Blog Prompt 13 Drowsy Chaperone

Last show, y'all!

You do, of course, need to listen to this script as well as read it. You can either purchase the Drowsy Chaperone soundtrack or hear the entire thing here on YouTube, though you'll have to endure various advertisements. Note that some numbers are different (particularly "Bride's Lament" and "Love Is Always Lovely in the End") and that the soundtrack re-orders some of the Man's introductions. Follow along (stumble along?) with the script.

Much like Noises Off, this show's old-timey charm and self-deprecating meta-commentary can make it difficult to analyze. The script gives the impression that the central narrator character ("the Man") is doing all the analysis that's necessary. All anyone else has to do is sit back and enjoy, right?

Well, yes--except for us, dear hearts. As theatre people, we're in charge of producing this bit of postmodern magic, which means we have to account for the Man and his commentary as part of the script. Analyzing The Drowsy Chaperone thus means we're analyzing not the show-within-a-show but the musical as presented.

My question to you: what's the difference in terms of the Hornby model of analysis we've been working with?

For this prompt, suggest how two Hornby elements (choice, sequence, progression, duration, tempo, rhythm, irony/ambiguity/complexity) and/or the unifying principle itself would differ if you were analyzing the show-within-the-show Drowsy Chaperone versus the as-is meta-show The Drowsy Chaperone. Be specific here. Do not say anything like "The musical script is different from the fictional show because it has a Man listening to it an commenting on it all the way through." That's obvious, right? Remember, choice isn't about story; it's about plot. The story here is the Man listening to/recreating the musical. Which parts of that story do the scriptwriters and lyricist choose to stage and how?

In other words, and beneath the "the Man interrupts and tells jokes," what action pattern does the musical The Drowsy Chaperone have that distinguishes it from the fictional DC musical?

See you all Monday--

JF

PS: those in Section 1, you wanted the link to the Scarfolk website (used in class as an illustration for how to create links) left up. Here's the site.

Post 13 Three Viewings

So here's the thing: this show is three monologues, yes. But it's also a single show. The monologues are set in the same world. The speakers each deal with some of the same characters. And, of course, all three monologues have something to do with a funeral.

For this post, I want you to do two things.

First, a challenge: try to identify a common point or reference (a character, an event, a location, a reference) between the monologues that you think no one else in class will notice.

Second: go further than these surface details. Identify some deeper dramaturgical or thematic points of resonance or commonality between the three monologues. Is there a theme they share? Is there a motif (aside from the funerals) that recurs in all three? Is the dramatic action of each somehow similar? Even more interesting: is there something that's both the same and different in each of the monologues?

Easy-cheesy y'all.

JF

Prompt 12 on On the Verge, or The Geography of Yearning

OK--first, I want you to remember to read this with a dictionary (online or real-world) nearby. This is a script that loves language. Eric Overmyer (n.b.: I had previously misspelled Overmyer's name as Overmeyer. Apologies!) insists that actors observe his exact word choices, speaking in clear but un-accented US English (not British English). For Wednesday, you should come to class with some word from the script whose meaning you learned from looking it up. That'll be a question on the quiz.

For this prompt: suppose that you're the dramaturg for a production of On the Verge. The director wants your ideas for a publicity poster (or perhaps a series of publicity posters) for the production. She's interested in both an image and a tag line (ideally a quote from the script). She's keen to avoid the standard poster images for this play: the three ladies themselves, umbrellas (or eggbeaters) in hand. What's another idea for images that perhaps depart from the well-trod paths of previous poster designs. Propose an image for the poster (or, if you're especially bold, a series of posters) as well as a tag line. Explain and justify your choices.

Oh--and here's an optional thinker for ya: of all the curious conversations the main characters have with various males (all played by the same person in the original production), one of the oddest is between Fanny and Mr. Coffee. He's not from a particular era in history. He's not someone anyone else sees. He says he knows Fanny and that they'll meet again. Who is Mr. Coffee?

JF

Prompt 11 on Smith Fires in the Mirror

First, a few words about Anna Deavere Smith: she's a world-famous performance artist whom you've probably also seen in bit parts in West Wing episodes and movies like The American President and Dave. Fires in the Mirror was her first really breakthrough, national-attention-getting work, though she had been active and well-known in smaller circles for some time.

