"Let The Circle Be Unbroken"

The first of this year’s second cycle of IP’s, “Let The Circle Be Unbroken,” a play adapted from the novel by the same name, was co-directed by Ashley and Chezev, and was performed on the Max Bell stage.

Might I say first: blackouts rarely work.

But they worked tonight.

Episodic, and deeply pensive for its smooth integration of monologue and short scene, the piece incorporated a fairly large cast for any IP production. As focus shifted from a single speaker perched above the audience at the back of the theatre, to a small scene played out before the audience onstage, to another monologue, this one against the far wall of the theatre, the light design—shifting from single spotlight, to warm, golden glow, to a burning scarlet deluge—encapsulated each vignette in an effervescent cocoon. Through some tore a hopeful, guiding beacon; but others were muted by a hazy twilight, and then a total, enveloping darkness.

And rightfully; the story itself played across several vignettes, as mentioned. The time period was itself not entirely clear, which I feel enhanced the “anytime” nature of the setting, as did it reinforce the prevalence of racism in society, “then,” and today.

Embodying these storylines with fervor were, among others, Shani, Hawi, Sarah, AJ, and Sidingo—each delivering performances fervid with painful truth. Moved especially by Shani’s performances (monologues, as well as a brutal rape scene incorporating AJ, as her son, as well as Nima and Erickson, her attackers), I was deeply moved by her ability to transport herself as well as her audience.

And, another noteworthy point: the audience’s role in the production. While not as integral a player in the production as was the audience in Einat’s IP, Ashley and Chezev’s careful choices in performance space dispersed the actors throughout the theatre at various points during the show. Hawi would periodically deliver a monologue from atop the steps between the centermost sections of seats—while I initially found this to be an uncomfortable use of space with regard to the viewing ability and ease of the audience members, it later occurred to me that the careful placement… and my subsequent discomfort, emphasized both alienated vulnerability, as well as the selfishness of the patron, as she or he views something of such emotional ferocity. In this way, the production almost dually satirized the upright surveyor, who, though innocent in charge, is all the guiltier by association. And, to symbolize the sometimes cumbersome, yet dynamic passage of time, while each monologue seized the audience’s attention, a change of set and personage occupied the stage. Perhaps some found this distracting… but it was almost representative of the imminent and unadorned backdrop of life.

By the end of the performance, I wanted more. But this the indication of masterful direction and production technique, I always tell myself that any production should end with a certain grace… so that it is both inimitably conclusive, and still unforeseen.

And what more, the production convinced me that it’s possible to incorporate elements of naturalistic drama with more monological oratory in an IP without the production feeling out-of-place or forced. The fluidity of the project could have also been due, in part, to the soundtrack which, interspersed on and off throughout the production, served as a perfect auditory backdrop to the intensely visual display. This convinced me, too, of the possibilities for the incorporation of technology into an IP. Like the others, it served on one level to even more greatly intensify my desire to direct my own.

My hat is off to Ashley & Chezev—their production felt natural, polished, and emotionally raw. I haven’t yet felt so impacted by both the performances as well as the technical aspects of production, and it’s obvious that their collaboration not only worked, but it gave rise to one of this IP season’s best.

Pearson & Theatrical Controversy

Having anticipated and then watched Einat’s IP, I think I’ve been clued in to the powerful role that word-of-mouth and a certain enigma surrounding a production can play on this campus. I attended the first of her production’s two showings, and I’m not sure if there were even ten of Pearson’s one hundred and eighty missing from the tightly crammed Common Room. Everyone eagerly awaited the performance, one which had been rumored to be highly controversial; one that had consumed the Common Room for a week in preparation of a temporary stagespace.

And on that night, the Common Room could barely spare a square metre. Almost too crowded for comfortable viewing, it also seemed that, at times the actors struggled to work around the precariously-placed lights and the shuffling audience-members only inches away. But, it was incredibly inventive and forward-thinking of Einat to employ the use of the Common Room for her production—after four consecutive IPs in the Max Bell, a change in space did wonders to engage the audience’s captivation, for it almost seemed that (the Common Room totally transformed) they were alienated by the new environment.

