Thoughts on Draft Two

I had a read-through today of draft two. Here are the things I need to focus on for draft 3:

• Beginning – intro too broad. Either focus on the room or how they got there. Work on how to blend the beginning and end.
• How to/if to integrate the supporting characters. Should they be in the room for the entirety of the play? Should they all be coming and going? What is best way to tie their stories in?
• Addition of more “concrete scenes”. How can I include flashbacks? What is the best way to do so? What is the best way to combine some elements of draft one into draft two?
• Flesh out scenes between characters in the waiting room. What other ways can they interact? Is this is a potential way to integrate the natural elements present in draft one?

Suzan-Lori Parks

Since Suzan-Lori Parks has come to campus, I’ve read three of her plays.

I was very taken with In the Blood and Fucking A. I think that these plays and my play have a similar thematic idea. They both focus on the power of women faced with extreme oppression, and they are trying to survive the situations and circumstances surrounding them. The main difference is that both Hesters are defeated by their circumstances in that they have no other choice, internally, but to kill the thing that is closest to them. The plays, of course, are a bit different. In In the Blood, I, personally, see little hope for Hester recovering after she murders Jabber. In Fucking A, however, I felt as though Hester would continue to work because that’s what she has to do. Thus, I would argue that the oppressiveness of each Hester’s condition is more triumphant in striking Hester down in In the Blood, but I would also argue that Hester is not necessarily triumphant over her oppressive conditions in Fucking A. In my play, I want to balance the oppressive conditions with the strength of the women, and show that they can triumph over their situations. (Of course, I think it is important to show that it does not mean that their struggles are completely over.)

Parks constructs some really powerful ways of speaking and being on stage that really intrigued me. The first is her notion of “spells”. She writes that a spell is “an elongated and heightened rest denoted by repetition of figures’ names with no dialogue”. In the Q&A session with her, someone asked what the spells’ relationships were to the pauses in Pinter’s work, and Parks replied that it was not necessarily a pause, but a musical element meant to not, as in Pinter’s work, alienate the characters from the situation, but instead to bring them closer. The spells are meant as an internal moment between characters to bring the audience into the scene, not to distance themselves from it.

Parks, also in the Q&A, said that she called them rests and not pauses because they were like rests in a piece of music. She said, “They are not pauses, they’re rests.” For some reason, something clicked for me then. I had never really thought about the usage of a particular phrase and how it might be played out if stage directions/script notes were different, but I understood the idea of a “rest” so much better than I had understood the idea of a “pause”, and that is definitely something I’ve taken a deep look at in my second draft. How do rests change the flow of each cycle? How does the cycle change depending on where I put the rests?

Thinking more about wording, I’ve also been quite taken by Parks’s use of artistic street talk. In my draft two, I’ve definitely strayed away from deliberate lacking ability to express oneself. In other words, this may not be the most realistic way for them to be speaking, but I think it fits in with the new direction of the play. To be telling and viscerally  describing the way they felt at certain times in perhaps exaggerated, artistic form.

Something else I was taken with was the use of crowd scenes that bookmarked the beginning and end of In the Blood. Although I haven’t seen it, when I imagined what it would be like, it had an overwhelming affect. The words are written in  capital letters, not differentiated between which character says what, at some points a spell occurs, at others they stop and spit. The image of all these characters saying these things about the central character in the play powerfully and visually/vocally creates extreme oppressiveness.

Another structural affect I was very intrigued by was the “confessions” in In the Blood. In my first draft, I often felt as though the monologues served as a kind of “confessional” space. In In the Blood, each confession served as an additional layer to the story, a reminder that the story is multidimensional, or letting the audience know another, hidden part of the story. It adds a layer of secrecy and distrust. It complements the crowd scenes at the beginning and end of the play to create a sense of distrust, that secretly everyone dislikes Hester, that secretly everyone has individual motives for their actions, and that you never really know who to believe.

Thinking about it now, I realize how much of an effect that style is having on draft two. I hope that by including multiple perspectives of the side characters in the main characters’ stories, that there will be a sense not only of interpretation that accompanies the idea of myriad stories in the room, but also of moral distrust and uncomfortability. Of course, not to the extent that it does in In the Blood, because I do want my characters to be more morally “right” in their decision making in order for the play to make its point, but just enough so that we don’t believe everything they’re saying and that we can understand an opposing viewpoint.

