Friday, May 3, 2013

Show and Tell Post #3- Jesus Hopped the 'A' Train

One of the best plays I’ve ever read is Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train by Stephen Adly Guirgis. It was published in the year 2000 and has been produced in venues such as Center Stage (NY), East 13th Street Theatre (NY), and various other locations around the country. The first production was directed by the famous actor/director Philip Seymour Hoffman and it received lots of positive reviews. I want to say that the play can be found in our theatre library because I believe that’s where I got my copy from, but I’m not certain; it may have been Middleton. Regardless, one of the libraries should have a copy of the play. You can also find a copy of the piece at the following link . The play tells the story of Angel Cruz, a Latino man sent to prison for murdering a reverend who he believed was a colt leader. His layer/defense attorney, Mary Jane Hanrahan, doesn’t believe her client is worth the trouble and Angel does not want to be there, so they butt heads from the start. Due to the daily violence and hate thrown upon him, Angel gets sent to Riker’s Island sort of for protection, but what he gets is anything but. The island is isolated from society; if anything, its solitaire. Angel is allowed an hour outside on the roof every day and here he meets Lucius Jenkins. Jenkins is a black man on death row for multiple murders a.k.a. he’s a serial killer, but he’s converted. He’s one of those guys that’s found the light of God and changed, you know? Well, the two interact by sharing a smoke and from then on it’s history. Things are smooth sailing at first, just casual talk, but later shit gets personal. The two argue about God, faith and beliefs every day; Cruz thinks Jenkins is an idiot wasting his time but Lucius is set on saving the young man before it’s too late. The truth is revealed in all senses of the word throughout their interactions and over the days both men come to realize that they need each other. Unfortunately, by that time it is too late and Jenkins is sent off to Florida to be executed. Meanwhile, Mary Jane believes that her client is innocent and in the next trial she nearly gets him off the hook, until Cruz opens his mouth and screws everything up. There are a lot of critical choices that stick out in this play, one of which is Angel’s feelings on God. Quite frankly, he doesn’t believe in him and doesn’t believe he even exists, which is partially why he’s in prison. The man he killed (Reverend Kim) was a crooked man who brained wash his friend and basically turned him into a salve, that’s why Angel shot him. He wasn’t trying to kill the man; he actually shot him in the ass but the doctors screwed the operation up and Cruz was sort of the scapegoat. Cruz doesn’t believe there’s a God because God wouldn’t let this happen to him, God wouldn’t let that man con people out of their lives and God definitely would be there when he needed him. Ironically, he still prays and that’s actually what keeps him locked up- the little bit of prayer he has left. Another choice is the staging. I’d say %80 of the piece takes place in the two cages for each inmate on the roof. That’s really strange to do, I mean, how would you stage that? I’ve seen productions on YouTube that have the men on separate wooden platforms facing each other and others with cages surrounding the actors. When I presented this scene for directing, I used the mats and boxes to make that claustrophobic feel, but that’s a different story. Another key choice is what Guirgis decides to put on stage and what he just refers too, like the fact that Angel probably got raped before he was moved or that Valdez (guard) more than likely abuses his power and beats on Jenkins because he thinks he’s the scum of the Earth or Jenkins being executed. None of these are portrayed on stage, but we can assume they’ve happened. Duration also plays a huge role in the piece. Most of the play is dialogue, so when certain things are done or specific actions are made, they may get more stage time than others because everything is so locked in.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

The Drowsy Chaperone

There’s a big difference between the show and the show within the show when it comes to Hornby’s elements. Two big differences occur in duration and rhythm. In the “play”, duration is pretty smooth. The script suggests that Man is nothing more than what he is (a man playing a record for the audience); essentially, he’s the narrator. He appears quite often through the show and his actions do effect the presentation, but he’s not part of the plot. On the other hand, the actors who are part of the musical are on stage a lot. I should probably watch the videos, but I feel like it’s safe to say that the songs get lots of stage time compared to the actual dialogue and Man. I agree with Man; musicals aren’t really about conflicts and solutions, they’re about music. I believe a song is sung in every scene and each one deals with a different situation. Then there’s the huge contrast in rhythm. In the musical, tension is constantly being built between characters (Janet calls off the wedding, Feldzieg is avoiding the thugs, Aldolpho gets bamboozled, etc.) until there’s a huge release at the end (everyone gets married except George and Trix, but we assume they live happily ever after in Rio too). Besides the spit scene and the Mimi scene, there really isn’t a release of tension and even those are filled with comedic tension. In the “play”, tension is built and then released by Man. He occasionally interrupts with comments/info, the record skips, he puts the wrong disc on the player and eventually, the power goes out just as the musical is about to end. If we talk of the piece as a whole, then Man is definitely the release of this play because of his interjections. Choice is big too. There are lots of motifs in this piece, along with a lot of parodies. Two strong choices in this piece are 1) Man breaks the fourth wall but the other actors don’t and 2) there’s tons of dramatic irony.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Three Viewings

