Last time I talked about the seduction of the unknown story. I started thinking about this when I saw Peter Brook’s film of “The Mahabharata”. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a three hour condensation of the nine hour experience he staged at the “Bouffes du Nord” in Paris in the 1980s.
By the way, if you ever get a chance, see a show at that theater! It’s my favorite venue - just alive with energy and ghosts! Check it out at:
http://www.bouffesdunord.com/letheatre.cfm
At first thought, a three hour film from a nine hour play may seem a tad... Well... long. But, if you are familiar with the source material, it’s the merest drop in the tiniest bucket. This ancient Sanskrit epic weighs in at 2 million words - ten times longer than the Iliad and Odyssey combined. Comparatively speaking, it would be like doing a 30-minute sitcom called, “Odysseus in Troy-Land.”
The title can be translated as “the great tale of the Bharata dynasty.” It’s an incredibly complex moral, philosophical, religious exploration via the storyline of two groups of quasi-divine brothers fighting over a shared kingdom. In the middle of the things, just before the great battle to end all battles, Arjuna, one of the main characters, asks the man-God Krishna one of those “What’s It All About, Alfie?” questions. The reply is the Bhagavad-Gita! So the Western analogy would be that just before sacking windy Troy good old Odysseus and Socrates would sit down and talk through “Plato’s Republic”!
As you might imagine, it was “Munson-Heaven” to be exposed to all this. To not know how the Trojan War ends! Oh, my! In fact, one of the first books I remember reading was a “child’s version” of the Iliad. I was in the back seat of the family car while my Dad finished a sales call. As the light failed, I squirmed around in the back seat trying to find a little more visibility to discover who would win – the god-like Achilles or Hector, breaker of horses. So watching the Brook film, I wondered which faction would win the apocalyptic battle. The Kauravas or the Pandavas? Is there anything better than that?
After the film, I watched the “Making of…” feature on the DVD. The screenwriter, Jean Claude Carriere, talked about how one of the attractions of the project (despite its challenges) was it meant encountering a great story that no one had ever heard of…. at least not in the West…
And I got to thinking….
There is this enormous attraction in throwing off one’s cultural “core assumptions” about what a good story is, how long it should take, and how it should be structured. To just shoot that internal “Western story editor” who keeps saying, “Can’t we cut here? How can anybody sit still for that long? And can we lose all the philosophical stuff and stick to the action?” It’s the silencing of that nagging voice that there is a “right way” to tell stories that I find so exhilarating. And that’s also why I love the Noh drama so much, because its way of telling a story is so different (in its focus on heightened emotion) from the “connect the major beats” approach that Aristotle gave us after attending the 5th Century BC Opening of “Oedipus Rex.” So there is a sense of opening to a different way of exploring things, of building an intersection between Western thought and something different, that I find so compelling.
And yet…
No sooner do I think all this than a big bucketful of negative emotions flood my mind about cultural imperialism, “Orientalism,” and cherry-picking other cultures like the World was just one great big LL Bean catalog!
And like Arjuna says to Krishna before the battle, “My mind is filled with illusions. My bow slips from my hand. I will sit here and wait for death.”
So I’m curious…
Have you discovered any great stories from another culture that liberated your thinking?
If so, did you then feel stricken with guilt?
Tell me! I’d like to know!
In the meantime, I’ll be wondering what a modern version of Arjuna’s dilemma might be. If I come up with anything, I’ll share them in the next post!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
The seduction of the new story
Since I last blogged, we had a great reading of my play, “Dearest Frank Lights A Cigar,” at Arclight Rep in San Jose. What a gas – just one of those times where you feel incredibly jazzed to be working in the theater!
It also got me thinking about the question of differing perspectives – comparing what the audience is seeing and feeling with what’s going on in my own head as the observer/writer.
When I look at the audience, there’s this wonderful moment when you sense they are truly “seduced” – and how a major element of this seduction is… Well… now how should I put this?…that they’ve never heard the story before! It’s brand new! What will happen next? Who will live? Who will die? All that good stuff!
