My review of Krapp's Last Tape--the most valuable theatre experience I've had all year!

I've recently joined the (unpaid) staff of The Revenant Culture literary zine--I'll be serving primarily as an editor, but also as a theatre critic. The first review went live today, and here's an excerpt:

Shakespeare's (Tiny) Tempest
Over half the play is missing. In fact, nearly two-thirds of the text is strangely absent from Summer Shakespeare's production of The Tempest. No matter. What remains is fifty minutes of belly-laughing farce, with the human tragedies and loves rounded out to little comic melodramas. It may be a dinghy to Shakespeare's imperial ship, but it still floats. (Mostly.)

To read the rest of the review, or to find out how to buy tickets for one of the final three performances, visit The Revenant Culture Blog.

Ingmar Bergman, the writer and director of film classics The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries, was often asked to defend, or at least explain, what he intended these films to accomplish. His answer surprised me. Perhaps, if I were a better student of film, it would not have.

"People ask what are my intentions with my films--my aims. It is a difficult and dangerous question, and I usually give an evasive answer: I try to tell the truth about the human condition, the truth as I see it. This answer seems to satisfy everyone, but it is not quite correct. I prefer to describe what I would like my aim to be.

"There is an old story of how the cathedral of Chartres was struck by lightning and burned to the ground. Then thousands of people came from all points of the compass, like a giant procession of ants, and together they began to rebuild the cathedral on its old site. They worked until the building was completed--master builders, artists, laborers, clowns, noblemen, priests, burghers. But they all remained anonymous, and no one knows to this day who built the cathedral of Chartres.

"Regardless of my own beliefs and my own doubts, which are unimportant in this connection, it is my opinion that art lost its basic creative drive the moment it was separated from worship. It severed an umbilical cord and now lives its own sterile life, generating and degenerating itself. In former days the artist remained unknown and his work was to the glory of God. He lived and died without being more or less important than other artisans; 'eternal values,' 'immortality' and 'masterpiece' were terms not applicable in his case. The ability to create was a gift. In such a world flourished invulnerable assurance and natural humility.

"Today the individual has become the highest form and the greatest bane of artistic creation. The smallest wound or pain of the ego is examined under a microscope as if it were of eternal importance. The artist considers his isolation, his subjectivity, his individualism almost holy. Thus we finally gather in one large pen, where we stand and bleat about our loneliness without listening to each other and without realizing that we are smothering each other to death. The individualists stare into each other's eyes and yet deny the existence of each other. We walk in circles, so limited by our own anxieties that we can no longer distinguish between true and false, between the gangster's whim and the purest idea.

"Thus if I am asked what I would like the general purpose of my films to be, I would reply that I want to be one of the artists in the cathedral on the great plain. I want to make a dragon's head, an angel, a devil--or perhaps a saint--out of stone. It does not matter which; it is the sense of satisfaction that counts. Regardless of whether I believe or not, whether I am a Christian or not, I would play my part in the collective building of the cathedral."

--Ingmar Bergman, in the introduction to Four Screenplays of Ingmar Bergman.

I Dreamed a Dream
I don't normally dream-share (too afraid some one will psychoanalyze me), nor do I find meaning in the images (a cat's a cat, and no harbinger of evil). But last night, I dreamed a doozy-dream about the very thing I've been planning to write on this blog for some weeks. So, I'll say my dream was a call to action, and write these crazy metaphors all over cyber-space. Maybe, if I'm lucky, someone will psychoanalyze....or at the very least, tell me my fortune ;)

Now I Tell the Dream to You
I am waiting in line in front of a yellow-bricked building. I am waiting in a line to register for classes--for my master's degree. In order to register, I am required to do one simple task, involving Mrs. Fisher-Price, of my preschool doll-house days. (For those of you deprived of Fisher-Price families, see them here. Really. Go visit. You need to see the family before you continue. Sweet, aren't they? Back to the dream.)

Take Mrs. Fisher-Price,
Place her in a vice,
And saw her little legs off,
Saw her little peg off.

And, voila! I am registered for life in the yellow-brick Master's school. Except Mrs. Fisher-Price is rather hard to cut through, even with a saw. And throughout the rest of my dream, the image of the saw going through her little peg comes back over and over and over. And the image of her head in the vice--that comes back, too.

So I'm registered for these classes; now it's time to actually go to one. I go to a Mr. Stegall class (let it be known that Stegall classes are normally theater classes, but in my dream, he teaches Spanish). I go to this Stegall class, without my book, because I've lost my book--already on the first day. I come in, and Mr. Stegall has a pile of books on the floor--books he's throwing away out of the library collection.