In Three Viewings, the Green Mill was a common location in each of the three pieces. I thought about this while reading but talking in class really brought it to my attention. I had no idea that the town the characters reference was a real place. I know this isn’t right, but I sort of made everyone go to all the funerals in my head because I felt like at some point in time, these people interacted with each other in some way (sense they were all from the same place). It says in the stage directions that the pieces are connected, so I think everyone knew everyone; it was one of those towns. Something each piece has is discovery. For example, the audience discovers that Emil is a married man at the end of his monologue. The audience also discovers with the characters in the pieces, like when Mac finds out that she accidently killed her family and when Virginia realizes that her husband wasn’t as crappy as he appeared. I think it’d be easy to say this piece is about death, but I took it as a work on life. It’s true that the characters are dealing with the aftermath of deaths to friends/family/loved ones, but none of the monologues are really about mourning. I saw each one as a brighter day, more like the “yolo” foolishness that everyone is on. Each piece shows the results for the living because of the dead (which do suck for the most part), but the living are still living and things can get better.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

On The Verge

The tagline for the poster would be “Progressing through Regression”. We talked about this a bit in class, but I think one of the biggest changes in the script is with the transition of the language the women speak and how it slowly starts to dwindle over time. By the end of the play, the only person still speaking “properly” is Mary, who continues on with the journey. That is significant to the script because it shows the world as it was, is and most likely will be. Overmyer portrays this idea that things do get better over time and that the world is improving, but at the same time it’s falling apart. It’s similar to what that guy in The Cabin in the Woods said; the problem isn’t that we’re so spaced out, the real issue is that we’re all too connected, especially in America. By being so close, people distance themselves from one another if that makes sense. Basically, people are always looking for the next big thing (hint, hint: On The Verge) and because of that they rarely value what they already have. Always looking for more, never satisfied, but I’m being hypocritical so my rant is over now. Image wise, I’d roll with something abstract. I really like the idea of a black and white spiral inside a clock on the poster and the outside of the clock could be scenes from the play like the jungle, the tundra and the yeti, the moon and snow, etc. Locations/time travel is kind of important in this piece and I definitely think that would capture attention. As for Mr. Coffee, we talked about this in class and I’m glad we did because him being “Death” never crossed my mind. I understood the Stock Market Crash reference but I thought he was just some other guy time traveling because when he leaves Fanny, Alex calls him Bebe Rebozo (Nixon’s boy). I could see him as “Death” or some sort of entity though; he’s certainly not from where the ladies are.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

My Other Podium

http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/04/fires-in-mirror-by-smith_13.html?showComment=1366210571913#c4651012151563921475 http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/04/overmayers-on-verge.html?showComment=1366929899701#c189890852719603677 http://korn2130.blogspot.com/2013/04/i-noticed-few-similarities-between.html#comment-form http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-drowsy-chaperone.html?showComment=1367209331093#c20483379961482214

Monday, April 15, 2013

Fires in the Mirror

Well for starters, I’d tell them we can’t cut it because that’s the way Smith wrote it. It’s her piece; who are we to change it just because we can’t find its purpose, not to mention that scratching those sections would delete almost half of the play. That being said, the first section of the play is vital to the rest of the performance because it deals with the incident indirectly. The text of those first few interviewees not only give individual perspectives on life as a black and a Jew, but also sets the tone for where they stand at the present with each other and America. Tensions are high between the two groups because essentially, they are viewed as the same from outsiders of the community-outcasts. If you ask me, the first section shows both blacks and Jews as just people; normal, hardworking, everyday people who want to be respected and accepted. They also mention the significance being together. The most important part of this section is the fact that no one truly picks a side. They simply state who they are, what they believe and continue on. In the next section, everyone’s on a side whether they’re aware of it or not and the community is split. The second section is a lot grittier than the first, diving straight into the beginnings of the incident and its aftermath. If we start the play off like that, the audience would leave thinking that all of the Crown Heights residents were uncivilized creatures full of hate, rage and ignorance. The first part has to be there because it establishes everyone (involved or not) as innocent and rational. Both sides are struggling to not only rise, but to maintain their status in the community and although the second half presents us with the fruit of the piece, we have to cut through the peel first. The exterior may not be what we want, but it’s just as relevant as the interior.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Show and Tell Post #2- The Love Suicides at Amijima

