Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Mauritius Stamps
Mauritius is an island off the coast of Madagascar, and one of the first countries in the world to produce a postage stamp. The two stamps above, the Two Pence and One Penny, are valued at well over $1 million each. The value actually comes from their mistakes. Stamps usually say POST PAID, but these stamps read POST OFFICE.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Rising Water Text Analysis
RISING WATER
Drama is about people, their stories, and story-telling. Theatre is a visual presentation of people and their stories. Action is a depiction of change—physical, mental, emotional—in the people of the story. Reaction is a response of the viewer to the people, their stories, and the changes that occur in their lives.
Rising Water, by John Biguenet, is superb story-telling about CAMILLE (slender but no longer young) and SUGAR (her husband, no longer young or slender) as they endure a night of despair after waking to discover their house is flooded. By using a folding, disappearing staircase, they flee to their cluttered attic to escape the rising water. To ease their fear of the flood and to strengthen their hope for rescue in the morning, they look through the clutter and relive minor and major events of their past.
These two people, in their own right, are superb story tellers who believe stories may ease them through the night. They recall the death of their daughter, Suzie, and the disappointing aspects of their son, Frankie. They recall happy moments: their first sexual happiness, details of their wedding, and reactions of their parents to the marriage. With a powerful sense of irony, Biguenet through Camille, recalls “the rain kept coming down” and the folk belief of her father that rain on a wedding day is a sign of good luck. They recall less happy moments: hints of sexual promiscuity, unfulfilled plans that have remained closed in Camille’s “hope chest,” their fear of death, and the possibility that the “dead have a claim on” them. Camille is excitable; Sugar is less so: he comments “the things scare you witless when you [are] small, they just make you sad when you get old, don’t they?”
These details are “theatrical” in essence; they become “theatre” in reality as a result of Biguenet’s use of dramatic devices. His careful use of language helps the audience see the differences between Sugar and Camille. Sugar is visionary, idealistic and, at times, simple. Camille is realistic, not given to flights of fancy, and often impatient with Sugar. Each of them has a degree of earthiness and eroticism. Camille is slender; Sugar is not. This difference in size is important. After removing a vent, Camille can clamber out of the attic; Sugar is too large for this means of escape. For much of the play, Biguenet shows the duality of the situation. Sugar, in the attic, looks through the hole, glimpses the beauty of nature (yes, Biguenet shows that element), but remains trapped inside. Camille, on the roof, reveals a degree of romanticism when she speaks of the beauty of the water and the stars, but she, too, remains trapped. No one responds to her frantic cries for help; no boat comes to her rescue; and no helicopter circles over the roof in a search for victims.
The static quality of Rising Water precludes overt actions. But subtle changes occur in the physical, mental, and emotional aspects of Camille and Sugar. Camille is certain no food is in the attic; Sugar insists they might find some food stashed away in some now-forgotten place. Each of them is angry at times and suggests reasons for the flood: an overflowing toilet, faulty construction of the water system and the levees, or the malevolence of an angry Divine Being. Each of them struggles with acceptance of their situation. Implied questions of “Why me? Why us? When will the boats come? Will helicopter pilots see us?” or “Are we going to die?” hover over the script.
With a degree of ambiguity at the closure of the script, Biguenet hints that Camille and Sugar may have accepted the fate of their dire situation. After hearing about a past near-tragedy of Sugar and his father, Camille suggests they sing to each other, as the father had sung to Sugar. Thus the script closes with their singing “If ever I ever cease to love, / If ever I cease to love, / The moon would turn to cream cheese, / If ever I cease to love.”
Biguenet succeeds in pulling the reader/audience into the “story-telling” of a painful event. Although Biguenet makes allusions to the hurricane Katrina, the script is not really about Katrina. If it were, some critics would pass by the script with comments such as “Oh, another play on a natural catastrophe. Hasn’t enough been written already on Katrina? Is the playwright taking advantage of natural disaster to heighten his script?”
With his focus on the lives of two people, Biguenet “tells the story” of Camille and Sugar as they face a human tragedy that forces them to examine and re-examine many elements of their lives. In doing so, Biguenet risks the charge of some critics that he is melodramatic; perhaps he is. Other critics charge that he is sentimental; perhaps he is. Still other critics charge that he overuses biblical allusions; perhaps he does. Some critics will be effusive in their comments about the appeal of a heart-wrenching story and will not make these charges; perhaps they are right. Some critics will accept the story of Camille and Sugar as a universal story of human beings who believe stories from their past will help them live through—possibly survive—the tragedy of a natural phenomenon; perhaps these critics are right.