But dually, Einat’s choice of space integrated the audience as a near demi-character in her production. The shape of the Common Room, as well as her stage, started at a point directly above the fireplace at the juncture of the back (or front, depending on perspective) walls of the Common Room. It emanated out, in its wake engulfing the players on the stage before the fireplace, then, subsequently, the audience, which sat backed to the windows. This careful involvement of the audience’s reactions and interactions with the players was (theoretically) key in the development of the narrative. And so, from the beginning, Einat’s production already brilliantly used space provided and intimately incorporated the audience into the rising action.

And so did the audience participate in the developing storyline. But at the story’s principle, the audience knew what was going to happen in the end—it had been discussed before the production was even viewed. And so it was with anticipation, partially, that I think the audience viewed the first half of the play.

So too with praise for the overacting of a few of the actors, who seemed to be asking for laughs as the play progressed—and the audience consistently rewarded them with approval. This was, to me, the most disheartening element of the whole experience; I felt as if the audience was disturbingly immature in its inability to separate friends from stage performers. And some of the actors seemed to be equally as inexperienced in their performing abilities for a) employing Einat’s production, a serious examination of gender roles, stereotypes, and discrimination as a forum for improvisational comedy routines, and b) for their inability to manipulate the situation so that, when the audience was laughing during a rape scene, they’d be able to direct the emotional undercurrent in a way that would refocus the audience on the subject matter.

But Hailey’s performance couldn’t be stifled by the performances of some of her cast mates. I felt that she brilliantly portrayed the part of a young girl so unconfident in herself that she’d feebly agree to anything for acceptance. Her quick transitions to her older self and then prosecuting attorney were laudable, as well. Her performance was incredibly brave, as it called for several actions and behaviors that likely made the audience and her highly uncomfortable.

It was clear that Einat poured every ounce of herself into the production, and that she cared so deeply for the final product that she, her actors, and Kenta had created. I think that she did an excellent job condensing a longer work into a shorter timeframe, though I felt that, at times, the pacing of the production as a whole tended towards lethargic. This was due in part, perhaps, to the sheer volume of lines to be memorized by each of the actors, and then their subsequent work in recalling them during performance. Perhaps a part of this, too, was the anticipation of the rape at the end of the piece. I have to conjecture that every audience member was anticipating that savage climax, and so that, too, could have contributed to the pacing. If this is so, I can only call it a brilliant realization of brutal tensions on Einat’s part, as the director.

And, when “the scene” finally arrived, I was truly moved by the tact and virtuosity with which Einat executed the sequence. It was not clichéd, nor was it melodramatic or fragmented. It was delicate, and highly impacting. Though the audience’s reaction was, perhaps, rude and inappropriate, it’s possible that their laughter only masked sheer disquietude and fear for the reality of the situation. The play itself was based on a true story—and, in a word, Einat truly brought it to life.


(Photo by Mark Kelsey)

Emma's IP: "Small Crimes"

(Originally written 6/10/10)

After some reflection, I think I can objectively deconstruct the process that built Emma’s final product: “Small Crimes,” her IP.

It was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my first month at Pearson—having always felt “at home” on the stage, the camaraderie of collaborative productions can’t be matched; in the time spent preparing a theatrical work, you forge connections with your cast mates and director which, hopefully, yield a genuineness during a final performance.

I wouldn’t say, however that those connections I built during the production of Emma’s IP were like those I’ve experienced in my past theatrical experience… perhaps due, in part, to the size of the cast, or even to the isolation of each of the characters within the play. As such, as sometimes happens, I didn’t find myself looking forward to rehearsals for any sort of friendship or “group” collaboration; instead, most rehearsals were an opportunity to develop my character as part of a very introspective and personal process.

In previous posts, I’ve voiced some of my frustrations with Emma’s broad criticisms of my character, stage presence, and physicality. Ultimately, these were resolved, but because, in the final performance, my character had a suitcase, packed slowly with clothes over the course of the performance. This had been planned all along, however I didn’t have the prop to work with during rehearsals until the final dress. I’ve resolved that some of my awkwardness on stage was due, partially, to the fact that, for long stretches, my character literally had nothing to do but pace, and fidget. As soon as I had the suitcase, I immediately planned the actions surrounding its packing, so as to mirror the rising action, though subtle, of the monologues themselves. I was ultimately pleased with my character’s physicality as a result, and so too, I think, was Emma.