So about a month ago I read The Love Suicides at Amijima for Dr. Sikes’s Theatre History II and completely fell in love with it. I mean, not literally fell in love, but I really liked it and that’s a lot coming from me because I usually don’t care for things. Anyway, the play was written by Chikamatsu Monzaemon and is believed to be a true story, although none of the “true” events have been confirmed. I couldn’t find an actual production history list, but its first performance occurred in January of 1721 and it has since been performed in multiple venues across the world as a popular Kabuki piece. I read a PDF file on Moodle, but the play can also be found at the link below. https://eee.uci.edu/clients/sbklein/articles/gender/LoveSuicidesAmijima.pdf Jihei and Tahei are competing for Koharu, a teenage prostitute. Jihei is a married man with kids while Tahei has no friends or family. What he does have is money, but Koharu avoids Tahei at all costs because she’s in love with Jihei. Later, Koharu meets a samurai who saves her from Tahei. They discuss several issues, including the topic of suicide. The samurai believes this is the source of Koharu’s depression and begs her to tell him all. Meanwhile, Jihei eavesdrops from outside. Koharu tells the samurai of the near miserable future, which will most likely be her death because she knows Jihei cannot afford her. She tells him of the pact the two made and then asks the samurai to basically substitute in for Jihei so that Tahei cannot claim her, to which the samurai agrees. Jihei hears this, becomes furious and attempts to kill Koharu right there. The samurai stops him and ties him to a pole; ironically, Tahei walks by later, sees his competitor helpless and beats on him. This all happens in Act 1, so as you can see, this is a very detailed play or I just such at summarizing. Either way, the story ends with the two lovers running off to Amijima (a temple) and committing suicide. Jihei stabs Koharu and then hangs himself from a tree, committing a frowned upon lover’s suicide. There are several dramaturgical choices that really stand out in this play, but it’s difficult to identify them at times because I don’t know whether or not these things actually happened. I don’t know the “original” story, so what I think is cool may just be how the story played out. Oh well. One choice that seemed noteworthy to me was the whole samurai thing. Not revealing that he was Jihei’s brother until late in the first act changed my perspective on the rest of the play. Magoemon criticizes his brother for pretty much throwing his life away over a pretty face and lets him know that his actions don’t affect just him. I sort of saw him as a guardian-angel figure, always over your shoulder but only interfering when necessary. Something else that stood out to me is the world of the play- apparently, love trumps all. The two lovers know they can’t be together, so they decide that if they can’t have each other, no one can. That’s pretty irrational to me, but then again so is love. Another example is Osan. Osan has been a good, obeying, loving wife and even she states that she’s losing her husband due to uncontrollable circumstances a.k.a. it’s not her fault. Jihei tells her that he can live without the girl, but he can’t live knowing that he lost her. I’m pretty sure this is a lie but she puts up with this fool-that’s unbelievable to me. Having the two main characters start off as poor is also an interesting dramaturgical choice. Again, different culture, different world.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Detroit

This could be way off, but I believe D’Amour titled the play Detroit because of what the city represents. We all know that Detroit is a big city and the motor capital of the U.S. and stuff, but just like every other American city, it has a fake facade. People go to cities like Detroit, New York, Chicago, Miami, Los Angeles, etc. usually to chase the American Dream. What that is exactly varies from person to person, but overall the main objective is to be successful and satisfied. That’s what both of these people were in their own rights. Ben and Mary had their problems, but they were in the American Dream. Likewise, Kenny and Sharon also chased that chance despite their issues. Unfortunately, it seems that good is always balanced by bad because Detroit is also known for its drug trafficking. Kenny and Sharon are fresh out of rehab but they’re still recovering. When the two collide, things get pretty dreamy. I also think it’s titled Detroit because Detroit has over 5 million people in it and several of those individuals probably keep to themselves. I know I’m going on a rant here, but I’m one of those guys that believes that social media has just messed the world up and the easy access to constantly improving technology is only making us lazier and dumber. People interact with each other on a daily basis (sometimes accidently), but actual face-to-face engagement is a rarity now. The world is more connected than it’s ever been, yet we have more and more people with little to no social life or effort to bond with others. People just don’t seem to care like they use to. It’s even mentioned in the script; the fact that people have become so distant from one another bothers Sharon. Detroit is also noted as the home/birthplace of the automobile, so it’s a symbol of something new, something better. When the two couples meet each other, they’re skeptical at first, but they seem to grow on each other and find a common ground trying new things, hanging out and just having fun. Just like the automobile, Ben and Mary gave their new neighbors a shot and even though it costs them a lot of money, it appears that they enjoyed the company. That being said, I think ambiguity and reality are central to the plot because in my mind, I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t several times throughout. I didn’t know what I didn’t know either, but I knew something bad was going to happen and that someone was lying about something.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Water By The Spoonful

