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.

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.

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.

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.

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.