Each spring semester most of the foreign language departments (or at least the larger ones) put on a production in the respective language as a tool to develop more interest throughout the university in their classes and for students at various levels to have an opporutnity to improve.

I was involved in a small community children’s theatre growing up and have had first experience in rehearsal processes, but this was certainly unique.  For most rehearsals there is reading, memorizing lines, blocking out where the actors should go on stage and developing their actions, then constant repetition till i t all runs smoothly.  And, in those first stages an actor will say a line many different ways, each with different intonations or emotions; in those instances there is a want to clearly communicate the character’s feelings to the audience.  The delivery of a line can change the entire tone of a play, and for all of the performers involved in this production no matter our ”level” of french, delivery was not something that we could simply generate ourselves.

And in a play as dense and intricate as Sartre’s, there is so much going on behind the words: it’s dark, and funny, but still sad, shocking, and depressing usually all at the same time.  So, our rehearsal process consisted of trusting the native speaker who directed, and having to listen to him deliver the lines over and over and over, and then imitating him to the best of our ability.   Everyone’s scripts were covered in notes of arrows indicating change in pitch or tone, lengthening or shortening of vowels, and phonetic spellings of uncommon words.

Due to this difficulty in just learning the lines, the play was broken down by scene with different actors taking over the parts every 30 minutes or so.  And, as I got to watch my counterparts some of them pulled it off gracefully as if they were native speakers themselves, but had little else going….so it seemed like watching a simple conversation.  Others never quite got the hang of it and croaked out some of the most hideous, wrong sounds I’ve ever heard….but were obviously good actors who had very thoughtful controlled movements and facial expressions.

When this happened, this divorce between what I was hearing and seeing, it made me think about which was more important….the physical acting or the linguistic?

Specifically, two actresses who were sharing the same role.  In watching both of them I came to the conclusion that, for me, the way an actor manipulates their voice is the most important.  While watching the good physical actress I couldn’t help but be distracted by her voice, and for the actor who was “boring” but spoke well I found myself more easily invested in her performance.

This was of course a play under special circumstances, but I think that seem principle would apply to other productions as well.  Perhaps I find the vocalization of a character to be more important because plays in general are not heavily based on the physical.  The very space of a theatre allows only the first few rows to clearly see all the physical aspects of a performance, and with many of the plays that we have read the emphasis has been on speeches and monologues rather than physical actions (I’m thinking of the many plays that feature someone relating the events of a battle or fight rather than it transpiring on stage- Hippolytus, Le Cid, etc.).

Jason is an entertainment lawyer, Clauce is fresh from receiving a degree in PR (and thus becomes his intern thanks to her father, a CEO of a major company Jason represents), the kids are standard pot-smoking hooligans complaining about the boring life of the suburbs, but Medea is represented in traditional African robes and speaks in a manner more similar to a character of ancient greece.  Her name is also changed to “Media” and although it is never strictly said the other characters of the play lead us to believe that she is some sort of former rock star or perhaps a celebrity in the world of performance art (which is how the kids explain her bizzare dress and behavior).

On top of all of these changes and modifications the characters often frequently address the audience to acknowledge that they are aware of their Euripides’ counterparts, that they know exactly what will happen to them, and they struggle to avoid the tragic ending (by trying to hide the children, stopping Clauce and Jason from having sex, and certain other exploits that fail to stop Medea’s rage).

I suppose that I had an issue with all of these threads happening at the same time.  The play was all at once a modernization, a metatheatrical comment on classic narratives and their connection to fate; it seemed that the connecting thread between these two ideas was the over-saturation of media in our culture and the impact of pop-culture on people, especially youth.  But there were so many moving parts, just based on the script alone it was hard to really untangle all of the different elements happening, and for me would require multiple viewings.

It also seemed that the set, costumes, and rock music sequences (yes, all of the deaths were musicalized, accompanied by guitar, and featured unsettling lighting/fog machine effects) were an attempt to compensate for the dense, intellectual nature of the script.  The set would spin, or a spotlight would be used to focus our attention on one person’s specific face.  For me, I was left with the impression that instead of putting on a play, the intention was to put together a live cinematic experience.  Which I found distracting.

Theatre in general over the last ten years seems to have entered into a strange relationship with film- for instance, most new Broadway musicals are based on films or pre-established pop culture characters (the Addam’s family, Mel Brooks, Spiderman…).  I also noted that in the space where this play took place were two stages, one holding a performance of Medea and the other holding a performance of Point Break Live- a theatrical, musical staging of the Keanu Reeves film Point Break.  Apparently for each performance a random member of the audience is selected to play Keanu Reeves’ role by reading it off of cue cards, and then singing karaoke style (the message being that anyone is a better acto than Keanu Reeves).