In Scene 12, two completely different things are happening on stage simultaneously. On one side, Orangutan is sleeping at the train station while on the other Yaz and Elliot break into Odessa’s house and find her lying motionless on the floor. Yaz and Elliot attempt to bring Odessa to the couch and she sort of astroprojects herself; she watches the two struggling to bring her back to life. Meanwhile, a Policeman enters the train station and shines a flashlight on Orangutan. What’s cool is that that bright light is also seen in Odessa’s home by Odessa and Yaz, but it represents something else (it’s sort of that light at the end of the tunnel). Yaz tells Odessa to go into it, but Elliot does not see the light. The scene then flips back to Orangutan and the policeman. The policeman is concerned about Orangutan and also tells her she can’t sleep on the floor, to which she apologizes and gets on her way. The policeman leaves as well, taking the flashlight with him. Because of this, the light in Odessa’s home fades and she returns to her body. Yaz tells Elliot he has to forgive her, indicating that she can’t “move on” due to “unfinished business” (like Casper). This scene seems both consonant and dissonant. On one hand, we see Odessa being saved and Orangutan sleeping-perfect harmony. The dissonance occurs when Orangutan awakes and Odessa isn’t “ready”. This scene was really strong in comparison to a lot of the other scenes because it gives hope and also takes it away. I think Hudes has these moments occurring when they do because of the tension. Before this, the last scene of Yaz and Elliot occurred at the funeral of Mami Ginny. Likewise, the last time Orangutan is seen is in an argument with Chutes&Ladders about several things, including her returning home and asking him to join her. In this scene, those conflicts continue on in different shadows but are shared by the same light.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Buried Child

There’s much more than meets the eye in Shepard’s Buried Child. While reading, I was confused but intrigued throughout because I felt like I was solving a mystery. This piece is drenched in irony, ambiguity and complexity. In fact, after reading I had more questions than answers. For example, I thought Shelly was the buried child for a while. When she and Vince arrived at the “home”, she was scared out of her mind until she started cutting carrots with Tilden. When she woke up the next morning and started talking about how everything was so familiar I thought for sure she was the child that Dodge sent away and just claimed he killed. After hearing the story of the buried child, I changed my mind and thought it was Vince (all that time Tilden spent with him-come on). Also, who are these people? It seems like they don’t know their own kin, let alone themselves which is why I find it hard to believe anything that comes out of anyone’s mouth. Tilden gets into some big trouble apparently, but no one says what he did. Everyone except Halie appears intimidate by Bradley, the man with one leg. Vince disappears and leaves his girl with a family who doesn’t even recognize him. This is a total WTF, but it’s a good one. The most credible people are Preacher Dewis and Shelly (the two that don’t reside in the nut house). Due to this, I never believed that there was a buried child until the end of the piece; I don’t know if that was a choice by Shepard but it definitely worked. The way it ended was really fascinating as well; mirroring the beginning with Haile upstairs and someone on the couch while it’s raining. I think part of what makes this piece work is the fact that so many things are unanswered. Because of this, viewers can fill in the blanks, so everyone will see a completely different play. The structure of the piece is similar to the structure of the family too. Overall, I think it could be classified as a well-made play because it has most of the requirements, but it’s not the traditional/expected well-made play.