In these paradoxes lies the power of great art. Human emotions are fragile, being pulled in different directions at the same time. Great art touches those human emotions; the result of these “touchings” will vary according to the variations in the viewers. Human adversity exists for everyone. Thus Camille and Sugar may be considered “everywoman” and “everyman” of our time—presented through the drama of Rising Water.
Herman P. Wilson
August 3, 2008
Drama is about people, their stories, and story-telling. Theatre is a visual presentation of people and their stories. Action is a depiction of change—physical, mental, emotional—in the people of the story. Reaction is a response of the viewer to the people, their stories, and the changes that occur in their lives.
Rising Water, by John Biguenet, is superb story-telling about CAMILLE (slender but no longer young) and SUGAR (her husband, no longer young or slender) as they endure a night of despair after waking to discover their house is flooded. By using a folding, disappearing staircase, they flee to their cluttered attic to escape the rising water. To ease their fear of the flood and to strengthen their hope for rescue in the morning, they look through the clutter and relive minor and major events of their past.
These two people, in their own right, are superb story tellers who believe stories may ease them through the night. They recall the death of their daughter, Suzie, and the disappointing aspects of their son, Frankie. They recall happy moments: their first sexual happiness, details of their wedding, and reactions of their parents to the marriage. With a powerful sense of irony, Biguenet through Camille, recalls “the rain kept coming down” and the folk belief of her father that rain on a wedding day is a sign of good luck. They recall less happy moments: hints of sexual promiscuity, unfulfilled plans that have remained closed in Camille’s “hope chest,” their fear of death, and the possibility that the “dead have a claim on” them. Camille is excitable; Sugar is less so: he comments “the things scare you witless when you [are] small, they just make you sad when you get old, don’t they?”
These details are “theatrical” in essence; they become “theatre” in reality as a result of Biguenet’s use of dramatic devices. His careful use of language helps the audience see the differences between Sugar and Camille. Sugar is visionary, idealistic and, at times, simple. Camille is realistic, not given to flights of fancy, and often impatient with Sugar. Each of them has a degree of earthiness and eroticism. Camille is slender; Sugar is not. This difference in size is important. After removing a vent, Camille can clamber out of the attic; Sugar is too large for this means of escape. For much of the play, Biguenet shows the duality of the situation. Sugar, in the attic, looks through the hole, glimpses the beauty of nature (yes, Biguenet shows that element), but remains trapped inside. Camille, on the roof, reveals a degree of romanticism when she speaks of the beauty of the water and the stars, but she, too, remains trapped. No one responds to her frantic cries for help; no boat comes to her rescue; and no helicopter circles over the roof in a search for victims.
The static quality of Rising Water precludes overt actions. But subtle changes occur in the physical, mental, and emotional aspects of Camille and Sugar. Camille is certain no food is in the attic; Sugar insists they might find some food stashed away in some now-forgotten place. Each of them is angry at times and suggests reasons for the flood: an overflowing toilet, faulty construction of the water system and the levees, or the malevolence of an angry Divine Being. Each of them struggles with acceptance of their situation. Implied questions of “Why me? Why us? When will the boats come? Will helicopter pilots see us?” or “Are we going to die?” hover over the script.
With a degree of ambiguity at the closure of the script, Biguenet hints that Camille and Sugar may have accepted the fate of their dire situation. After hearing about a past near-tragedy of Sugar and his father, Camille suggests they sing to each other, as the father had sung to Sugar. Thus the script closes with their singing “If ever I ever cease to love, / If ever I cease to love, / The moon would turn to cream cheese, / If ever I cease to love.”
Biguenet succeeds in pulling the reader/audience into the “story-telling” of a painful event. Although Biguenet makes allusions to the hurricane Katrina, the script is not really about Katrina. If it were, some critics would pass by the script with comments such as “Oh, another play on a natural catastrophe. Hasn’t enough been written already on Katrina? Is the playwright taking advantage of natural disaster to heighten his script?”
With his focus on the lives of two people, Biguenet “tells the story” of Camille and Sugar as they face a human tragedy that forces them to examine and re-examine many elements of their lives. In doing so, Biguenet risks the charge of some critics that he is melodramatic; perhaps he is. Other critics charge that he is sentimental; perhaps he is. Still other critics charge that he overuses biblical allusions; perhaps he does. Some critics will be effusive in their comments about the appeal of a heart-wrenching story and will not make these charges; perhaps they are right. Some critics will accept the story of Camille and Sugar as a universal story of human beings who believe stories from their past will help them live through—possibly survive—the tragedy of a natural phenomenon; perhaps these critics are right.
