I did a workshop this weekend with Dido and Quinn of Pig Iron theater. If you don't know Pig Iron, they're a pretty amazing group out of Philly that generates work as an ensemble...including "Chekhov Lizardbrain," one of the best pieces I saw last year.
The workshop was, for the most part, a review of a lot of the generative techniques that I'm familiar with from having studied with Tina Landau...lanework, composition, things that people who have studied Viewpoints would recognize.
But there were a couple of things they said that will stick with me.
The main one:
That theater is a "failure-based art form."
In context, I think that Quinn meant that "usually, plays fail." The vast majority of new work doesn't turn out the way we want it to...which is, of course, what spurs most of us to try again.
But the comment strikes me as pretty damn profound, in part because I think one of the reasons we go to the theater is because there's always the possibility of failure. Live theater necessitates the possibility, at any given moment, of an accident. And while you don't (usually) want to see harm come to the actors onstage, it's the danger -- emotional danger, physical danger -- that lurks around any given corner that assures us we are, in fact, watching something real.
We all have stories of the actor who completely forgot his lines in the middle of the third scene, of the missed entrance, of the actor or piece of scenery that collapsed. Audiences love these stories, tell them over and over. Things don't go wrong on film -- those mistakes end up on the blooper reel, or the cutting room floor. Likewise, any "accident" you hear in recorded music was kept there for a reason. Visual art has "mistakes," but the artist made the choice to allow you to see that mistake and has, in a sense, sanctioned that mistake. Only live performances offers the possibility, every night, of a real "oh shit" moment -- only live performance asks us to live on the high-wire.
What does that mean? On some level, I would say that it's our job to invite failure in. I would say that failure, or danger, is as much of a tool in our craft as anything else. If we can create danger -- emotional danger, physical danger, the REAL sense that things are just on the edge of going out of control -- then that failure will bring us closer to success than playing it safe.
Go Big or Go Home, I guess, is the message here.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Image Exercise -- Play Analysis
I'm teaching August Wilson's Joe Turner's Come and Gone right now, in my Classic American Plays class. Last year I taught Fences -- a play that is, in a lot of ways, much simpler. In Fences, we meet the protagonist on page one. He's a huge character, the character who speaks the most. The dramatic arc of the play is pretty straightforward.
Joe Turner is a whole other ballgame. I was a little bit nervous about teaching it -- it's such a BIG play to try to wrap your arms and head around. How would I lead my students through it in a way that would help them make sense of it?
My way in has been "image." Wilson is so amazing at giving the audience images -- either clear staging or stage pictures, like the Juba and Herald Loomis's collapse at the end of Act One, or gorgeous stories in the mouths of his characters, like the ritual Seth describes Bynum performing, or the encounter with the Shiny Man that Bynum details.
So each day, I've asked the students to freewrite on the images that have most stuck with them overnight, to begin to think about how those images connect to the central themes of the play. Most have really responded to the exercise. We've had wonderful conversations.
Two days ago, they had to bring in three pictures: (1) a photo from a past production of the play (2) an accurate picture from the period in which the play is set and (3) a non-literal picture that reminded them of the play. We talked through the different design choices that had been made in the different production images they'd found, then talked through things we noticed in the historical pictures. Finally, I asked each student to talk about the non-literal picture they'd brought in, to talk about how it connected, for them, to the text.
This was a great exercise -- they noticed a lot of different choices in the production images, and began to talk about why, if they were the director, they might have made one choice over another. With the historical images, we talked about what might be useful to think about, or to share with actors or designers.
The non-literal images were, of course, the toughest. Some kids made the leap to something more abstract really easily, and could talk about the visual translation of theme and metaphor. Others were like "what the hell are you guys talking about?" I tried to talk about how directors and designers often begin conversations about inspiration and theme by collecting images and talking them through.
Last night, I asked each student to bring in two to three images that connected, in some way, to what they saw as the most important themes in the play. Today, I asked them to pretend that they were directing the play, and to talk to a partner as though that partner was the designer, explaining how the images connected to the text. The partner then had to explain to the group what their "director" was envisioning. It was an exercise in communication, and in moving from the concrete (text) to the abstract (image) to the concrete (design choices). It wasn't a universal ah-ha moment, but more of them are getting their brain around this more abstracted way of thinking/taking about theme, image, and design.
Their paper, for this play, will ask them to choose one or two images that communicate, to them, the central theme of the play...and then use the image as the beginning of a textual analysis that revolves around theme.
Ultimately, I want them to understand that there is, in fact, an intellectual rigor to the design process, and to the conversations that directors and designers have about a play.
Somewhere in here, I think there's a really good PLAYWRITING exercise.
Joe Turner is a whole other ballgame. I was a little bit nervous about teaching it -- it's such a BIG play to try to wrap your arms and head around. How would I lead my students through it in a way that would help them make sense of it?
My way in has been "image." Wilson is so amazing at giving the audience images -- either clear staging or stage pictures, like the Juba and Herald Loomis's collapse at the end of Act One, or gorgeous stories in the mouths of his characters, like the ritual Seth describes Bynum performing, or the encounter with the Shiny Man that Bynum details.
So each day, I've asked the students to freewrite on the images that have most stuck with them overnight, to begin to think about how those images connect to the central themes of the play. Most have really responded to the exercise. We've had wonderful conversations.
Two days ago, they had to bring in three pictures: (1) a photo from a past production of the play (2) an accurate picture from the period in which the play is set and (3) a non-literal picture that reminded them of the play. We talked through the different design choices that had been made in the different production images they'd found, then talked through things we noticed in the historical pictures. Finally, I asked each student to talk about the non-literal picture they'd brought in, to talk about how it connected, for them, to the text.
This was a great exercise -- they noticed a lot of different choices in the production images, and began to talk about why, if they were the director, they might have made one choice over another. With the historical images, we talked about what might be useful to think about, or to share with actors or designers.
The non-literal images were, of course, the toughest. Some kids made the leap to something more abstract really easily, and could talk about the visual translation of theme and metaphor. Others were like "what the hell are you guys talking about?" I tried to talk about how directors and designers often begin conversations about inspiration and theme by collecting images and talking them through.
Last night, I asked each student to bring in two to three images that connected, in some way, to what they saw as the most important themes in the play. Today, I asked them to pretend that they were directing the play, and to talk to a partner as though that partner was the designer, explaining how the images connected to the text. The partner then had to explain to the group what their "director" was envisioning. It was an exercise in communication, and in moving from the concrete (text) to the abstract (image) to the concrete (design choices). It wasn't a universal ah-ha moment, but more of them are getting their brain around this more abstracted way of thinking/taking about theme, image, and design.
Their paper, for this play, will ask them to choose one or two images that communicate, to them, the central theme of the play...and then use the image as the beginning of a textual analysis that revolves around theme.
Ultimately, I want them to understand that there is, in fact, an intellectual rigor to the design process, and to the conversations that directors and designers have about a play.
Somewhere in here, I think there's a really good PLAYWRITING exercise.
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