The Cult of Sarah Kane

The Cult of Sarah Kane (1971-1999)

Sarah Kane has become to the theatre world what Ian Curtis of Joy Division has long been to the alternative music world: a beloved cult icon.   Their darkly inspired works remain as dark and inspiring today as they did when they were first created.  Both Kane and Curtis suffered from depression, and their last works (hers, 4.48 Psychosis; his, the album “Closer”) rather transparently document their unhappiness and presage their seemingly inevitable shared fate–suicide by hanging.

Unfortunately, the dramatic deaths of Kane and Curtis will forever threaten to overshadow their lifes’ works.  And this is precisely why, for example, David Greig works so arduously in his introduction to the Methuen edition (2001) of Kane’s complete plays to place her work in both its contemporary and historical context. He acknowledges the connections between Kane’s plays and those of the playwrights she admired, such as Buchner, Beckett, Bond, and Barker, and he also forges an association between some themes in her work and those in Shakespeare–a claim that no doubt pleases Kane’s cult but infuriates the contemptuous camp.  For instance, Blasted, like King Lear, depicts human depravity and the boundlessness of political revenge; certainly, the soldier’s sucking out and chewing up of Ian’s eyes in Kane’s play does recall Cornwall’s gouging out of Gloucester’s eyes in Shakespeare’s tragedy.

Sarah Kane’s five plays are the definition of artistic courage and vulnerability; raw, unflinching honesty; and pointed irreverence in dramatic storytelling.  In Blasted, her highly controversial first play, the alcoholic journalist, Ian, exchanges horror stories with a soldier  who hunts him down in his hotel room.  When the soldier asks why Ian doesn’t report on the soldier’s story, Ian replies that, “This isn’t a story anyone wants to hear.”  Not surprisingly, some critics have said the same about the play itself, which rampantly depicts the scatalogical, taboo, human and inhumane, from masturbation, hunger, racism, misogyny, and homophobia to excessive violence, rape, sodomy, cannibalism, murder, dismemberment, and suicide.  All that in just five scenes.  Kane’s deeply disturbing but undeniably thought provoking work is not for everyone, definitely not the fainthearted or weak-stomached. For anyone who has read my posts in recent weeks and followed the conversation sparked by Marsha Norman about women and playwriting–Blasted IS most definitely NOT a “girl play.”

**For those of you living or traveling to the Miami area in the new year, Gable Stage at the Biltmore will be producing the southeastern premiere of Blasted from February 20-March 21.    

Look for more discussion of Kane’s plays here in the coming weeks…

Until then, to find out more about her, check out this site maintained by Iain Fisher; it’s a great resource, international in its coverage, with regular updates on upcoming productions and a healthy discussion board.  According to Fisher’s site, Kane’s fifth and final play, 4:48 Psychosis, which received its first production posthumously in 2000, will be running at The Sandra Feinstein-Gamm Theatre (The Gamm) in Pawtucket, Rhode Island from 14 Jan- 7 Feb 2010.  And, indeed, this is true…the Gamm production will be directed by Tony Estrella.

**Image from NYT 10/1/08

‘Tis the Season for “A Doll’s House” at Dramaworks

‘Tis the season for A Doll’s House, Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s classic portrait of nineteenth century marriage and gender roles that unfolds on Christmas Eve and Christmas day in 1879, also the year in which it was written and first staged. The title’s significance, broached by Nora herself in the third and final act, refers to the identical ways her father and husband perceived and treated her–like a child in an arrested state of development, a p(r)etty play thing for life.

Often identified as Ibsen’s “feminist play,” A Doll’s House was so controversial when it premiered  that it was banned in Germany and Britain until Ibsen wrote an alternate “happy ending.”  The irony, of course, lies in the fact that the original ending (and the one that gets staged almost without exception) is what most now would consider the “happy ending” because in this version, Nora leaves her oppressive husband, boldly vowing to honor her duty to herself, to her own human rights, even if it means casting off her socially prescribed marital and maternal duties.  Nora’s dramatic exit from the stage and her marriage has come to be viewed as a historic social moment because of its metaphoric resonance–she had also slammed the door on Bourgeois patriarchy.  Watching the play today reminds us of how far we have come and how far we still have to go to fully achieve gender equality.