In these paradoxes lies the power of great art. Human emotions are fragile, being pulled in different directions at the same time. Great art touches those human emotions; the result of these “touchings” will vary according to the variations in the viewers. Human adversity exists for everyone. Thus Camille and Sugar may be considered “everywoman” and “everyman” of our time—presented through the drama of Rising Water.
Herman P. Wilson
August 3, 2008
Friday, October 5, 2007
An Ireland Free?
By David Coley, Dramaturg for The Lieutenant of Inishmore
“We acknowledge and admit faults and grievous errors in our prosecution of the war. Innocent people were injured…For this we as Republicans, as Socialists and as Revolutionaries do offer a sincere, heartfelt and genuine apology.”
These words were written in a 1998 declaration by the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA), effectively ratifying the Belfast Agreement and ending their armed struggle of more than 25 years. The Belfast Agreement was supported by a large majority of the Irish people, and finally forged an accord between most of the active paramilitary groups on the island. Though some violence was to persist intermittently for a few years, the battle for “an Ireland free” was over.
It was a battle that lasted almost a century, beginning with the Easter Rising of 1916. Though it initially failed, it began a chain reaction that, through political and military means, led to the declaration of an Irish republic in 1919, and finally independence from Britain in 1921. Unfortunately, that independence was not complete, with the Northern territories opting to stay within the United Kingdom.
This was unacceptable for radical militant groups. First came a civil war between the split factions of the Irish Republican Army (IRA), which resulted in victory for those who supported the 1921 treaty. Those who rejected the treaty continued to wage war under the IRA moniker until 1969, when socialist ideas and questions about violence split the organization once again.
In 1972, the Official IRA voted to declare a ceasefire, but some believed that the struggle was not over. It was out of this fervor that the INLA was born. Frequently fighting with the Official IRA, the INLA was often in a precarious position. They soon made a name for themselves with a series of high-profile assassinations and bombings, which were controversial due to the high civilian body count. Splinter organizations such as the INLA/GHQ and the IPLO attempted to overthrow the INLA, but were quickly put down.
All of this came to an end in 1998. There is a feeling of defeat and regret in their statement, acknowledging their “grievous errors,” but still remaining unapologetic about their armed struggle against the British. Fighting so hard and achieving so little is exhausting, especially with the realization, as one character in this play puts it, that “…all this terror was for nothing.”
The characters of the play exist in a place where terror reigns and reason has little foothold. Though the results are often hilarious, the penchant for futile violence in Ireland still blazes forth, with little regard to whatever human or animal life stands in the way.
“We acknowledge and admit faults and grievous errors in our prosecution of the war. Innocent people were injured…For this we as Republicans, as Socialists and as Revolutionaries do offer a sincere, heartfelt and genuine apology.”
These words were written in a 1998 declaration by the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA), effectively ratifying the Belfast Agreement and ending their armed struggle of more than 25 years. The Belfast Agreement was supported by a large majority of the Irish people, and finally forged an accord between most of the active paramilitary groups on the island. Though some violence was to persist intermittently for a few years, the battle for “an Ireland free” was over.
It was a battle that lasted almost a century, beginning with the Easter Rising of 1916. Though it initially failed, it began a chain reaction that, through political and military means, led to the declaration of an Irish republic in 1919, and finally independence from Britain in 1921. Unfortunately, that independence was not complete, with the Northern territories opting to stay within the United Kingdom.
This was unacceptable for radical militant groups. First came a civil war between the split factions of the Irish Republican Army (IRA), which resulted in victory for those who supported the 1921 treaty. Those who rejected the treaty continued to wage war under the IRA moniker until 1969, when socialist ideas and questions about violence split the organization once again.
In 1972, the Official IRA voted to declare a ceasefire, but some believed that the struggle was not over. It was out of this fervor that the INLA was born. Frequently fighting with the Official IRA, the INLA was often in a precarious position. They soon made a name for themselves with a series of high-profile assassinations and bombings, which were controversial due to the high civilian body count. Splinter organizations such as the INLA/GHQ and the IPLO attempted to overthrow the INLA, but were quickly put down.
All of this came to an end in 1998. There is a feeling of defeat and regret in their statement, acknowledging their “grievous errors,” but still remaining unapologetic about their armed struggle against the British. Fighting so hard and achieving so little is exhausting, especially with the realization, as one character in this play puts it, that “…all this terror was for nothing.”
