomas be willing to go for a joke? How much of a prat is he willing to make of himself? Even if it is just Jacob watching? How far would Jacob go? These are questions that I was worried about in the beginning. What is both a good thing and a potentially problematic thing, is that Matthew has written a part he knew he was going to play. So how can a playwright reach a balance? He did a very good job, and wrote himself a part he would is not normally seen in, which is also a very good thing but potentially problematic as he is generally known as a comedic actor. The UPS audience is naturally going to expect the funny and instead they get the brooding, the angry, and the jeans.
What I love so much about this play is the emotional journey it forces an audience to go on. The characters are so real. They feel and act and think so naturally I have no trouble feeling as if I have known them my entire life. Their reality makes me invested in them so that by the end of the show I truly love and care about these characters. I learn to love Emily as a special light in Thomas's life, which made her death even more poignant to me. At that moment, seeing Emily's burned lifeless body in Thomas' mind, I can completely and utterly forgive him for what he is about to do. Well, ok, not kill Jacob, but for the anger that would drive him to kill someone with his bare hands. I almost want him to. But then the knowledge that only Jacob and Thomas are the characters in the show means that the figure Thomas will kill is his best friend. Will he notice in time? If he does, will he be able to stop himself? It's an adrenaline rush and utterly emotionally draining. To me that is good theatre. The kind that makes you so completely invested in the characters that you feel along with them.
Jacob and Thomas are very real to me and I think that is a testament to Matthew's excellent writing. They are lovable, intelligent, gorgeous people and good examples of well-defined and complex characters. This is an excellent show and Matthew should be very proud of his work for it is amazing.
12 March 2009
Appreciating the Counterpoint
First off: if you have never read Amadeus while listening to the Requiem you really should.
Peter Schaffer has done something utterly remarkable in his writing. He has captured the music and turned it into text. Reading Amadeus was like listening to the Requiem for me. An utterly religious experience. Take scene 2 for example- Salieri's monologue where he transforms from his decrepit 73 year old self to his vibrant younger self during the course of the monologue. Now- put on the Requiem Introitus. Not only does the length of the monologue match up with the music- the swell of the music matches the swell in the language. Schaffer is actually writing the music. It is utterly astounding to watch.
Everything about this text is musical. I mean- ok- the play is about Mozart so it has to be musical. Musical terms are thrown right and left, music is constantly being played over or around the scenes, and the play is about music. But it is about more than music- or really it is about what music is... although that is a debate more suited to the halls of a musicology conference than a blog of the musings of an armature playwright / musicology junky. But what gets me more than the fact that Schaffer has done his homework is what he has done with the characters of Salieri and Mozart. Sure, yes, this play is enormously historically inaccurate- but consciously so. Schaffer knows what he is doing and he chooses to ignore certain historical facts for dramatic purpose- so I overlook the problems. What I focus on instead is the writing. The ingenious writing.
Amadeus and Salieri work together in perfect counterpoint throughout the text. Counterpoint is the single most difficult part of music theory I have ever encountered, but roughly it is the writing of music with two voices moving with individualized contour and rhythm- yet still remaining extraordinarily interdependent harmonically. There are rules and regulations all over the place in counterpoint- but the result is quite marvelous. Schaffer's Amadeus and Salieri are characterized counterpoint. Salieri is the cantus firmus- the recognized and standard melody. Trudging on throughout the measures in a well grounded and standard (yet deceptive) drive. Mozart is the First Species working in counter motion to the cantus firmus - providing the excitment of the piece. The meat, the essence of counterpoint, comes from the first species. However the cantus firmus moves around, hides itself in different lines and moves through parts. It is sneaky and unexpectedly attacks the first species- underscoring the change through a consonant ending. So Salieri moves throughout the play. The tormented Iago.
I think a new goal for myself as a playwright is to figure out how to write music in my text. I need to compose my writing as I would a piece of music- substituting my notes for letters. I don't know how to achieve this (or even if it can be done) but I think I need to try.
Putting my own personal obsession aside for a second- the character of Salieri has more to him than just being music personified. He is a complex and deeply intriguing character. The levels of complexity are so intense that I'm not sure it is possible to discover them all without a life time worth of exploration. Here is a man who loves the music- even worships it- of a man he despises. Fears. And he turns his back on his vows and personal beliefs to destroy the man. Therefor destroying the music. He decides to wadge war against God. He goes out to destroy the representation of God on Earth. He is not evil- he is obsessed. A dangerous and almost pitiful obsession. He is a pitiable character while Amadeus is a spoilt child. Again- they work together in counterpoint. Balancing each other out. Amadeus is pathetic, exuberant, tyrannical, annoying, hilarious, and utterly lovable. Salieri is evil, vicious, petty, complex, hurt, betrayed, sad, sympathetic, and not necessarily wrong. Together they weave a complex duet where 'right' and 'wrong' seem to have no real place. They are real. There is no black and white in the actions of the play- and that is what makes the characters so interesting. The complexity and multiplicity of the character. Deep characters propel a play. Complexity keeps things interesting.