My friends were of course highly critical of their next-door competition, saying that it was stupid and trivial.  I agree, but I also think that if cinematic qualities in a theatrical setting is  becoming a trend- it might not be so well suited for real artistic pursuits…. I believe the intention was to include all of these “special effects” to truly modernize an older story for today’s iphone using audience.  Unfortunately,  it felt so convoluted and confusing that I couldn’t help but wish all these fog machines and musical instruments were more fun, like a Keanu Reeves movie is sometimes.

The play of course recounts the story of the roman emperor who lost his mind, enacted harsh, strange rules over the populace, and had multiple people executed for little to no reason.

Overall, this was my favorite play I saw this semester.  I enjoyed this setting very much, and allowed the actors to really take center stage; there were no elaborate costumes or set pieces; and because it was not a strict “theatrical” event- meaning that these were not necessarily students of theatre or even trained actors- there was a sense of playfulness that really added to the production in multiple ways.

First off, they managed to extract some real humor from a dark storyline.  There were few laugh-out-loud guffaw moments, but the energy of the piece seemed to be more lighthearted, which I found really aided the strong, dark, and philosophical content to more easily come across.

In particular, the student who portrayed Caligula just seemed to be having so much fun.  Each menacing act was followed by sarcastic quips and exaggerated gestures as if he were dancing at a ball that made Caligula seem even more insane and terrifying.  It also worked to keep the most dramatic or explosive scenes shocking, and more unnerving.
There was of course the element of questioning morality- the basic idea that is central to Caligula’s behavior is an attitude of “Why should one action be good, and another bad,” while his generals still say they hold themselves to a higher moral code and are willing to relinquish some freedoms for the security of others.  And, in the script these conversations are fairly heavy handed- it is Camus after all- with regards to their philosophical musings, but I think the cast did a good job of keeping these higher ideals intact without sacrificing entertainment value or tensions between the characters.

Overall, in comparison to the other pieces I had seen this semester I think I was just taken with the simplicity of the event. It was easy and relaxed, while remaining interesting and thought provoking.   I think that for me the loss of some normal theatrical efforts, in the way of lights, and sound, and sets, and even rows of seats, was really a gain.

I don’t agree with Moliere, at all.  As far as I can tell from reading his plays, I do like the guy though.  If I knew him, we would probably get along well.  On many things I imagine we hold similar attitudes.  However, if he started to talk about how his plays help people, or about how his plays are superior to Horace’s poetry….I would have to laugh, then frown, then warn him against seeming a ridiculous fool.

One thing about his work, so far, that really disturbs and troubles me, is in School for Wives Criticized. In this play, he dismisses Aristotle and Horace outright,  painting their proponents as snobbish and common-folk-hating; all the while placing himself as some ‘man of the people’ .  ….

Now, reader, if you read the play, do not at this point trap yourself in the circle Moliere creates, where his opponents are of one sort, and he of one other.  That is, do not think I am taking a position like those ‘represented’ positions in the play, and know that  knowing those arguments will give you no better understanding of the position I take; that Moliere is a somewhat bitter and dishonest prick.  I say that with love, and in teasing, mind you.  I have very dear friends who are of the same sort.  However, he was doing something very foul in bringing Horace and Aristotle into the debate to the effect sinking them with the jerks attacking him.

Yes, it is a somewhat big deal, too, because he was the most popular playwrite in France, had the support of the King, and a good deal of influence over the people.  This means, he had actual power and influence, and he used it to relegate and dismiss Horace of all people.  Horace, whose poetry truly is beneficial, well crafted, and accessible to the masses (it’s not complex, tricky stuff–even though it’s quite brilliant).  He did this while being a hypocrite, to the extent that the king and court were  saved from his observations of “human ridiculousness” , yet he would attack the upper-class intellectuals for having an inverse form of prejudice.  Again, though, even here, in giving such attention to Moliere, I get away from the point:  Horace’s work is actually GOOD for people, while Moliere’s is questionable.  I’m not saying he’s so terrible, or even that he’s bad, just that the outcome of reading Moliere is certainly not an improved character, or even much of an interest in improving one’s character–only in concealing, or dimming faults.  On the other hand, after reading Horace, there’s a sense of increased warmth, integrity, and confidence in the value of being good and modest.  Sappy sounding, yeah, but just read his poem against greed and tell me you don’t think it’s the kind of literature you would want to educate children and youth with (if you don’t care about the education of children, and/or don’t want to have your own, then…read no more; issues of society and the future really ought not concern you–finish out your life with less to worry about).