Part of me wishes that I’d had closer performing relationships with Alice and Elisabeth—ironically, I’ve become closer friends with each, especially Elisabeth, after the completion of the production, and it would seem that the experience had very little to do with the development of the friendships. Perhaps this was purposeful on Emma’s part—a very interesting directorial technique, if so. Based on reactions of audience members that I’ve intercepted following the performance, some people felt that the characters’ isolation was effective, and captured the bleakness of disintegrating relationships. However, others have told me that they felt the monologues themselves were disjointed, and instead of contributing to a narrative mosaic (the way in which I’ve inferred Emma’s vision to decipher the monologues), they were simply fragmented, leading to total confusion on the part of the audience.

Another point: the esotericism of the piece’s language and narrative. I’ve spoken with very few people who’ve confidently stated they’d understood the “plot” of the piece. Perhaps this was intentional—poetry is rarely conditioned to be interpreted in only a single way, so, it’s possible that the intention of the play itself was to capture emotion in a way that would provide audience members with “form-fitting” puzzle pieces which they could assemble to construct personally interpretive narratives. Perhaps for the savvy, natively English-speaking audience member with an interest in literature and language, this would be the case. However, for the broad majority, I think the play was confusing. I don’t know that this is necessarily negative, though. Artistically, I admonish anything that panders to the majority, and so, if the play spoke to only two audience members, but it deeply affected them, then I think the production was a success. And, I’ve not spoken to anyone whose voiced outright distaste for the production—perhaps this is due to the fact that they were speaking with me, and I was in it. On the whole, people have stated that they “didn’t understand it,” or “found it confusing,” but, they also say that it was beautifully performed, and many say that they found the ending to be impacting.

Others, though, have said that they found the ending to be disconcerting, and starkly disparate in its tone from the rest of the piece. Throughout the production, Emma voiced her intention for the piece to be Brechtian in its staging and tone. Admittedly, I found this to be conflicting with her direction to deliver the monologues to the audience, as I felt that this conflicted with Brecht’s theory of an audience’s alienation. In all other aspects, though, I think the performance was Brechtian—the costumes, props, and sets were stark and austere, and the color palette of the stage centered on grays, blacks, and whites. This, then, was fitting with the final sequence, in which the players literally became the crew, and broke the set.

Ultimately, I was pleased with my own performance—I felt that I truly knew and understood my character’s plight by the final performance, and, following it, I found it difficult to let go of the “portal” into his psyche which I’d developed. In speaking with Elisabeth, though, I understood her to have had an entirely different experience. Many audience-members expressed their difficult in understanding Elisabeth as she’d delivered her lines. And so, too, did Elisabeth express concern. First, I must voice my intense admiration of her bravery and talent in learning and memorizing her lines. I think there are few native English speakers who could decipher the language of the piece upon an initial, second, or even third read. However, I think that, considering the piece, in casting the production, selecting native speakers for the three characters should have been imperative. The language was simply too esoteric for a non-native speaker to grapple with, considering the time constraints of the production schedule. But, Elisabeth did an incredible job nonetheless, and far superseded any expectations of someone in her position.

Having participated in such an atypical theatrical production, I consider myself lucky to have experienced such a unique take on the process. Considering the experience as a whole, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. If I could change anything, I’d have vocalized my thoughts regarding my character to Emma sooner rather than later—perhaps, had I done so, the production would have progressed in its depth of emotional analysis. For me, though, the experience’s most valuable byproduct was the excitement with which it’s provided me for my chance to direct an IP, in a year’s time. Having worked with Emma, I hope that I’ll have a conception of the strategies she used that worked well and those that didn’t. Although I don’t think the style of my project will be similar to hers, I am appreciative of her abilities and vision, for I think they’ve provided me with impetus to create something spectacular.