Friday, March 15, 2013

Noises Off

One motif that really stood out to me was the whole sardines’ thing. I know that sounds crazy, but hear me out. Dotty takes the sardines when she’s supposed to leave them, Garry questions the use of them, etc. Long story short, the sardines appear and disappear multiple times in the mischief of Nothing On and the drama of Noises Off. In fact, the last line of the play (Nothing On) by Selsdon is, “When all around is strife and uncertainty, there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned plate of sardines.” The sardines are essential to the play because without them, the entire atmosphere changes. I believe they represent the relationships of everyone in Noises Off. First, no one knows for sure when they’re on or when they’re off, just like the relationships back stage. There are tons of misunderstandings going on, like Dotty thinking Tim brought the flowers for her, Garry seeing Frederick and Dotty share a kiss, Lloyd attempting to woo/apologize to Brooke and everyone believing the wine bottle belongs to Selsdon. Belinda is probably in the best position of them all, but she’s constantly helping everyone else. Second, if they aren’t present when required, improvising will take place. Everyone back stage was in a professional setting and in flux with their lover(s), so technically for the moment the relationships were on hold. This explains Garry dumping the sardines on Dotty, Dotty tying Garry’s laces together, Garry trying to hit Frederick with the axe, Brooke not being on stage in time, etc. They all did whatever because for the time being, they were free. I could go one, but I’ll move on lol. That being said, my “tag line” for this play could definitely be Selsdon’s last line, but I think I’d prefer it to be the title of the play with in the play, Nothing On. This fits perfectly because it’s an antonym and a synonym for the piece. On “stage”, there’s really nothing going on for the viewers because of what’s occurring backstage, which is anything but. What’s funny is that almost everything happening behind the scenes is based off of nothing (no real evidence, just misinterpretations), but it all turns it to something, which again leads to nothing on stage. The last performance is really fitting for both titles because noises are off and there’s nothing on.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Where D-Vibe Comments

http://analysistrata.blogspot.com/2013/03/prompt-6-glass-of-water.html?showComment=1363224141417#c4821453598294389027 http://yvettebourgeoisthtr2130.blogspot.com/2013/03/frayns-noises-off.html?showComment=1363359238440#c6215884941991290248 http://dorapereli2130.blogspot.com/2013/03/buried-child-response.html?showComment=1363665333377#c6764605668673720064 http://korn2130.blogspot.com/2013/04/water-by-spoonful.html#comment-form http://analysistrata.blogspot.com/2013/04/prompt-10-detroit.html?showComment=1365871785492#c2149493158694679818 http://2130coryvincent.blogspot.com/2013/04/show-and-tell-american-dream.html?showComment=1365887441195#c6575590687602650708

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The Glass of Water

I don’t believe there’s a clear cut protagonist in this play and there’s really no need for one. Each character is essential to the plot in his/her own way, including Marquis De Torcy who only appears on stage twice but is partially what this whole thing is about. Bolingbroke is important because he’s the mastermind behind everything that goes down. Masham is the hunk of the play apparently; the Queen and the Duchess have both taken a fancy to him which is why Bolingbroke’s scheme is successful. Abigail is the love of Masham and appointed a respectable position on the court do to her relationship with the Duchess (a distant cousin) and a little black mailing. She acts somewhat as the men’s spy for she knows things that they sometimes do not. Of course, the Queen is the Queen and the Duchess is the Duchess; two powerful women who tolerate each other but dislike each other with a passion for the most part. The Queen appears to be somewhat gullible and innocent. The Duchess is much more aware and down to business. That being said, these two women are the cause and effect of the plot because for the others’ plans to work, they must go through the royals. If I had to pick a protagonist though, like gun forced to my head type thing, it’d have to be Bolingbroke because again, he’s running the show behind closed curtains. Scribe doesn’t really designate anyone as the protagonists, but he definitely wants us to root for Masham, Abigail and Bolingbroke. Their conflicts receive the most stage time (how will Bolingbroke pay off his debt, why can’t Marsham get married and who’s his secret protector/protectress, will Abigail get her man, etc.) They’re also seen as the “good guys” and the Queen and the Duchess are seen as the “bad guys” by default because viewers/readers tend to root for the underdog. Although they’re all in a pretty good situation, it’s obvious that things need to be taken care of and they get to it. The struggles get about the same amount of stage time and there’s a lot of tension/comedy in this piece which suggests that no one character is really the character, but the group as a whole is vital.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Show & Tell Post #1-Eighty Six

