Bubblegum Part 2 : The Mystery of Love & Sex @ ACT

Time to put this idea into practice.

Show: The Mystery of Love & Sex by Bathsheba Doran

Theatre: ACT in Seattle

Tickets: ACTPass Membership

Date & Time: Sunday, June 19th @ 7pm

One of the things I've been told I need to do with these is to lay out my expectations of the show. In that vein I must divulge that I went into this show a little unsure. This was the show that was labeled "bubblegum" by a colleague a few weeks ago. I tried to go into this viewing with an open-mind, but that critique was there and to pretend it wasn't is a disservice. Keeping that in mind:

Overall, the show was good. Despite being three weeks into the run and the last night of a long week of shows, the energy of the cast was there. I was wholly impressed with the commitment to the characters on stage by the actors. I'll admit I spent an unnecessary amount of the first act trying to remember that I'd just recently seen Emily Chisholm in Outside Mullingar at The Rep last season. But I tend to obsess over things like that until I can re-read the program looking for an answer.

Since I chose to lead with the assessment of the energy of the piece, that might point to whether I, too, imagine it to be bubblegum. To be clear, the explanation of bubblegum theatre is: "Sure it has flavors of racial struggle or LGBT oppression or meta-theatrical-revolution. But then you chew on it for a couple hours, it loses all flavor, and it ends up being tossed out with the program." I found myself saying to my husband at intermission, things felt too superficial. There were so many issues being tackled by the play--race, religion, sexuality, politics, socio-economics, gender roles, etc--that no one thing felt, at that point, to be given enough attention to feel worthwhile. I still felt that way at the end of the show, my opinion countered with the observation that, well, isn't that life? Do we actually spend every waking moment dealing with one or two BIG issues or are they all converging at the same time, bouncing off of one another, and changing with every passing moment and interaction? True. And perhaps it's my cynicism, but I want theatre to gob-smack me a little bit more and not feel so nicely tied up in a bow at the end.

And here's an important thing to ask: Am I the intended audience for this play? Or is the intended audience your average person who makes their living outside of the arts and who might, in fact, not question gender and sexuality politics on a daily basis. The average person who needs to unpack their feelings about being titillated by the nudity of the young female character in Act 1 but feeling like the nudity of the young man in Act 2 is gratuitous. Maybe the average person who thinks it's unlikely that both young characters explore homosexual relationships and have no interest in exploring a heterosexual relationship with one another. Etc.

No, I'm not really the intended audience member. The goal of this production is not to wow the theatre artists in the room. If it had been the set probably wouldn't have been such a simple answer to the many locations called for in the play (6, if you're counting, ranging from dorm room to backyard). It was elegant and effective and I think quite well done, but it was, for me with my set designer hat on, a little too static (despite multiple moving pieces). If it had been about the theatre artists in the room, they probably would not have used the door sound effect that I've heard in other productions in the Allen Theatre because for some reason when an actor walks into the vom* we won't intuit they go through an imaginary door in the imaginary walls unless we hear the sound of it open and close. Really, if it had been about the theatre artists in the room, would the play have been presented at all? Or, if it had, would it have been done in a post-apocolyptic, gender-bending manner that so many theatre artists employ to inject something into your average play? Maybe. Maybe not.

So again, the play was good. I laughed. I thought some things (often quickly brought out of deep thinking by the jokes). I even teared up at the end thinking of the meaning of friendship as the bow was tied nicely around the story. However, it isn't going to stick with me long term and maybe that means it's bubblegum. Or maybe it's just a production that exists. I feel neither robbed of my evening nor galvanized to make changes in the world at large or in my small circle of relationships. I could take it or leave it.

And, readers, that's not okay.

Leaving aside my feelings about the aesthetics of the show because, let's be honest, I picked apart the Tony-winning costume design of Hamilton so clearly I'll critique anything, the play itself should move me. I'm still a person who is married; who has questioned her sexuality; who is navigating the building, destruction, and definition of friendship; who has divorced parents; who went to college; who who who who who.... I am seeking, as implied by the title, to solve the mystery of love and sex. For me to have this "take it or leave it" feeling about the play just as an audience member, well, then I, as a theatre-maker, ask: "Why?" Why spend the resources to put that show up? It checks a lot of boxes: contemporary female playwright, diverse cast (25% is black!), dealing with Big Issues of the day (LGBTQ, race, religion, gender), and strong female characters to name a few. But a production should do more then check some boxes, which, when all is said and done, is about what this play has accomplished. Perhaps that's harsh. But let me leave you with this last observation: 35-50% of the house last night was empty and a noticeable amount of people left at intermission. Ticket sales, my friends, are hard to argue with.

And now, some stats:

# of Actors: 4
# of Female Characters: 2
# of Non-white Characters: 1

# of Artistic Team Members Listed on Title Page of Program: 10
# of Female Artistic Team Members: 5
(including: Director, Costume Designer, Production Assistant, Asst. Lighting Designer, & Dialect  Coach)

---
*vom: short for vomitorium

Peer Review?

