Poor Behaviour

I've never been much of one for following rules. That comes out in the theatre I make, the way I test audience limits and re-think time-honoured classics. So when I read about the "infamous iPhone incident" in New York this week, I laughed. Yep. I wasn't shocked, or annoyed, or disappointed. I didn't call for "education" or making sure the "right kind" of people go to the theatre. I found it a little silly that the dude believed sufficiently in the reality of the set to think there would be power running to the plug, but that's about it.

The right kind of people attending theatre are breathing people. That's really the only requirement. Breathing people feel things. They experience things. In life, and in these weird black boxes of rooms where they sit in semi-darkness beside strangers. Whether someone knows the traditions and codified behaviours, the expectations, is completely irrelevant. In fact, I would argue that those very expectations are the reason young friends feel the theatre is "not for them". Theatre is for everyone. It is. I'm not saying that in some sort of populist theatre for the people way. Theatre tells stories. People like stories. Bingo! A match made in heaven. It is that simple. 

As soon as there is any sense of an "us" and a "them", a desired audience, a set of behaviours, theatre dies a little. And it keeps dying slowly. Until we get out from behind the curtain and share stories and experiences truthfully, and with everyone, theatre will continue to die.

Lets shake things up a bit, shall we?

catching up...

The manic nature of this winter-spring has caused a full halt on my blog. Not for lack of things to write about, but rather for lack of time for sleep, much less writing.

Since we last saw our intrepid explorer, she has kept herself busy.

My collaboration with selardi for Tonight at Eight O'Clock was a resounding success; we sold out (over sold in fact...shhh!!) and had around 70 audience members experience the piece, what one of our volunteers described as "confused transcendence". It was truly an experiment, and in many ways, our goal of pushing the envelope of what audiences in Winnipeg will attend was a huge success. In fact, I think we under-estimated the audience's willingness to play along, and could have offered more. I'm continuing to think about this experiment in the dialectic relationship between audience and performer, art and viewer as I am creating and refining my ideas on the subject.

The next major project was as Assistant Director for Clever Little Lies at MTC; an entirely different experience, working with (extremely) professional actors on a new "straight" play. For many this may seem like a departure from my usual interests, however the play dove in head first in to some of the ideas that rest at the very core of all my work; the relationship between our reality and our expectations, and what we do to cope with that gap. In the contemporary world, we have been sold lifestyles and ideas about ourselves, and crafted images, and this play was yet another outlet to investigate how this can be damaging to our relationships. It was a fantastic experience working under Steven Schipper, and I had so many opportunities to learn how to drive the car, so to speak, in what a fellow local performer described as "NASA". Truly the MTC MainStage has all the big toys, and the freedom to create in this milieu was unparalleled.

Also, a version of the dissertation paper I wrote for my final work Approaching Antigone at RADA has been published by the Humanities Education Research Association! You can see it here. After all the yammering on this blog about Antigone, I'm sure you'll enjoy (or at least feel resolution). More to come on that project as I intend to resurface work on it in late 2015.

What now? Well I've got a few projects on the go. First up is the next instalment of my experiments with the audience performer relationship -- popART: Project Vapour. This takes a different form than the previous, returning to an installation style work that although does not fit the traditional definition of theatre (EG having a story and actors) I do believe is highly theatrical. The theatrical experience, however, is played out for the viewers of the piece.

Come see for yourselves if you like -- June 14 in the alley behind Artspace (Arthur Street, Exchange district, Winnipeg). More details here. 

Will share more in the coming weeks about the new play I'm directing for the Fringe, as well as a very large scale adaptation project I'm working on. Hint: I have spent a lot of time recently reading about Plantagenet Kings.

On Failure

Last week, our "Theatre in London Today" class was visited by performance artist Bruno Roubicek, who has worked a fair bit with Forced Entertainment. For those unfamiliar with Forced Entertainment work, I definitely suggest looking them up..will include a few video links below for you as well. Anyway, Forced's work and Bruno's work focus on the aesthetics of failure, something he suggests "reflects the failings of authority. . . questioning the legitimacy of the establishment" and which reflects "the postmodernist concern with failure of society and economics". Rather than aiming for a performance which would be successful by the regular standards - realistic set, believable performances, clear narrative, etc - Forced Entertainment seem to perform the anxiety of the modern (Western) experience. In one show, Bloody Mess, the characters express how they want the audience to see them in an honest confessional style format looking almost like an AA Meeting. The play then continues on to portray them in a way that undermines these desires, hence performing their failure to achieve a desired effect.