Not too long ago, my boy Mike Augustine (swag) suggested that I read Eighty Six by Javon Johnson because it was just “one of those things.” He said he read an electronic source, so I searched for it. I found it on the Black Drama website, which is an archive for well, black drama. Anyway, if you’re interested in reading this play, the link that follows should take you directly to the table of contents (I went through through LSU Libraries to find it, so you may need your PAWS log in info). The piece is contemporary, published in 2001 and according to the site, it has been staged in New Orleans, Pittsburg, Montgomery and Atlanta. Eighty Six is about three adolescent African-Americans living with/working for a mortuary owner because he’s their best chance for survival. Each day, a body comes in and someone has to cut it. This wasn’t an issue initially, but as time has passed, the body counts begin to rise at a startling rate and the youngsters start to wonder if they’ll ever get out of their situation, while pondering why they are still alive. Brayboy, the youngest of the three (17) and only female is probably the most optimistic person in the play. She knows the deal, but she keeps her head up (along with her Alize) and constantly encourages her friends to change. CJ, Brayboy’s brother (19) and Ace, her admirer/ex (20) are two of those guys who have it all figured it out, but feel helpless and continue their fall. Crook is the owner of the place; he’s intimidating and frightening but never says a thing. In fact, he rarely acknowledges the kids he took in at all. Long story short, too many bodies come in and they run out of room, Crook dies, Bray boy dies and then no one dies. It’s really deep stuff-I suggest it. One dramaturgical choice that’s extremely powerful is the location of both the story and the plot. Everything on stage takes place in one room with four doors and windows. One door leads to the bedrooms and another to a bathroom. The other doors are vital to the play; one leads downstairs to the basement where the dirty work is done and the other to the main entrance, where the dirty work for the dirty work is done. It’s a jungle outside the “home”; these people are living in the streets and when they walk outside, there’s a strong possibility, almost guarantee that they will get shot-hints everything happening in one location. This is a strong choice because it isolates the audience/reader and really puts an emphasis on what’s going on inside compared to what’s occurring outside. Brayboy, CJ and Ace all know each other, but they don’t know why they know each other; they don’t have outside family/friends and barley have any legitimate memories of loved ones. To them, this is the only safe place in the world and ironically, it’s where the dangerous come to “live”. Choosing to have just the room on stage is brilliant to me, because the cut scenes down stairs and the shot scenes outside are as brutal as you (the audience/reader) wants it to be, and that can only add to the play. Plus, it adds those feelings of trapness, hopelessness and emptiness. Another dramaturgical choice that stood out to me was the character of Crook. Crook appears to be a nice guy, but he just can’t relate to the three youngsters he took in. CJ and Ace don’t particularly like him, but Brayboy doesn’t care because she knows he took them in, so she’s dedicated to him. Crook is sort of an extension to the plot; like he’s relevant, but it isn’t about him. There’s a moment in the script when one of the boys stand up to Crook, but for the most part he just goes about his business until he’s shot. To have someone like that in a play like this adds another dimension to the creepiness.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

2nd Hornby Post on The Conduct of Life

A choice that caught my attention in The Conduct of Life was Fornes deciding to bring up what happened between Alejo, Orlando and Felo but not actually telling the audience/reader what occurred. The events aren’t portrayed on stage and I don’t believe they’re mentioned in detail again, they’re merely talked about. We can assume from the references made that what went down wasn’t pretty and was probably unnecessary; we could also assume that the men were just doing their job and Alejo bitched out. Unfortunately, we don’t know and I believe that’s significant to the rest of the plot. Not to question her choices because I respect that woman-she does what she likes and likes what she does, but she basically put rape on stage, so why not torture? Is that too much? Or does portraying whatever went down take away from the rest of the plot? This scene not only foreshadows what’s to come (possibly), it changes our perspective on the two men and Leticia. Keeping along those lines, I had some difficulty discovering an example of sequence that appeared irrelevant on the surface but full of value. I believe scene 8 fits this description, along with the choice thing as well. In this scene, Leticia is rehearsing something she memorized, apparently out of the book that Olimpia has. It seems like Olimpia is making sure she’s off book, but when Leticia asks her if she’s right, Olimpia struggles to tell and Leticia makes fun of her, claiming she can’t read. Initially, I didn’t understand why that scene was where it was, or its purpose. After reading it again, and seeing its position, I still don’t get it. It’s between a rape scene and the scene when Leticia is leaving-if anything, I guess it’s to show that Leticia isn’t very educated, but she knows more than her “masters” if that makes sense.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Hornby Post on The Conduct of Life

