Watching Fences

So much more complete, watching it rather than reading it (or reading it and then watching it... difficult to say which). The motions of the characters unify their personalities in a way that their dialogue and monologues did not do for me on the page. Watching Troy tell a story about leaving home or wrestling with Death was much more dynamic than simply reading it, especially in parts with repetition of lines or ideas. They flowed with his character onstage very well, but on the page just did not separate the undertones of similar text. Because of that, it is tempting for me as a playwright to add many stage directions, but that can take away from the production, and limit the visual, if there are too many stage directions in the script. Trying to pin it in too much could have the opposite effect and cause the scene to loose that dynamicism of movement. Striking the balance will be an interesting process.

Watching the play, there were a couple times that I lost lines because of the dialect combined with speed or overlap. It was not enough to wish that the dialect speech was not there, but it was nice to be able to read the lines and catch all of what was being said. Hearing the speech also helped to ground me in the time and place in a way that simply reading it could not do. I do not know if this was related to dialect or not, but the actress who played Rose, while I liked her acting, I did not like her inflection on some of the lines. It could have been a combination of dialect and emotion, or even character. I think it was that her voice went up at the end of many lines that it didn't seem like it fit with. However, I couldn't really pin it down.

Transformations can also be more striking/apparent on stage than on the page. Corey returning as a Marine, for example, was clear in the book. However, seeing him with the changed mannerisms, posture, and speech patterns on stage brought out the change so much better.

In addition to change, I could also see parallels more (partly because I'd read the script before seeing it, but also partly from watching the physicality of some scenes). What stuck out most for me was Troy's insistence that Corey call him "sir." In the scene with their first major argument where this comes out, Troy stalks around Corey like a drill sergeant. In a way, it made perfect since for Corey to join the Marines. He was used to that environment, control, and discipline. Even by leaving and joining the Marines, he could not escape the influence of his father. It was a very nice parallel that I completely missed in the book.

On a side note, I got the the play a couple minutes late, so I got to watch the play from the back of the theater, where I could see the entire action, framed by the stage, and from about the middle, so I could see into the doorway and windows and such. However, after intermission, I took my seat in the far left front row! It was a huge difference. I missed the encompassing unity of the visual, and I couldn't see into the doorway anymore. However, the near presence of the actors was rather incredible also, and seeing their focus and their characters from close by was an entirely different, but great, experience also. I thought it was a really cool contrast to see both ways. :)

Recomposing Mozart?!

Just the play Amadeus. Don't worry.

I was surprised by how long he continued revising the ending of his play. It would seem like when your script is performed by IAN MCKELLEN and TIM CURRY!, it would be fairly finished. It shows such devotion to the progression of the play, not just the play itself, to continue revising the climax for new productions (and within one production as well). It is also surprising how different the characters are through the revisions. Salieri especially changes dramatically depending on whether he is stalking Mozart's apartment pretending to be a deadly apparition counting down the days to his death, dragging the Requiem from a dying Mozart to turn out as his own, or begging forgiveness and acknowledgment of the wrongs he committed against Mozart. The all fit with the play and different aspects of the character (which is amazing unto itself), but they conclude with a different person, if you will.

Considering all the nuances that a certain scene will provide for the entire play seems to be one of the most important aspects of the revisions from Amadeus. It is incredibly interesting reading about this shifting within the work. However, it does seem like editing a 10 minute play (or even 10 minutes of a larger play even if the overall plot does shift around) would revolve around a little bit different of a motive. Editing for a ten minute play (which is what I will do for my final performance), an author does not have to connect it into former character development or set up for a change or edit earlier in the script. It is most immediate, and I feel like much of my editing might focus on accentuating the immediacy of the 10 minute, streamlining the revelations to set up quickly and wrap up accurately.

In Amadeus, I was a little surprised at their shifting of music. In the theatrical version, the author seemed to mostly use Mozart's Kyrie, while the film switches it to the Confutatis. While reading the scene from the play, I pulled up the Kyrie on my iTunes and played it, to get a feeling of what it might be like with sound. Since sound is so crucial to a scene like this (and a play like this, as the author admits himself), it looses much of its impact read, although it still maintains much, which is quite the feat.

I now even more officially need to watch Amadeus.

Funny?

I do admit, reading these was not especially funny for me. They were entertaining, and I can see how they could be funny performed right, but I only chuckled at very few lines outright. Maybe this is a side effect of comedic scripts, especially if they're short. You might really have to see them in order to appreciate the humor. That said, I thought some were more funny than others. I liked the Duet for Bear and Dog, as I thought it characterized the dog really well, and the Bear also to an extent. However, I do wish it focused a little more on the bear and the dog. To an extent, I think that She, the Man and the Woman took up too much time from the others. From this, perhaps I should try making things talk that "shouldn't" and/or giving things personality that "don't" for a comedy some time. It reminds me of "Sylvia," which I haven't seen, but have heard about.

I also liked the situation and ideas in Aimee and The Philadelphia. Perhaps I'm more into situational comedy then, for these short plays. These ludicrous situations, versus Anything For You, which I didn't find as funny. It came across in the script as slightly more dramatic and awkward. Although, performed, it could be very different.