One way Schaffer crafts Salieri to be such a fascinating character is through the incorporation of the audience. There is a bond that is created when a character talks directly to the audience. Salieri may be a horrible and destructive man but I feel sorry for him. I know how he feels, why he does it, all because he is standing there telling me. Looking me in the face, house lights up, showing me why I would do it too. But what is even more interesting is that he doesn't want absolution- he wants punishment. Or maybe he wants both. The ambiguity is part of the intrigue. We don't know what chord Schaffer is going to end on.
Can you tell that I absolutely worship this play? Because I really do. This is the play that I plan on fighting to the death to do for Senior Theatre Festival. I want to shed the blood and tears necessary to bring this to life. No doubt doing so would be the single most difficult project I take on while at University. The characters are too complex, too daunting, to be safe. The writing is expertly crafted- who am I to try to interpret it? But I want to try. I am too much of a musicologist not to want to try.
I think it is time for me to start listening to classical music while writing. I am curious to see what will happen if I pick a composer and try to capture their music in my characters and my writing. Brahms for a sweeping romance. Bartok for a strange and off-center absurdest piece. Beethoven for the storming drama.
All I know is that Shaffer is a genius and he has created a play worthy of the music. Remarkable. Utterly remarkable.
Peter Schaffer has done something utterly remarkable in his writing. He has captured the music and turned it into text. Reading Amadeus was like listening to the Requiem for me. An utterly religious experience. Take scene 2 for example- Salieri's monologue where he transforms from his decrepit 73 year old self to his vibrant younger self during the course of the monologue. Now- put on the Requiem Introitus. Not only does the length of the monologue match up with the music- the swell of the music matches the swell in the language. Schaffer is actually writing the music. It is utterly astounding to watch.
Everything about this text is musical. I mean- ok- the play is about Mozart so it has to be musical. Musical terms are thrown right and left, music is constantly being played over or around the scenes, and the play is about music. But it is about more than music- or really it is about what music is... although that is a debate more suited to the halls of a musicology conference than a blog of the musings of an armature playwright / musicology junky. But what gets me more than the fact that Schaffer has done his homework is what he has done with the characters of Salieri and Mozart. Sure, yes, this play is enormously historically inaccurate- but consciously so. Schaffer knows what he is doing and he chooses to ignore certain historical facts for dramatic purpose- so I overlook the problems. What I focus on instead is the writing. The ingenious writing.
Amadeus and Salieri work together in perfect counterpoint throughout the text. Counterpoint is the single most difficult part of music theory I have ever encountered, but roughly it is the writing of music with two voices moving with individualized contour and rhythm- yet still remaining extraordinarily interdependent harmonically. There are rules and regulations all over the place in counterpoint- but the result is quite marvelous. Schaffer's Amadeus and Salieri are characterized counterpoint. Salieri is the cantus firmus- the recognized and standard melody. Trudging on throughout the measures in a well grounded and standard (yet deceptive) drive. Mozart is the First Species working in counter motion to the cantus firmus - providing the excitment of the piece. The meat, the essence of counterpoint, comes from the first species. However the cantus firmus moves around, hides itself in different lines and moves through parts. It is sneaky and unexpectedly attacks the first species- underscoring the change through a consonant ending. So Salieri moves throughout the play. The tormented Iago.
I think a new goal for myself as a playwright is to figure out how to write music in my text. I need to compose my writing as I would a piece of music- substituting my notes for letters. I don't know how to achieve this (or even if it can be done) but I think I need to try.
Putting my own personal obsession aside for a second- the character of Salieri has more to him than just being music personified. He is a complex and deeply intriguing character. The levels of complexity are so intense that I'm not sure it is possible to discover them all without a life time worth of exploration. Here is a man who loves the music- even worships it- of a man he despises. Fears. And he turns his back on his vows and personal beliefs to destroy the man. Therefor destroying the music. He decides to wadge war against God. He goes out to destroy the representation of God on Earth. He is not evil- he is obsessed. A dangerous and almost pitiful obsession. He is a pitiable character while Amadeus is a spoilt child. Again- they work together in counterpoint. Balancing each other out. Amadeus is pathetic, exuberant, tyrannical, annoying, hilarious, and utterly lovable. Salieri is evil, vicious, petty, complex, hurt, betrayed, sad, sympathetic, and not necessarily wrong. Together they weave a complex duet where 'right' and 'wrong' seem to have no real place. They are real. There is no black and white in the actions of the play- and that is what makes the characters so interesting. The complexity and multiplicity of the character. Deep characters propel a play. Complexity keeps things interesting.