One thing that seems to pop-up constantly in Fornes’s The Conduct of Life is the fear/change in Orlando’s recent behavior. Throughout the play, references are made towards Orlando’s actions, most of which are disapproving. For example, in Scene 6, Aljeo describes how the job has altered his mindset and he states that Orlando is vicious. Orlando claims that he did nothing out of the ordinary, but Aljeo disagrees and tells him that he was scared and hopeless after he saw Orlando torture Felo. Later on in Scene 16, Leticia speaks to Mona via telephone and she’s in a panic. She knows her husband is different and she’s scared; at the same time, she’s conflicted because she practically raised the man, so she feels obligated to stay and help. Both of these scenes foreshadow the final moments of the play, when Orlando is interrogating Leticia and attempts to rape her and…you know the rest. The previous scenes hints at the reader/viewer that eventually, Orlando is going to get carried away with his gestures and it may cost him or someone else (like it did Felo and Nena). I’ve been watching Hey Arnold lately and I’ve noticed that a lot of episodes that are based on Oskar Kokoshka use this technique. Oskar is an extremely lazy, self-centered man who mooches off of his wife for most of the series, but the cartoon as a whole always has an optimistic message with a positive outcome. For example, in “Oskar Gets a Job”, Arnold helps Oskar apply for jobs. Most of the employer’s laugh in his face because he’s a 38 year old man with an 8th grade education, but one guy gives him a shot at being a paper boy. Arnold wakes up at 6 a.m. to make sure Oskar delivers the papers, but he has an excuse on the first day, so Arnold does the route. Next morning, different excuse, same result; Arnold sees through Mr. Kokoshka’s lies and tells him he’s a loser and a cheat. The rest of the boarding house agrees, causing Oskar to prove them wrong and actually do the task the next morning. I know this isn’t the best example, but I feel like foreshadowing, reflecting and mirroring happens in everything all the time. I think motif in a script can be different from motif in a production, but that’s only due to how it’s interrupted; I feel like there’s substantial wiggle room in each.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

How I Learned To Drive Response

The Greek chorus thing sort of threw me off the first time I read it a couple years ago. If I had to guess, I’d say that Vogel uses the Greek chorus to sort of lighten the mood with the heavy material. From reading the production notes, she seems pretty lose about how she wants the chorus to be used, as long as they assist in creating the atmosphere. The fact that everyone in the play except Li’l Bit and Uncle Peck are played by chorus members is pretty significant; I think she made this decision because the play revolves around those two. Obviously, they’re vital to the plot, but the other members of Li’l Bit’s family are pretty nonexistent. The people that she trusts most kind of ignore her and even though Peck molests her, he’s probably the most supportive and closest “friend” she has. The chorus is there to mix up perspective and everyone in the chorus is not really type-casted. For example, the Teenage Greek Chorus is suggested to be a 21-25 year old women who could past for eleven years old, but she always plays the role of Grandmother. It adds another dimension to what’s wrong in this world. I really don’t know, but that’s my guess. I thought the way that Vogel chose to tell Li’l Bit’s story was a bit confusing the first time I read it as well. The flashbacks were a little scrambled, but effective none the less. The play goes back in forth in time and in a sense, we kind of see the end of Bit’s relationship with her uncle before it truly begins. Personally, the way the story is arranged has a strong effect on my opinion of Uncle Peck. I’ll never like him for obvious reasons, but I do feel some sympathy for him because I don’t know if something was really wrong with him or if he was just a monster. My feelings about Li’l Bit change as well and I don’t know if those things would happen if the events were arranged in chronological order.

Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Conduct of Life Response

A dramaturgical choice that stood out to me was the way Fornes chose to end every scene. I felt like the ending of every scene was a cliff hanger, with room for something to pop off. It was effective; tension was built due to the length and amount of scenes and then when they came to an end, I never knew what was going to happen next. For example, after Orlando forces himself on Nena, we don’t know what happens because the next scene cuts to Leticia and Olimpia discussing daily tasks and meals. Another example is when Alejo and Orlando discuss what happened with their “assignment”, and Orlando claims the man “died of fear.” The next scene cuts to Olimpia and Nena playing patty-cake (with Alejo) and the scene after that, Leticia claims she knows someone is down in the cellar. Even the final scene doesn’t really end! It jumps from one place to another, leaving the audience/reader gaps to fill at their desire. Every scene ended with lights fading to black too, which I thought was a good choice. It’s like a portrait. I believe the play is titled The Conduct of Life because of Nena’s perspective on it. Conduct is behavior and her behavior is supreme from what we can tell, but somehow she’s been punished all her life, from her mom dying to losing her Grand Pa to being raped. While Nena tells Olimpia about Orlando’s actions, she states “I want to conduct each day of my life in the best possible way.” She believes she’s blessed for what she has and that when someone treats her unfairly, she should understand because they may be worse off than her. The fact that someone like that, a child, is living through those circumstances and can still hold her head up high with hope is both inspiring and depressing. She sort of accepts people for who they are and moves on because as long as she makes it to the next day, it’s a win and another opportunity.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