While sometimes trying to the audience, this work most certainly affects the audience (even if the result is frustration, boredom, or anger). I respect this fully, because so much "enjoyable" and "successful" theatre has no effect whatsoever on its audience, who happily leave after their evening of entertainment, unmoved by that which passed before them.

Now, in Bruno's discussions, he took us back through a history of failure in performance, demonstrating the skills of people like Jack Benny, Monty Python, other comedians (unfortunately my limited familiarity with Brit comics pre-2000 limited my ability to grab all the names...). One commonality I noticed was the relationship with the permission to laugh and the performance of failure; every performance, even the ones that took themselves most seriously, seemed to set themselves up to give permission to the audience to laugh. A free pass to identify failings and laugh at their performance in public.

This, of course, got me thinking; what happens if this free pass is not provided? If we do not give the audience permission to laugh at the characters, their situations, and their failed attempts to perform a task, but rather demand the audience's serious attention. Is it possible to perform failure in a situation which does not first give the laughter permission to escape? Or is this our only way to watch failure without turning to despair? Further yet, is performing the despair of failure functional? Does it, too teach us something?

I performed in a show in 2011 which, now that I examine it from this perspective, did perform failure; in that case, it was the failure of the characters to act in a way that would get what they wanted. The piece allowed them to re-visit those situations from their original plays, role-playing to re-enact situations where they could be dominant. One reviewer picked up on the heavy thread of despair running through it. Perhaps despair is the dramatic equivalent to laughter. For many people seeing this show, the despair was overwhelming, to the point that some reviewers criticized it for doing so, not allowing a reprieve so to speak. But do we not have something to experience from this as well? If you consider the ancient Greeks, plays like Medea and Oedipus are one long-running moment of despair and hopelessness after the next, but this adds together for a final result of hope; the ability to act or choose differently. Despair can be a useful tool.

If this is so, it is certainly difficult to ask audiences to come experience despair for an hour or two, and pay to do so. But perhaps this is necessary; for too long we have seen a comic approach to performing failure, and in fact, it has become mainstream with programs like John Stewart in the US, Mock the Week in the UK, and This Hour Has 22 minutes in Canada (among others reaching further back). I suggest that while these comic approaches to failure have worked to incite action in the past, they are becoming common, and therefore not causing the impact they might once have had. Forced Entertainment's work does seem to straddle this gray area between comedy and despair, having their audiences feel slightly aware of the impropriety of their laughter. I think this can go further.

Some videos from Forced:

Cliche?

Reading Sophie Nield's piece in the Guardian Theatre Blog (http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/theatreblog/2012/apr/03/curtain-calls-clapped-out-convention) got me thinking about discussions surrounding our work on Jean Genet. Our group, having created what we felt was an hour of work that subverted expectation and challenged the audience to take Genet seriously as a writer who still has something to tell us, proposed not having a curtain call. Our tutor, Andrew Visnevski, responded favourably to the piece we created, and challenged us further; not having a curtain call has become the expectation when one sees edgy, challenging theatre. So the audience, coming to see an MA response to Jean Genet would most certainly expect no curtain call. . . so our hour's worth of subversion would be undermined by this choice. Instead, he suggested that we come out behind the audience, and applaud them along with the empty stage; in a way, this honouring the ghost of Genet whom we had conjured in the previous 10 weeks and who had inspired our work.

So this is how we proceeded. Certainly the effect was startling to the audience; we waited for them to begin applauding, then appeared behind them, also applauding. It took a moment for each person to catch on, the increase in volume from 14 extra sets of hands clapping, the distinct lack of bodies on stage receiving the thanks.

In a way, this choice did what Nield and many comments on the blog have suggested; it forced a truthful appreciation of the work separate from the appreciation of the individuals creating the work. It is certainly something to consider.