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Keyword: ‘Writing from Character’

Poor Little Lulu

March 21st, 2012 No comments

Poor Little Lulu

Went and saw Poor Little Lulu at CPT on Monday, and for the most part I enjoyed the play conceived and directed by Matthew Earnest, an adaptation of two Frank Wedekind plays as noted in the program, Earth Spirit and Pandora’s Box.

I say “for the most part” because, as with many conceived pieces, the story really falls apart at the end. However, with that said, apparently both of the plays written by Wedekind are, generally, run together in one performance. The “running together” of the plays at CPT is no different: though, I wish in many ways it was. Simply, either the plays should not be run together in one evening, or sufficient time should be provided for them to properly develop and resolve themselves. As with other jointly conceived pieces I’ve seen it’s as if the steam (enthusiasm) just runs out—-or the time to prepare it does–and there is a push to just end the piece in whichever way is most expedient—-or no one working on the piece has the faintest idea how to end it, and so it lieu of letting it just sort of peter out some contrived ending is ratcheted on. This, however, was an adaptation, so there was not this particular problem, there was another, which I get to later.

What Earnest does with the play from a directorial and visual dimension is fantastic. The choices of costuming (nudity, cross-dressing, costume design), scene transition, the contrast of white and black and shadow play (noir) is stunning, etc. The performances from the cast are equally exceptional. The play, for the most part, is worth seeing for the visual effects, direction, sound design (James Kosmatka), video design (Earnest & Will Bezek), and staging alone. There is a constancy of energy and forward motion driving the piece, which helps when the story flags in Act 2. There are only a few instances in which the other flaw of devised pieces exhibits itself, which I’ll refer to as the onanistic tendency to indulge in superfluous goings on: characters (actors) sing for no reason (just because they can, I suppose) and for the same reason they engage in choreographed dancing. Don’t get me wrong, Lulu is supposed to be a dancer—so why not let her dance, right? Of course, she is supposed to be a prostitute, so why not let her…? The point is that seeing the dancing or fucking or whatever is not immediately relevant to the story. If it doesn’t materially function as an element of the story then cut it. If it has no story contribution (forward progression) then cut it. Katie Nabors (Lulu) is a dancer by the way and is clearly very talented and it was a joy to watch, even though it had no real purpose, or perhaps phrased differently, why was there no dancing and singing in Act 2? If you’re going to go whole hog, go whole hog.

Having worked on adaptations myself, and having read many books that touch on the subject, one of the rules that is always put forward is that the playwright, sorry, conceiver, should be faithful to the script (devised piece) he/she is writing/ conceiving, not to the original material—-even in cases when the original creator is still alive and you are beholden to that original work you should fight as much as possible for your own vision. That is, you should be as faithful as possible to your adaptation—-your interpretation of the story. So, for Earnest the question is, what was the story? His story? Because, I think, too faithful an adherence to Wedekind’s ponderous arc drove this piece to a forced progression of plot pegs. I can see and understand the imperative to present the “whole” story—-the complete character arc for Lulu: her rise and terrible fall—-but that is a different play from the emotional entanglements of Lulu and Schon (Mark Farr) which dominate the first act. Equally, I understand CPT’s mission and goal of presenting stories that cast light on social injustice and issues that still are prevalent in today’s society: including the slavery of women. These two plays by Wedekind certainly do this. But as presented in this adaptation the story fails in the second act completely—-the plot points are there and clearly apparent, but dramatic and emotional interest just vanishes. Having never read the original plays I am unsure how long a full production of both would be—-compared to this one at CPT. But, in the interest of finishing this adaptation much of Act 2 is clipped of meaningful dramatic content and all is presented as rough plot points and characters speaking their situations (telling): “Oh, I have no money,” etc. It is in this regard that I would rather have had only one play presented, or perhaps both at different times.

The story in the first act is quite compelling and engaging (i.e. the first play) and it is quickly and emotionally enthralling with regard to the relationship between Lulu and Dr. Ludwig Schon. Earnest, with the first play (act) creates a captivating story, in which the tension between Lulu and Schon is built and very productively dominant—-a tension that could have been sustained over the whole piece. Unfortunately, by being wholly true to the Wedekind original, this tension and emotionally dramatic force is cut short far too quickly with the marriage of Lulu and Schon and the subsequent murder of Schon by Lulu. This arc is fine for one play (Earth Spirit) but not fine for the two plays combined. The problem for the Earnest adaptation (wholly) is that the emotional attachment for the audience falls predominantly on these two characters (Lulu and Schon) and in the second act the audience is left with without them (hence no attachment–and virtually no interest in what transpires.) In fact, Lulu is in prison and absent from the first several minutes of the second act, so there are no characters that serve as an attachment at all—-and the characters that remain are debauched (as expected given the time period and location) but also two-dimensional, and thus cannot be emotionally engaging. Again, I don’t know if this is a problem for just this piece, or if it is common to the other adaptations of the “Lulu plays.” It is regrettable, because the first part of the piece is very alluring, but the second is just a series of rote events that wrap up the character arcs in a mechanical sort of way.

Telling Lives

February 29th, 2012 No comments

Telling Lives at Dobama

Went and saw Telling Lives at Dobama a few weeks back; Super Bowl Sunday, to be precise. Written by Faye Sholiton several years back and then dusted off, revised, updated, re-written, pick you choice phrase, and presented in the Playwrights’ Gym. Telling Lives is a strong piece of writing and a fine piece of theater.

Telling Lives adeptly and gracefully tells the story of three generations of women in the Garver/Klein family. Appropriately, what is most telling about the relationship between each woman is what isn’t said at all. It is clear from the start that years of tension and unsaid things have left each woman defensive, guarded, and isolated, and we, as an audience, will bear witness to either the terrible destruction of these women or the reversal of their fortunes.

The matriarch of the family is Ruth Garver (Rhonda Rosen), an older woman who is teetering on the edge of both decline and intervention. Living alone, she is forgetful and moving ever closer to the point at which she cannot take care of herself. It is, presumably at the start, this aspect of her life that leads her to write an autobiography, which becomes a lightning rod. Ruth’s daughter, Geri Klein (Maryann Elder) is an editor at a newspaper and the ex-wife of a now highly successful fiction writer. These two facts alone allow for the edge of cynicism we see in her, but she has also been scarred and hardened by other relationships in her life: notably with her daughter, her mother, her father, and her dead sister. Geri’s daughter, Rachel, (Emily Pucell) is a rebellious thirty-something playwright who has taking to airing the family misfortunes through her stage plays. Finally, we learn that it is Rachel, who’s desire to air more dirty laundry on stage, prodded the matriarch, Ruth, to write her autobiography. The main intent, it seems, is to discover what happened to her dead aunt and the reason for it. Again, Sholiton adeptly brings the play to a dramatic head by having the autobiography be more problematic for what has been left out, rather than what has been put in it. Coupled with this, is the natural instinct that Geri has, being an editor, to correct, cut, revise, and goad her mother into revisions–which Ruth does not want to make.

Ultimately, the mystery that surrounds the autobiography and the secret related to the dead aunt/sister/daughter is a MacGuffin to expose and examine what is most important in this play: the way in which family members relate to one another: how they hurt each other, recover, and how they love each other.

Sholiton has written a wonderful play with strong characters who are witty, vibrant, and delightful to watch.