John McGrath: A Good Night Out

From John McGrath's outstanding book A Good Night Out: Popular Theatre: Audience, Class and Form:

"I could have called [these lectures] 'Telling the Story' - because that's what theatre does. You go into a space, and some other people use certain devices to tell you a story. Because they have power over you, in a real sense, while you are there, they make a choice, with political implications, as to which story to tell - and how to tell it.

But we go in, watch their story, and come out, changed. If their work is good, and skilfully written, presented and acted, we come out feeling exhilarated: we are more alive for seeing it, more aware of the possibilities of the human race, more fully human ourselves. So far, so wonderfully universal. But this story we watch can have a meaning: a very specific meaning. What if we are black, say, and we go to see some splendidly effective, but com­pletely racist theatre show? What if we are Jewish, and go to see a piece of anti-semitic drama such as one could easily see in Germany in the 1930s? Are we quite so exhilarated? Quite so fully human? Or would we not feel demeaned, excluded from humanity, diminished in our possibilities and a great deal more pessimistic about the future of the human race than when we went in? The meaning, and value, of theatre can clearly change from country to country, group to group, and - significantly - from class to class.

What does this mean then? That not all stories are so wonderfully universal? That the political and social values of the play cannot be the same for one audience as they are for another? What a terribly confusing state of affairs!

How can you know where you stand? How can you be suitably academic, objective and withdrawn? How can you make a universally valid judgement?? It is next to impossible to take the existence of various different audiences into account, to codify their possible reactions to a piece of theatre, to evaluate a piece of theatre from within several frameworks. So what do we do?

Well, I'll tell you what most of us do - we take the point of view of a normal person - usually that of a well-fed, white, middle class, sensitive but sophisticated literary critic: and we universalize it as the response.

The effect of such a practice is to enshrine certain specific values and qualities of a play above others. For example, mystery - or mysteriousness as it so often How often has this 'all-pervading air of'mystery' been praised by critic and academic alike, from Yeats's Purgatory down through Beckett to our own cut-price product, Harold Pinter? Mystery, the ingredient that leavens the loaf - or should I say makes the dough rise

But many audiences don't like mystery, in that sense of playing games with knowledge, and words, and facts. They become impatient, they want to know what the story is meant to be about, what is supposed to have hap­pened. They wish a different order of mystery. But because we have universalized the critical response to 'mystery' that proclaims it as a truly wonderful thing, we now have to dismiss those audiences as philistine, as outside true theatre culture, as - and this is the Arnold Wesker refinement - in need of education. My belief, and the basis of my practice as a writer in the theatre for the last ten years, has been that there are indeed different kinds of audiences, with different theatrical values and expectations, and that we have to be very careful before consigning one audience and its values to the critical dustbin. Unfortunately, almost all the current assump­tions of critical thought do precisely that, by universaliz­ing white middle-class sensitive but sophisticated taste to the status of exclusive arbiter of a true art or culture. I intend to devote the third of these lectures to a more de­tailed analysis of the differences of value between the two main kinds of theatre audience in this country, the 'edu­cated' middle-class audience, and the 'philistine' working-class audience. For the time being let me just note that there is indeed a difference, and that I do not accept the following assumptions:

1. that art is universal, capable of meaning the same to all people;
2. that the more 'universal' it is, the better it is;
3. that the 'audience' for theatre is an idealized white, middle-class, etc., person and that all theatre should be dominated by the tastes and values of such a person;
4. that, therefore, an audience without such an idea­lized person's values is an inferior audience; and
5. that the so-called 'traditional values' of English literature are now anything other than an indirect expression of the dominance over the whole of Britain of the ruling class of the south-east of England.

To be more specific, I do believe that there is a working-class audience for theatre in Britain which makes demands, and which has values, which are dif­ferent from those enshrined in our idealized middle-class audience. That these values are no less 'valid' - whatever that means - no less rich in potential for a thriving theatre-culture, no thinner in 'traditions' and subtleties than the current dominant theatre-culture, and that these new basis for making theatre that could in many ways be more appropriate to the last quarter of the twentieth century than the stuff that presently goes on at the National Theatre, or at the Aldwych.

The Gated Theatre Community

Also from the same article by Dudley Cocke (see below):

With most (80 percent) of its audience drawn from the top 15 percent of the income scale, the assembled spectators for the typical not-for-profit professional theater production don’t look like any community in the U.S., except, perhaps, a gated one. From such a narrow social base, great democratic art will never rise.

Playing Out Front or Right Behind the Song

From Roadside Theatre (Whitesburg, KY) artistic director Dudley Cocke's essay "Art in a Democracy," available on-line at the Community Arts Network website.

