On the Interpretation of Stage Directions

We entered the school theatre where a stack of freshly ordered acting editions of Our Town sat on the rehearsal table. No sooner had the scripts been passed around than the director chimed in: "Ladies and gentlemen, first thing I'd like you to do is cross out all the stage directions." As I drew my pencil through each italicized word, I couldn’t help but wonder: Should we really be doing this? What if the author was trying to convey something important? Generally speaking, it is considered the playwright's prerogative to put stage directions into a script, and the director's prerogative to ignore them. Many directors who have worked with Acting Editions have been similarly tempted to cut the stage directions. Acting Editions often include stage directions written by a stage manager who simply noted the original production’s blocking. These relics of bygone performances do not necessarily represent authorial intent. Such directions are often legion, intricate, and unnecessary, overwhelming the dialogue and making it difficult to read the play on the page. Trying to discern which directions represent legitimate authorial vision and which are simply indications of the original staging is difficult. But even legitimate author’s notes may severely limit a production. Stage shape or size can fundamentally alter the design and staging, and many actors may find that stage directions interfere with their emotional honesty (especially when there’s an abundance of adverbs). Ignoring stage directions that contradict the needs of the production may be the best choice a director can make. But how much reinterpretation is the director’s prerogative? Such re-envisioning can be problematic, especially when working with new plays. Omitting or changing even a single stage direction can fundamentally undermine the author’s central idea. The ending of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot may best illustrate this point:

VLADIMIR. Well, shall we go? ESTRAGON. Yes, let's go. They do not move. Curtain.

Nothing in the dialogue indicates what should occur. It is the stage direction that dictates the essential action. It would be an altogether different theatrical experience if the dialogue were taken literally:

VLADIMIR. Well, shall we go? ESTRAGON. Yes, let's go. They leave. Curtain.

Of course, only an incredibly bone-headed director would alter the ending of Beckett's play, but this example does prove one point: the realization of the author’s stage directions “as written” can be dramatically vital. But which directions are theatrically essential, which are open to interpretation, and which can be omitted altogether? There’s no easy answer. The Dramatists Guild advocates for a document called “The Playwright’s Bill of Rights”. This is a list of elements that they believe all authors are entitled to, such as the right to attend rehearsal and to receive payment for their work. Here is the first (and arguably most important) paragraph of that document:

1. ARTISTIC INTEGRITY. No one (e.g., directors, actors, dramaturgs) can make changes, alterations, and/or omissions to your script - including the text, title, and stage directions - without your consent. This is called “script approval.”

Note the inclusion of stage directions as part of script approval. While it seems reasonable that the producer or director should consult the playwright before changing the script itself, this provision in no way addresses the question of how any directions should be staged. Moreover, the playwright’s Bill of Rights only applies to contracts between the writer and the theatre. The production rights for published scripts rarely include any mention of stage directions. Perhaps for good reason, given just how interpretable they are. Even attempting to stage the play “as written” can be difficult. The author’s meaning may not be clear and choices for one production may not be right for another. When multiple interpretations are viable or the written directions aren’t possible, a faithful director must attempt to realize a staging that preserves the “spirit” of the stage directions. To further complicate the matter, different writers use direction in different ways, and different eras had different traditions regarding their use: William Shakespeare and his contemporaries wrote no stage directions, but indicated all essential action with clues buried in the dialogue. The mid-19th century saw a flurry of stage directions as large scenic effects came to dominate the stage with their photo-realistic depictions of life. Early 20th century writers often used stage directions to inform the setting and show the psychological state of the characters. The experience of reading a Tennessee Williams play is not dissimilar from seeing it; the action is so carefully detailed. More expressionistic playwrights such as Eugene O’Neill used extensive stage directions to establish tone, even though a literal staging may be impossible - a fact he acknowledged in The Hairy Ape:

The treatment of this scene, or of any other scene in the play, should by no means be naturalistic.

Reading plays was much more common among the general public before television, and some playwrights embraced this fact - using stage directions that heighten the experience of reading the play. This was especially true in the opening paragraphs of J.M. Barrie's 1928 version of Peter Pan:

The night nursery of the Darling family, which is the scene of our opening Act, is at the top of a rather depressed street in Bloomsbury. We have a right to place it where we will, and the reason Bloomsbury is chosen is that Mr. Roget once lived there. So did we in days when his Thesaurus was our only companion in London; and we whom he has helped to wend our way through life have always wanted to pay him a little compliment. The Darlings therefore lived in Bloomsbury.

Such amusing digressions aren't actable or even remotely stageable. They simply serve to delight the reader. However, in doing so, they can be a useful way for an author to set the dramatic tone. Since the 1960s, playwrights have used fewer stage directions. While authors don’t shy away from depicting complicated action, they do it in more concise paragraphs, leaving less room for conjecture and more for interpretation. Blame it on post-modernism if you like. Authors now write their plays pre-deconstructed, with the assumption that the director will rebuild it as he or she sees fit. Interpretation is the director’s strength and many playwrights play into it, creating intentional ambiguity or using the stage directions to pose challenges to the director. José Rivera’s Marisol is filled with a multitude of intricate (if not impossible) stage directions, but the details of their execution are left wide open. Many directors excel at finding viable new ways to interpret stage directions, while still striving to stay true to the author’s vision. In the early 80s, John Caird and Trevor Nunn devised an innovative solution to the particular issue of the author's voice in Peter Pan. In the Royal Shakespeare Company production, they invented a narrator to read J.M. Barrie’s extensive and enjoyable stage directions. Whether Barrie himself would say this was "true" to his vision is certainly debatable, but it certainly feels true to the spirit of his work. Such reinventions of stage directions can fundamentally change the tone and themes of the play. Sometimes this is amazingly effective, opening up the story, unearthing new meanings, and breathing life into old dialogue. Other scripts resist such treatment. But whether taken literally or interpretively, stage directions form a critical part of the script, and can be deeply representative of the author’s voice.