Unfortunately, as the writer, I can’t put myself back in that “don’t know how it’s going to come out” space. Sigh… Instead, I’m on my own individual roller-coaster ride – beginning with anxiety and fear and then morphing into a sense of surprise and, yes, joy.
In particular, it’s great to contrast whatever expectations I might have coming in to the reading with the reality of the performance. Of course, each time a play is done it brings out fresh results thanks to the actors and the director. New sensibilities bring new life to the characters! In that sense I do get to discover them all over again:
• So I saw a new sly sexy humor in “the KGB man” from Chad Eschman.
• From Mark Gelineau I saw how “Trofim” holds the mirror up to many of us who wish to be honorable and good but just can’t.
• Johanna Hembry was an almost uncanny incarnation of “Greta” while Elizabeth Hess “left it all out there on the field” with her total commitment to “Varvara.”
• Ravi Soundararajan brought his wit, great good humor, and intelligence to “Henry”.
• Finally, David Koppel showed the “impresario” side to “Frank” that I had never seen before. No surprise perhaps - as David is the Artistic Director at Arclight!
And, as I thought about this trade-off between discovering something for the first time and having a more informed perspective, I had a “flash back” – to junior high school – oh, so long ago, when we still had things like, “Music Appreciation.”
Not that we appreciated it very much!
Oh, yes! I remember being led to the “music room” – all of us shuffling along in the “condemned prisoner” mode. Culture! Yuck! Can’t we go outside and play? And, as we were eye-rolling about the torture to come, the teacher put on Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony.
Oh, my God! That great and stirring music came flying out of the speakers! For the first time! I had never heard anything like it. It was like thunderbolts from the hand of Jupiter! It was perfect! It was laughter and inexpressible sadness and every other word you can throw at it!
When the music ended, I had to learn more. So I read a biography of Mozart by the great musicologist Eric Blom. I remember how he concluded his analysis of the opera “Don Giovanni” by saying how much he envied anyone who had never heard the opera before. What a pleasure! To not know how the story ended! To not have heard its exquisite melodies! To be continually surprised and seduced! He said he’d trade all of his profound knowledge of the piece just to recapture that thrill of discovery once more.
And I remember, as I read those poignant lines, thinking that I had never heard the opera before. Wow! I would soon enjoy the experience Eric Blom could never have again. And I remember feeling so young and free and blessed!
Of course, as I write this blog, I am in exactly the same fix as poor old Eric! I too wish I could hear for the first time the great Don lift his champagne glass to the sky and sing, “Viva la liberta!”
So, I’m curious...
Have you discovered anything lately that falls into that “Don Giovanni” kind of experience? One that just washed your windows, blew the doors off, and rolled your socks up and down?
If you could choose to experience something again for the first time, what would it be?
It also got me thinking about the question of differing perspectives – comparing what the audience is seeing and feeling with what’s going on in my own head as the observer/writer.
When I look at the audience, there’s this wonderful moment when you sense they are truly “seduced” – and how a major element of this seduction is… Well… now how should I put this?…that they’ve never heard the story before! It’s brand new! What will happen next? Who will live? Who will die? All that good stuff!
Unfortunately, as the writer, I can’t put myself back in that “don’t know how it’s going to come out” space. Sigh… Instead, I’m on my own individual roller-coaster ride – beginning with anxiety and fear and then morphing into a sense of surprise and, yes, joy.
In particular, it’s great to contrast whatever expectations I might have coming in to the reading with the reality of the performance. Of course, each time a play is done it brings out fresh results thanks to the actors and the director. New sensibilities bring new life to the characters! In that sense I do get to discover them all over again:
• So I saw a new sly sexy humor in “the KGB man” from Chad Eschman.
• From Mark Gelineau I saw how “Trofim” holds the mirror up to many of us who wish to be honorable and good but just can’t.
• Johanna Hembry was an almost uncanny incarnation of “Greta” while Elizabeth Hess “left it all out there on the field” with her total commitment to “Varvara.”
• Ravi Soundararajan brought his wit, great good humor, and intelligence to “Henry”.