Of course,  I do have a bone to pick with Parks in her choice about how she portrays an abortionist in Fucking A, but that’s another story…

 

Goals for the Next Draft

• Re-examine each character. Are all of their details accurate? Rethink where each character is from and make sure they fit with it. Are any of the characters’ stories too similar? How can that be fixed?
• Focus on language
  • The way each character speaks. Focus on dialect/affluence as well as vocabulary.
  • Barriers to speaking. When is nobody listening to what the characters are saying? Are they eventually heard? What things are important to say? How is power involved?
• Focus on Gaining Knowledge/Control of Knowledge
  • This is related to the language idea. Who knows what? Who is right? Who is in control?
• Focus on dialogue between the characters. Can you layer scenes that are too similar to each other?
• Focus on restructuring the play in terms of language/knowledge/viewing it as a “documentary”.

Through the Leaves

I was apprehensive about reading this…I don’t think sexually-explicit is really my style. So, I was very surprised that I LOVED it.

I don’t think that intensely realistic/naturalistic scenes are exactly what I’m going for. However, I do think that there are some very useful things to take away from it.

I loved the use of the diary. It was odd to see the juxtaposition of the romantic, mundane diary entries and the naturalistic, violent, abusive scenes.  However, it opened the window to see what Martha was really thinking. She could never have said those things to Otto; she tried. The entires are private, almost like she has to write them to herself because she has no one else to tell. It’s tragic – so simple and yet so tragic. The audience is allowed to see inside of her, although we never get to see what’s inside Otto. And the seeing is really what makes her so interesting. I found myself so drawn to her, so engaged in her. I really wanted her to find happiness. I sincerely pitied her. I wanted to find out the end of the story. I don’t think that that would have happened if the diary entry scenes weren’t included.

The diary entries also create this barrier between Martha and Otto. We see that she has deeper, greater thoughts. She craves and imagines more. She is learned, more intellectual, and certainly more independent than Otto. Do we never see what Otto thinks because does not wish to keep a diary, or because he can’t? Or perhaps his thoughts aren’t so different from his actions.

I think, structurally, what I’d like to take away from this is the juxtaposition between naturalistic scenes and “feeling” scenes. (I know that the diary entries aren’t the same as the monologue-esque scenes in my play.) I’ve been trying to find a way to balance the monologues and the scenes, and I think an effective way achieve naturalness is to interlace the scenes and the monologues more. Perhaps even have someone performing background action while someone in the forefront speaks.

In other news, this weekend I’m going to see Anna Deavere Smith’s new play in New York! I think that actually seeing a documentary theater piece will be an enlightening experience. I’ll be sure to write about it. After that, I think I will condense my thoughts and try to work on draft 2 over fall break.

Thoughts on the Thematic Structure of My Play

(These are mostly personal notes for myself..very vague)

• Language
  • People not listening to you
  • Being able to express yourself and what you want
• Knowledge
  • What to expect
  • What you know vs what others know
• Truth
  • What is real, what is right.

Nine Parts of Desire

I just finished Nine Parts of Desire b y Heather Raffo had a similar style to Anna Deavere Smith…her characters spoke at length and were often complemented by other characters’ speeches. Raffo’s characters, because most were recurring, had more of a dialogue than Smith’s did.

At the end of the play, Raffo’s characters all seemed to mesh and become one, the text moves rapidly with succinct pieces, each character spouting emotionally-charged statements that may or may not have pertained to their character. They melded into each other, became more alike, became one being. This rapid-fire ending smashed into the next monologue of a poor older woman trying to sell Layla’s painting, and the audience is told Layla has died. It was a very emotional build-up, as if all of the emotion underneath these monologues was allowed to break through, if only for a moment. The audience is left with a vision of a starving Iraqi woman, an “everywoman”, who by selling this painting of the “Iraqi woman”, is selling a part of herself to survive.

Needless to say, I wasn’t too captivated by the play until the ending. Then it all seemed to make sense. These stories, tied together, created a dialogue between Western and Iraqi woman, the ways they are alike, the ways they are dissimilar. I found it interesting that many characters appeared numerous times while others appeared only once. I think I would have to see it performed to better able understand those choices. I wonder what the effect would be if I had some characters speak only once. I feel like I’ve trapped myself a little bit in the structure. I’ve focused on these particular women’s stories, and by doing so, I haven’t realized that by letting others speak it can still be a part of their story.

