I'm not sure I've posted about it in the context of Salome yet, but I'm sure I've admitted this before: I have difficulty with suspension of disbelief in theatrical settings. I can respect, for example, all of the effort that goes into a well-choreographed stage fight or intimate moment, and I've found it interesting to participate in those sorts of scenes. To the extent that audiences believe them, I can even sort of grasp the appeal and impact of those sorts of scenes. But for me... they just don't do anything?

And I understand that that's a me thing. I really do. (I also find car chases in movies boring AF, and I have fallen asleep on many an action movie final fight between two very similar CGI things chaotically slugging it out.) But it definitely feels not great to be unable to appreciate such deliberately integral elements to so much media? And depending upon the emphasis people place on those elements and how much their appeal derives from their relatability -- particularly when it comes to intimate connections between characters -- it feels not good to be the sort of person who can't appreciate those things. (more...)

As I keep pondering this, it occurs to me that we should define what it means to "just do the play"... because, depending upon what we mean, we pretty much never just do the play. (By some definitions it would be impossible to *just* do the play, since taking on a playwright's work from a different perspective in a wholly different context with crew and actors who also bring their own individuality to the work is necessarily a reinterpretation outside the bounds of the author's intent, even with dramaturgy and casting and an approach designed to remain maximally within the bounds of authorial intent and expectation. And arguably there is *some* room for this sort of reinterpretation to occur and still rightly be "just doing the play," as that is the nature of plays and a playwright who expects their work to be performed must allow for the necessary idiosyncrasies of individual productions.)

But if one means that we should approach classics with a purist's attitude, serving as mouthpieces for the playwright's words and story and morals with minimal alteration or editorializing, then we pretty much never do the play. Even without altering the text at all, staging a production in a different time period brings context with it (and potentially loses other context) that the author neither intended nor imagined. Costuming -- even if it is convincing period costuming -- may similarly add unintended commentary to a production.

And since we rarely perform Shakespeare uncut, what we cut and what we keep is also commentary and deliberate manipulation of the text by the director/dramaturg/etc in order to produce specific outcomes. Even "just do the play" folks cut scripts with specific goals beyond just making it shorter. Specific lines are cut to change how the audience responds to a character. Specific scenes and characters may be cut to alter the relationships of the ones who remain. Lines spoken by one character may be given to another. All of this is not what the author intended and necessarily changes the story. (more...)

(Context -- I recently directed Oscar Wilde's Salome: Rude Mechanicals 1990s Edition. It was my directorial debut and, though no production is without hiccups, ultimately went really well! I remain super proud of it -- though it's been less than a week since we closed, so that's unsurprising.)

Okay, hear me out: The Importance of Being Earnest, but as staged by aliens who weren't entirely up on Earth/Victorian customs. Maybe the cucumber sandwiches are whole-ass cucumbers on hoagie rolls, and maybe Algernon nom-noms them in sprays of (craft foam) bread crumbs and cucumber chunks. Maybe Jack's home in the countryside is scary for no goddamned reason, and maybe Cecily is a haunted doll and Miss Prism a nun charged with containing her. (Maybe Horror Earnest should be a separate thing.) Maybe there's some *other* reason the name Ernest is important, like maybe it's obviously necessary to power-on and take control of the death ray that's been onstage the entire time but never mentioned. I'm just saying -- there are possibilities here.

So what got me tangentially thinking about that was a thing I was told back when I was developing my concept for Salome: "It's okay to just do the play." And -- sure. I've enjoyed productions where the director's intention was to stage a play in as close to its original presentation as possible given our limitations. Period dress, affected accents, furniture of the day and/or conscious attempts to avoid anachronisms in staging. I've been part of these productions (though admittedly not many). It's okay to do them. (more...)

So. I have no idea why I'm being vague about any of this -- dramatic effect? -- but here we go. Some years ago, I was working on a production where the director wanted to set one scene at an outdoor campfire. I could actually appreciate the aesthetic -- a campfire is a perfect setting for spookiness, and this scene did in fact contain spookiness -- but nevertheless early on one of us asked why, given the context, the scene should take place at a campfire. The director's response -- which I rather took to heart -- was effectively, "Shrug. I think it's cool." Noted.

And yet: later, when blocking another dramatic scene, I suggested two assailants entering from opposite entrances in order to converge on their quarry in dramatic fashion, I was effectively told, in kinda dismissive fashion, "That's stupid. Why would they be coming from two different places? On that side is <specific place>; on that side is <other specific place>." Noted.

So the production got reviewed, and reviews explicitly called out the confusing choice of setting that prior scene at a campfire, and there was much commentary about how the review was unfair because it included nitpicks like that. And yet I personally didn't think it was unfair, because we clearly *did* care about things like that throughout. Even if the audience couldn't entirely follow it (I never quite worked it out myself), entrances and exits were blocked according to a floor/nation plan. There were references to a greater world and world-building (that arguably didn't map 1:1 to the text, but it was there). There was, to my mind, clearly enough intention put into the setting to justify criticism where one thought it fell short. (more...)

So yesterday a friend posted a rant, and there was (apparently, ostensibly) much agreement with this rant, and I posted a response that I intended to come off as more nuanced and constructive (and a little bit playful). I don't know how it went over -- I'm not sure if the OP ever saw it -- but another friend replied to that comment with something to the effect of "read the room." And I've been pondering that.

Now, I don't think he was wrong to say that -- I do think he meant it as a constructive, helpful criticism, and after pausing for consideration I agreed with the assessment and deleted my original comment. (I did later see that a few other people had responded along the lines that I did, albeit more briefly and perhaps less infuriatingly, so I am glad that the sentiment was registered and that I'm not singularly awful for offering it.) But really... even if I had read the other comments and seen that that was not the common thread, I'd still have responded as I did? I generally want to be able to speak freely with my friends, and (within certain bounds of decorum, anyway) I feel I owe my friends my honest opinions. (more...)