Saw, saw, saw your doll
Saw her right in two.
Squeeze her head in the vice
While she smiles at you.

All these books, he's going to burn them, Mr. Stegall is. Because they are knitting books, not just any knitting books, because they are knitting books by my all-time favorite knitter Elizabeth Zimmerman (for un-knitter's out there, she was a cooky little lady who taught people how to really knit again--no patterns, no books, just knit like they used to). Can I save them? Can I save the books?

No self-respecting theater-person would waste her time with them.
No self-respecting.
No self-respecting.

Mrs. Fisher-Price snaps in two.
And I wake up.

And Now I Write a Blog
So I've been thinking about getting an M.A. in dramatic production. More than thinking, really--Benjamin and I have prayed about it and started planning for it. It's always been my dream, to get this degree, to someday maybe teach/direct? Trouble is, I can't just drop everything and run with this, like some, nor can I so easily harmonize my wiferly life with my scholerly life, as others have.

Most people I've talked to say GET IT NOW. You won't get it later. You won't. You won't. And I wouldn't. I know that.

But is it worth it? My health is rather precarious. And children are more important than words. Is it worth it? Is it possible to do both? My mind says no. Housewife or scholar. Mother or teacher. My mind, like a violent pendulum, decides first this at all costs, then that at all costs, yes-no, yes-no.

And I'm wondering how to balance?

I have a scene,
a scene from a play not written,
that has been haunting me.
It accosted me yesterday,
when I didn't expect...
already written,
directed, acted,
there in my head,
all of this scene.
All of it.
I watched it.
For some reason, I was afraid of it.

But it kept coming back to me,
this scene,
no matter how much I ran away.
After two days of running,
I know now
it is something I must write.
I don't know more of the story
than what I post here.
But I know I have to put it up.

Like I said,
it is unwritten still.
And just this one time,
though I welcome comments,
please,
make sure that you don't comment
on what could, might, or should happen next.

--untitled--

A small kitchen and dining room.
No decorations, no paintings. A
fish bowl (the old round variety)
in the middle of the table. A
basket of food on the counter by
the sink. A mother. Her twelve
year old son.

All is silent, but for the low
buz of the kitchen timer (the
noisy, wind-up dial type).

DARLA listlessly rummages through
the basket, more running her
hands over items than actually
looking at them.

CHASE sits on the counter. The
silence prevails for a full
45 seconds.

DARLA You like mandarin oranges?
CHASE Yeah.

The silence resumes. DARLA opens
the can, dumps it into two small
bowls, taps the can on the side
of a bowl to drain the juice, then
sets the bowl next to Chase.

CHASE Thanks.

CHASE stares at the bowl. DARLA
watches him, then places one of
the orange-sections in her mouth,
delicately.

CHASE They look like little fishes.

DARLA pauses for a moment, then
spits the orange (yet un-chewed)
into the sink. She rinses her
mouth out with water from her
cupped hand under the faucet.

CHASE Sorry.
DARLA S'ok.

DARLA dries her mouth with the
hand towel, and dumps the mandarin
oranges into the sink.

DARLA You're right. They do look like fish.

CHASE jumps down from the counter.
He wraps his arms around the fish
bowl, his chin on the table, his
forehead pressed against the glass.
He watches the goldfish.

CHASE Did they bring us any of those cheese thingys?

DARLA looks through the basket,
almost desperate. The kitchen timer
goes off. SHE jumps. CHASE does not.
Another moment of looking.

DARLA No.
CHASE They did last time.

DARLA opens the oven and removes
a pan of french fries. SHE grabs
the ketchup from the refridgerator,
puts both on the table, plops in
a chair, squirts ketchup in the
corner of the pan, and is just
about to eat her first french fry.

CHASE (Who hasn't moved) You forgot the mustard.

DARLA lowers her french fry, and
stares at the goldfish herself.
CHASE waits a moment, unwraps
himself from the fish bowl then
gets the mustard out of the fridge
himself. HE squirts some in another
corner.

CHASE For Dad.

HE pops three french fries in his
mouth at once, and resumes his
position at the fishbowl, arms
wrapped tightly around, chin on
the table, forehead on the glass.
DARLA has not moved except that
her eyes have followed the move-
ment of the fish.

There is a knock at the door.

I cannot make much effort
in my small lifetime,
but I am not settling for less.