One way Schaffer crafts Salieri to be such a fascinating character is through the incorporation of the audience. There is a bond that is created when a character talks directly to the audience. Salieri may be a horrible and destructive man but I feel sorry for him. I know how he feels, why he does it, all because he is standing there telling me. Looking me in the face, house lights up, showing me why I would do it too. But what is even more interesting is that he doesn't want absolution- he wants punishment. Or maybe he wants both. The ambiguity is part of the intrigue. We don't know what chord Schaffer is going to end on.
Can you tell that I absolutely worship this play? Because I really do. This is the play that I plan on fighting to the death to do for Senior Theatre Festival. I want to shed the blood and tears necessary to bring this to life. No doubt doing so would be the single most difficult project I take on while at University. The characters are too complex, too daunting, to be safe. The writing is expertly crafted- who am I to try to interpret it? But I want to try. I am too much of a musicologist not to want to try.
I think it is time for me to start listening to classical music while writing. I am curious to see what will happen if I pick a composer and try to capture their music in my characters and my writing. Brahms for a sweeping romance. Bartok for a strange and off-center absurdest piece. Beethoven for the storming drama.
All I know is that Shaffer is a genius and he has created a play worthy of the music. Remarkable. Utterly remarkable.
Oh Pinter... (pause) ... (silence) ...
While I know that this is not a play I need to blog about- I feel that there is a lot I need to say about Pinter's Betrayal. I just went to see the production at the Rep and feel completely at a loss for words. Mostly because no matter what I do- I still cannot seem to like Pinter. However, he is an iconic writer (he even got a term named after him!). So why is he so iconic? What is it about the "Pinter Pause" that makes everyone go crazy? Personally it gives me a headache. Without interesting characters those long silences and "snippets of reality" don't compel me- they make me doze off or daydream. Pinter is good for meditation- but is it really theatrical?
Now- there were some interesting components of the play. I like the idea of experimenting with the concept of time. The play works backwards- starting in 1979 and finally ending at the beginning of the affair in 1968. This set up an interesting way of incorporating small details into a script that makes everything seem more important than it would have been otherwise. As an audience member- I was compelled to find out what everything meant. How was it significant? Why do these characters care? It was utterly fascinating. Which is good- because when the play first started I was thinking- "Oh dear- I guess I was right. Pinter really IS like this all the time." However, as time moved backwards the play became less stagnant and more fascinating.
My main problem with Pinter is how slow the play moves. Or- at least- the way directors and actors interpret Pinter. However it seems to be an international interpretation- so perhaps it is what Pinter really is supposed to be. Long, awkward, noninclusive conversations with no exposition that leaves an audience either extra-attentive to figure out what is going on or snoozing in the back row. I think that trying to capture real life can really backfire. Both Pinter and Chekhov seem to follow similar protocols with their writing. Snippets of real life- true to detail and speech pattern. But when I go to a film or to the theatre I don't want to see real life. I could just go to a cafe and watch other people for free. I want to see real life that has more significance. Real life with a point- a theatrical twist. This is the fine line that I as a playwright need to figure out. While I personally have some issues with Pinter- he is very successful and well liked. There is something to that.
Now- there were some interesting components of the play. I like the idea of experimenting with the concept of time. The play works backwards- starting in 1979 and finally ending at the beginning of the affair in 1968. This set up an interesting way of incorporating small details into a script that makes everything seem more important than it would have been otherwise. As an audience member- I was compelled to find out what everything meant. How was it significant? Why do these characters care? It was utterly fascinating. Which is good- because when the play first started I was thinking- "Oh dear- I guess I was right. Pinter really IS like this all the time." However, as time moved backwards the play became less stagnant and more fascinating.
My main problem with Pinter is how slow the play moves. Or- at least- the way directors and actors interpret Pinter. However it seems to be an international interpretation- so perhaps it is what Pinter really is supposed to be. Long, awkward, noninclusive conversations with no exposition that leaves an audience either extra-attentive to figure out what is going on or snoozing in the back row. I think that trying to capture real life can really backfire. Both Pinter and Chekhov seem to follow similar protocols with their writing. Snippets of real life- true to detail and speech pattern. But when I go to a film or to the theatre I don't want to see real life. I could just go to a cafe and watch other people for free. I want to see real life that has more significance. Real life with a point- a theatrical twist. This is the fine line that I as a playwright need to figure out. While I personally have some issues with Pinter- he is very successful and well liked. There is something to that.