Perhaps it is the more wild characters, such as the Bear and Dog, or Madge and Larry, that are appealing to me. There actions can make so much sense for their situation or character, while in "real life" the are incredibly crazy. To an extent, the characters in The Philadelphia fit that too. They are "normal people" who are in crazy places or situations. However, their responses make so much sense. If their situation were to actually happen, I can see people doing that.

This is actually something I find most funny and would include in a comedy if I were to write one. When a normal person is in an implausible state or situation, and they still react like you would expect a "normal person" to, I find it a strong source of comedy (if it is set up as such. It can also be used in drama, I think, but that's another "can of worms," or "or basket of apples," or "jar of peanut butter," or whate'er you will). When a character can keep their personality and "human-ness" despite situations that are not normally associated with them (they are a Dog, they are a Vampire, they think that expressing love will bring about the demise of the United States of America...), it combines the unexpected with something that should be predictable, but really isn't until after you hear it or see it. It makes sense, and connects the believable with the incredible. I think this mix can form some of the strongest, most surprising comedy.

In a ten-minute nutshell

Not having know much (if anything) about ten minute plays, and never really having given it much though before, these four scripts showed me a lot of the basics. They're all one scene, and one snapshot or moment in these people's lives.
Theme-wise, they seemed similar to the monologues... All of the "action" was centered on a main idea and turned around a single plot point (as there wasn't time for more). For that reason, they seemed a little like a monologue split into a dialogue.

The dialogue aspect of the ten minute plays also struck me. The first two I read ("A Bowl of Soup" and "That Midnight Rodeo") both obviously had two characters. I got to "The Man Who Couldn't Dance" and saw that there were three characters! However, very quickly I found out that Elizabeth is a week old baby. She, of course, has no lines and functions more of a prop. Thus, we still have two people in dialogue. I was surprised to find three characters in "The Roads That Lead Here." I liked the interaction between the three brothers, but their characters were not as developed as those in the dialogue plays. This one seemed more plot driven, while the others really focused on the characters. While I did like the dynamic, I thought the plot was a bit too forced. They didn't make as much sense. I expected it to be a surreal setting, involving an after world or modern Greek gods or something.

I thought that the characters were portrayed stronger in "That Midnight Rodeo" and "The Man Who Couldn't Dance." I liked those four characters and thought they were stronger than the sons in "The Roads..." However, "A Bowl of Soup" seemed a little forced at times. This would work for the situation, but it's difficult to read. It definitely needs too be performed and to see the younger brother's presence to fully appreciate it.

Fencing in Characters

It is interesting reading the script of this. There are minimal directions on how to speak the lines, so reading them from the script seems very straight. However, letting the lines speak for themselves, the emotions in the words and situations truly work themselves up. Reading the script without looking for the emotion, and without knowing what emotions are supposed to be building or to what degree, some of the revelations are rather abrupt. One spot that sticks out is Troy's revelation to Rose that he's going to father another woman's child.

TROY: Rose!
(She stops and turns around)
I don't know how to say this.
(Pause)
I can't explain it none. It just sort of grows on you till it gets out of hand. It starts out like a little bush... and the next think you know it's a whole forest.

ROSE: Troy... What is you talking about?

TROY: I'm talking, woman, let me talk. T'm trying to find a
way to tell you... I'm gonna be a daddy. I'm gonna be somebody's
daddy.

ROSE: Troy... you're not telling me this? You're gonna be...
what?

Just from a cold read, it is very abrupt, and not very empathic. However, the words lend themselves to creating such a subtle and complex character web. The script seems to leave much of the essence of the characters to the actors and directors. This scene especially brings out that choice of character. The only “stage directions” on how to say the lines are the ellipses. Weather it is fast, loud, angry, quiet, sad... all these things would define the characters, but are not given to the actors, readers, or directors.

The dialogue does have several ways that it defines its characters though. The events themselves do say a lot about who these people are. Even beyond the concrete are the stories that the characters tell. Troy especially reminisces about the old days, which reveals his character now and who his character might have been then also. Rose's character is often added to by her contradictions of Troy's stories. Together, the play out a development that, actually, makes the revelation quoted above more surprising.

The fullness of the characters keeps the play grounded in reality. They all are flawed and react to each others flaws. A strong example is Cory and Troy's relationship. They both have different views about how they should behave and what dynamic they should have. It is the contradictions like this and between Troy and Rose that flesh out the whole characters.

Gabe's character is also an interesting dynamic. He seems to function as the role of comic relief most of the time, but with a tragic comedy rather than purely light-hearted. These characters can be so strong (if played well) because of these multi-dimensional aspects they all posses. As a reader, it was difficult to picture some of these scenes, but as an actor, the freedom to posses the character as your own would be a great experience. There are so many choices to be made that are not always available to the performer to the same extent.

Off topic of character, the ending was a bit confusing to me. I understood it up to Gabriel's dance. It seems both sad and hopeful, and very ambiguous as to what it should look like. It will be interesting to see the performance and how they do that part.