"Thirty-odd years ago, a famous folksinger from California came to the coalfields of central Appalachia to perform in a high-school auditorium. A big crowd was on hand as a local string band opened the concert. The local band, rising to the occasion, had the audience’s rapt attention. I’m told that you could hear a pin drop. The famous folksinger followed with some success. Backstage, she made a point to congratulate the local band on their performance, noting that she, too, often sang from the same Appalachian song book. She went on to say how keenly the audience had been listening to their music and wondered what their secret was. "What is that little something extra you seem to have?" she asked repeatedly, each time more emphatically. The local band kindly looked at the floor as she pressed for an answer. Finally the fiddle player spoke up, "Well ma’am, the only difference that I could tell was that you were playing out front of them ol’ songs, and we were right behind ‘em."

Ralph Ellison deftly spins the fiddler’s point:

There is a cruel contradiction implicit in the art form itself. For true jazz is an art of individual assertion within and against the group. Each true jazz moment (as distinct from the uninspired commercial performance) springs from a context in which each artist challenges all the rest, each solo flight, or improvisation, represents (like the successive canvases of a painter) a definition of his identity: as individual, as member of the collectivity, and as link in the chain of tradition. Thus, because jazz finds its very life in an endless improvisation upon traditional materials, the jazzman must lose his identity even as he finds it.

The Charlie Christian Story ("Shadow and Act," p.234)

Artists from all cultures have asked themselves these timeless questions: What artistic tradition am I working within? What is the history and current condition of this tradition? Where do I fit? Who are my fellow practitioners?

"

Show Blog

I have begun an experiment connected with my production of The Philadelphia Story, which had its first rehearsal last night. I have created a blog for anyone involved with the show to blog the rehearsal process. I am hoping that this will serve two purposes. First, I emailed the campus community announcing the creation of the blog in the hopes that some people might be interested in getting a "behind the scenes" look at the process. I am hoping that a stronger sense of connection between artists and community will develop from this interaction. For the students, I am hoping that blogging about their experience will encourage reflective thought about what they do and how they do it, so that the production process is more than simply putting on a show. After all, it is educational theatre!

In case you'd like to follow the process, and perhaps offer some words of support or advice in the comments box, the URL is: http://uncaphiladelphiastory.blogspot.com/

My My My

A small spate of aggressive dick-waving:

David Mamet makes sweeping generalizations about the intellectual and moral superiority of actors.

And Edward Albee takes a swing at all those pesky actors and directors who think they're creative.

Which leads me to this question: in a society that isn't exactly supportive of artists in general, and theatre people in particular, why do we save our largest brickbats for bashing...each other?

Recommendations?

I am going to be in NYC later this month -- Feb 22 - 25 -- to attend the International Conference on Arts and Society. Any recommendations as to what I ought to see? A few groundrules:

1. No one-person shows. Back in the 90s when I was a grad student, I was really jazzed about one-person plays, because I thought they possessed a more dynamic and flexible theatricality. Now they just seem like theatre done on the cheap. I Am My Own Wife was fascinating, and would have been improved by a few more actors... So no, The Fever is out. In fact, having at least three actors is a definite plus.

2. I'm going to be there with my wife and her cousin, so I'm not looking for obscurity and/or disgust. If it's up to me, Mr. Sleepy can snooze to his heart's content. And anything that looks like this I'll take a rain check on. They are both smart, knowledgeable women -- and each have a wicked tongue when they feel the Emperor is unclad.

3. I do like to see things that display theatrical imagination -- i.e., that take advantage of the fact that there is a live audience, and that the theatre allows a great deal of imagery.

4. I'd lean away from a classic. I teach theatre history every day -- I'd like to see something newish. Unless there is a performance that is absolutely not to be missed.

5. If at all possible, I like to see something that didn't display the artistic version of the attitude of the itinerate evagelical: holier-than-thou preaching. Simplistic piety -- say, The Exonerated -- doesn't do much for me. I like plays that allow as how there might just be two sides to a particular issue, both of which are interesting. I love to discuss plays afterwards, and but it is hard to discuss moral melodramas.

That said, some of my favorite theatre experiences probably contradict the above:

I loved Wooster Group's Three Sisters -- especially the idea of having Solyoni played by televised clips from Godzilla films.

I was totally jazzed by Julie Taymor's Juan Darien.

I saw Mac Wellman's Crowbar multiple times.

I was fascinated by Peter Hall's Long Day's Journey Into Night.

And now you know why it is so hard for me to decide what shows to see -- everything contradicts itself.

