RECAP: As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm trying to chronicle my process (start to finish) through a new play I want finished -- as in ready to get actor/director/designer/theater lover feedback on -- by January 2014 at the latest.
Phase one is to find a shape I'm interested in. My most recent play -- Chaos, and Other Worldly Possessions -- was shaped like seven broken plates all put back together in a mosaic. It worked well with the limitations placed on the project as an outgrowth of the process we set up. (I will spend a little time exploring/explaining this choice and how it affected every choice after it in another blog post.)
To find the shape, I need to decide what I think theater is good for; what it can/cannot/should/should not do. My opinion on this changes all the time, so it isn't an easy question for me to answer.
Now, on to today's post ...
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Today is Tuesday, Oct. 1, 2013. The weather is close to perfect. The world hasn't really crapped on me yet. I have a show opening that is really quite good. I'm feeling positive about people and the future and the theater and my life -- and people in the future of my theater life. In short, it is a lousy day to work on a new play.
But it is an interesting opportunity for me to think. Why did I just write "it is a lousy day to work on a new play?" Why am I an angry playwright? It's a legit question because I am, most of the time ... even when I try to uplift the mood at the end. I believe in hostile stories with mostly happy endings. Why? Is this something I can or should change? Can I play against it to find a new voice for the next play? What would a happy play look like? How would I build one? Is it even really possible? Comedy is savage. Drama is savage. Tragedy is ... well, you get the point.
If I believe in a visceral theater -- and I do -- is there any way I can be not savage? Not seeing it right now. Maybe I'm afraid of being overly sentimental or of boring the audience because I'm not good enough to write a riviting, tender story. That's a real possibility, since I take the time my audience gives me very seriously and I don't want to fritter it away. Maybe it's just my personal belief that I don't think sentimental theater is interesting to watch ... EVER. Maybe I think theater should beat the snot out of everything in it's path or it should stay home.
I can live with that theatrical theory, for today anyway.
If I have to be a savage playwright, is there any reason to pull back from a dead-ahead sprint? 90 minutes of raw humanity on stage? Isn't there a reasonable argument for writing a play that is a snarling, violent, emotional train wreck.
What would that look like, structure-wise? Actors led into a slaughterhouse and shipped out as sausage?
Ooo, I like this image as a structurely guideline! Done and done. This blog post is finished. I have to go think about how to create a slaughterhouse of a play. Thanks for helping me take the first step. There are still many more steps though, so come back often.
Phase one is to find a shape I'm interested in. My most recent play -- Chaos, and Other Worldly Possessions -- was shaped like seven broken plates all put back together in a mosaic. It worked well with the limitations placed on the project as an outgrowth of the process we set up. (I will spend a little time exploring/explaining this choice and how it affected every choice after it in another blog post.)
To find the shape, I need to decide what I think theater is good for; what it can/cannot/should/should not do. My opinion on this changes all the time, so it isn't an easy question for me to answer.
Now, on to today's post ...
---
Today is Tuesday, Oct. 1, 2013. The weather is close to perfect. The world hasn't really crapped on me yet. I have a show opening that is really quite good. I'm feeling positive about people and the future and the theater and my life -- and people in the future of my theater life. In short, it is a lousy day to work on a new play.
But it is an interesting opportunity for me to think. Why did I just write "it is a lousy day to work on a new play?" Why am I an angry playwright? It's a legit question because I am, most of the time ... even when I try to uplift the mood at the end. I believe in hostile stories with mostly happy endings. Why? Is this something I can or should change? Can I play against it to find a new voice for the next play? What would a happy play look like? How would I build one? Is it even really possible? Comedy is savage. Drama is savage. Tragedy is ... well, you get the point.
If I believe in a visceral theater -- and I do -- is there any way I can be not savage? Not seeing it right now. Maybe I'm afraid of being overly sentimental or of boring the audience because I'm not good enough to write a riviting, tender story. That's a real possibility, since I take the time my audience gives me very seriously and I don't want to fritter it away. Maybe it's just my personal belief that I don't think sentimental theater is interesting to watch ... EVER. Maybe I think theater should beat the snot out of everything in it's path or it should stay home.
I can live with that theatrical theory, for today anyway.
If I have to be a savage playwright, is there any reason to pull back from a dead-ahead sprint? 90 minutes of raw humanity on stage? Isn't there a reasonable argument for writing a play that is a snarling, violent, emotional train wreck.
What would that look like, structure-wise? Actors led into a slaughterhouse and shipped out as sausage?
Ooo, I like this image as a structurely guideline! Done and done. This blog post is finished. I have to go think about how to create a slaughterhouse of a play. Thanks for helping me take the first step. There are still many more steps though, so come back often.