--Dorothy Heathcote,
pioneer in the fields of classroom drama and holistic education

i must not like fences.
or hats.
or throwing hats over fences.
or something.
because
i've started
bulldozing.
the fence
the hat
and all.

the following events were precipitated
by a lovely visit with my friendly doctor
who told me most firmly
that i must...SLOW DOWN.
so i am.

1. I resigned from assistant directing Midsummer Night's Dream. (Doctor's orders.)

2. I changed my major (again, I know) to Creative Writing. I can graduate sooner, with fewer credits, no 10 hr/week rehearsal requirements, and many more...you guessed it...writing classes.

3. I'm writing a play to be presented to Mr. Stegall on Wednesday (yikes!). This project of my choosing is the culmination of a semester-long study of Arthur Miller.

Bye-bye fences!

my original hiding
began with a crazy,
wonderful,
opportunity.

but hiding was forced to continue
by a rather pesky illness
that landed me
in Barge.

but i'm out.
and better (sort-of).
so.
here's the scoop:

i'm starting a play writing contest.
i've been in meetings with the faculty,
and they think it's a wonderful idea,
and they want me to get it going.

my first thought was to run it
independently of the university
(and the university agreed),
but to keep it limited to BJ students
at least for a couple years
until i figure out what i'm doing (ha!)

but.
the Lord has a way
of pushing us much farther
than we thought possible.
a new faculty member
came forward and has started
an on-campus script competition.

at first i thought,
"oh, good! someone else did it!"
but the faculty said,
"please, we really want/need
an off-campus competition.
there aren't enough other people involved.
we need to challenge more people."
they even (praise) suggested
extending the competition to "other"
Christian colleges.
very other.
not just Maranatha other.
:)

so.
here i am.
never run a competition before.
don't know the first thing about advertising.
but i am excited.
and up to my eyeballs in research.
The Lord is Good.
I am eagerly waiting to see what He is going to do!

David Morris has posted a very interesting article on the philosophy of drama.
I guarantee it will be well worth your time to read, even if you skip the tome of a comment I posted after the article (thanks, Dave...I hope you don't mind....)

way
   over
               the
         fence.

and it ain't coming back.

you know how

i've always 

written

      ranted

about

"Christian" theatre?

i decided to do something about it.

and i did.

today,

i,

a second semester junior,

CHANGED MY MAJOR

in the old major,
i felt prepared to teach speech.
great, 'cause i was studying
speech education.

but.

i did not feel prepared

to 

write

for 

theatre.

and it occurred to me.

here i was/am

at a place with so much talent.

would it be right

to 

leave.

and never learn from that talent?

to never

prepare

study

learn

grow

into this thing that

i have been called to do?

i concluded 

that i had no option.

but to change.

to use the time i would have 

spent student teaching,

learning

the art of writing for theatre.

let the work begin.

and the prayers, too.

(please).

flounder=
state of my soul.

Antigone

if i could draw a box
	big black box
     empty box
i would.
	and that would be

     antigone.

there.

	because it's a box.

     but not there.

it's empty.

	like a hole

     in the dictionary.

(i got that from Karen

that ?hole in the dictionary?

	you should meet her.

she writes good.)

but.

	back

     to my 

	   box.

there and

	not there.

my antigone.

     that's

		all.

no     more    to

    say.



t  a  l  e  n  t  s

(abigword)

not existing

in stephanie's 

vocabulary.

i piddle.

make words.

not stories.

change spelling.

not lives.

piddle.

is a good word,

don't you think?

i like the way it sounds

p-i-dd-le

it's fun to say.

interesting discussion going on at
"Christian" Theatre

would love to have your input!

The following is an e-mail I received from my 13-year-old sister Michelle.
She's such a hoot and definitely has the Geter dramatic flair :)
Some of you may recognize
a much younger version of myself
in this tidbit of correspondence:
breathlessly enthusiastic,
yakking a mile-a-second,
and very, very abrupt.
Yeah for sisters!!