What Makes Theatre "Good"

Recently, we had a discussion in my Theatre of the Oppressed class about the question: what makes theatre "good"? What are the characteristics of a theatre experience that makes it "successful"? One of my students, Mark Shell, wrote on his blog some of his thoughts, and he suggested that I post them to my blog and encourage the other students in the class, and (he hoped) anyone else who might want to join in, to contribute their insights. I am happy to oblige, and you will find Marks' thoughts below. Please feel free to contribute to the comments!
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Realizing that it has been an eternity since my computer has pinged the address that is the existence of Live Journal, I was in class today and we were discussing: What Makes Theatre a Success?

I have my own ideas of this, as everyone does, but I feel bold enough to post them to the world. Although, frequently whenever I express my viewpoint and opinions to the class, or the world for that matter, I feel somewhat idiotic. So what? Here goes nothing.

1.) For theatre to be successful, it must have an appeal to the audience.- A personal example of this consists of back before I ever transferred to UNCA, before I even stepped foot into the world of theatre as I know it today, I was in the world of "home". This small, industrial furniture and textile based community is nestled snugly in the upright and rigid ideology of the Bible belt. Touring thru this community was the musical, "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas." A witty title, and daring plot, this musical put the audience uncomfortably on their toes. With every other word from the Sheriff's mouth an obscenity, the audience consisting mostly of the retired work force began to become offended and made no effort to stay to see the rest of the show. I myself was a bit uncomfortable with the content of the show.

However, now looking back, and knowing what I know now, I can say that the show was a success in the fact that it was technically sound. The actors, lived within the given circumstances of the plot, made dynamic and often stereotypical choices of southern characteristics. The house was packed, and despite the people who walked out, the show went on. Later, letters of complaint were sent to the establishment where the musical performed, but now that the show had moved on, I feel that it was a waste of paper.

To counterpoint, earlier in the year, another traveling show came thru- The classic "Fiddler on the Roof." Again selling out to a packed house of a nearly identical audience, the audience enjoyed every second of this show. Why? Most likely because of its content. It was less offensive than that out of the sheriff's mouth, or any of Miss Mona's scantily clad girls. Yet both shows were a success. Not in the opinion of the audience, only one gets a vote from them to be the success. It is my opinion, that my hometown...consisting of low income, government assisted industry workers, or to the Cadillac and Lincoln driving well to do Retirees, to the average middle class families, I believe that where I come from, the only reason people ever come to see theatre is strictly (and respectfully) for the sole purpose of entertainment.

2.) The theatre must be unified. - I feel that the theatre must be unified in all its areas of production. The set, the script, the acting. If all three (and who is to say that there are only three) of these elements are sound in the process of the production, I feel that the audience will accept the show as the "world" or in this case as I would call it, the contract that the show presents to the audience is believable. If something is not pulling the weight is should be, then some other aspect of the show must make up for it. In this circumstance, the show must be careful to not over-do it. If there is too much spectacle to make up for the not so hot job of acting, then the audience would most likely become bored.

3.) Believability- Someone made the comment in class today, how children wholeheartedly pretend. They become so fully immersed in their imagination they act "truthfully under imaginary circumstances." I find it humorously odd, that as theatre artists, actors specifically, that when we grow up, we loose this imagination, or rather, we depend on it less and become completely absorbed within the circumstances of the here and now. Then as adults when we try to re-master that creative imagination. We spend money on classes, learn techniques, and do everything we can to get back to being a kid again. Ironic? Just a bit.

4.) Simplicity- Simplicity works. Plain and simple. The grandeur and spectacle of a fire breathing dragon in the opening of Wicked looks great. It's one of the things that makes theatre "magical". But is it needed? I don’t think so. Last spring, TheatreUNCA acted as a community project and produced several community outreaching events which we called "Stage Left". I had the opportunity to participate in one of these events. I, along with several other class members, took children's story books and adapted them to the stage, then toured in public and private schools. Because we were touring, our set pieces consisted of about anything you could fit in the bed of a pick-up truck. A few cubes, mats, pool noodles, and various other set pieces. We took these simple items and used them in a fashion to where we could make an imaginary pirate ship, houses and monsters. Everything costing less than $100 total came to look like it was worth much more. I was taught in a drafting and design class to be creative. Use what's around you and if it's free, it's even better. That's exactly what we did. We took simple objects and endowed them to make these set pieces. Simple? You bet. Did it work? Indeed. Granted, these were children we were touring for, so their imaginations could be taken to that place where they saw a pirate ship. But who is to say that adults lack the capacity to believe the same thing? Mime Marcel Marseau has used nothing but a curtain and several of his students to work on a show, and the audience was enchanted.

Although I feel the list can continue, I will stop here, and let those who actually may stumble across this blog soak these things in, and I graciously welcome your additions and amendments.