| Let's Talk |
| Tuesday, 05 May 2009 |
|
At the end of April, I crossed the mid-line and celebrated 45 years mostly lived in the Valley of the Sun. I still feel the same – like I did when I drove my bitchin’ pea-green camaro in high school, got married on a San Diego harbor cruise (really), and the first time each of my children grasped my finger. I feel the same. But I know more. I know more because I know so much less. There is very little relevant information in my world other than relationships. Partnerships with other people, whether they last for a single transaction or for a lifetime, are links to the next right action. And this is why I love theatre. Many people argue all around the keyboard as to the necessary “theatricality” of a stageplay. If the text doesn’t call for some element of staging inherently unique to a live performance, then the story can be told in some other form. It’s not stage worthy. After reading these blogs, articles and interviews I started to question my approach to this craft. Then I saw Nearly Naked Theatre’s production of Columbinus at the Tempe Center for the Arts. Granted, this work is more commentary than play, and to be honest, I wasn’t happy with most of the direction. Having said that, there was a spectacular moment in the second act, where Kevin Herrmann’s Dylan Klebold pointed a shotgun at the back of his prom date. Dylan Klebold stood frozen, anguishing over his decision, for a solid 10 seconds. Kevin earned every bit of that time. As Dylan Klebold broke the silence by telling the girl to leave, I turned and smiled at my husband. It was a brilliant relationship moment. That kind of deafening silence looks and feels and sounds like nothing else in any other art form. To be sure silence elicits strong feelings of tenderness or anxiety on the canvas, in music and on film. But. Relationships on stage, with all their ranting, laughing, crying… and nothingness, are palpable. We aren’t voyeurs. We as audience are consumed by these moments of hilarity, bliss and pain. Ultimately, relationships are all that matter in this life – and in theatre. Sure I can put people in a bathtub, or in the International Space Station, or say… in a car, but ultimately, the story is the relationship. Those conversations, both spoken and unspoken, drive the want, and the want drives the action. Talking is theatrical. Plot is just the vehicle that moves us through the relationship. Sometimes, plot is literally the vehicle. (Adding coyly as she finishes Baby You Can Drive My Car.) |