Adaptable

I didn't know what to expect when beginning to read Sarah Ruhl's Eurydice, but I certainly did not expect it to be what it was.

I tend to avoid surreal plays and arts. I usually adhere to as much realism as I can, whether I am writing a story or play, or drawing a picture. I think that capturing a stylized representation of reality can enhance a play. However, while this play did not follow reality, I found it fascinating and really wanted to watch it. The surrealism fits with the story so well, and it's lack of reality is so consistent, that it could actually work (I felt a bit like this about Skin of Our Teeth also, which might be the only other truly surreal play I've seen). The use of the surreal in Eurydice made me think about the concepts surrounding it, especially death, music, and love. The surreal actions of the characters also showed their experiences of these emotions and events is such a new way, that parts might be more powerful than watching their realistic counterparts. An example is Orpheus trying to send Eurydice the Complete Works of Shakespeare by tying a string around it and sending it through the ground. It shows his desperation, love, uncertainty all at once, in an image that is certainly not conventional.

One of the moments that struck me the most was Orpheus's second attempt at his first letter for Eurydice. The entire scene stands thus:

ORPHEUS: Dear Eurydice,
I miss you. No--that's not nearly enough.
he crumples up the letter. He writes a new letter. He thinks. He writes:
ORPHEUS: Dear Eurydice,
a pause. Music. He conducts.
Love, Orpheus
he drops the letter as though through a mail slot

I could just feel that. The thought of sending all of the emotion he must have been experiencing in a letter, through music, is a brilliant idea for the stage. If performed right, I could see this being a favorite scene.

Beyond the surrealism, I was also struck by the amount of time allotted to action without any dialogue. I could see how this could make the audience uncomfortable at first (silence on stage often does). However, I think that the play between silence, words, and music could be what would make the performance strong. I was wondering if they have an score or recording of the music for those who stage the play. I'd love to hear the intended music for some of these parts. However, the interpretation could change so much with what music and sounds are used. It's such an interesting concept to think about.

Ruhl's Eurydice as an adaptation shows many neat points as well. The idea of looking into the "other" in a story has always been a great idea to me. Seeing what the side character, the villain, or even another main character, is really thinking or doing when they are no accounted for by the scrip or story can show so many facets of the same story in a revealing way. Even if it is not exactly aligned with the original, the ideas presented can spark new ideas for both versions. Using what portions fit with her new interpretation, Ruhl can keep whichever parts of the original idea best say what she wants to say. An adaptation can create a new meaning that can compliment or contradict the first work, but will always ad another depth to it.

Between You and Me: Dialogue

First lesson: Monologues pull out of plays much easier than dialogue does. Dialogue really builds on itself. In normal conversation or in theater, the words, concepts, and meanings keep popping up later, either in the same conversation, or at a different time. Dialogue tends to rely on past experience and knowledge. In theater, though, dialogue needs to portray that experience and knowledge that is important for the audience to know. So, it can be difficult to follow a scene out of context.

Having said that, there is still a lot to learn from dialogue scenes, even if they are pulled out of their respective plays. In all of them, the dialogue does build off of the previous lines. It seems incredibly basic, but one of the most important things in dialogue seems to be believability. The actor needs to say something that can convince the audience that it would actually be said in reply to the previous line (or after a thought process by the character, even if we don't hear their train of thought). Whether or not the response would actually happen is not as important as the audience's perception that it would.

Besides actually seeming believable within the context of the play, (which will vary drastically from Shakespeare to Arthur Miller) dialogue needs to maintain interest and achieve a purpose, usually forwarding plot or character. In many of the snippets I read, much of the dialogue would pass fairly quickly, or at least with short sentences between people, until a more significant moment of revelation or plot took place. Then a single character would get a more developed line. This does follow a logical form of conversation: the participants chat around until one of them finds something more important or in depth to say. Similarly, in the script, the characters can have less impactful conversation (which ideally still builds character or plot) that links more key points.

As important as these key points are, at times it is more important that the characters know what they are talking about than that the audience know right out. An example from The Shape of Things (I know that's in the reading for Thursday, but I read it and it has the perfect example) shows the effect of keeping the audience guessing:

EVELYN: And I whispered back to you, I said...
ADAM: I remember.
EVELYN: I meant that. I did.
ADAM: Yeah?
EVELYN: Yes.
ADAM: ...oh.

In this exchange, the characters know exactly what they are talking about. It doesn't seem like they are referring to something that the audience would know about from earlier in the play, so if this is the case, then the audience is left to determine the meaning of their exchange, which could be influenced by the actor's interpretations as well (this still works for the single scene out of context, even if this is referenced explicitly earlier in the full play). Angels in America also uses a similar technique for the majority of the first scene in the excerpt. Harper has a question for Joe, but neither acknowledge what that question is until the last few lines of the scene, drawing the tension out while still conveying character and plot.

So, it boils down to believability within the aspect of the play, character, and plot. And voice and rhythm and diction and comprehensibility and... No pressure.