Smith's signature technique involves conducting interviews with various people--nationally known figures, regular people, outside experts--involved in some event or issue. She films these interviews--but only for herself. Smith then practices repeating the words, gestures, and even nonverbal tics of her subjects until she "has" that person with as much fidelity and accuracy as she can muster. Editing and arranging her interviews into a show, Smith then performs all of the interviews as a series of monologues. The effect is something akin to a living, one-person documentary performance. For an example of Smith's latest work about health care, Let Me Down Easy, see here. (Really, it's worthwhile to watch at least a few of the segments just so you have a sense of what she does.)

Fires in the Mirror is about the 1991 Crown Heights Riots in Brooklyn between members of the Black community and members of the Lubavich sect of Orthodox Judaism that live there. You can familiarize yourself with the basics of the riots. Smith also relates these events from several different perspectives.

There's an old filmed version of her performing Fires in the Mirror (in six parts on Youtube here). The effect here, however, is much different. Rather than filming her stage show, the filmmakers stage each monologue as a separate, fully-realized scene with it's own props and costumes. You lose a bit of the theatrical impact of watching Smith transform in seconds before your eyes. Still, you might find some of these monologues helpful as you read.

Whether you watch the Youtube of her or not, though, I of course want you to read the play. The impact of Smith's performance technique--these are people's real words! It's like watching a documentary!--can sometimes cause us to forget that Fires in the Mirror is still a play. Smith is not a neutral recorder but a playwright who has selected, edited, and arranged the monologues she stages. The questions we pose about any script still work here:

• What parts of the story does she include in the plot? (choice) 
• What effect does Smith's ordering of events/interviews have? (sequence)
• What motifs are there in the play? What images or ideas get foreshadowed/reflected? (progression)
• Where and how does the tempo change? (tempo)
• Where and how does tension change in this play? When and how is tension created, raised, or released? (rhythm)
• What events, images, or ideas get the most stage time? What gets very little stage time? (duration)
• Where does appearance clearly conflict with reality? Where is reality ambiguous? Where is it complex?

For this prompt, consider the following hypothetical situation: imagine you're part of a professional theatre company (hurrah employment!). The artistic director of your company wishes to stage Fires in the Mirror. The thing is, she doesn't see the use of the first section of the play in which Smith interviews figures not directly related to the Crown Heights events itself. This director would basically like to start the play with Robert Sherman's "Lousy Language"--arguably the first monologue specifically about Crown Heights and the situation there.

Act as a dramaturg here and advocate for performing all of Smith's text. Make the argument for what these first monologues do dramaturgically. Justify their inclusion in Fires in the Mirror and discuss what would be lost by cutting them out. You yourself may not at first see why Smith includes these sections. Challenge yourself to find and defend a reason.

See you on Monday,

JF

Prompt 10 on D'Amour, Detroit

Why's the play called Detroit?

I mean, the characters never really mention Detroit or anything specifically Detroit-related. Lisa D'Amour's own description of the setting begins, "Not necessarily Detroit."

So--why Detroit?

Give us your best argument and convince us with evidence and reasoning.

Too tough? Want an alternative prompt to chew on? OK. Here's three quick tasks and a humdinger question, then, for those of you who don't want to tackle the Detroit question:

1. What are some examples of ambiguity in the play? Remember--we're using Hornby's definition of ambiguity, i.e., intentional mystery, truths or realities that the playwright suggests are there but that she keeps hidden.
2. What are some examples of dramatic irony in the play? Remember, dramatic irony only happens when we the audience/readers know what's really going on but some/all of the characters do not. Finding out in act three that a character lied about something way back in act one isn't ironic; it's just a revelation because back in act one we didn't know the character was lying at the time. If, however, we see in act one that a character is a waiter but then see her tell someone in act three that she's an airplane pilot, that's dramatic irony because we know she's lying (thus: appearing to be something different than she really is). 
3. Something else that happens in this play are moments of non-ambiguous, non-ironic truth-telling. There's no fancy dramaturgical term for this, but let's call it a reality check. I mean, there are moments in this play where characters utter showstopping Truths that shock other characters out of some illusion or misconception. What are some standout examples of reality checks in this play?

