Deadly Theatre

My discussions of Authenticity lately have been fun, but I wanted to get back to my reading of The Empty Space. I think this relates in an oblique fashion to the discussions of Authenticity, yet gives a more solid basis from which to talk. The Deadly is always creeping around the corners. While I have spoken some about the deadliness always present in the artist. This is a danger in any work of art, but dangers are everywhere present.

To make matters worse there is always a deadly spectator, who for special reasons enjoys a lack of intensity and even a lack of entertainment, such as the scholar who emerges from routine performances of the classics smiling because nothing has distracted him from trying over and confirming his pet theories to himself, whilst reciting his favorite lines under his breath. In his heart he sincerely wants a theatre that is nobler-than-life and he confuses a sort of intellectual satisfaction with the true experience for which he craves. Unfortunately, he lends the weight of his authority to dullness and so the Deadly Theatre goes on its way.
-Peter Brook, The Empty Space

One of the greatest things about doing my graduate work at NYU was that the faculty, all the faculty, were practicing designers. Chaired by Susan Hilferty, of Wicked fame among others, there was a strong ethos held by the teachers that the work be grounded with a realistic sense of how the show might be produced in the real world. Because the theatre is a living thing to them. It is a strong and vital aspect of their everyday lives. Concept was encouraged. With John Conklin and Robert Wierzel teaching it is hard to imagine conceptual work not being encouraged, yet that concept still had to be grounded in a producible reality. As far as we may go in the conceptual realm, we are still dealing with a text performed in a space.

One thing that I see as a danger in theory discussions, and this certainly holds true of the blog world, is that much high flown rhetoric will be bandied about as we discuss this matter of aesthetics or that issue of ontology and yet will not be connected to the actual work of producing theatre. One reason why I enjoy Ian Hill and John Clancey's blogs is that they are discussing the practicalities of process, in two very different ways. John, as producer, working towards a more reasonable and updated showcase code. Ian of course is all process all the time. For more process, there is also Josh Costello taking a truly direct approach to process blogging, while George Hunka goes about the writers process in a much more oblique fashion, with the notable exception of today.

If you are reading this you know full well that I am a fan of theory. I mean, I probably employ the words ontology and epistemology with the same frequency as Heidegger. But in its own way that is process writing. The search for an ontological shift in the aesthetics of light are what engages me intellectually. But as abstract as that can sometimes get, the theory is always grounded in a firm and constant practice. I may be writing about the epistemological impact of geometric time, but this is a result of a day at the tech table speaking into my headset. It is important to ground the theory after working the light all day.

I am interested in exploring the psycho-emotional currents of dramatic action. It is the ever shifting basis of being that I find intriguing. The perpetual death of the self. That we are this moment a wholly different being than we were a moment ago. The soul is not fixed. Rather it moves through myriad ontological states with only a few clear guides. Do we see that shifting reality? Can we see it? Is there any import we can glean from it even if we were capable of seeing it? From these questions I look to extract a more direct understanding of the nature of human existence. For me there is no other reason for art than to deepen ones understanding of the world and of the ever shifting Self.

The quote a few days ago is brilliant if you take the words on their own. Mao was a fantastic theorist. But he was still a butcher. In the same way that TuPac Shakur, taken solely on his lyrics, is an amazing feminist theorist who advocates for the total liberation of oppressed urban black women. But it is hard to take his words out of context with his actions that show him to be as severe a womanizer and rapist as has ever come around. The authentic connection was never made between theory and practice and the result was a theory violated by the corruption of praxis.

This is the inherent danger of theory separated from practice. The deadly danger that sees theory and debate as nothing more than a game, despite the ernest protests towards authenticity. Being and Time may have been almost entirely pure abstract theory, yet Heidegger's later writings lean into a direct application to life. It is no wonder that The Question Concerning Technology became the theoretical underpinning of much 20th century radical ecology. It provides a stepping stone between the wholly abstract and the profoundly immediate. Yet Heidegger's tendency towards abstraction may have contributed to his blindness at the true nature of the Nazi movement and as a result his fervent support of it. So desperate was he to have his theory proven that he did not take the time to meditate on whether or not this instance was in fact the correct application of his theoretical workings.

Theatre is always shifting and this is part of its unique charm. It can not be located in a specific psycho-temporal location because the theatre is always dying. It is not dying in a mournful way but rather in an organic cyclical and vital way. As Peter Brook says, "theatre is a self-destructive art, and it is always written on the wind." The very attempt to fix it in place with theoretical pins causes what is to become what was. Reified in language the vital force becomes a corpse. Verb become noun.

I will finish now where I began with a passage from The Deadly Theatre.

The problem of the Deadly Theatre is like the problem of the deadly bore. Every deadly bore has head, heart, arms, legs: usually, he has family and friends: he even has his admirers. Yet we sigh when we come across him - and in this sigh we are regretting that somehow he is at the bottom instead of the top of his possibilities. When we say deadly, we never mean dead: we mean something depressingly active, but for this very reason incapable of change. . . . In Mexico, before the wheel was invented, gangs of slaves had to carry giant stones through the jungle and up the mountains, while their children pulled their toys on tiny rollers. The slaves made the toys, but for centuries failed to make the connection. When good actors play in bad comedies or second-rate musicals, when audiences applaud indifferent classics because they enjoy just the costumes or just the way the sets change, or just the prettiness of the leading actress there is nothing wrong. But none the less, have they noticed what is underneath the toy they are dragging on a string? It's a wheel.