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Keeping in STEP with today’s theater students

Joella Blount smiles her broad smile. Well, I was thinkin’ about goin’ to the Army. But I don’t think I am anymore. I plan to work for a while and I want to save up money to go to college. Her smile broadens and she laughs at the irony: that she has been considering joining the army and yet the training program at the Cleveland Public Theatre’s STEP program is wearing her out.

Joella will be a senior this coming school year and this is likely her last year in the Student Theatre Enrichment Program (STEP). She also has the lead role of Keisha in CPT‘s production of Chalk Circle, in which the fate of a child prince is divided between the biological mother, the queen, who callously abandons him, and the adoptive mother, a servant girl, Keisha, who gives him love and protection.

To those with no experience in the theater, putting up a play may not seem like all that much work. But to the students in the STEP program this summer there’s no doubt about it: it is work–good work–but the young actors still must spend an intense five to seven hours every weekday to stage their play. Each day begins with a demanding round of exercises, stretches, and running activities, and ends with rigorous rehearsals which include an excruciating repetition of carefully choreographed scenes.

The process of generating material for the play starts early in the summer and is slowly and meticulously guided by Raymond Bobgan, Education Director, [now Executive Artistic Director] and Chris Seibert, Director of Education.

One of the first material elements generated for the Chalk Circle was a series of spontaneously generated motions with a wooden stool. Each young actor created three actions with his or her stool, and later certain of these were formalized and then incorporated into the final performance. In fact, the final performance features a stunning utilization of the stools as musical instruments, props for swinging and tossing, and a harrowing scene in which stools are dynamically moved elliptically, like the tread on a Caterpillar bull-dozer, as Joella walks across the stool-tops; her character, Keisha, threading the top of a mountain peak.

“I just enjoy how they fit an action, like the action that we do with the stools, how we started off just messing around with it and they incorporated that into the play, I just love the way they do it,” says Anthony Brooks, who plays the part of Simon, a young warrior whose love for Keisha is in conflict with his service to the queen.

Another element of the play that is generated early on is the text or script. Prompted by Chris Seibert, the students are fed single words or single sentences in carefully designed stream of consciousness writing exercises. During these sessions, each participant generates material from his or her own life and experience and, very like the activities with the stools described above, the written material is incorporated as part of the play.

For Gina Ferguson, playing the part of the queen, this style of creating a script presents an opportunity to shine. “[We are given] a line or something to write down, you write and you think–this is never gonna get put in the play, this is never gonna get put in the play, and then it might turn out to be one of your own lines, then it’s like, ‘I wrote this,’ so it’s exciting, knowing one of the first lines in the play is something I wrote. So, it’s like–it feels good seein’ something that I wrote in the play. So it encourages us to keep writing and just be open and don’t stop.”

Taking advantage of the skilled eye of Raymond Bobgan, Director of Blue Sky Transmission and Assistant Director in the Tony Award-winning production of Death of a Salesman, the play utilizes a startling array of movements, materials and props, which, besides the stools, include activities with flags, vocal performances, choral arrangements that are very like the strophe and antistrophe in Greek theater, and precisely choreographed dance: each element building to create an aesthetic theater that is very fulfilling and highly engaging.

“Out of the many years that I’ve been doing theater, I’ve never seen anything like this. The movements are so timed and detailed, the people are dedicated to the point where, thankfully, every day, faithfully they’re doing something, changing something, adding new ideas–So, seeing these guys come out here, the movement with the stools, the eye contact, the camaraderie on stage between them, it’s just amazing, it’s magical–it’s 100% art; it’s what art is,” says Quinton Perry, a veteran of the STEP Program and an assistant to Chris and Raymond.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?

Chalk Circle has several iterations in literature, and it is difficult to pinpoint which is the origin. The Chalk Circle is both a Chinese tale and a biblical story of Solomon from 1 Kings 3: 16-28. The Chalk Circle for STEP is based on a combination of the Chinese tale and Bertolt Brecht Caucasian Chalk Circle. But the adaptation is wholly that of the STEP participants, made all the more real by the choreographed creations, vocal arrangements, and student writings.