The characters of the play exist in a place where terror reigns and reason has little foothold. Though the results are often hilarious, the penchant for futile violence in Ireland still blazes forth, with little regard to whatever human or animal life stands in the way.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thoughts on "Intimate Apparel" from the director-Fred Goodson
The day before opening:
Lynn Nottage’s beautiful and sensitive story of an early 20th Century African American spinster longing to find happiness and a sense of worth in the cold unfeeling streets of New York City is a stage director’s dream assignment. From my very first reading of the script I understood why “Intimate Apparel” is the one of the most produced plays in regional theatres today. We follow the story of Esther Mills, the lonely 35 year old seamstress who makes beautiful intimate apparel (corsets) for ladies. As a symbol, the very nature of the corset is binding, controlling, hiding, and though Esther makes beautiful ones, they often cover the real needs of both Esther and her clients. The intimacies revealed here go much deeper than what is revealed when we are stripped to our undergarments. The need to be touched --“to be held” as Esther discloses, is something we discover to be at the core of the characters in Esther’s journey. The characters as they are “exposed” emerge as personal, richly textured, longing individuals, and yet their struggle toward the pursuit of happiness and fulfillment are as current in today’s American society as they were at the time of the action in 1905. Issues of race, gender, immigration, morality, religious heritage, and education, combined with social and economic barriers and bonds all play significant roles in Nottage’s script as they do in all our daily lives as Americans and human beings. Here, then, is a play that speaks to both our hearts, our innermost desires and passions and our intelligence.
Producing the play presents some wonderful challenges for the director, designers, and especially the actors. The action is written in episodic scenes with the main character, Esther, moving from location to location throughout the play. Keeping the thrust of the story alive and always “forward moving” can be challenging. The play is comprised of two character scenes. The principal storyline is Esther’s, and she appears in every scene, with one of the other characters. The action and the “drama” must move seamlessly toward a poignant and appropriate end. This requires careful planning and execution with a setting that allows the character to move from place to place without hindrance, lights and sound that sustain and “push” the story and it’s emotional builds, and actors capable of “catching the ball,” the action, and moving it forward toward the goal of the play.”
In my research for directing Intimate Apparel, I discovered that many productions have occurred in theatres much larger than the Unicorn’s intimate space—theatres with fly systems, hydraulic lifts, large moving platforms and revolves at their disposal. Fortunately these technological wonders were not available to us, and we turned our attention to the story and to those intimate details of character for which the Unicorn stage is so well suited. I found this to be a much more effective way to tell Esther Mills’ story. I won’t give away any of our “technological innovations” for you here, but I welcome your thoughts on both our concept for and the effective execution of our production choices.
I am eager to hear your comments on all the characters and issues highlighted in this play. Who are the “good guys” and who are the real “villains”? Is there hope that our society will ever evolve into the American ideal? Just how wrong are Esther’s choices?
We hope to see you soon at the Unicorn. Come. Enjoy. Then, let’s talk about it.
Fred Goodson
Lynn Nottage’s beautiful and sensitive story of an early 20th Century African American spinster longing to find happiness and a sense of worth in the cold unfeeling streets of New York City is a stage director’s dream assignment. From my very first reading of the script I understood why “Intimate Apparel” is the one of the most produced plays in regional theatres today. We follow the story of Esther Mills, the lonely 35 year old seamstress who makes beautiful intimate apparel (corsets) for ladies. As a symbol, the very nature of the corset is binding, controlling, hiding, and though Esther makes beautiful ones, they often cover the real needs of both Esther and her clients. The intimacies revealed here go much deeper than what is revealed when we are stripped to our undergarments. The need to be touched --“to be held” as Esther discloses, is something we discover to be at the core of the characters in Esther’s journey. The characters as they are “exposed” emerge as personal, richly textured, longing individuals, and yet their struggle toward the pursuit of happiness and fulfillment are as current in today’s American society as they were at the time of the action in 1905. Issues of race, gender, immigration, morality, religious heritage, and education, combined with social and economic barriers and bonds all play significant roles in Nottage’s script as they do in all our daily lives as Americans and human beings. Here, then, is a play that speaks to both our hearts, our innermost desires and passions and our intelligence.
Producing the play presents some wonderful challenges for the director, designers, and especially the actors. The action is written in episodic scenes with the main character, Esther, moving from location to location throughout the play. Keeping the thrust of the story alive and always “forward moving” can be challenging. The play is comprised of two character scenes. The principal storyline is Esther’s, and she appears in every scene, with one of the other characters. The action and the “drama” must move seamlessly toward a poignant and appropriate end. This requires careful planning and execution with a setting that allows the character to move from place to place without hindrance, lights and sound that sustain and “push” the story and it’s emotional builds, and actors capable of “catching the ball,” the action, and moving it forward toward the goal of the play.”