08 March 2009
Chek- * cough *
I am one of those people who really does not like to just go to a show once. There are too many elements that I like to see- and one viewing is hard for me to accomplish it in. My director brain takes the first show to analyze how the script was adapted for the stage, staging and character choices, what themes were brought out, what I would have done differently, what I never would have thought of -but is pure genius, and a whole other array of very distracting thoughts. My second viewing is usually tech based- where the lights are, what about the set works, what the costumes do, etc. If I can- my third viewing is usually a 'Turn it all off Claire' viewing where I just sit back and enjoy the show. And any subsequent viewings depend on my mood. Rather maniacal of me- but what can I say. I love this business. And the reason I do is because there is no right or wrong way to do it. Well... as long as you aren't doing A Chorus Line (but that is a whole other set of issues there).
Watching this show was a very interesting experience for me. Mostly because I would have done so many things differently as a director - but I'm not sure that my different choices would have actually improved the show. It is mostly that, when I read the script, I had an entirely different perception of the show, how it should be staged, what the characters were like, etc. But that made watching this production all the more fascinating. Because there is no right or wrong- I love seeing the other views and other perceptions. For example- to me all the more 'secondary' characters are there for comedic relief. To emphasize even more the class structure that the family lives in, to create a sense of everyday life, and to give the audience something to laugh at. But with this version- those characters (with the exception of Waffles) were not given the comedic role. It took me a couple of viewings to become alright with that fact-but once I did, I found the choice to be compelling. Why does the old nurse have to be crazy and hilarious? Why should Yefim have to submit to the stereotypical idiotic farm hand? While I still believe that the script calls more for that comedic relief- it was an interesting choice to see it done more straight.
I think that something a playwright needs to realize before going into the process is that their vision is really not at all what will be up on stage. Maybe the first time- if they are there to oversee the project - but never again. Sure, some things will be the same. Uncle Vanya will always shoot at Astrov on the stage and will always miss (for example). But the way he shoots, where he misses, what every one's reaction will be, what that does to the movement of the piece- that will never be the same again. It will be how the director sees the motion, how the set designer creates the space, how the props mistress (or master) chooses the gun, how the actors see their characters. It is completely out of the writers hands. I think that would be difficult for me - as I am rather obsessive about control- but I think it is also a very good thing. It keeps a piece alive and vibrant. I think one of the main reasons that Shakespeare is still so popular today is because of how easily his work can move between eras- how each time you see it, the show can be completely different. In Scene Design right now, for example, there are about six different designs for Midsummer, and each one will be a completely different and unique show. Uncle Vanya may not lend to such adaptability as Midsummer does- but there is a timelessness to it. You could very easily change the time period to today and it would still be relevant. I think one of the good marks of writing is that it can stand up to the test of time. I mean- obviously you couldn't stage Amadeus in any other time period- but its themes and the story are still relevant (although this is a conversation for a different post). Uncle Vanya has the kind of relevancy that allows for a lot of playing room in the directors imagination- that a playwright needs to be prepared for.
Chekhov is one of those playwrights that people seem to either love or hate. I'm part of the former category. While, yes, the structure of plays like Uncle Vanya are dreadfully frustrating (no climax, no point, a regular slice of boring life) they are given excitement by the incredibly detailed character work Chekhov puts into this plays. Each character is a distinct and intricately complex character. From Uncle Vanya right down to Yefim. To me, this proves that if the characters are amazing- a lot of people won't realize that there is not plot and, kind of sort of, no point. But the characters give the play a point. They bring up the stakes and show how even every day life can be exciting in its boredom. To me, characters are the center of all good theatre.
Watching this show was a very interesting experience for me. Mostly because I would have done so many things differently as a director - but I'm not sure that my different choices would have actually improved the show. It is mostly that, when I read the script, I had an entirely different perception of the show, how it should be staged, what the characters were like, etc. But that made watching this production all the more fascinating. Because there is no right or wrong- I love seeing the other views and other perceptions. For example- to me all the more 'secondary' characters are there for comedic relief. To emphasize even more the class structure that the family lives in, to create a sense of everyday life, and to give the audience something to laugh at. But with this version- those characters (with the exception of Waffles) were not given the comedic role. It took me a couple of viewings to become alright with that fact-but once I did, I found the choice to be compelling. Why does the old nurse have to be crazy and hilarious? Why should Yefim have to submit to the stereotypical idiotic farm hand? While I still believe that the script calls more for that comedic relief- it was an interesting choice to see it done more straight.