For Raymond and Chris the choice of the play is as much about fitting the subject with the young actors as it is about choosing a ‘literary’ piece of theater. And the wisdom of their choice shows: the Chalk Circle touches a chord with the students, who see in the struggle of the young prince to discover his true identity a theme that is painfully familiar to them as young adults.

Todd Siwik, who plays both a doctor and lawyer in Chalk Circle agrees: “I think the whole question of ‘who am I?’ That’s probably what the play’s on. It’s [a question] a lot of people have, or what they want to do in life, where they came from, and the play has a lot to do with that.”

“It reminds me of the movie Big Fish,” says Quinton, smiling from under his New York Yankees hat. “It’s the story of a boy trying to learn exactly who his father is.”

Tyler Slaughter, who plays the prince as a grown young man, feels that the story resonates with him, too. “I guess what you can say with me, like, with my character trying to find his way, and trying to figure out where he came from; I’m somewhat trying to just figure out what I’m going to do with my life, you know? How am I gonna catch the bus tomorrow or somethin’ like that, that is just tryin’ to find my way.”

Theater has the power to transform lives

The STEP Program at CPT is now in its twelfth year, and has grown from a summertime program to a year-round, long-term theater program for at-risk teens. Throughout the year students from all over Cleveland come to CPT to learn the craft of theater from professional artists.

The benefits of the program are well-documented. Five years ago, the U.S. Department of Education and the National Endowment for the Arts generated Champions of Change, a report that summarizes education research from across the country. This report, available online through the Arts Education Partnership (http://www.aep-arts.org), demonstrates that arts programs make a significant impact in bridging the gap in academic and job performance between children in inner-city disadvantaged school systems and those in more affluent programs. The report also showed that low-performing students demonstrate significant growth in achievements after becoming involved in arts programs.

Fittingly, the STEP Program is itself a sort of Chalk Circle. Like Keisha picking up the abandoned prince, STEP provides marginalized students with an opportunity and a chance at artistic fulfillment and expressive participation. But more than that, it provides participants with a sense of community that may be lacking elsewhere.

“I have enjoyed being a friend–to mainly everybody, like when they’re sad or something I can come to them or they can come to me and we can cheer each other up, give each other hugs, or words of encouragement. And my scene partners, we could go over our lines, go over our things together, that’s what I really liked,” says Joella. And the strength and opportunity for friendship is a sentiment that is echoed by nearly all the students who participate in the program.

But to focus exclusively on the educational benefits of the STEP Program is to trivialize the role that each student plays as a professional actor, for each young performer takes his or her role very seriously, with a dedication in time and energy that even a corner-office CEO in Key Tower would admire.

“I like how they tell me to do it over again, it gets me more energized and, you know, sometimes it’ll get me real tired and exhausted but I keep going–it’s understandable, ’cause I see that they want the play to be perfect,” says Samantha Robinson, who plays opposite Todd Siwik as the second lawyer and doctor.

Coming to a theater–or a park–near you

The Cleveland Public Theatre provides Cleveland residents with many opportunities to see the plays that STEP puts up. The Chalk Circle alone will have nine performances at nine separate locations throughout the city: seven at public parks and two in downtown Cleveland. The final performance of The Caucasian Chalk Circle is Friday, September 2^nd, [2005] at Public Square during InGenuity Cleveland (http://www.ingenuitycleveland.com), A Festival of Art and Technology.

By taking theater on the road, the STEP program aggressively asserts not only the importance of having its productions seen, but the importance of bringing theater to the community, to making it available in the places where people live and work and play. Often nowadays, there is a disconnect between what people think theater is: a highbrow form of entertainment often following a wine and cheese tasting, and the reality of a theater that can relate to their everyday lives.

The STEP program actively confronts this notion by using the actions and words of its students to create its plays and by choosing subjects that are of material importance to every person in the community: Who am I? Where I am I going? What does this life I’m living mean?