In my research for directing Intimate Apparel, I discovered that many productions have occurred in theatres much larger than the Unicorn’s intimate space—theatres with fly systems, hydraulic lifts, large moving platforms and revolves at their disposal. Fortunately these technological wonders were not available to us, and we turned our attention to the story and to those intimate details of character for which the Unicorn stage is so well suited. I found this to be a much more effective way to tell Esther Mills’ story. I won’t give away any of our “technological innovations” for you here, but I welcome your thoughts on both our concept for and the effective execution of our production choices.
I am eager to hear your comments on all the characters and issues highlighted in this play. Who are the “good guys” and who are the real “villains”? Is there hope that our society will ever evolve into the American ideal? Just how wrong are Esther’s choices?
We hope to see you soon at the Unicorn. Come. Enjoy. Then, let’s talk about it.
Fred Goodson
Friday, April 27, 2007
Iron Kisses--from the Director's perspective
Sidonie Garrett, Director
Telling this story is a uniquely challenging adventure. Our playwright, James Still, gives us a beautifully theatrical play in three scenes in which two actors portray a brother and sister who each also play their mother and father. The singular, yet wholly shared experience of scene one, where the character Billy is enacting Mom and Dad, and then scene two, where Barbara, sister to Billy portrays Mom and Dad is particularly effective in letting the audience know these parents without ever meeting them.
This is a story about family and the love that sustains them through grief and loss. I find it to be universally resonant in its exploration of the relationships between parents and their children; no matter which issues this particular family faces, we know that all families struggle, that our own families have struggled. Sometime. Somehow. For a variety of reasons. It’s about how this family changes and continues to grow yet maintains their connection. It reminds me of a quote from Hemingway, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” I think we see in the world of this play that the adult children are a bit broken, but find their strength renewed in the end because they regain the strong connection that they developed in childhood. Their shared past has prepared them to face life’s difficulties and they can draw from the well of their spiritual connection to suffer grief and come out on the other side with strength. When you have someone to grieve with, you endure.
I enjoyed working with Nathan and Karen as they absorbed bits and pieces from each other’s interpretations and created Mom and Dad from physical observation, vocal shifts and each another’s more specific understanding of the same sex parent. Their work grew to make our stage more heavily populated; we started with Nathan and Karen, added Billy and Barbara and then Mom and Dad x 2!
I hope the audience finds a personal connection to the words and each character’s viewpoint and will discover a new perspective relative to their own sibling and parent/child relationships. I hope they are moved to laughter from recognition of their own experience in the lives of the characters and feel a tear in their eye from the remembrance of their own families and losses they’ve borne—and endured with greater strength.
Thanks to James Still for such a wonderful story to tell.
“Never write about a place until you're away from it, because that gives you perspective” Ernest Hemingway
Telling this story is a uniquely challenging adventure. Our playwright, James Still, gives us a beautifully theatrical play in three scenes in which two actors portray a brother and sister who each also play their mother and father. The singular, yet wholly shared experience of scene one, where the character Billy is enacting Mom and Dad, and then scene two, where Barbara, sister to Billy portrays Mom and Dad is particularly effective in letting the audience know these parents without ever meeting them.
This is a story about family and the love that sustains them through grief and loss. I find it to be universally resonant in its exploration of the relationships between parents and their children; no matter which issues this particular family faces, we know that all families struggle, that our own families have struggled. Sometime. Somehow. For a variety of reasons. It’s about how this family changes and continues to grow yet maintains their connection. It reminds me of a quote from Hemingway, “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” I think we see in the world of this play that the adult children are a bit broken, but find their strength renewed in the end because they regain the strong connection that they developed in childhood. Their shared past has prepared them to face life’s difficulties and they can draw from the well of their spiritual connection to suffer grief and come out on the other side with strength. When you have someone to grieve with, you endure.
I enjoyed working with Nathan and Karen as they absorbed bits and pieces from each other’s interpretations and created Mom and Dad from physical observation, vocal shifts and each another’s more specific understanding of the same sex parent. Their work grew to make our stage more heavily populated; we started with Nathan and Karen, added Billy and Barbara and then Mom and Dad x 2!
I hope the audience finds a personal connection to the words and each character’s viewpoint and will discover a new perspective relative to their own sibling and parent/child relationships. I hope they are moved to laughter from recognition of their own experience in the lives of the characters and feel a tear in their eye from the remembrance of their own families and losses they’ve borne—and endured with greater strength.
Thanks to James Still for such a wonderful story to tell.
“Never write about a place until you're away from it, because that gives you perspective” Ernest Hemingway
Sunday, February 25, 2007
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