In the revival currently running at Palm Beach Dramaworks, directed by William Hayes, Nora Helmer appears not childlike and helpless but constrained and crafty, even if complicit in her own subordination.  This Nora kneels in subjection–sometimes genuine, sometimes feigned–at least five times throughout the performance.  Early on, Hayes takes every opportunity to emphasize what may appear to those unfamiliar with the play as Nora’s self-serving money obsession, by having her count her kroner like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol.  This choice adds greater impact later on when Nora reveals to Mrs. Linde that she is not, in fact, a spendthrift, but that she is repaying a loan she secretly obtained years ago to finance a doctor-prescribed trip to Italy for her ailing husband.  A petite-bodied, vocally gifted Margery Lowe seamlessly and flawlessly embodies the role of Nora, subtly revealing the complexity of a character that is vain but selfless, confident but cautious.  I overheard some audience members discussing Nora’s constant birdlike singing and her transfixion during the tarantella dance, and they actually bought the great Victorian lie that she is “hysterical.” Sorry folks, she is subjugated, shackled, disenfranchised, not mentally ill.  Michael St. Pierre portrays Torvald Helmer  as  a formidable patriarch, though one not completely unlikeable or altogether devoid of tenderness. Thankfully, for example, he does not chastise Nora by pulling her  by the ear in the opening scene as the original stage directions indicate, and the two share several kisses and embraces, suggesting their marriage is not completely loveless.  Michael Amico’s red and gold hued set and Brian O’Keefe’s beautiful period costumes are perfect complements that effectively transport us to a bygone era.  It is no wonder this production has regularly been selling out–the show is well done on all counts. Catch it before it closes this coming Sunday, November 29.

Colon Blow, Rebeck’s “Bad Dates” gets bad reviews, “Doll’s House.”

Colon Blow

My sister was diagnosed with end-stage colon cancer at age 42; she was a slim non-smoker with no family history.  Colon cancer is no longer just a geriatric disease!  Ginger endured countless surgeries and chemo regimens before succumbing to the illness last October.  I don’t know how she fought so hard for 5 1/2 years. I’ve written about my sister and this experience here and here.

My pre-existing hypochondria was grossly heightened by witnessing my sister’s cancer saga.  So to honor the anniversary of her death and to deflate some of my own lingering anxiety, I underwent a colonoscopy yesterday.  All went well.  Must keep eating bran.

One of the last things my sister and I did together, when her mind was still lucid, was watch SNL.  We had done this together for decades. Only the last occasion took place in a Hospice bedroom.  I laid in the bed adjacent to hers and cried quietly to myself in the dark, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

My sister had a fantastic sense of humor, a smile and a laugh that could lift spirits higher than Houdini could levitate bodies. She was magical.  And she was not above a good old BM joke.  In Sunday’s post I shared this recent SNL skit, “Rear Window” with January Jones and Jason Sudeikis.

Now I give you “Colon Blow” with Phil Hartman.

May Ginger and Phil rest in peace.

Rebeck’s Bad Dates

This past Sunday I posted my thoughts on a production of Theresa Rebeck’s Bad Dates, which opened last Thursday and runs through the first week of December at the Straz Center in Tampa.  I have updated the post to include reviews from the St. Pete Times and the Tampa Tribune, both of which echo my review of the show.  Our disappointment seems to lie with the script, not the direction, acting, or set design.

Ibsen’s A Doll’s House at Palm Beach Dramaworks

Tonight I am finally getting a chance to see Dramawork’s reprisal of this classic. The production closes this coming Sunday 11/30.  Look for my ‘last-minute’ review of it up tomorrow.  I’ve never seen this play staged before, but I have read it several times along with reviews of various productions through the years.  While the play gets revived often all over the globe, reviewers chronically have complained about how outdated the play is, with the implication being that sexism such as Nora faces no longer poses a problem. That it’s old news. That everyone today is so enlightened and that things are so much better.  Who cares if there is not total gender ‘equality,’ be thankful things are better than they used to be.

Complacency sucks.

Ode to Flatulence

Ode to Flatulence

This is TMI for most of my readers. But c’est la vie. This is my blog.

I’ve spent this day fasting and drinking miralax and …yeah… anyway… in preparation for my first colonoscopy.  This past October 20th marked the one year anniversary of my sister’s death from colon cancer, and she would be furious with me if I put off doing this for another day, let alone another year.

As I was sitting here trying to distract myself from thinking about all the things I want to eat tomorrow, I came across the most perfect SNL skit to complement my evening:   “Rear Window” with January Jones as a gassy Grace Kelly.