“I think a lot of people can relate to it,” Joella says when asked why people should come to see Chalk Circle. “If there’s somebody and they’re kind of lost in who they are–maybe they can come to the play and it could give them ideas, like what should they do if they wanna know. And plus it’s a bunch of teens–and I know a lot of people are saying that teenagers are just problem-causers, you know, they just cause problems–but we show that it’s not really true, there is some teens out there that like to do something with their summer, instead of just hanging out with their friends. They made a commitment to be here, to perform in front of them, so that they can enjoy themselves, and we can enjoy ourselves.”

But perhaps more importantly, as Joella points out, the STEP program provides Clevelanders a chance to experience the creativity, imagination, and energy of the youth of their community, to participate in the magical transformation of their youthful life experience and energy into a story that transcends time.

Thom Pain (based on nothing)as seen at Dobama Theatre on 4 February 2007.

I think the biggest thing of interest to me about seeing Will Eno’s Thom Pain, as opposed to reading it, was the interpretation made in the presentation; or, using the more cliche lingo, the "choices" that were made.

In the post performance discussion, Scott Plate said that he and Joel Hammer had made decisions regarding the character that were different from the New York show. This was based on descriptions provided by Tony Brown, who apparently saw the original show in New York. Brown said that the character/interpretation was somewhat vicious in his incarnation and distant. The performance was menacing and left the audience with a distinct and pervasive feeling of having been ravaged.

The performance I witnessed was that of a more neurotic character, a man who was decidedly in mental chaos: clear and articulate, piercing and insightful; then muddy and worried and uncertain. I found the character, as presented at Dobama, to be worthy of empathy and concern: a human character worthy of compassion.

In seeing the performance, as again opposed to reading the script, I was surprised at how clearly the "spine" of the work became clear: the failure to connect with the family, the loss of the dog, the failure to connect with society, the loss of the lover. These points of the play stood out very well, in my mind–where in the text they were somewhat more difficult to discern. In seeing the piece I found it highly compelling. Additionally, the intentionally theatrical moments of the performance: where the character addresses and interacts with the audience, were very real and had a tantalizing influence on me as a spectator: even though I knew they were coming. In fact, I found this the most peculiar part of the experience: knowing full well something was coming and the nature of that something and yet still being affected by it.

I also noted that one of my favorite lines was botched; but I gained a completely new appreciation for one line that still haunts me, and likely always will. The line that was botched was: "And somewhere in the same night another youth bleeds between her legs, wondering what for, sure she’s done something wrong, unsure whom to tell." I was very disappointed because I thought it so profound. It was either botched or cut. I found it profound and disturbing all at once, along with the line that has become my favorite: "What a surprise to have a body." I am not sure why these two lines resonate so deeply with me, but I will try to put a finger on it. I think it is Eno’s very precise association of bodily events with the mind’s judgment of the self. The mind searches the universe incessantly to make connections between things. That is what makes great artists and inventors and businessmen and–well, any great person–great–is their ability to connect things that are unconnected. It is the true act of creativity in the world. A person can do something or create something or write something never being sure that it hasn’t been thought or written or created by someone else before. But the connection of two disparate things: two things that have not been connected is an original act; unique in that it creates something larger than itself and releases a new energy into the world. The mind is always trying to connect things: connect, connect, connect, connect–what does this mean, how does this relate to this other thing–why me? What have I done? And that is what is haunting about Eno’s lines. The mind judges. Bleeding is bad. Bleeding from your “secret parts” (to use the Medieval phrasing) is very bad. There is no reason for it. The mind is magical. The mind connects unrelated things to create meaning. That is magic. That is why science will always loose to the superstitious mind. We are hard wired to believe, to our souls, things that are refutable: but to the mind as hard as scientific fact will ever be. To the primitive mind, a yellow bird pressed against the skin will take the yellow evil of jaundice away with it out the window. It makes perfect sense. If it doesn’t work, then it is not a reflection on the concept, but on the recipient. The girl lying in the dark will associate this bad thing happening to her with some act that she must have committed. Somewhere a brooding justice falls on her for what she has thought, or may have done, or may have thought, once, of doing. Blood doesn’t just happen. There is a reason. And in the illogical darkness: the murk of the primitive jungle in our unconscious: judgment. Taboo.