I think I need to reread this play. More thoughts later.

Fires in the Mirror/Mud

I just reread Fires in the Mirror by Anna Deavere Smith.

I was most captivated by the introduction. She writes, “Who has the right to see what? Who has the right to speak for whom? These questions have plagued the contemporary American theater…If only a man can speak for a man, a woman for a woman, a Black person for all Black people, then we, once again, inhibit the space of theater, which lives in the bridge that makes unlikely aspects seem connected.”

This certainly is her mantra for this work. She does not have two perspectives, (the “Jewish” and “Black” perspective of the Crown Heights riots), but instead has multiple, undefined perspectives. By creating so many (over 30?) characters, each with their own perspective, each with their own way of speaking, each with their own lives and background and mannerisms, she creates a complicated world. The issue is not black and white. It’s more complicated than that.

What I admire about this structural strategy is how sociological it is. It’s saying how many layers upon layers there are to each conflict, that the conflict has so many roots and sections; it’s not easily identified.

Smith’s quote also reminded me of the conversation I had with Mark in a meeting last week about language use. For Smith, language is so important in creating these characters and sending this message. She even says it’s almost not worth it to read the play because you really have to see it performed.

Additionally, Smith believes that each character has something to say. If you listen long enough to anybody talk, she says, you can hear the poetry in their language. For Smith, there seems to be no such thing as inability to express oneself through language.

I’ve also just finished Mud by Maria Irene Fornes. (I know this wasn’t on the list of suggested plays, but I couldn’t help myself.) It seems to be saying the opposite…a little bit..of this idea of universal language expressiveness that Smith declares in Fires in the Mirror. Although these plays are very different, topically and structurally, they both are political center around language. In Mud, the main character, Mae, thirsts for knowledge but ultimately is unable to realize it. Crippled by poverty and harsh living conditions, Mae, Lloyd, and eventually Henry, all are failed by the reality of their lives.

What I loved about Mud was its scenes designed around this idea of learning and language. Like Mark said in the meeting about Fornes’s work, there seems to be so much going on underneath. There is so much subtext. Unlike Fires in the Mirror, there is a complicated urgency that keeps the momentum going. At the end of Fires in the Mirror, the audience is left to wonder about the complicated state of the world, but they are also left hopeful for change, I think, because in the difference perspectives we are also able to glimpse some similarity. In Mud, there is no room for hope. The system has crushed these people. They are not going to make it.

For my play, I still am most compelled by the structure of Still Life. However, I would argue that Fires in the Mirror provides a similar structure. They both are interview style, and while Mann splices and cuts her interviews, Smith lets them speak for themselves. However, Smith’s characters are unrelated, this one particular event ties them together; their relationship to the event differs. Mann’s characters, in contrast, are speaking about the same series of events, albeit that they each have their own perspectives.

While I do think Smith’s characters are connected, I think that my characters could be more connected. They could have more of a dialogue. So I’d like to experiment with something closer to Still Life.

I do wonder if there is a way to combine the contained urgency of Fornes’s scenes and the spliced monologues in Still Life. I know I’ve asked this question numerous times and I’ll continue to ask it. I think I’ll try it out…if it doesn’t work I think I’ll either end up cutting the scenes or restructuring them to make them more interview-esque? I just don’t want to lose the intimate quality of the conversation between the characters, and yet, I don’t know if it quite fits with the other tones of the piece.

More Notes on Still Life

I just finished Still Life by Emily Mann and I was quite taken by it.

I mentioned in my previous post about her composition of each scene. What I thought was most wonderful was the way she captured different perspectives talking about the same thing and still kept a momentum and mystery to it. The audience doesn’t know what the “moment” was when Mark did something in Vietnam. We know that there is one specific memory haunting him but we don’t find out until the end. It was wonderful to see such a … simple structure still be able to hold mystery, if that makes sense.

Additionally, I loved the visceral imagery. My favorite scene was comparing giving birth to war. The juxtaposition of those two raw, gory memories was haunting and completely captivating. I thought it was more horrifying than when we found out what Mark did. Of course, I think it’s very opposite to what my play is trying to achieve, but the idea of combining two separate stories with such intense imagery really did more than counterbalance each other; they heightened the intensity of the other.