Enjoy.

Theresa Rebeck’s “Bad Dates”

Theresa Rebeck’s Bad Dates

A bad date would probably have been less painful, and certainly more dramatic, than sitting through the current Stageworks production of Rebeck’s one-woman show, Bad Dates, which opened this past Thursday and runs through December 6th at the Shimberg Playhouse at the Straz Center (formerly Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center).  In spite of Marsha Norman’s most recent insistence that there’s no such thing as a “girl play,” this play suggests otherwise, and it’s not pretty.

This was actually my first encounter with one of Rebeck’s plays, and I went into it with high hopes. Her personal website showcases her extensive education (an MFA in playwriting and a PhD in Victorian melodrama, both from Brandeis University), teaching experience, and writing credits for the stage, screen, and television, not to mention a recent novel.  She also has a new play The Understudy currently running in NYC at the Laura Pels Theatre in a Roundabout Theatre Company production.  In short, her reputation precedes her, and reviews I read of Bad Dates were largely positive, from this one of its 2003 premiere, to this one of the March ‘09 NYC revival.  I figured this show would be a sure thing.

The entire play unfolds in the rent-controlled apartment bedroom of Hayley Walker, a middle-aged Texan divorcee, who has relocated to New York City with her 13 year old daughter, Vera, and taken a job as a waitress.  When the Feds bust Haley’s Romanian mobster boss for money laundering, she steps in and flourishes as the restaurant’s new manager.  With her financial success comes a sprawling designer shoe collection–600 pairs in total–and the confidence and desire to reenter the dating world.  Scene by scene, Hayley dresses and undresses while taking us through her personal and professional mishaps.

Like many other theatre bloggers, I have given a lot of thought lately to how I approach critiquing and writing about plays.  As I sat through Bad Dates, I kept asking myself why I wasn’t enjoying it: was it the acting, the direction, the set, the script, or even the audience the night I attended, or some combination of these?  And then my mind returned to a funny, but apt comment by someone under the alias “Jack Worthing” on the Parabasis blog: “None of this matters if you’re trying to shine a turd. You can do a bad production of a good play, but not a good production of a bad play.” The script of Bad Dates feels too safe, familiar, flat, and it operates on a single level, with the exception of intermittent allusions to Joan Crawford’s parallel role in the 1945 film Mildred Pierce.

While I don’t prefer purely naturalistic plays, I am not opposed to them; however, I think naturalism in the form of a single-set, single-actor 90-minute play, such as this one, can prove particularly challenging for all involved–writer, director, set designer, actor, and audience alike.  Jessica Rothert does as much as anyone could do with the part of Haley, given the play’s largely cliched characterization and plot and corny humor.  Rothert’s off-stage nose blowing at one point evoked a heartier laugh than her actual monologues: to me, that tells you all you need to know.

Just before the show began it was announced that women in the Tampa community had donated some $25,000 in designer shoes, making this set the most expensive one ever at the Shimberg Playhouse.  Now, I love beautiful shoes as much as the next girl, but given the gloomy state of the economy and job market, a play with a central character who has a high end shoe fetish felt, well, wrong.  Maybe it’s just a personal problem. Maybe I’m just bitter.  Or maybe it’s a regional thing–I kept imagining how certain lines about Jimmy Choos and Chanels might have gone over better in a sexier city–I don’t think those labels registered with half the audience.

Funnily enough, I ended up seated next to another person who was reviewing the play for a local paper, though I wasn’t certain of this while the show was in progress.  We both sat, pen and pad in our laps, ready to scribble notes in the dark, but neither of us wrote so much as a letter–that was a first for me.

**Here are additional newspaper reviews:

Tampa Tribune Correspondent, Kathy Greenberg’s 11/23 review of Bad Dates: “Dolled-up ‘Dates”  Gets Off on Wrong Foot“

St. Pete Times Correspondent, Marty Clear’s 11/24 review of Bad Dates:  ” ‘Bad Dates’ at Straz Center is boring”

Aphra Behn’s The Dutch Lover: A Comedy

Aphra Behn’s The Dutch Lover: A Comedy

3 down, 15 to go.

As Liz Duffy’s Or, now playing at Women’s Project in NYC, continues to endear itself to audiences, I continue to plug through the 18 plays written by Duffy’s central heroine–Restoration playwright Aphra Behn.

