This Was a Man

This Was a Man

Writer: Noel Coward

Director: Belinda Lang

Banned by the Lord Chamberlain in 1925, This Was a Man is debuting on the professional London stage for the first time on July 15, which also happens to be my birthday. Coincidence? I think not. The play was banned on the grounds that it dealt with adultery irreverently. The play centers on Edward Churt, whose wife is serially unfaithful to him. Churt seems to be fine with it for most of the play as he becomes increasingly aware of her infidelity, but his best friend refuses to stand by and do nothing. The play seems like it is going to be entertaining, given the fact that it was banned for its “facetious…treatment of adultery.” Anything that is described as facetious definitely has my attention.

The play investigates what it really means to be a man. Is it better to have good manners or use brute force to get one’s way? Must a man be like a caveman? Is our view of manliness outdated? These are questions that I hope to answer after seeing the play.

The director, Belinda Lang, has performed in multiple plays written by Noel Coward, and I am interested to see how she brings this experience into This Was a Man. It seems to me that she would be a near expert on Coward’s work by now, and this will show in the debut of the play.

Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play

When I first read the title of this play, I instantly thought, “Oh Mr. Burns, like The Simpsons!” but I convinced myself that it couldn't be the same Mr. Burns. After all, what does Mr. Burns have to do with the post-electric? Apparently a lot according to the playwrights.

            I think it’s interesting that the playwrights chose The Simpsons as the pop culture icons to showcase in Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play. The Simpsons have been a ubiquitous part of our culture since 1989 and will be going into its 26^th season starting September 1^st. The Simpsons has added words to our cultural dictionary (D’oh!), and has had practically every famous person in some way or another do a voice on the show. For instance, Queen Elizabeth II has voiced herself on the show and Elizabeth Taylor did the voice of infant Maggie Simpson in “Lisa’s First Word.” So it makes perfect sense to choose characters from a television show that have had such a profound effect on our culture to be the main characters of a troupe in an apocalyptic setting.

            The playwrights mention that they chose The Simpson not only because it is a long-running television show, but also because The Simpsons is a show that has strong character archetypes and deals with the entire community. The title of the play is a nod to that, after all as Mr. Burns isn't a member of the Simpsons family, but he has no doubt influenced both them and our culture.

            I also thought it was interesting that the characters in the play actually use the stage to cope with the apocalypse by performing in a stage troupe based on the Simpson episode “Cape Feare.” In this episode, Sideshow Bob, the former assistant to Krusty the Clown and escaped criminal, attempts to kill Bart because it was thanks to his efforts that put him in prison for attempting to frame Krusty for an attempted robbery. In this episode no one can help Bart; not the parole board who Sideshow Bob convinces to parole him; not the Witness Relocation Program, who give the Simpsons a new surname and a houseboat but cannot stop Sideshow Bob from strapping himself to the underside of the Simpsons’ car. It’s interesting that the troupe chooses this episode because it combines humor and terror. It’s terrifying to watch Bart have to deal with an ex-criminal trying to kill him, but it’s also funny to watch Sideshow Bob step on a lot of rakes and at one point get run over by elephants, and Bart even manages to free himself from Sideshow Bob’s clutches by asking him to sing the entire score of the H.M.S. Pinafore. Maybe the troupe chooses this episode as a guide for them for how to find the humor in the terrifying as they deal with the apocalypse?

            Whatever the reason, I’m excited to see this play!

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

Christopher Boone, the protagonist and narrator of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time,” is highly intelligent, mathematically gifted, 15-year-old. He knows all of the countries in the world and their capital cities, can list every prime number up to 7,057, and he is the first person at his school to enroll in A-level math. However, Christopher is also autistic. He fails to understand human emotion, is easily overwhelmed by everyday stimuli, and cannot stand to be touched.

Our story begins with Christopher’s desire to write a Sherlock Holmes-esque mystery. The format of Mark Haddon’s novel version of the story feels almost like a stream of consciousness, and Christopher writes the story as it unfolds. Because Haddon’s novel is a first-person narrative, we, as the audience, are allowed insight into the inner workings of Christopher’s mind. In Simon Stephens’ adaptation of Haddon’s novel, visual and aural elements, such as stage design and compositional style, are used to transport the audience into Christopher’s mind and allow us a glimpse of the world as Christopher sees it.