I know this feeling. Who doesn’t? And I am moved, wrenched to think of that girl in that darkness fearing that she has done something wrong when the body is just doing what it does to advance the species. Oh, how science takes the magic from us. How clinical and removed it is. Cut off your arm and it becomes a thing. The sensation it has provided you is gone; the utility of movement is lost. Science. Of science, as Yeats says, more poetically than I can ever dare imagine:

from The Song of the Happy Shepherd

"… Seek, then,
No learning from the starry men,
Who follow with the optic glass
The whirling ways of stars that pass –
Seek, then, for this is also sooth,
No word of theirs – the cold star-bane
Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain,
And dead is all their human truth."

I find that I am strangely drawn to this play. I enjoy it. The more I think about it the more I find myself discovering. These are excellent qualities in anything. But I also don’t like that I am drawn to it. My mind rebels against these postmodern plays, or these post post modern absurdist plays. The plays that all the "hot" writers write; the "up-and-coming" writers. They seem to me hyperpersonal. It is as if each is vomiting his or her neuroses. I feel at once like quoting a Neil LaBute character and a character of F. Scott Fitzgerald. There’s an odd combination. In The Shape of Things, Adam says, outraged at the end,

I’ve completely missed the point here, and somehow puking up…all your own shitty little neuroses all over people’s laps is actually art–

Nick Carraway, at the beginning of The Great Gatsby remarks,

I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accuses of being a politician, because I was so privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought-frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon…

I feel often that I am somewhere in between these poles when it comes to "new" theatre. I am pulled constantly between the poles of expressing myself and hoping that my own little, neurotic experience is universal enough that it connects with people; or expressing myself through attempts at displaying universal, epic themes, and flinching away from the postmodern accusation that you cannot generalize anymore–that horse is dead and beaten and buried.

I am clearly moving into a new phase in my own writing. I know this. I can feel it, and feel the urge to explore. This is good. I just wonder if it will lead me to a clearing in the jungle that no one wants to visit. A place that is not only unremarkable, but perhaps, repulsive.

That is to say, to sort of crystallize this, what is theatre today? What is the point of it, what is the goal of it, what should it be? I am torn between my traditional expectations of the Aristotelian model: the proud and noble character who experiences a reversal, fails, repents, and is destroyed in front of everyone; to the now post, postmodern offerings of completely destroyed personalities offering up their dreadful experiences as something universal. One could argue that it is a reversal of what is right (or is it just beginning at a different point?). I am reminded of Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals:

The slave revolt in morality begins when the resentment itself becomes creative and gives birth to values: the resentment of those beings who are prevented from a genuinely active reaction and who compensate for that with a merely imaginary vengeance. While all noble morality grows out of a triumphant self-affirmation, slave morality from the start says No to what is “outside,” “other,” “a non-self”. And this No is its creative act. This transformation of the glance which confers value–this necessary projection towards what is outer instead of back into itself–that is inherent in resentment. In order to arise, slave morality always requires first an opposing world, a world outside itself. Psychologically speaking, it needs external stimuli in order to act at all. Its action is basically reaction.

That is, what has been viewed as good, right, and moral is viewed by those who are disaffected as evil, wrong, and immoral. Hence, the inversion begins. I am torn by this and think often that what I am seeing in modern theatre is nothing more than the utter dissolution of anything noble or (hating to use the loaded word) moral. And I don’t know that I mean that in a religious judgmental sort of way, but a more humanistic way: that we elevate what is debased and dismiss what attempts to lift.

Well, there is no easy way to wrap this commentary up. So, it will be left as it is, with that flat and petered-out ending. These are my thoughts, though, on the 19th of February, 2007. Where they shall lead me on the 20th, and 21st, and all days after I must wait, like everyone else, to see!