Premiere and Publication

The Dutch Lover, Behn’s third play, was probably first performed on February 6, 1673, and was published later the same year, in November.  The source material for the play has been identified as Don Fenise (1651), a Spanish romance by Francisco De Las-Coveras, though Behn makes changes, additions, and omissions to the original.

Unlike her first two plays, The Dutch Lover does not feature a prologue (Behn claims it was lost), only an epilogue.  However, Behn did include a prefatory epistle to her reading audience, with a salutation that I feel compelled to share here:

“Good, Sweet, Honey, Sugar-candied READER”

These days, it’s hard for me to imagine receiving a personal letter with such a greeting, let alone an epistle to a play, but it was common letter writing etiquette during Behn’s era to adopt a deferential and modest pose.  This cloying example by Behn highlights the posture and exposes the author’s real resentment and sarcasm.

There were several reasons for Behn’s tone here, which become apparent through reading the letter.  For one, she objects to the idea that playwrights with a formal education penned better plays, or rather that formal education was necessary for playwriting.  For another, she challenges the persisting idea, dating back to Horace, that plays were meant to ‘instruct and delight,’ arguing instead that they were meant for entertainment purposes only. ( However, from reading her work, I suspect that she also recognized their ability to critique and subvert systems of power.)  For a third, she complains about discrimination against female authors–much like Marsha Norman just did recently, oh some 300 odd years later; to evince this, Behn comically describes a “phlegmatick, white, ill-favour’d, wretched Fop”  whom she encountered one night at the theatre, who announced “They were to expect a woful Play…for it was a womans.”

Setting, Characters, and Plot

The play is not your typical London comedy, but instead is set in Madrid and features an international cast of characters, not only from Spain but also from Belgium and the Netherlands.  The title of the play refers to both the Dutch fop, Hance Van Ezel, who is contracted to marry Euphemia (one of the central female figures in the play) and to the Flemish colonel Alonzo, who falls in love with Euphemia and temporarily borrows Hance’s identity midway through the play.

The plot of this play, like its two predecessors (The Forc’d Marriage and The Amorous Prince), is overcomplicated, and to go through it in too much detail here would bore or confuse anyone who hadn’t read it, and possibly some who have.  So I’ll try to keep this short and simple.

The plot, like its source material, contains an incest plot: Marcel, Silvio, Hippolyta, and Cleonte are presumed siblings at that start of the play, although it is made clear that Silvio is a bastard (sort of reminiscent of the Edgar/Edmund opposition in Lear). Sister and brother, Cleonte and Silvio, first reveal their love for the other to Cleonte’s maid Francesca, later to one another, and then to Marcel, who is outraged. Their father Ambrosio steps in at the end and clarifies that Silvio is, in fact, a foster son, removing the incest prohibition and allowing for a conventional happy ending for Cleonte and Silvio.

In fact, like most comedies, things proceed from disorder to order and all ends well in the world of this play.  The arranged marriages that characters find themselves in at the beginning of the play are all replaced by companionate ones.  For example, Marcel’s sister Hippolyta is at first contracted to marry Alonzo, whom she has never met, but  she has fallen in love with and relinquished her virginity to Antonio, whom she ultimately weds.  Similarly, Euphemia marries her true love Alonzo, and the unknown Dutchman, Haunce, to whom she was contracted, ends up paired off with Olinda, one of Euphemia’s maids.

Gender Roles

The male and female characters in the play run the gamut, from fearless sword wielding women to fearful and tearful men.  Costumes figure centrally in the play, both as a plot device and as an instrument for exploring the construction and fluidity of gender roles.  Even those not crossdressing, either consciously or inadvertently end up wearing additional attire that moves the ridiculous plot along, leading to mistaken identities and final act revelations. Like Shakespeare’s Rosalind in As You Like It and Viola in Twelfth Night and  Cloris in  Behn’s The Amorous Prince, Hippolyta dons the ‘breeches’ in The Dutch Lover.  In act 4, scene 2, she appears ‘drest like a man,’ a disguise meant to supllant her “womanish passions” and aid her in revenging Antonio, whose love of her is in question.  Like most fops who (over)populated plays of this period, Haunce Van Ezel, loves fashion, hates physical fights, and can cry on command.

It’s A Girl ! ?

It’s A Girl ! ?

In a post last week (“Sexism in the Industry“), I put up some quotes from Marsha Norman’s recent article in American Theatre on gender inequality in the industry.