In my last post, Bubblegum, I discussed Peter Brook's indictment of directors/designers and audience members in their role in creating "Deadly Theatre." There was one other part of the chapter that has been bouncing around in my head, begging for more writing (and something else, which I'll get to in a moment): the role of the critic.

It should come as no surprise that Brook believes the critic's role in promoting deadly theatre is in being too soft and not calling for competence when the piece falters. Brook calls the critic a "pathmaker" towards a better theatre, a necessary part of the ecosystem: "like the fish in the ocean, we need one another's devouring talents to perpetuate the sea bed's existence. However, this devouring is not nearly enough: we need to share the endeavour to rise to the surface." (32) Brook knows that this is not easy for the critic or the artists' on whom the critiques are being made.  Nevertheless, it is necessary as a bridge between the art and the audience. "When the status quo is rotten... the only possibility is to judge events in relation to a possible goal" (32).

There have been countless articles and blogs written about critics in theatre today. In Seattle, the theatre community is very on edge about the role of critics as seen in a Facebook comment discussion  in April of this year after Battleground Productions posted "An Open Letter to Seattle's Theater Community", a satirical lambasting of the critics in Seattle "written" by the late George Bernard Shaw. If you happen to be a part of the Seattle Theatre Artists Facebook page, please, go read the comments. Producers, actors, directors, and even our critics joined in on a, mostly, healthy and civil debate about why the critical response to Seattle theatre has been falling short. Ranging from accusations that only the large theatres are getting print space at The Seattle Times and The Stranger to the usual, touchy belief that reviews are too critical to the point of warding off potential audience members, the conversation boiled on for over 72 hours. Ignoring the personal attacks that floated to the surface, one thing was clear to me: Seattle Theatre Artists are really intelligent, thoughtful people who I'd like to hear more from when they see a show.

And then I read Brook's thoughts:

"It is for this reason that the more the critic becomes an insider, the better. I see nothing but good in a critic plunging into our lives... I would welcome his putting his hands on the medium and attempting to work it himself... [Because the] criticism that theatre people make of one another is usually of devastating severity -- but absolutely precise. The critic who no longer enjoys the theatre is obviously a deadly critic, the critic who loves the theatre but is not critically clear what this means, is also a deadly critic: the vital critic is the critic who has clearly formulated for himself what the theatre could be -- and who is bold enough to throw this formula into jeopardy each time he participates in a theatrical event." (32-33)

I have long wanted to write publicly about the theatre shows that I have seen but have avoided for one very important reason: my career. The idea of reviewing my peers, bosses, and potential bosses seemed like a really bad idea if I wanted to advance in this field. Actually, it still seems like a bad idea. However, perhaps emboldened by Brook's words and my own desire to shape the Seattle theatre community into what I know it can be, I'm going to embark on just that. Kind of.

I am not setting out to be a theatre reviewer or critic in the traditional sense of the term. I'm not going to search out or even take press tickets if they are ever offered to me. I am not aiming to tell audiences one way or another if they should see a show, though that may be a by-product of my writing if more than 5 people ever read my work. I am not going to hide the fact that I am a designer or that I have an agenda in both choosing the plays I see and the ones that I think are important. I am not even going to guarantee this project will last very long.

I am going to be transparent about why and how I am seeing a show. I will divulge how I came by the tickets. I will only write about shows that I see after they've opened out of respect for the preview process. I will be clear about any connections I have with anyone involved in the cast or the creative team. I will strive to be honest and thoughtful in what I write, which brings me to why I am going to try this out.

In life, I try, mostly successfully, to be honest and truthful with people I encounter. I don't talk behind people's backs; anything I say about you to anyone else is something I would say to your face (again, I am only mostly successful in this). For the last nine months I have taken a conversation with a fellow designer to heart: the mark of an amateur is that you do more theatre than you see.  At the time, I wasn't doing much theatre, so I decided to go see it. After every show I had thoughts, so many thoughts! If I'd been so fortunate to have a companion who'd shared my evening at the theatre, then the thoughts could be mulled over, dissected, and processed in conversation. And there it would end. What good does that do? If, as Peter Brook asserts, the critic and the artist has the same goal of shaping theatre into the as yet undefined art-form that is not deadly, then why not make my thoughts more public (and polished). And invite my fellow artists to do the same. I cannot tell you how much more I've valued my peers' opinions about my work, even when negative, over the reviews I've read.

So, after years of contemplation, I'm going to take the plunge and write publicly about the theatre I see. One might call it reviewing, but I hope it will be not only more than but also different than that. I don't plan to write formulaic-ly about the shows--touching on every design element, the directing choices, the stand-out performances--but instead to discuss the things that strike me and also how the show fits into the regional and national dialogues about our art form. And, because I have an agenda to make our industry representative of our society and more diverse in gender, race, culture, ability, among others, I'm going to touch on that when I write. This will probably take the form of a statistical breakdown, but we'll see. Much of this will be a "we'll see." I hope good things will come of it. Perhaps my fellow artists will join me in this endeavor. In fact, I'll be looking for someone to write about my upcoming show at Sound Theatre next month. In the mean time, stay tuned!

