Worst of 2010-2011: Lack of thoughtfulness

When I was asked to write about my favorite thing in the performing arts from the last year, I started thinking...and I thought... Kept thinking... There’s gotta be something...Until I realized, honestly, I haven’t seen that much. I could chalk that up to being busy - though that would be a lie. Frankly it comes down to the fact that there’s been nothing that I really want to see. Then, another realization: What I have seen, I just haven’t liked. Maybe I should write about that, then. Now, I don’t want to say everything out there is crap. I know it’s not, and I’m sure missed out on some good stuff. So, why didn’t I go? Because, more and more I don’t want to. Because when I do, I’m profoundly underwhelmed. From the big house, to the small house, it’s disappointing. And I fear I’m just one of many that feel this way, and that feeling is part of the reason we’re seeing audiences dwindle. So, when I start to think about why each of these productions (which were all over the country, not just in Minnesota) were disappointing, uninspiring, “bad,” whatever you want to say, I feel like one common thread emerges--a lack of thoughtfulness. For me when you watch something truly thoughtful you’re welcomed in, guided, left room to use your imagination--but not babied and not ignored. It’s open, effortless, vigorous, playful and transparent - with maybe a bit of poetry. A great example, in my eyes, is seeing the work of Theatre du Soleil, a large ensemble based in Paris, under the leadership of Ariane Mnouchkine, which creates it’s own work, with its roots in many forms (including commedia del arte and kabuki). A couple years ago I was able to see their production of Les Ephemere. This was a 7-hour-long, company-created piece, a series of “vignettes” about life, some recurring, some not. For me it had all the criteria I mentioned above. Watching this production, I was watching something I had never seen before, but at the same time, the worlds they created were entirely familiar. I’m not saying I saw myself in the characters, that’s what’s beautiful, I don’t want to see myself, I have a mirror for that. I was seeing people I’d never seen before, yet that I could connect to because they continually surprised me. The ensemble’s performances were wonderfully transparent, relaxed, playful and in complete charge of the stage. The lighting was very simple and just what was needed, which brought you closer to the scenes. Each scene was on a beautifully detailed mini set on carts, generously rolled in by other performers. The intricacy on those little stages, which moved in and out along an alley with the audience on both sides, and the elegant lighting, put a lovely focus on each vignette. And the beauty of something potentially abstract, like rolling carts in and out, with these realistic little environments on them, with a sea of faces as a backdrop, is a perfect example of poetry. You felt, watching it, that each element was thoroughly thought out and that everyone in the room was responsible for that experience, assuredly lead by Mnouchkine. The show breathed in a way that I feel is so rare in other work I’ve seen recently. So often shows are either out of breath or holding their breath.

Taken for a ride

For example, let me talk about two shows I saw this year—one at a big house and one at a small house—that had similar problems: I couldn’t understand anything anyone was saying. For different reasons: in one was because the performers were complacent, un-engaged with each other and the audience, poorly directed and not working to make anything understood. The other was because the sound mix in the house was so bad--distorted, tinny, loud--and because the house itself just isn’t made for that kind of show. The two shows were disconnected--director, performer, designer were not together. They kept us at arms length, and, though, I’m sure they were working hard and with the best intentions, they were doing it by themselves and not with each other, and not for us. We were not welcomed in and taken for a ride. These are good examples of shows that were out of breath or holding their breath, probably because they thought they had no choice. Companies are held to less rehearsal time, pumping shows out and putting them on stage before they’re ready and making easier, safer choices to keep up the pace and keep the audience around. With less funding or support, we can find ourselves with less time, resources, personnel, etc. On top of that audiences are harder and harder to attract. And, though these are very serious issues that we should confront, it should not hinder how much thought we put into our work. One of the reasons Soleil’s work is so strong is that they will take a year to make a show. How can they do this? First, they have a huge budget and a big chunk comes from the government. And second, that is how Mnouchkine has chosen to make the work. It’s a wonderful lesson to take from her to ‘take the time.’ Though, I understand it’s easier to take that time with that kind of stable support behind you, it should be said that a good portion of our regional theaters have larger budgets than Soleil, and none of them would ever think to take that amount of time on a show. They gotta keep that money coming in, which, sort of brings me back to where I started: a lack of thoughtfulness. Sort of, because in the course of writing this article (there’s been many drafts), I’ve started to re-think thoughtfulness. It’s too general, too large an idea, and who am I to define it? We each define it differently, and I hope we’re all vigilant with ourselves to continue being thoughtful. It’s not an active lack of thoughtfulness I’m seeing, but a hindering of thought. We’re being rushed, constrained by all the cuts to our funding. And the time we need to be truly thoughtful is being shortened by all the limitations. So, to confront these growing problems (which are not limited to regional theatre) I think we need to take a deep breath and, each in our own way, be more creative with the re-strictions being put on us and, now even more, be aggressive with ourselves to make sure we continue to be thoughtful, engaging and brave. Maybe I’m not saying anything new here, probably not, or maybe I sound too general. And I’m sure I'll get heat for this. I’m simply reminding all of us to step back (as I try to myself), to slow down, breath and carefully consider every step we take on our way to the stage, and every word we write on what we see on that stage. Let’s stoke that flame under our asses, say to hell with all the obstacles, take the time we need, and make the theatre we want to make, but even better than we have before. Hopefully, then, every single one of us will have to turn audiences away.