• Finally, David Koppel showed the “impresario” side to “Frank” that I had never seen before. No surprise perhaps - as David is the Artistic Director at Arclight!
And, as I thought about this trade-off between discovering something for the first time and having a more informed perspective, I had a “flash back” – to junior high school – oh, so long ago, when we still had things like, “Music Appreciation.”
Not that we appreciated it very much!
Oh, yes! I remember being led to the “music room” – all of us shuffling along in the “condemned prisoner” mode. Culture! Yuck! Can’t we go outside and play? And, as we were eye-rolling about the torture to come, the teacher put on Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony.
Oh, my God! That great and stirring music came flying out of the speakers! For the first time! I had never heard anything like it. It was like thunderbolts from the hand of Jupiter! It was perfect! It was laughter and inexpressible sadness and every other word you can throw at it!
When the music ended, I had to learn more. So I read a biography of Mozart by the great musicologist Eric Blom. I remember how he concluded his analysis of the opera “Don Giovanni” by saying how much he envied anyone who had never heard the opera before. What a pleasure! To not know how the story ended! To not have heard its exquisite melodies! To be continually surprised and seduced! He said he’d trade all of his profound knowledge of the piece just to recapture that thrill of discovery once more.
And I remember, as I read those poignant lines, thinking that I had never heard the opera before. Wow! I would soon enjoy the experience Eric Blom could never have again. And I remember feeling so young and free and blessed!
Of course, as I write this blog, I am in exactly the same fix as poor old Eric! I too wish I could hear for the first time the great Don lift his champagne glass to the sky and sing, “Viva la liberta!”
So, I’m curious...
Have you discovered anything lately that falls into that “Don Giovanni” kind of experience? One that just washed your windows, blew the doors off, and rolled your socks up and down?
If you could choose to experience something again for the first time, what would it be?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Speed dating for playwrights
When we last left off, I was leaving the “core assumptions” seminar and heading to the playwright/director “speed dating.” Of course, when I initially heard about this, my first thought was, “What should I wear?” I asked friends for fashion advice but the only response I got was, “Show lots of cleavage.” Yikes! Good luck with that!
So I got to the room and it was like high school – 40 people milling around with the boys on one side and the girls on the other – except they were writers and directors. In the middle of the room was a line of chairs – laid out in 20 facing pairs. To fit the small room, the chairs were right next to each other – so you could slide your “buns of steel “from one to the other without ever standing up!
Then the “host” explained the rules.
• It’d be a series of 2 minute rounds.
• Each of us would have a ID code (I was P11) and a scorecard.
• We would "date" another person and decide if they were a “match”.
• If so, we’d write their ID code on our cards.
• Rinse, wash, repeat!
The facilitators would then gather the cards, tally the “matches”, and send out contact info.
Okay, everybody - ready, steady, go!
Immediately I was engulfed in a nosecone of noise as 40 people talked/shouted! I felt I was falling down a deep, dark cavern of sound! I began to float effortlessly without hitting the ground. So peaceful!
Then my first “date” said in a booming voice “I have a question!”
It turned out he had a very specific need for an existing cast. I didn’t have anything that remotely matched. I thought, “It is like high school. I’m striking out again! But I have a car this time! And a job! Please like me!” I was even ready to lie! “Why, yes! I am working on a play about left-handed Lithuanians! Funny you should ask!” But before I could develop this fantasy further, it was time to move on!
And the game was on! Every two minutes, the “host” would blow his whistle and I’d slide down to the next director. I heard myself talking over and over about Noh drama and medieval morality plays and Monty Python and combining high and low cultures and creating a sense of "counterpoint" between the dialogue and the movement of bodies on stage. These are all things I believe in deeply - but if you say the same thing enough times, it begins to sound absurd! Eventually, I even got bored with myself and wanted to invent a different “Scott”:
“Yes, I write murder mystery plays. I’m a Taurus. I’m into single malt Scotch. How about you?”