I think that something a playwright needs to realize before going into the process is that their vision is really not at all what will be up on stage. Maybe the first time- if they are there to oversee the project - but never again. Sure, some things will be the same. Uncle Vanya will always shoot at Astrov on the stage and will always miss (for example). But the way he shoots, where he misses, what every one's reaction will be, what that does to the movement of the piece- that will never be the same again. It will be how the director sees the motion, how the set designer creates the space, how the props mistress (or master) chooses the gun, how the actors see their characters. It is completely out of the writers hands. I think that would be difficult for me - as I am rather obsessive about control- but I think it is also a very good thing. It keeps a piece alive and vibrant. I think one of the main reasons that Shakespeare is still so popular today is because of how easily his work can move between eras- how each time you see it, the show can be completely different. In Scene Design right now, for example, there are about six different designs for Midsummer, and each one will be a completely different and unique show. Uncle Vanya may not lend to such adaptability as Midsummer does- but there is a timelessness to it. You could very easily change the time period to today and it would still be relevant. I think one of the good marks of writing is that it can stand up to the test of time. I mean- obviously you couldn't stage Amadeus in any other time period- but its themes and the story are still relevant (although this is a conversation for a different post). Uncle Vanya has the kind of relevancy that allows for a lot of playing room in the directors imagination- that a playwright needs to be prepared for.
Chekhov is one of those playwrights that people seem to either love or hate. I'm part of the former category. While, yes, the structure of plays like Uncle Vanya are dreadfully frustrating (no climax, no point, a regular slice of boring life) they are given excitement by the incredibly detailed character work Chekhov puts into this plays. Each character is a distinct and intricately complex character. From Uncle Vanya right down to Yefim. To me, this proves that if the characters are amazing- a lot of people won't realize that there is not plot and, kind of sort of, no point. But the characters give the play a point. They bring up the stakes and show how even every day life can be exciting in its boredom. To me, characters are the center of all good theatre.
24 February 2009
E minor - Now That's What I Call Music
I absolutely love adaptation. Maybe this is because I have a deep seeded love for ancient stories, maybe this is because all my favourite playwrights seem to love adaptation, maybe it is because I was able to figure out most of the 7th Harry Potter book before it came out because I was up on my mythology. Who knows? The fact of the matter is- adapting ancient stories is genius. Especially if the adaptation is such like Sarah Ruhl's take on the classic myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. I am very familiar with the story because one cannot take Music History and not be familiar. Almost every single great composer of early opera wrote some version or another of the myth and musical adaptation is an interesting ball game in which to compare theatrical adaptation. They share a lot of similarities. Both are new representations of the core of the matter, finding the subtle nuances and exploiting them, even if the new version does not stay completely true to the original. The opera versions use key signatures, tonal centres, and chordal structure to signify to the audience how a character is feeling or whether or not they should sit up and take special notice of what is happening. When adapting for a play, the music is not (necessarily) an inherent part of the author's vision and so the words and the relationships are what clue in the audience. Dialogue and adaptation follow many of the same guidelines- because adaptation is dialogue. Just with lots of extra fun for those of us who are way too geeky for our own good.
One thing I like about the new trend in adaptation is the move away from simply rewriting the old words into a syntax that newer audiences can understand, but actually trying to rewrite the play and making it mean something more than just an updated original. One of my new absolute favourite playwrights, Enda Walsh, just completed his adaptation of The Brothers Karamazov and it was utterly genius. He didn't just try to update the language of Dostoevsky, he created a whole new play. It was the same story but it was entirely its own entity. The adaptation movement in Ireland has been going strong since Yates, but recently the ancient Greek tragedies have been remade and specifically placed in the North where characters are specified with specific regional accents to help try to understand The Troubles through the eyes of outside cultures and history. Ruhl follows along with this pattern of updating the originals to become something more than just a basic remake. She has made the classic story entirely her own. The language is modern and fast paced, full of colloquialisms and blatant moments of PDA that bring her Eurydice and Orpheus out of mythology and into the 21st (well, 20th technically) century. I love the idea of having the chorus acting as if "nasty children at a birthday party" and having the Lord of the Underworld behave as a spoiled little child. The imagery of children and child like behaviour adds and interesting element to the story.
Most importantly to me is how easy it is to read. While I am rather devoted to Greek Tragedy, some translations really bog me down with the grandiose language and rhyme schemes to help keep it 'high culture' and 'academically intellectual.' Ruhl by passes this idea and, instead, opts for an accessible version that speaks more of the love story than of the scholarly inquiry. This isn't to say that the accessibly of the language dilutes the intelligence and breadth of the play. Quite the opposite for me. The themes of music and the importance of music in the play are never lost. They are highlighted, subtly or not, throughout the entire play- therefore remaining true to the myth and the roots of the play.
The humour in the play is also something that I absolutely appreciate. Greek tragedy is usually associated with the pinnacle of drama, and rightfully so. But there is humour in Greek tragedy- a lot of it- and I feel like Ruhl really found how to play up the funny without demeaning the heartbreak of the story. Although I will be honest and admit that, at times, I feel like Ruhl was trying to make her characters human for the modern century but just ended up over doing it. Although, it is possible that she is just exaggerating the nature of the characters as she interprets them. Enda Walsh does the same thing in Delirium. His characters are utterly ridiculous- but it gets the point across and captures the essence of the story. Here Eurydice is kind of whiny and Orpheus is off in a dream land- but they are rather like that in the original as well. At the same time- Eurydice is given more strength throughout this version than she is usually. The new twist on the ending is a perfect example of added empowerment. I like that Eurydice is the one who decides to come back. She is given more power here than she gets to have in the myth. It is not just that Orpheus turns around and ends up losing her- he turns around and she decides to return. It is an interesting idea.