One particular line by Norman has gotten stuck in my head:

“There’s no so such thing as a girl play.”

It is not uncommon for writers to use reproductive words such as birth, conception, and gestation to describe the writing process, but do the literary “babies” that we produce have a sex and gender?

How Norman would answer this question cannot necessarily be gleaned from the comment above because she is speaking to something specific: biases against female authors–that is, the impact of a mere name on a cover–the plays themselves are a whole other matter.  Norman’s use of the word “girl” rather than “woman” in the above quote speaks to the stereotype and misconception that women write fledgling, pubescent–ie. inferior– plays; whereas, the opposite sex writes fully-developed “man” plays, not “boy” plays.

She goes on to say that, “the girl’s name on the cover of the script leads the reader to expect a certain “soft” kind of play…The expectation of soft work from women writers comes from something way more awful in the society–the commercial romantic idea that all female stuff is soft, an advertising idea. Buy these products and you will have soft hair, soft skin, and a soft voice.  Unfortunately for writers, soft is perceived as playful and decorative and insignificant, not worthy of our time. We don’t like soft in this country–we like hard here. Hard guy stuff, like in guy plays.”

Here is one of Norman’s proposed solutions to the matter of attaching gender labels to plays:

“I propose that we stop saying the words ‘women’s plays.’

We should, if we have to, simply say, ‘plays by women,’ or just ‘plays.’”

Norman also proposes more blind readings of play submissions.  Her comments make us pause and compel us to think more about the way an author’s sex, gender, and also sexual orientation and race can and do influence people’s perception of a work before it’s even read or seen.

Films, on the other hand, seem to be assigned a gender after the fact, in accordance with their audience demographic, hence “chick flick,” for one.  I wonder just how many of the screenplays that our culture groups into this category were written by women…

What do you think, reader?

There are all kinds of authors–male, female, masculine, feminine, gay, straight, black, white, brown, etc. etc. etc.–but is there such a thing as a “girl play,” “man play,” a “gay play,” a “black play”?

And more importantly, what are the criteria for such a classification?

• The author’s genitals (ooh I HATE that word), the author’s presentation of gender, the author’s sexual orientation, the author’s skin color?
• The sex, gender, sexual orientation, or race of the central character?
• The plot and themes?
• Violence, profanity, sexual explicitness?
• The “style” of the writing?  Are there elements of style that we associate with a particular gender, etc.?

Naked Women

Made you look.

But why, you ask, what gives? Why would a blog of such soaring standards title a post “Naked Women” with no intention of delivering the goods?

I’ll explain.

A few weeks ago I reviewed “Naked Women Fully Clothed” by Women’s Theatre Project in Ft. Lauderdale, and ever since, searches for “naked women” have been landing people at my blog.

Now, while I’m well aware that the Internet is not only home to the theatrosphere, but also the pornosphere, I’m honestly over the searches bringing horny dudes and, perhaps, also some dudettes (see that, gender balance ) to my blog, where you will find the naked truth about the theatre, as I see it, but, sorry, no T & A.  The same idea of ‘naked’ or unadorned frankness lay at the heart of WTP’s production, hence the title.  But as I mention in my review, I questioned if the production was as titillating and punny as its title.

So all this has gotten me thinking about PLAY TITLEs, what their job is and how much weight they carry.

They can frame our expectations before we read or watch a given play.  They can add complexity and coherence, or they can undermine and mislead.  And sometimes they can appear arbitrary, seem to simply exist.

Titles can be eponymous (Hamlet, Saint Joan, Salome, etc.), allusive (Hamlet Machine), literal (Comedy of Errors, Death of a Salesman, Waiting for Godot, The Clean House), metaphoric/symbolic (Machinal, Death of a Salesman, Waiting for Godot), thematic (The Invention of Love), ironic (The Importance of Being Earnest, The Clean House). And you could go on from these broader categories and get even more specific in characterizing titles: cheeky, provocative, punny, gimmicky, etc.  By the few examples I’ve included and some purposely duplicated, I’m obviously also recognizing that many titles carry more than one meaning and/or purpose. etc.

Thoughts? Care to share titles you have found particularly strong? surprising? unsuccessful? misleading?

Are there any trends you see in how plays are titled these days?