Moliere is a great playwrite, and his plays and his story sit prominently in European History.  They can be helpful in this way, helping us to understand a culture and time in history, but to entertain the notion that he might better humanity, reduce our faults–this is, in my opinion, very far from the truth.

Moliere claims to help people by showing us our character faults, yet he has no alternative to offer, and the faults are exaggerated to the point that we may falsely count high character where there are actually faults and hatefulness simmering unnoticed just beneath the surface–there they are just as bad if not worse.  If being clever, brilliant even, is enough a reason to give a writer audience, then by all means let’s celebrate Moliere.   On the other hand, seeing faults and ridiculousness in mankind is  nothing I need Moliere’s help with, and I’d just assume not make the vice I hope to avoid my very focus.  This kind of  goal usually ends ironically, and thanks to Aristotle, I’m a bit more wary of being ironic.

            “Romulus Ate leads the audience on a conquest through the senses as an eleven-person cast takes the stage in a music, light, and dance spectacular. The ensemble is a blend of dancers, musicians, and technicians that transform the stage into a performance universe, from which every element of the piece is controlled and executed. The lights and audio are controlled from onstage control stations, and live percussionists perform additional music. Conceived and directed by Michael Howell”

            To be honest, I don’t even know where to begin my attempt to sum up and describe this show. It’s one of those shows that you have to see in order to truly understand what is said about it. It’s difficult to put it into words, but I will try. A couple words that to me characterize the style of dancing and movements employed (sometimes simultaneously, sometimes different at various parts of the show): puppet-like, zombie-like, jerky, and sometimes even appearing like seizures (at times restricted to certain body parts, at times fully-body). At some point during the performance it even occurred to me that the movements really reminded me of the discussion about catatonic schizophrenia in my abnormal psychology class last semester. For those who have never heard of that condition:

“cat·a·to·ni·a  /ˌkæt əˈtoʊ ni ə, -ˈtoʊn yə/ [kat-uh-toh-nee-uh, -tohn-yuh]

–nounPsychiatry.

a syndrome seen most frequently in schizophrenia, characterized by muscular rigidity and mental stupor, sometimes alternating with great excitement and confusion.”

The reason why I thought about it is because, although the movements were primarily very stiff and the facial expression very dramatic, zombie-like, and stiff as well, the dancers seemed to flow more smoothly and appeared overcome with excitement/amazement when approaching the light fixtures. During certain times, the lights were precisely controlled to slowly dim when a dancers’ hand would draw nearer and grow brighter when the hand would withdraw. (That must have taken a lot of skill and practice.) The dancers were confused about this happening and were absolutely mesmerized by the stage lights (lightbulbs installed on long stalks and neon light sticks). It was like watching the pre-historic apes be amazed with the first fire. Quite different and powerful. But somehow the dancers made these strange movements, which sound quite disgraceful and odd, appear beautiful in their own unique way. I think that part of the reason for that is the way that they went along with the music and lights. The light, the music, and the dancers’ movements were all very in sync with each other, which produced a very powerful and exciting effect on me.

            A very interesting, surprising, and exciting part of the show was the dancers spreading into the audience and among its members. They ran off the stage and spread out across the room, some climbing over the seats in order to make their way up! It came as quite a shock to me, as to everyone else in the audience, I’m sure. Some performers (including the director, who sang and performed during the show) even sat in the empty seats next to some viewers! That was the first time I have ever seen that done at any kind of show. It pushed my conception of theater and performing arts to completely new limits! I was really impressed. What’s even more interesting is that watching the viewers’ reactions to all this became a part of the performance itself (at least to me; but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who thought so)!! This immediately made me think of our class discussion about being watched while you’re viewing a theatrical performance (or having your reaction to a movie be observed by others in the theater). I found it quite amusing to see the looks on the people’s faces, as the bizarre-looking, zombie-like dancers sat next to them, making faces, and staring them down. The barrier between the stage and the audience was broken, to everyone’s great surprise. The forth wall disappeared and the show took on quite a different perspective. I even became overwhelmed at times as I kept turning my head to different directions, trying to follow all the different performers jumping around the audience and interacting with its members.

            One last comment about something interesting that happened during the show:  very soon after the show began, the DJ had a technical difficulty with the music. Once the lights turned off (with the light from the DJ’s laptop being the only source of light) and the dancers were preparing for the next scene, there was a long pause. As it grew longer and longer, the audience became more and more impatient and curious, which was made obvious by the increasing noise level of talking. After a few minutes the audience members started trying to cheer on the DJ by applauding and maybe trying to ‘fix’ the awkward silence as well. This was unfortunate, because a lot of the buildup of excitement worked up from the beginning of the show was starting to die out. This made me think about the importance of the fluidity of the acts between each other and within the show and about the importance of the speed/tempo of the acts. If a pause is too long (pertaining to any show), the performance gets boring and the audience becomes impatient. However, everyone got very excited once the problem was fixed and the show resumed its course. It’s also worthy to note that these types of mess-up and issues are what make different showing of the same performance unique and in a way different from one another.  