At first glance, the set design for “The Curious Incident” appears to be incredibly simplistic. The set is basically a blank 3-dimensional grid that images are projected onto. However, as someone who loves math and avidly seeks to find order and patterns in the world, this suits Christopher perfectly.

The soundtrack for the production of “The Curious Incident” was composed by Adrian Sutton. Because of Christopher’s interests in maths and computers, Sutton composed the soundtrack using a “glitch/techno” style. Sutton also used  prime numbers as a “building block of the score” due to Christopher’s obsession with them. Reciting his prime numbers is one of the few things that calms Christopher when he begins to become overwhelmed by the chaos of everyday life, for, unlike people, prime numbers are logical, constant, and something that he understands. Because of this, it only makes sense that prime numbers be integrated into Christopher’s internal music.

Anyone who has ever met someone who is severely or even mildly autistic can tell you that they are not always the easiest people to understand. This combination of set design and compositional style, among other things, helps the audience to understand the ways in which this complicated character views and understands the world.

Show Preview: The Valley of Astonishment

Written and Directed by Peter Brook and Marie-Hélène Estienne

Cast: Kathryn Hunter (Sammy Costas), Marcello Magni and Jared McNeill

Musicians: Raphaël Chambouvet and Toshi Tsuchitori

Website: http://www.youngvic.org/whats-on/the-valley-of-astonishment

Jared McNeill and Kathryn Hunter in The Valley of Astonishment

I first encountered Peter Brook some 15 years ago as an undergraduate when I was required to read his book The Empty Space for a directing class. The unit was focused on re-thinking the actor/audience relationship, and we were looking at Peter Brook and Jerzy Grotowski simultaneously. We read Grotowski’s Towards a Poor Theatre first, for which Brook had written an introduction. His introduction did not make much of an impression on me, except for one small section near the end, when Brook says the aim of his own theatre (as opposed to Grotowski’s) is to bring together “the private and the public, the intimate and the crowded, the secret and the open, the vulgar and the magical” (14). I didn’t really know what this meant at the time, but I thought it sounded cool. The vulgar and the magical… I suppose it might be fair to say this idea has become a guiding force in everything I work on these days.

Peter Brook

Brook’s book is divided into four sections: the deadly theatre, the holy theatre, the rough theatre, and the immediate theatre. For those who have never encountered Brook, here is a (very) quick and dirty run-down of what these classifications mean (please pardon my momentary lecture mode):

• The Deadly Theatre: This is the kind of theatre that addresses passive spectators – the kind of theatre he felt was taking over the stage at the time. No engagement, no need to think or be disturbed, everything outlined and perfectly understandable, handed to the audience (sitting quietly and passively in a dark auditorium) on a silver platter. Commercial theatre, meant to give audiences exactly what they expect, and make lots of money.

• The Holy Theatre: Theatre concerned with ritual and higher values (moral, spiritual) – making the invisible intellectual and spiritual realms of the human… well… soul, if you will, visible and concrete onstage. The concern is that the Holy theatre might remain on this “higher” plane and therefore not really engage with the audience on an everyday or physical level.

• The Rough Theatre: Focuses on senses, physical impulses, and direct engagement with the audience (and social engagement – audience members with other audience members). Brook was worried that an over-reliance on the Rough theatre might cause theatre to be simple and shallow (so, where the Holy theatre might cause people to get too much in their heads and not connect physically, the Rough theatre might cause people too think too much in physical and social terms and not connect intellectually/spiritually).

• The Immediate Theatre: The combination of the best elements of the Rough and Holy theatres. Something that engages the audience on both a physical (sensory) and intellectual (spiritual) level.

These different “theatres” raised all kinds of new issues for me about theatre back in my undergrad days that I am still struggling with today. What is theatre supposed to do – what is the function/purpose? How does theatre-the-art relate to theatre-the-business? What does the mutability (changeability, volatility, plasticity) of theatre do to the experience of a production (from the perspective of both the artists and the audience)? What is required for theatre to be theatre, and what is not required?

This play itself is highly intriguing to me for a variety of reasons, some which sound fancy and academic and others which really are just me being a total geek. But that’s ok, too.