Critics Center Stage, Still

Critics Center Stage, Still

“The great misapprehension that shrouds the association’s code of practice is the belief that critics are part of the theatre community and that we should do everything in our power to encourage and support it. That is wrong. We are observers, not participants, and our only loyalty should be to our readers. If we can entertain them while sparing them the time and expense of seeing dire shows, so much the better.”

—–Charles Spencer, The Telegraph

TO THE ABOVE EXCERPT, I MUST SAY, “YOWZER!!”  and “REALLY?!”

Spencer’s musty old comment is precisely the point-of-view that works against critics, like myself, who seek to bridge, NOT SEVER, ties between those who review theatre and those who make it. Not to mention the fact that plenty of people in the industry perform more than one part in it–barring the minority who support themselves as full-time critics, many who write reviews are also creative writers, stage hands, directors, etc.  This is not, or at least should not be, an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ scenario, but a ‘we’ scenario.

In plain, Spencer’s comment goes against everything I’ve been trying to argue/advocate (perhaps too idealistically) about the role of critic.

Here is the most recent Parabasis musings on critics, and here is my (far tooooo long) comment:

There has been a longstanding tension between the playwright/screenwriter and the director, a vying for credit, that has no doubt affected the way critics review productions. (There are certainly some films that like to depict/parody/perpetuate this tension…I’m thinking of Adaptation, Synechdoche,New York, and State and Main.) Then, there are playwrights (Mamet, Mcpherson, etc.) who double as their own directors and an organization like 13P that makes the fusing of that role central to its mission. Even with press kits, reviewers still have to do their fair share of reading and research in order to compose solid reviews.

Beyond this, the role of “theatre critic” suffers from both overappreciation and underappreciation, from being taken too seriously and not seriously enough–both of which present problems for the craft. The former puts the critic on a pedestal, in a vacuum of sorts, removed from the practical side of theatre, aloft with the “literary gods.” The latter, in one sense, discredits the whole notion of a specialized “theatre critic” and clumps the role in with other forms of criticism–namely, all things artistic and cultural, from music and film to food and fashion. For an example of the devaluation of the theatre critic, one newspaper in my area (South Florida) has routinely sent out the fashion editor to review plays, and the result has been poorly written, insubstantive reviews; CL Jahn over at the South Florida Theatre Scene blog has done a nice job of analyzing (and thereby sparking positive changes in) theatre reviews in the region.

Both stances—overappreciation and underappreciation–do a disservice not only to theatremakers and theatergoers but also to criticism as a practice.

In grad school, my classmates and I had to analyze reviews and write our own, and the beauty of this exercise lay in how different our approaches initially were, largely because of the different roles we each had inhabited up to that point within the world of theatre—we ranged from playwrights, performers, and directors to dramaturgs, historians, and educators. Acknowledgment of our diverse backgrounds helped us be especially mindful, going forward and writing reviews, of all the people who come together to create a theatre experience.

While all people are entitled to opinions about theatre, not everyone is deserving of a formal (paid) journalistic platform to espouse these opinions. Not just anyone will do. (Certainly not someone just thrown haphazardly into the role from another section of the paper.) Perhaps, if those who perform the role of theatre critics were treated/perceived more like insiders, rather than judgmental outsiders, and if there were more dialogue between critics and theatremakers, some of the mystery/misunderstanding/oversight about what goes into a given production could be dealt with, making critics better attuned, better equipped to write more conscientious (which is not to say soft or undiscriminating), incisive, and effective reviews.

Read on for more from Spencer and others on the persisting chatter about CRITICS.

Today, Guardian theatre blogger Chris Wilkinson touches on the code of ethics for critics recently finalized by the International Association of Theatre Critics, Charles Spencer ’s reactions to the code, and the ongoing blogosphere conversation about theatre criticism…

• “The Rules of Being a Theatre Critic” (11/18/09)

It’s nice to see the trans-Atlantic nature of the conversation…Wilkinson not only points to those discussing this subject in Britain, but also to American theatre bloggers such as Isaac at Parabasis, who gave the subject a thorough discussion during the month of October and again this month.

Telegraph theatre blogger Charles Spencer on the critic’s job… I’ve included his comments in full bc they are buried at the bottom of a longer post of his.

• “It’s not a critic’s job to be nice” (11/2/09)

“For my sins (which must be grievous) and purely as a result of Buggins’ turn I currently find myself the president of the Critics’ Circle. Our meetings make the dreary parish councils I covered as a cub reporter seem like a fiery crucible of high drama, but by and large we are a harmless and well-meaning bunch.