___

Brook, Peter. The Empty Space: A Book About Theatre; Deadly, Rough, Holy, Immediate. Touchstone: 1995. Print.

Bubblegum

Recently a colleague wrote to me about seeing a professional show currently opening here in Seattle. His overall assessment of the show was that it was good-- good acting, good designs, good directing, good themes-- but that it was still lacking. He said it reminded him of bubblegum: "Sure it has flavors of racial struggle or LGBT oppression or meta-theatrical-revolution. But then you chew on it for a couple hours, it loses all flavor, and it ends up being tossed out with the program."

Just a few days later, I picked up Peter Brook’s The Empty Space again. I first read The Empty Space in my Introduction to Directing class in undergrad, just over ten years ago. As a young theatre student, the book was read and notated based on what I thought was important, but mostly what the professor highlighted in class. Flipping through the pages, my margin-notes are quite sparse. I'd wager this is due to the simple fact that as a 21-year-old whose primary exposure to theatre had been in the cornfields of Iowa, I just didn't know what Peter Brook was on about.

Reading through the first chapter, “The Deadly Theatre,” I can attest that my newly underlined passages and notes are much more prolific and emphatic. As a working theatre-maker with many more years of theatre viewings and designs now under my belt, I profoundly recognize Brook's definition of Deadly Theatre over the course of my career. He indicts every person involved in creating a theatrical production --from actor to director to playwright to audience to critic--no one is innocent in the creation of deadly theatre.The two passages about the role of the director (and designer) and audiences in creating deadly theatre stood out to me and give me pause as I look around at the Seattle Theatre community, my theatre community.

Let us first look at Brook's complaint against designers and directors:

"Deadliness always brings us back to repetition: the deadly director uses old formulae, old methods, old jokes, old effects; stock beginnings to scenes, stock ends; and this applies equally to his partners, the designers and composers, if they do not start each time afresh from the void, the desert and the true question --why clothes at all, why music, what for? A deadly director is a director who brings no challenge to the conditioned reflexes that every department must contain." (39)

The word that stands out to me in that passage is challenge. I think back to the work I did to apply feminist theatre theories to theatrical design practices and am reminded of Dolores Ringer's four questions of design:

1. In the production I am currently working on, what are the explicit and implicit messages about power in gender relations?
2. How does visual language contribute to these explicit and implicit messages?
3. How do I as a woman and designer relate to the visual language and the world around me? How do I visually process information?
4. How have my relationship with other artists in the theatre and the creative and working process I use been constructed? (299)

Ringer specifically charges designers with always questioning what has brought them to the the visual language they are using. What in their lives and their sensibilities, but also what in the world and society as a whole underpins the meaning of our design? If we do not challenge ourselves as designers, how can we possibly expect to be challenging our colleagues or audiences? And, as Brook so pointedly says, an unchallenged audience is a part of the problem.

Brook begins his criticism of the audience with something beyond their control: the price of tickets. He is not making an argument for affordable tickets to increase audience access, but says that the ticket price represents a buy in from the audience that they are wary of for fear of being disappointed: "...the risk is too great, too many disappointments." But that is merely a prelude to his larger complaint of audiences: that their complacency around and acceptance of Deadly Theatre is perpetuating that cycle of disappointments. He baldly says, "If good theatre depends on a good audience, then every audience has the theatre it deserve" (21).

This brings me back to the use of bubblegum to describe "good" theatre that is, ultimately, just Deadly. Good technically and in content, much of the theatre of Seattle, as my colleague put it, is ready to be thrown out with the program in only a few short hours. The theatre I have seen in Seattle over the last two years have left me with only a handful of productions I am still thinking and talking about. Two of the three were touring productions. Seattle leaders and artists that I chatted with early on all said similar things about how the theatres taking risks were our fringe theatres. Unfortunately, they also noted, Seattle audience's fear that they might end up at a “bad” show in a fringe theatre and so still head to the larger, professional houses instead of the cutting-edge fringe theatres when looking for an evening of theatre. Thus, the status quo doesn’t change in the upper echelons of our theatre community because it is being reinforced through ticket sales and, unfortunately, standing ovations.

What then can be done?

At this point, I sense a dire need for the professionals of Seattle to talk earnestly about our community and the theatre that we are producing. In  a recent interview with City Arts Magazine, theatre-leader Valerie Curtis-Newton discusses the Seattle theatre community's tendency to praise artists to their faces but then to turn around and criticize them behind their back. This isn't helping our community of artists and that needs to change. Brook even discusses the need for open, honest communication between professionals so that we can all grow and be better. Even more than that, though, much of the Seattle theatre audience are other artists and practitioners. If we're afraid to be a part of the conversation to raise up the standard of our product than we are, in fact, being served the theatre that we deserve.

___
Brook, Peter. The Empty Space: A Book About Theatre; Deadly, Rough, Holy, Immediate. Touchstone: 1995. Print.

Ringer, Delores. “Re-Visioning Scenography: A Feminist’s Approach to Design for the Theatre.” Theatre and Feminist Aesthetics. Ed. Karen Laughlin and Catherine Schuler. Madison, Farleigh Dickinson UP: 1995. 299-315. Print.