The Valley of Astonishment centers on the neurological disorder known as synaesthesia, a condition that causes sufferers to experience a kind of blending of the senses. For example, you might experience colors as smells, or sounds as colors. Because theatre, at its core, is something we experience through our senses, I am very curious about how the idea of a kind of disconnect between the senses, or sense confusion, might change our experience of the world and the theatre (cause us to question certain assumptions about the theatrical experience).

The title of the play comes from a 12^th century Persian poem – The Conference of the Birds – which tells the story of birds who are searching for a leader, and travel through seven valleys (including the valley of astonishment – the 6^th valley). I confess that I have not done a ton of research into this poem (ran out of time), but my understanding from reviews of the show and a quick Google search is that the valley of astonishment comes after the valley of unity, which involves letting yourself go in in order to become one with everything else – you are nothing in the light of God’s presence (you are enfolded into god – selfless). In this state, you reach the valley of astonishment and bewilderment – everything is new, astonishing, and no longer connected to a sense of self or the expectations you may already have about yourself and the world.

The cast is led by Kathryn Hunter, who is a well-known and highly accomplished actress. For the Harry Potter-minded, she played Arabella Figg in the HP movies, so you will probably recognize her (here’s where the geek-out comes into play for me – yay Harry Potter!).

Kathryn Hunter in The Valley of Astonishment

When we see The Valley of Astonishment there will be several things I will be thinking about – several questions I have in my mind about the production. I want to know what Peter Brook does with a play. How does he create his own theatre? Is it immediate, rough, holy, deadly, some combination, something new? How does he set up the actor-audience relationship? How does synaesthesia come into play in both the play and in the theatrical event?

Buckle up, y’all – this will be a weird one! (so excited!!)

Just for fun:

“What Does Your Tube Stop Taste Like?” by Ben Riley-Smith

The Telegraph, August 23, 2013

• http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/road-and-rail-transport/10257633/What-do-London-Underground-stops-taste-like.html

• Apparently our Russell Square Station tastes like celery.

Peter Brook’s Introduction to The Valley of Astonishment:

• http://youngviclondon.wordpress.com/2014/06/04/the-valley-of-astonishment-an-introduction-from-peter-brook/

Show Preview: Matilda

 

     I think we need to be honest and admit it: We all wanted to be Matilda. After watching the adorable 1996 movie adaptation of Roald Dahl’s children’s book, telekinetically partying in my kitchen while dancing to “Little Bitty Pretty One” was definitely on my bucket list. However, the source material for the film was actually a very different experience. In the film, Matilda manifests her powers with ease quite often, including levitating her friend Lavender. In the novel, Matilda only uses her power, referred to as “The Miracle”, a few times, none of which were for her personal gain. She did train her powers, but it was a much more focused process of maneuvering her father’s cigar, rather than making herself a nice meal.

    Another major difference between the film and the novel is that Matilda was only five and a half years old when she started school, and everything takes places within a few months. Matilda does not sneak into Trunchbull’s house and wreak havoc, nor does she get locked in The Chokey. FBI agents do not stake out the Wormwoods’ house (although the Wormwoods do get discovered for their illegal care sales and flee to Spain), and Matilda doesn’t actually carry adoption papers with her wherever she goes. Most important to me is the fact that Matilda is skipped forward six grades in the novel, which causes her hyper intelligent mind to work so hard that she loses her powers forever, instead of keeping them for trivial pursuits like pulling books from shelves.

    The point to all of this is that the 1996 film, generally adored by audiences, took liberties with the source material to make it more appealing for a film audience. More “action” and “comedy” were added to keep audiences’ attention, which is a very common practice in the industry. The adult figures are made into caricatures of themselves instead of the very real and dangerous representations of negligent caretakers Dahl’s novel described.

    In a quick skim of the Cast Recording, I am happy to say that it seems to be drawing from the source material more than the movie. Songs like “Revolting” and “Miracle” pull from lines in the novel and expand on them the way musical theatre should (click here to be directed to a Spotify playlist with the entire cast recording). I’m excited to see just how the “miracles” manifest themselves on stage, and if more “special effects” are used to increase spectacle (and, typically, audience spending). Even if it does, Matilda: The Musical would probably still be an enjoyable experience. The characters and story are strong enough to withstand some “fluff” while presenting important issues. Overall, I’m hopeful for a beautifully told story of our plucky heroine and her misadventures.

    Here’s a link to a Spotify playlist of Matilda: The Musical.

-Ethan

    Thanks to Google Images for the header picture!