Adaptation is fun and quirky. My kind of dialogue, my kind of play. While I still prefer Enda Walsh and Brendan Kennelly, I found a charm in Ruhl's version. Banter, rhythm, colloquialism, modern speech patterns- all sorts of fun. Plus the music geek that still lives in me was very very happy about all of the music references (both the subtle and the blatant). Having Orpheus and Eurydice create speech music at the very end while he is trying to rescue her made me forget all the small parts of the play that bugged me and instead I am left with nothing but love for the play. And an extremely large wish to both direct this play and write lots of my own quirky, fun, adaptations. Bring on the symbolism and keep it in e minor. Because- really - that is key to the essence of the story.
One thing I like about the new trend in adaptation is the move away from simply rewriting the old words into a syntax that newer audiences can understand, but actually trying to rewrite the play and making it mean something more than just an updated original. One of my new absolute favourite playwrights, Enda Walsh, just completed his adaptation of The Brothers Karamazov and it was utterly genius. He didn't just try to update the language of Dostoevsky, he created a whole new play. It was the same story but it was entirely its own entity. The adaptation movement in Ireland has been going strong since Yates, but recently the ancient Greek tragedies have been remade and specifically placed in the North where characters are specified with specific regional accents to help try to understand The Troubles through the eyes of outside cultures and history. Ruhl follows along with this pattern of updating the originals to become something more than just a basic remake. She has made the classic story entirely her own. The language is modern and fast paced, full of colloquialisms and blatant moments of PDA that bring her Eurydice and Orpheus out of mythology and into the 21st (well, 20th technically) century. I love the idea of having the chorus acting as if "nasty children at a birthday party" and having the Lord of the Underworld behave as a spoiled little child. The imagery of children and child like behaviour adds and interesting element to the story.
Most importantly to me is how easy it is to read. While I am rather devoted to Greek Tragedy, some translations really bog me down with the grandiose language and rhyme schemes to help keep it 'high culture' and 'academically intellectual.' Ruhl by passes this idea and, instead, opts for an accessible version that speaks more of the love story than of the scholarly inquiry. This isn't to say that the accessibly of the language dilutes the intelligence and breadth of the play. Quite the opposite for me. The themes of music and the importance of music in the play are never lost. They are highlighted, subtly or not, throughout the entire play- therefore remaining true to the myth and the roots of the play.
The humour in the play is also something that I absolutely appreciate. Greek tragedy is usually associated with the pinnacle of drama, and rightfully so. But there is humour in Greek tragedy- a lot of it- and I feel like Ruhl really found how to play up the funny without demeaning the heartbreak of the story. Although I will be honest and admit that, at times, I feel like Ruhl was trying to make her characters human for the modern century but just ended up over doing it. Although, it is possible that she is just exaggerating the nature of the characters as she interprets them. Enda Walsh does the same thing in Delirium. His characters are utterly ridiculous- but it gets the point across and captures the essence of the story. Here Eurydice is kind of whiny and Orpheus is off in a dream land- but they are rather like that in the original as well. At the same time- Eurydice is given more strength throughout this version than she is usually. The new twist on the ending is a perfect example of added empowerment. I like that Eurydice is the one who decides to come back. She is given more power here than she gets to have in the myth. It is not just that Orpheus turns around and ends up losing her- he turns around and she decides to return. It is an interesting idea.
Adaptation is fun and quirky. My kind of dialogue, my kind of play. While I still prefer Enda Walsh and Brendan Kennelly, I found a charm in Ruhl's version. Banter, rhythm, colloquialism, modern speech patterns- all sorts of fun. Plus the music geek that still lives in me was very very happy about all of the music references (both the subtle and the blatant). Having Orpheus and Eurydice create speech music at the very end while he is trying to rescue her made me forget all the small parts of the play that bugged me and instead I am left with nothing but love for the play. And an extremely large wish to both direct this play and write lots of my own quirky, fun, adaptations. Bring on the symbolism and keep it in e minor. Because- really - that is key to the essence of the story.
09 February 2009
Talk it Up
As I started to read the various snippets of dialogue I was caught up in how interested I was that all dialogue is so different. Seemingly obvious thing to say- but there you have it. However- as I continued to read I started to notice more and more the various ways of how dialogue is so similar. Again, a rather obvious answer, but when the two thoughts are put together it creates a rather interesting juxtaposition. One that has left me rather confused, but pensive which I figure is a good thing when trying to discover the secrets of good playwriting.