We are also affiliated to the International Association of Theatre Critics, which represents 2,000 reviewers in 50 different countries. This, too, seems mostly harmless and largely an excuse for freebies to foreign lands, though why the seminars and conferences always seem to be held in the grimmer cities of Eastern Europe, rather than say Hawaii or Thailand is beyond me.

The association has just published a proposed code of practice for critics that strikes me as completely wrong-headed. The Ten Commandments may have been enough for God and Moses, but we theatre critics are faced with 11 of them. Personally, I’ve always thought that the critic’s obligations can be summed up very briefly: arrive sober, stay awake, stay to the end and don’t take a bribe unless it is big enough to allow you to retire in comfort for the rest of your life. My own price, should anyone be interested, is £1.25 million in used twenties.

The association is much more earnest and long-winded. We are supposed to acknowledge that we are “explorers in the art of theatre”, whatever that means, and told that we should “welcome new ideas, forms, styles and practice”. Why on earth should we if they are no good? We are also urged to write truthfully and (dread word) appropriately, and to respect the dignity of the artists we are responding to.

This last injunction seems to outlaw the great pleasure of writing — and reading — a vigorous piece of knocking copy. There is a place for the abusive review, and taking the mickey out of pretentious or inadequate actors or directors is an important part of the job.

The great misapprehension that shrouds the association’s code of practice is the belief that critics are part of the theatre community and that we should do everything in our power to encourage and support it. That is wrong. We are observers, not participants, and our only loyalty should be to our readers. If we can entertain them while sparing them the time and expense of seeing dire shows, so much the better.”

Guardian theatre blogger Andrew Haydon has sounded off on the subject of critics before…

• “Criticism Should Not Need Ethical Guidelines” (6/23/08)

This older post addresses the drafting of a code of ethics by the International Association of Theatre Critics (IATC); notes that the Canadian Theatre     Critics Association already features a code of ethics on its website; and acknowledges cultural differences in attitudes towards critics/criticism.

Towards the end of the piece, Haydon notes that he queried writers about whether or not they’d like their work read before being seen, and he claims most preferred it be seen first….I mention this because this point has been raised in the theatrosphere again recently… Such a preference emphasizes the play-in-performance, the whole experience, over the playwright and play-as-literature… it’s interesting…

‘Minority’ Theatres: To be or not to be?

‘Minority’ Theatres: To be or not to be?

Last Monday (11/9), I posted a link to Culturebot about the NEA’s denial of funding to Women’s Project in NYC.  This topic, along with Marsha Norman’s recent article for American Theatre, “Not There Yet,” has brought gender equality back to the forefront of many people’s minds.  On “Upstaged,” TimeOut New York’s theatre blog, Helen Shaw addressed the implications of the NEA not funding Women’s Project’s Playwrights Lab.

As often is the case these days, the comments Shaw’s piece (“NEA Punts Women’s Project“) evoked proved as interesting as the post itself.  I was particularly taken by the comments that questioned the necessity, the ethics, of a women’s theatre. The same could be asked of all other minority-oriented theatres–black, latino, queer,etc.  The answer to why these types of theatre companies exist is pretty clear–and with particular regard to female-focused ones, even clearer in light of Norman’s article–BECAUSE EQUALITY STILL DOES NOT EXIST.

What is it going to take to safeguard efforts aimed at ending discrimination from the seemingly inevitable and circular accusation of reverse-discrimination?

What do you think, reader, do we still (or did we ever) need ‘minority’ theatres?

Are ‘minority’ theatres guilty of the discrimination from which they seek refuge?

And what of minority-themed festivals?

Hypothetically, in 10 years, if a theatre career is no longer considered a “non-traditional” job for a woman (meaning women make up more than 20% of theatre professionals), will the existence of organizations such as Women’s Theatre Project (ested. 2002) of Ft. Lauderdale or Women’s Project (ested. 1978) of NYC still be justifiable?

Similarly, if/when we can measure significant, statistical progress in the lives of LGBT people, in the way of legislation and social policy, will the existence of, say, Theatre Rhinoceras (ested. 1977) of San Francisco still be justifiable? etc.etc.etc.

Would a women’s-, queer-, black- theatre company be ’selling out’ or undermining its mission, if it produced a work by someone from a group (minority or majority) other than its own?