            Overall, I really enjoyed this hour-long performance; I felt like my senses were overwhelmed with the continuous and extreme flow of visual, auditory, and even tactile information. It was quite an amazing experience, and I really hope that they do it again in the future, for the benefit of those who did not get a chance to experience it!

This version of a Midsummer’s Night was mostly faithful to the play, with five or six additional singing scenes thrown in.  I was expecting much more of a musica, but the people who adapted this play chose to keep the songs more unobtrusive.  The songs featured many of Shakespeare’s lines, and seemed to serve the same purpose as the occasional song Shakespeare put into his own plays.  The entire play had a 60’s theme, the actors wore 60ths cloths, and the songs were all reminiscent of popular songs from the time period.

There were not many large changes to the play, other than the songs, when I compare it to other version I have seen.  Overall it was a very good adaptation of the play.  The actress playing Helena gave a welcome enthusiasm and bit of obsessive feel to her love for Demitrius, that made me laugh at all the scenes she was in.  All the actors overall delivered their lines well, and kept in motion constantly, veering against each other (in the case of Lysander and Demitrius when they were rivals for Hermia’s love), or between the lovers.  The actor who portrayed Puck added a slightly aggressive feel to the role, making his actions seem to be more than thoughtless mischief.

The same actor and actress played Theseus and Hippolyta as well as Titania and Oberon.  Hippolyta did not have many lines in the play, but Titania was entertaining.  Theseus was a bit too pompous as the duke, and played the role of Oberon much better.

One of my favorite aspects about the play was the fact that it took place outside.  I really enjoy this aspect of the theater, and being able to look down on the audience and just see the silhouettes of their heads against the stage.  The weather was mostly nice, about 80 degrees, and unfortunately there was a bug problem that heralds the start of summer.  Luckily, the family in front of me used incense to keep the bugs off, which worked for most of the play.

Overall though, an extremely fun time and I think it is probably worthwhile to seek out new forms of entertainment that we don’t usually participate in so we can experience the kind of innocent joy I experienced at this performance.

Beach House was a totally different experience.  Full Disclosure: I was drinking at the concert, as I had just turned 21.  But despite this inebriation, I am sure this concert was a beautiful one.  The band Beach House makes beautiful songs that have a very melancholy atmosphere, and I am quite sure this concert was objectively great.  The music was loud, the crowd was energetic, and I had a ridiculously fun time.  The show offered a different form of joy from that of the theater.  For one, I didn’t have to intellectually engage with Beach House for it to be a fun experience.  The music overwhelmed me on a very visceral level, and I went into sort of a primal state, where dancing no longer felt awkward and my enjoyment was as immediate as a joy can be.  Writing on this, I can’t help but think about Nietzsche’s concepts of the Dionysian and Apollonian.  They derive from the God of Wine (Dionysus) and the God of Dreams (Apollo).  The Apollonian is described by Nietzsche in The Birth of Tragedy as “The higher truth, the perfection of these states in contrast to the incompletely unintelligible everyday world […] measured restraint, that freedom from the wilder emotions.”  In contrast, the Dionysian music is described as ”pure primordial pain and its primordial echoing.”  As Nietzsche said, “The Dionysian, [is] brought home to us most intimately perhaps by the analogy of drunkenness.”  The experience he describes is one of a sort of basic communal connection, where the entire audience enters into a sort of frenzied, drunken, ecstatic state.  Have any of you had this sort of experience at a concert?

I most enjoyed the playing of Helena. The actress’s reading was the most natural and, thus, more lyrical to the ear.

I found the material a little boring, for it seemed like just another telling of “The Breakfast Club,” but even though I was only mildly interested in the characters’, I did become more interested in them as the story progressed. As we discussed in class, it seems natural to want to hear the “end of the story,” and even though the story was somewhat simple, it had a nice little arc that led the viewer to feel that “something” was going to happen.

There was a bit of metatheatre in the production. At one point, a female character, an actress, performs a spoken-word piece in front of her friends (the other characters). The material she performed stood in contrast to the material of the play (she gave a gripping reading about sex and violence). I realize that one of the valuable things about metatheatre is the opportunity it provides to “break” from the material. This break reinvigors the audience, inviting them to “recommit” to the story as a whole.

Material/ideas included in the metatheatre give the audience something with which to compare and contrast