Fortunately, I knew some of the directors. So each time I reached one of them we would rest and share notes. I got the impression that the “pressure to perform” was definitely on the playwrights. It was a little like a Hollywood “pitch meeting” where the writer has to catch the director’s attention immediately with some snappy patter, as in:
“My play is like Mourning Becomes Electra but on a space ship – with zombies!”
Hearing this relaxed me in an odd way. I didn’t have a “project” to sell. I was looking more for a “relationship” than a one night stand! So I started looking deeply into the eyes of each director, smiling sweetly, batting my eyes, and saying:
• “Would you like to go first?”
• “Shall we talk about you?”
• “What is your work like?”
• “Who has influenced you?”
And, just as I was starting to enjoy myself, the final whistle blew! Game over!
Time to tally up the results! Oh, no! My scorecard was totally scrambled! Was “D2” the nice Romanian woman or the kid with red hair? Was “D7” the PhD in Comp Lit or the circus acrobat? I’d made a hash of things again!
So I’m curious….
Have you ever done speed dating? Was it in a… ahem… theatrical context? Did you… ahem… “hook up” later? Let me know!
Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting here by the phone! Directors! They never call!
So I got to the room and it was like high school – 40 people milling around with the boys on one side and the girls on the other – except they were writers and directors. In the middle of the room was a line of chairs – laid out in 20 facing pairs. To fit the small room, the chairs were right next to each other – so you could slide your “buns of steel “from one to the other without ever standing up!
Then the “host” explained the rules.
• It’d be a series of 2 minute rounds.
• Each of us would have a ID code (I was P11) and a scorecard.
• We would "date" another person and decide if they were a “match”.
• If so, we’d write their ID code on our cards.
• Rinse, wash, repeat!
The facilitators would then gather the cards, tally the “matches”, and send out contact info.
Okay, everybody - ready, steady, go!
Immediately I was engulfed in a nosecone of noise as 40 people talked/shouted! I felt I was falling down a deep, dark cavern of sound! I began to float effortlessly without hitting the ground. So peaceful!
Then my first “date” said in a booming voice “I have a question!”
It turned out he had a very specific need for an existing cast. I didn’t have anything that remotely matched. I thought, “It is like high school. I’m striking out again! But I have a car this time! And a job! Please like me!” I was even ready to lie! “Why, yes! I am working on a play about left-handed Lithuanians! Funny you should ask!” But before I could develop this fantasy further, it was time to move on!
And the game was on! Every two minutes, the “host” would blow his whistle and I’d slide down to the next director. I heard myself talking over and over about Noh drama and medieval morality plays and Monty Python and combining high and low cultures and creating a sense of "counterpoint" between the dialogue and the movement of bodies on stage. These are all things I believe in deeply - but if you say the same thing enough times, it begins to sound absurd! Eventually, I even got bored with myself and wanted to invent a different “Scott”:
“Yes, I write murder mystery plays. I’m a Taurus. I’m into single malt Scotch. How about you?”
Fortunately, I knew some of the directors. So each time I reached one of them we would rest and share notes. I got the impression that the “pressure to perform” was definitely on the playwrights. It was a little like a Hollywood “pitch meeting” where the writer has to catch the director’s attention immediately with some snappy patter, as in:
“My play is like Mourning Becomes Electra but on a space ship – with zombies!”
Hearing this relaxed me in an odd way. I didn’t have a “project” to sell. I was looking more for a “relationship” than a one night stand! So I started looking deeply into the eyes of each director, smiling sweetly, batting my eyes, and saying:
• “Would you like to go first?”
• “Shall we talk about you?”
• “What is your work like?”
• “Who has influenced you?”
And, just as I was starting to enjoy myself, the final whistle blew! Game over!
Time to tally up the results! Oh, no! My scorecard was totally scrambled! Was “D2” the nice Romanian woman or the kid with red hair? Was “D7” the PhD in Comp Lit or the circus acrobat? I’d made a hash of things again!
So I’m curious….
Have you ever done speed dating? Was it in a… ahem… theatrical context? Did you… ahem… “hook up” later? Let me know!
Meanwhile, I’ll be sitting here by the phone! Directors! They never call!
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