TRIFLES RESPOSE

Personally, I believe that this proposal is extremely iffy, but that’s politically incorrect so I’ll say it’s interesting. On one hand, it could be dangerous because with a minimalist design, there’s an abundance of little to work with, which can be a lot harder than it sounds. I haven’t been in theatre long, but even I have seen productions where the director got carried away with his/her simplistic world. If the actors all look the same and interact with the same props, that can be exponentially challenging (especially if one of these blocks can be more than one thing). In my mind, it would be like running the show in room 125 or 135 of this building ,which can bring out the best in some of us but it’s just not the same type of atmosphere as the Shaver or the Riley. I’m not saying it wouldn’t work, but I wouldn’t do it. I think it’s hard to do it successfully because you have to find that cut-off line or everything will become nothing. This is where I would agree with the proposal-imagination! The mind is a tool with incredible power that is constantly underestimated or in some cases not used at all. As people, imagination is vital to us whether we realize it or not. It’s always been there, the only difference is we aren’t princesses and Power Rangers any more. Hopes, dreams, goals-without imagination, these would not exist. Obviously, an essential part of an actor’s craft is imagination to some extent, because even though the events you portray may be real or the person you are on stage exist, you aren’t literally going through those things to the same degree. If done “correctly”, I do believe the proposal could work, but the right cast, crew, production team and maybe even audience would have to be there. Anyway, so what would the production gain? Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t particularly like this play, in fact I found it boring so bringing an idea like that to the table would get turned down by me quick, because that would just make it worse. The only positives I could see would be if the bird cage, quilt and rope weren’t the same as the rest of the set; it would give significance to these objects (not that they need any). I guess the black clothes could help too. I mean, I get what the director wants. I have no doubt that his concept is flawless, about how characters should feel and the audience focusing on them instead of the props, that’s great. I don’t know if the audience will understand what’s happening though. For starters, I think it’ll lose entertainment value and viewers would lose interest. I also believe that somehow the story will be altered even though the plot and text are set in stone. A decision like that has rippling affects all around, minor but still. Again, I think this is risky; I may lean a little more to the “no” side than “yes”. In the end, it really depends on how minimalists we’re talking because that’ll determine all the other factors.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

OVERTONES RESPONSE

I believe that the characters of Maggie and Hattie are not seen by their counterparts as the script states, but they are felt. I don’t want to say they’re like spirits or anything, but I saw the two as extensions of the “real people”, sort of like your conscious talking to you. The fact that Harriet says Hattie is stronger than her is intriguing, because in a sense, she doesn’t exist. I guess what I’m trying to say is that from the audience’s perspective, it would be hard to distinguish the difference from the four women initially; as time passes by and we realize that Harriet never addresses Maggie, Margaret never acknowledges Hattie, etc. eventually we would be able to somewhat “group” the women. Whether the actions portrayed on stage are clear enough to do so is for debate, but I do think that viewers would conclude that two of the women aren’t real (for lack of a better phrase). From my perspective, it would be difficult-the choices would have to be strong and clear for me to get what’s happening. Regardless, I believe throughout the play, Harriet hears Hattie and Margaret hears Maggie, but they choose to ignore their primitive selves’ demands. Again, the script says they can’t see each other and never come into physical contact, but I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t know the opposite exist, you know? I understand that these are the rules given in the world of the play, but as specific as they are, I feel like they’re almost vague in the same sense-maybe I’m just trippin. Besides the phone thing Yvette mentioned earlier, I could not find any moments when these rules were broken, so the playwright was pretty consistent. I did notice that there’s an abundance of wiggle room with the way the story could be told though, not just costume wise either. I’m talking set wise and casting wise as well. So even though there are restrictions, a lot can be done without affecting the plot. The four women and their actions are essential for telling the audience the story, but how the “empty spots” are portrayed are just as significant. I know this is not professional per say, but I really enjoyed this play. It was a quick, clever read.