Hello, Stephanie! Guess what? I auditioned for, and got, a part in the school
play! It's called You Can't Take It With You. In away it reminds me of The
Nut Family. It's about this family called the Sycamores. Almost everyone in
the family is strange; Granpa refuses to pay his income tax; the mom, Penny,
is a horrible playwriter, and has an actress for a friend who likes to drink
; the dad, Paul, and his good friend, Mr. Depinna, like to make fireworks;
one of the daughters, Essie is terrible ballet dancer; and Essie's husband,
Ed, plays the xylophone, and each acts really strange. The only normal person
in the family is the other daughter, Alice. Alice falls in love with Tony,
the young vice-president of a company. One day, Tony brings his parents, Mr.
and Mrs. Kirby (I play Mrs. Kirby) over to meet the Sycamores. After awhile,
Tony and Alice begin to think it might not work out for them to get married,
with the fact that their families are so different, but Tony decides that he
is not going to give Alice up. In the end everyone gets arrested, first of
all because Grandpa refuses to pay his income tax, and second of all because
Ed put posters up all around saying things like, "Bomb the White House".
Love, Michelle

the happiest smile
i've ever seen
leaped upon the face
of that dear girl
(that girl who had rocked
back and forth
from fright
all through
the auditions)
the smile leaped,
i say,
the moment she,
having stumbled
most sadly through her piece,
stepped off the stage.

she made the auditions
worth all our toil.
just to see that
?i did it? smile.

Found a quote that sums up all that I've been feeling about "Christian Theatre" of late....whether that be the performance of overtly Christian material, or the performance of secular material by Christians.

"Toward the end of the twenties I began to lose pleasure in going to the theatre. I ceased to believe in the stories I saw presented there. When I did go it was to admire some secondary aspect of the play, the work of a great actor or director or designer. Yet at the same time the conviction was growing in me that the theatre was the greatest of all the arts. I felt that something had gone wrong with it in my time and that it was fulfilling only a small part of its potentialities?The tragic had no heat; the comic had no bite; the social criticism failed to indict us with responsibility."

Thornton Wilder

Thank you for the inspiring discussion!
And a big hearty thank you to Joy for getting it all started.

So far, from the discussion, we seem to concur

that drama can be used successfully within the church, but we're not too sure about whether or not it should occur during the Sunday worship service (enter a whole debate on preference, precedence, efficacy, etc. ). Personally, I prefer to keep the drama out of the Sunday service, but I'm not so sure that's a hard and fast rule.

The next issue upon which we all agree is that WE NEED MORE CHRISTIAN PLAYWRIGHTS TO GET BUSY. And, since I am tired of complaining about the dirth of good material while simultaneously sitting upon my bum and doing absolutely nothing about it.... I want to get your feedback on something....

I plan to talk to Dr. Burke (of the BJU speech faculty) about instituting a script competition.
At first I thought about suggesting that such a competition could be a part of the whole commencement competition thing (like with essay writing). But I'd like it to be open to Undergrads, Grads, and yes, even faculty (which presents the problem of who on earth will judge the competition).

My first goal for this endeavour is to inspire people to write. Most of us who have commented in these past few days are perfectly capable of writing a script. Granted, we are unpracticed and pretty scared, but we do have the capability. What we lack is motivation. (And maybe time? But how many moments do we fritter away with unprofitable things?) If we establish a competition...perhaps more of us, and more of them will come out of hiding.

Second, we need to work on building a body of solid scripts, both for church audiences and secular audiences. So far, Dr. Burke and Dave Schwingle are doing a tremendous job, but unfortunately, their work is reserved for the ministry teams and an occassional vespers. We need people who are not tied to the institution (and maybe some who are) to begin PUBLISHING plays for general use. We have many wonderful scripts on campus, but too many times I have had to cover for the university to Christian school teachers who demand to know why on earth BJ isn't publishing more scripts. We can and should. Perhaps the winners of the competition could be published through the press?

I am open to any and all suggestions/thoughts/criticisms on this subject.

Are there any other ideas?? How can we get this proverbial ball rolling (how I despise such hackneyed expressions)? What can you do? What can I do? So maybe you're not a theatre buff....what can you do to glorify your God RIGHT NOW in the field He has placed you? For myself, I know I've sat around too long pondering the shortcommings of the status quo. Let's do something. Now.

Carpe Diem
Coram Deo

I had an interesting discussion with Dave Schneider about the place of Christian drama in the church/ among Christians. So, I have some questions for you.

1. Is church drama truly profitable? Or could this time be better spent preaching?

2. Is it possible for any Christian drama to accurately and, yes, appropriately address secular life and questions? Would such drama be "too much" for a church service? If it is "too much" for church, is it right to perform such drama elsewhere?

3. Is it right to maintain a Christian theatre as an entity separate from the church?

Just a few questions. I have thoughts of my own to be posted later, but I'm just looking for some feedback right now. A lot of it pertains to issues I'm struggling with in Antigone (my senior project). I just don't want to overstep any bounds....