Superfluities Redux

by George Hunka
Artistic director, theatre minima

A Theatre Surrounds a City:
Vienna's Burgtheater


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Thursday, 27 May 2010

"Are plays proper literature?"

... asks David Jays in today's Guardian. I'm rather with "zauberberg" in the comments section when she or he says, "I find the very fact that this question is posed baffling."

But more, they'd pretty damn well be literature or the May 2010 issue of Theater journal from the Yale School of Drama is a waste of so much pulp and ink. This new issue specifically addresses the current status of play-as-text or vice versa, featuring new performance texts from the Nature Theater of Oklahoma (Romeo and Juliet) and Big Art Group (SOS), as well as essays by editor Tom Sellar, Juliana Francis Kelly, Jacob Gallagher-Ross and Karinne Keithley. I suppose I provide my own response to Jays' question in my own contribution to the issue, "The Booking of the Play" — about six thousand words of it, I think, and only available to paying customers there, or on your local newsstands now.

But in brief: are plays proper literature? Of course they are, and capable of being interpreted from a variety of valid standpoints as readers: for entertainment, for study, for formal qualities. It's just that, like novels, poems and other forms, sometimes they're very poor proper literature indeed.

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Wednesday, 05 May 2010

Michael Billington puts up his dukes

The recent announcement that the Broadway production of Lucy Prebble's Enron will close this Sunday unleashed rare vitriol from the pen of the Guardian's Michael Billington today. Apart from some harsh words (including "obtuse") for the review of the show from New York Times' chief critic Ben Brantley, Billington is more exercised about Broadway in general:

[One] reason for the attacks is the entrenched American view that visual pyrotechnics and razzle-dazzle are the special province of the musical. Plays, on the other hand, are judged by their fidelity to what a critic once called "the visible and audible surfaces of everyday life." It's permissible for Wicked or Legally Blonde to deploy expressionist techniques but, on Broadway at least, plays are expected to conform to the realist rules. ...

If the melancholy saga of Enron proves anything, it is Broadway's irrelevance to serious theatre. It is simply a big, gaudy commercial shop-window where fortunes can be won and lost; and I've long argued that the beating heart of American theatre is to be found in Chicago, from which a truly terrific American play, Tracy Letts's August: Osage County, recently emerged. Next time an ambitious producer thinks of taking a London hit play to Broadway, I'd suggest they ask themselves one simple question: is your journey really necessary?

With the rumored transfer of Jez Butterworth's highly-regarded Jerusalem, which recently concluded a successful West End run, to Broadway soon, it will be interesting to see if Billington's dismay is well-founded (though from all reports Jerusalem is as realist as ... well, as August: Osage County). Meanwhile, off-Broadway, MTC is now previewing the American premiere of That Face, the Olivier-nominated debut work from British playwright Polly Stenham.

Though Brantley (and the Times generally) has the reputation of being somewhat Anglophilic, this Anglophilia I think has been rather limited to only a few Brits — Tom Stoppard, Martin McDonough, and perhaps a few others. Obviously it doesn't extend to Lucy Prebble; will it extend to Butterworth and Stenham? Only the future can tell; in the meantime, Billington's full article is here.

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Tuesday, 13 April 2010

"Change the world, it needs it"


Good luck, theatre

UPDATE: David Mamet's response to issue-oriented political theatre, published on Sunday in the Guardian (an excerpt from his new book Theatre), makes additional cogent points under the subhead "Parable of the cop and the drunk, or, the trouble with political theatre":

[The] light is not good in the alley. And the alley is the dark, hidden, forbidden human. A trip down into that alley, for the writer or actor, may be disturbing, revolting, frightening — for that is where the monster of our self lives, and there we may find not only the falsity of our constructed personality, but also the truth of our feverishly suppressed perceptions.

The dark alley lies beyond the rational and, so, beyond the conscious. To face the notions there, to entertain them, is dangerous. For how may we value them? Are they the thoughts of madness? Will they be acceptable to the public? Are they acceptable to the artist? They may not be plotted upon a previously existing and accepted graph of values. ...

It is dark in the alley because we have removed the light from those things we would much rather not examine. But the desire to examine them, to bring them to light, to form the unformed thoughts into a logical presentation, is the desire to create art. And the repressive mechanism, just as it darkens the alley, also illuminates the worthless.

As much as I admire some of his work (Edmond, Oleanna, Glengarry Glen Ross, The Cryptogram and his film adaptation of Rattigan's The Winslow Boy), I had almost given up on Mamet, I admit, and perhaps this is the case of a stopped clock being right twice a day. Nonetheless, the full excerpt is here.


In today's Guardian piece "Can political theatre change the world?", Dan Rebellato discusses the avalanche of explicitly political plays opening in the United Kingdom as the election season gets under way. Rebellato has written one himself, he says (And So Say All of Us, for Radio 3), and considers the efficacy of political theatre in changing a political culture:

A cynic would say that if you wanted to influence current debate, the last thing you should do is put on a play. The most urgent show about current politics, performed in the largest theatre in the country twice daily until 6 May 2010, would still play to less than half of 1% of the electorate — and that's making the dubious assumption that you sold every seat. ...

[We] routinely expect the theatre to change the world. Sometimes I wonder if this isn't down to stubborn, residual puritanism: we want the theatre to change the world because that would give it a reason to exist. Beauty, pleasure, stories, metaphor — mere delights are not good enough for us.

I wonder if the question that the title of the essay raises isn't, in fact, the wrong question — if, moreover, the question itself doesn't stack the deck in a way. All theatre is political in the sense that it is created, is produced and presented, and operates within a culture's existing economic, cultural and moral ideology: the beauty, pleasure, stories and metaphor that Rebellato cites all have their political dimensions (who determines beauty? is something a social or aesthetic "good" just because it is pleasurable? and certainly stories and metaphor, and those who create and distribute them, have political intent). And one could dissect the politics behind yesterday's Pulitzer Prize drama award for weeks, as I'm sure the blogosphere will.

But that's an implicit politics; what of agit-prop, theatre directed specifically towards social change? One might ask Brecht if his own political theatre changed the world, even as it operated within its politics, first within Weimar, then during the 1940s, and finally during the division of Germany during the Cold War. Did The Measures Taken, his most explicitly, deliberately political play, lead to any political revolution, or even play a small part in it? Otto Dix's 1924 cycle of lithographs Der Krieg (currently on view at the Neue Galerie through the end of August) is an astonishing, often shocking indictment of modern warfare — and within 15 years, the world would be embroiled in yet another war.

But there is "the world," and there is "a world." If a theatrical experience has any effect, it is upon the perspective, the world, of the individual audience member. Calls to mass political activity aside, real change first occurs in the consciousness of the individual: a play which speculates on different experiential and cultural possibilities for the lone spectator, a play which speaks to that spectator, may lead to a new view of the world and one's place in it — and suggest, finally, a different way of acting in and reacting to that world, a manner which might be reflected not only at the ballot box but also in the close intimate relationships he or she continues to maintain in that culture. One might suggest that this is personal, not political; but politics and cultural expectation play a role in our interpersonal relationships as well, the way we treat others, the recognition of others' suffering and pleasures — the most intimate details of our private lives. Complex questions all, with no simple answers (and simple answers are what radical, progressive, conservative and reactionary politicians and propagandists love best). Theatre may not change "the world." But it may change ourselves: each of our worlds, one at a time.


More about political theatre here.

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