Take Shakespeare for example. He is a well known guy - or at least should be by this point in any college students career (having graduated from High School and presumably taken an English class) - and is a pinnacle for good writing. Yet there is not a huge difference between his tragedies or comedies - barring the ending. At least not on the surface. Take Much Ado and Hamlet- seemingly different pieces, and they are, but they share similarities. In the scene between Hamlet and Polonius where Hamlet either is mad or is trying to convince Polonius that he is mad (depending on what you want it to say... I'm personally all for Hamlet is ingeniously trying to convince the world and then ends up ruining his life because it all goes hideously wrong) the scene reads much like a comedy. The lines are funny and Hamlet is really pulling a number over Polonius. And it works. It works because Hamlet's language convinces Polonius that he is crazy but Hamlet reminds the audience that he is tricking them all. Whereas, in Much Ado About Nothing, the play is a comedy but Beatrice tells Benedick that if he wishes to prove his love he needs to kill his friend Claudio. Not very funny for a comedy. Both bits of dialogue share similarities but the dialogue style and content goes against the style of the piece. In this way, both bits of dialogue are similar but also drastically different. What is important to me about this convoluted conception is that funny works in drama and drama works in funny. Much Ado becomes more powerful than just a romp in the Italian countryside, just as Hamlet breaks up the three hours of "Oh Woe is Me." Now- not everyone is Shakespeare (in fact, only Shakespeare is Shakespeare...) but the concept can work in other ways.
Take Closer for example. In a way I see the snippet of Closer as being sort of like what happens after the close of Much Ado only in the 20th century. There is comedy and tragedy within the lines, which adds a depth to the characters, the story line, and the emotional pull of the audience for the characters. Before, in monologues, I discussed the issue of distance. In Closer it would be very easy to make the characters all dispicable and distance the audience from them. Yet even while saying absolutely dreadful things to eachother and ruining each other's lives- they are still human. There are moments of humour and moments of weakness. The humanity that is so essential in monologues is also essential for dialogue. Basically for all writing. Below the Waste is similar. In a way, Below the Waste is much like Hamlet- is Allen crazy? Is he a Vampire? Is he crazy for having identity issues about being a Vampire? And while the scene is very humorous and utterly rediculous- the audience does not write it off as both have humanity underneath the rediculous. There is a real need that creates pitty, which allows the humour to be more poignant than pure slapstick.
Really, the need is what it all boils down to. All dialogue is the same in the case that all dialogue (or at least- all good dialogue) is about NEEDING something. Call it the character's want, the motivation, the intent, whatever. The fact is- if a character didn't want something they wouldn't say anything. That would be silly and a waste of stage time. Shakespeare is all about one character trying to make another character (or the audience) listen. Permenant state of needing something. In essence, that concept hasn't changed. In The Importance of Being Earnest, Gwendolen and Cecily are verbally sparring throughout the entire scene. And while they are wanting to demean the other, scope out the competition, and rise their own self-worth, they are also trying to make sure the other is listening to them. Otherwise, why bother dithering about spades or what is or isn't fashionable? The same applies to Beauty Queen. There are multiple facets of needs and wants and intents and whatever else you wants for Mag and Maureen, but it all rolls down to trying to get the other's attention. Mag has assured that she is all Maureen has, and needs to keep Maureen's attention in order to remain dominant. Maureen needs to get her mother to listen long enough to understand the hell she is being put through. Now, they make eachother's lives living hells, but the basis is all about getting the attention of the other. The importance of need. Every scene invovles the intense needs of the characters. As mundane as trying to make a daughter come out of the bathroom and get married in the Plaza Suite to trying to make sense of a strange culture in The Philidelphians.
Be it Tennessee Williams or William Shakespeare, the need is the essence of drama. That is a point that every drama class I have ever taken has stressed. Even contemporary plays like HamletMachine, Hey Girl!, or anything by Beckett, or any play where dialogue is not immediately central, if there at all, the characters are trying to get someone's attention. And the dialogue that is there is all about getting attention. What that attention is- I usually have no idea, but usually the people in all black sitting next to me find it divinely inspiring. The point of this small tangent is that, without the need there is no point in theatre to me. I don't want to direct a play where the characters don't want anything. That's boring. If Stanley never wanted to kick Blanche out of the house, or Blanche never wanted to protect Stella from being abused, or whatever other wants you wish to read into Streetcar, the play would be immensely boring and I doubt I'd be reading it. Action is relative, but desire is essential.