The humdinger question: which of these three are most central to Detroit: ambiguity, irony, or reality?

Again, give me your best case and persuade your readers.

JF

Prompt 9 on Water by the Spoonful

So here's the challenge: I'm asking you to read (and possibly write a paper on) the second play of a trilogy without having read either the first or the third part. Water by the Spoonful continues a story begun in Elliot, A Soldier's Fugue (which I haven't read yet). The third part of the trilogy, The Happiest Song Always Plays Last, premieres April 13 in the Goodman Theatre in Chicago. In other words, it's not even out yet.

Nevertheless, Water is meant to stand on its own.

As you'll see, though, it's a complicated play. Hudes (the playwright) establishes a number of separate worlds on stage. There are also several seemingly separate story-lines playing out at once.

During a few moments in the play, particularly in the second part, these separate realities and story-lines do more than just co-exist in the same play. They begin to interact. They share the space, crisscrossing each other and even (maybe) interacting with each other in some odd, magic-of-theatre way.

For this prompt, I want you to select one scene--or really a moment from a scene--where you see realities interacting. Briefly summarize what's going on in this scene. Then give me a script-based explanation for why Hudes has these particular realities intersecting at this particular moment in the plot in this particular way. What's going on there? And remember, I'm asking for a script-based explanation--no fair explaining things away by gesturing toward the audience ("This gives the audience something to think about/look at/compare and contrast"). Focus on how this intersectional choice operates in terms of the play's unifying principle or central motifs.

Just a reminder about schedules:

• There's no class on Monday, April 8. Turn in your Analysis III final draft by 5:00 PM.
• We're reading the Water by the Spoonful for Wednesday. You can either purchase your own copy (I recommend doing this) or use the PDF on Moodle.
• We're reading Detroit (in your reader) for Friday
• On Saturday, April 13, I'll be looking at your blog posts for the second Blog Check Point. 

As always, contact me if you have questions or concerns.

JF

Prompt 8 on Buried Child

Fun play again, huh? Well, I mean "fun" not so much in a "ha-ha" sense as a "WTF?" sense, right?

Story time: Buried Child was one of the first plays Dr. Fletcher ever taught to students. Indeed, way back in the early 00's, back when Dr. Fletcher was not yet "Dr." Fletcher, I was a Section Instructor for several semesters of Intro to Theatre class at the University of Minnesota. Now, at the U of MN, Intro to Theatre was a course for both majors and non-majors. All theatre majors had to start their coursework with Intro. It was also a "writing-intensive" course, meaning that one of the major assignments was an analytic essay (with first draft, feedback, and revisions) on a play.

Most often, the choice of plays for students to write about consisted of Joe Turner's Come and Gone (a great play by August Wilson) and Buried Child. Oddly enough, the students read Buried Child in conjunction with the textbook's section on theatrical realism.

This conjunction--realism and Buried Child--didn't really work. Students kept trying to read and write about the play as a piece of theatrical realism, and they kept running up against little bits of the play that just didn't fit.

Why do you think so?

I mean, in many ways, Buried Child is fairly realistic (again, we're talking "theatrical realism," aka "illusionism" here--not "real" as in "honest/true"). There's a fourth-wall convention. The dialogue is more or less slice-of-life (i.e., it's not in blank verse, rhymed couplets, or song). The setting seems fairly what-you-see-is-what-you-get. No characters have their "inner selves" literally hovering behind them, hissing instructions or commands into their ears.

So: realism, right? Shepard presents a plot via an illusion-of-everyday-life accumulation of surface details.

Your prompt, then: suggest some element or elements in the play that seem to run counter to the kind of presentational conventions of illusionistic realism. What makes the world of planet Buried Child so fundamentally different from the worlds of planet Trifles, planet Glass of Water, or planet Noises Off? Is what we see what we get in Buried Child? If not, where/how/to what end? (Hint: if you're confused, start with trying to find instances of irony, ambiguity, or complexity in the script. Is this a play of black-and-white, truth-and-deception realities, like a well-made play? Or is it something else?)

JF