In my play, there are many similar scenes with similar themes. As Mark mentioned in our meeting, perhaps there are too many similarities. I think “borrowing” some of Mann’s structural elements could help solve that problem. If it’s crafted in the right way, the monologues and stories could be woven together and heighten each other. They could make more sense and create more awareness by creating conversation instead of a speech.

Notes on the Read Through

• Overall it could be a little long. However, I think I felt as though the monologues were dragging and the other scenes were going faster.
• My main thoughts were probably shaped by Still Life because I read it right before the run through…which may or may not have been a good thing. I feel as though something missing from this draft was more conversation between characters. I think that the scene in the waiting room where they’re all talking about their kids can be expressed in a different way; I feel as if there can be more dialogue between the characters without having it be a literal “dialogue”. InStill Life, Emily Mann creates dialogues by juxtaposing monologues based on a theme. I think that right now my play feels a little too fragmented and parts of it drag, and I think that exploring what dialogues the characters can have with each other will be beneficial.
• Going along with that, I was surprised by how much I liked the phone conversation scene. The way it flowed felt exciting and engaging. It was never one of my favorite scenes, so I think it was very beneficial to hear it and try and structure some other scenes similarly. Like Emily Mann said in her introduction of Still Life, “The rhythms are of real people’s speech, but may also at times have the sense of improvisation one finds with the best jazz musicians: the monologues should sometimes sound like extended riffs.”
• Obviously I’m going to take the time to read some other plays before settling in on exactly what I want to do with the next draft..but the thing that’s on my mind right now is whether I can successfully incorporate the monologue-esque dialogues and realistic scenes in the same work.

Waiting Room Ideas

What do I want from this play?

What do I want the audience to see?

What is my metaphor?

I think I want it to feel like a documentary. When I keep asking myself what I want it to feel like, that’s what immediately pops to mind. I saw this documentary a few weeks ago called Very Young Girls about prostitution in New York city and the victimization of poor, teenage girls. I keep coming back to that…I want it to be the characters telling their stories to the audience. I want them to be telling their stories to the world, honestly. I feel that I picked these characters because they were people that wanted to talk. They’re not the ones that don’t want people to see their lives…they’re all more present than that.

At the same time, I want the audience to be reminded that these are real people with lives similar to their own. I think that the intimate aspect of the teaching theater is appealing because it lets the audience get closer to the characters. They’re more a part of the action, not  as removed from it.

Ok I think I was just lying by saying that. I think…there is a way we can create a documentary-esque feel in the big space….I think it can be done in writing, in creating character, in acknowledging the presence of the audience. I think I want the scenes to feel more candid, less rehearsed. I want the audience to feel like a camera lens. I can see a character putting her hand over her face…someone not wanting to talk. Someone not “finishing” a scene, running out. And I think that this can contribute to the “reality” and connection of the audience. If they feel as though they are there, they are the ones being talked to, I think it can be beneficial to be on a bigger stage.

I think the way I’ve been describing it to Di/Rose is that there are these “memories”. And I think …actually…that they don’t have to feel like memories. They can be real. We, the audience, can be the ones piecing them together. Perhaps the waiting room is the glue that holds the scenes together, yes, it is the thing that joins them all, but it doesn’t mean that the other scenes aren’t in real time. They are in the present, and we are the ones seeing them in a different timeline.

I don’t know if that makes sense.

What this does mean is that there are a lot of scenes that will have to disappear. Keyona and the doctor, Sarah and the party. If the scenes aren’t memories, they’re candid scenes viewed through a lens, I’m not sure if those scenes are appropriate. This also presents the problem of what the other characters are experiencing – not the main five, but the supporting characters. I feel like those other characters are not following the same pattern in the play as it is right now. They don’t have monologues…maybe they’re unnecessary? (The other characters, I mean)

I think what’s most helpful to hammer out is how aware the characters are of this lens. Are they aware that they’re being watched? In all instances? Who are they talking to?

I think they are having “confessionals” as part of the “documentary” during their monologues or soliloquies or whatever the correct term is, that the lens is also apparent during the other scenes, but not to the same extent. It’s less acknowledgeable. At least to the other characters. I think this can work.