Take Shakespeare for example. He is a well known guy - or at least should be by this point in any college students career (having graduated from High School and presumably taken an English class) - and is a pinnacle for good writing. Yet there is not a huge difference between his tragedies or comedies - barring the ending. At least not on the surface. Take Much Ado and Hamlet- seemingly different pieces, and they are, but they share similarities. In the scene between Hamlet and Polonius where Hamlet either is mad or is trying to convince Polonius that he is mad (depending on what you want it to say... I'm personally all for Hamlet is ingeniously trying to convince the world and then ends up ruining his life because it all goes hideously wrong) the scene reads much like a comedy. The lines are funny and Hamlet is really pulling a number over Polonius. And it works. It works because Hamlet's language convinces Polonius that he is crazy but Hamlet reminds the audience that he is tricking them all. Whereas, in Much Ado About Nothing, the play is a comedy but Beatrice tells Benedick that if he wishes to prove his love he needs to kill his friend Claudio. Not very funny for a comedy. Both bits of dialogue share similarities but the dialogue style and content goes against the style of the piece. In this way, both bits of dialogue are similar but also drastically different. What is important to me about this convoluted conception is that funny works in drama and drama works in funny. Much Ado becomes more powerful than just a romp in the Italian countryside, just as Hamlet breaks up the three hours of "Oh Woe is Me." Now- not everyone is Shakespeare (in fact, only Shakespeare is Shakespeare...) but the concept can work in other ways.
Take Closer for example. In a way I see the snippet of Closer as being sort of like what happens after the close of Much Ado only in the 20th century. There is comedy and tragedy within the lines, which adds a depth to the characters, the story line, and the emotional pull of the audience for the characters. Before, in monologues, I discussed the issue of distance. In Closer it would be very easy to make the characters all dispicable and distance the audience from them. Yet even while saying absolutely dreadful things to eachother and ruining each other's lives- they are still human. There are moments of humour and moments of weakness. The humanity that is so essential in monologues is also essential for dialogue. Basically for all writing. Below the Waste is similar. In a way, Below the Waste is much like Hamlet- is Allen crazy? Is he a Vampire? Is he crazy for having identity issues about being a Vampire? And while the scene is very humorous and utterly rediculous- the audience does not write it off as both have humanity underneath the rediculous. There is a real need that creates pitty, which allows the humour to be more poignant than pure slapstick.
Really, the need is what it all boils down to. All dialogue is the same in the case that all dialogue (or at least- all good dialogue) is about NEEDING something. Call it the character's want, the motivation, the intent, whatever. The fact is- if a character didn't want something they wouldn't say anything. That would be silly and a waste of stage time. Shakespeare is all about one character trying to make another character (or the audience) listen. Permenant state of needing something. In essence, that concept hasn't changed. In The Importance of Being Earnest, Gwendolen and Cecily are verbally sparring throughout the entire scene. And while they are wanting to demean the other, scope out the competition, and rise their own self-worth, they are also trying to make sure the other is listening to them. Otherwise, why bother dithering about spades or what is or isn't fashionable? The same applies to Beauty Queen. There are multiple facets of needs and wants and intents and whatever else you wants for Mag and Maureen, but it all rolls down to trying to get the other's attention. Mag has assured that she is all Maureen has, and needs to keep Maureen's attention in order to remain dominant. Maureen needs to get her mother to listen long enough to understand the hell she is being put through. Now, they make eachother's lives living hells, but the basis is all about getting the attention of the other. The importance of need. Every scene invovles the intense needs of the characters. As mundane as trying to make a daughter come out of the bathroom and get married in the Plaza Suite to trying to make sense of a strange culture in The Philidelphians.
Be it Tennessee Williams or William Shakespeare, the need is the essence of drama. That is a point that every drama class I have ever taken has stressed. Even contemporary plays like HamletMachine, Hey Girl!, or anything by Beckett, or any play where dialogue is not immediately central, if there at all, the characters are trying to get someone's attention. And the dialogue that is there is all about getting attention. What that attention is- I usually have no idea, but usually the people in all black sitting next to me find it divinely inspiring. The point of this small tangent is that, without the need there is no point in theatre to me. I don't want to direct a play where the characters don't want anything. That's boring. If Stanley never wanted to kick Blanche out of the house, or Blanche never wanted to protect Stella from being abused, or whatever other wants you wish to read into Streetcar, the play would be immensely boring and I doubt I'd be reading it. Action is relative, but desire is essential.
27 January 2009
The Real Deal
I have a slight distain for Documentary Drama as I find it often lacks the heart I prefer in theatre. While a monologue can be very powerful and beneficial to a character’s development or emotional tie with the audience, there is a distancing and lack of relationship in Docudrama monologues that tends to irritate me. Dialogue is not necessarily integral to good theatre but theatre does need to be about relationships. Whether between characters on stage or the characters and the audience, without a tangible relationship what is the point? C. Rosalind Bell’s The New Orleans Monologues, Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues, and Moises Kaufan and the Tectonic Theatre Project’s The Laramie Project all deal with the problem of relationship through monologues in different ways. Some more effective than others. What works about
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