Arna Bontemps, in the preface of his 1936 novel, Black Thunder, said "Time is not a river. Time is a pendulum." Theatrically speaking at this 1995 vantage point I propose that time is both a river, with fluxes and refluxes of specific themes and styles and a pendulum swinging rhythmically from side to side between the old and the new.
Once upon a time in 1960 we had innovative off-Broadway and regional theatres that became institutionalized in the 70's and 80's. Today, in the mid-90's, the regional theatres have lost their revolutionary zeal and younger, smaller theatres where the revolutionary spirit is raging are springing up across the nation. It is at these theatres that the bulk of the new kinds of work that grow from a more personal, revolutionary sensibility can be seen.
In this second issue of NuMuse, tradition runs alongside experiment, the old is concurrent with the avant-garde, elliptical plays and those that are based on images rather than characters are presented along with ones that are character-driven and linearly-constructed.
It would be artifice to superimpose on these plays some aesthetic or other unity other than that they are the highlights of a decade of plays presented in Brown University's New Plays Festival. However, if there is an emblematic figure for the decade, it is the outsider, the one who stands apart for reasons of race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality or illness. As the new generations face the 21st century and formulate new definitions of sexuality, gender, race and family, theatre has become now more than ever essential. No matter what form the plays assume, the underlying element is the need to tell stories, to celebrate life and criticize the society which the stories reflect.
Now, as in all ages, theatre hold a unique position in the unfolding the human story because it can only exist in terms of human participation. While human stories increasingly unfold in isolation on the screen, only the stage retains the flesh and blood contact for which there is no substitute. Theatre still serves as the campfire around which the stories are told and plays serve as a primary chronicle for the times in which they are written.
And what wonderful stories they are! Michael S. Weaver's The Elevator Man, presented in the '86 Festival, is a period piece perched on the eve of the 60's. A study of an African-American couple who were born in the beginning of the 20th century, participated in the Great Migration and landed in West Baltimore and have remained married for thirty years, Weaver captures Betty's and Ash's moods of fortitude and regret, frustration and love. Written in bas-relief, subtly like a faint melody that suddenly surrounds, The Elevator Man deceptively lulls as it engulfs the reader as Weaver seamlessly weaves in memorable markers of the turbulent 60's in his quiet etude of character, mood and era.
In 1987 Jena Osman's terse, elliptical Face & Body illuminates the materialism that permeated the 80's. An employer who trades in black market body parts, a man who looks for a job and a gang in an pinball arcade clash and illuminate the materialism and alienation that permeated the 80's. "Working is the lazy man's answer to the personal void," says a character significantly. Osman's caustic dialogue and stark environment create an exciting drama.
Adam Bock's phantasmagoric, cinematic scenes in Medea Eats create a bitter allegory that mirrors America's initial response to AIDS. Presented in the '91 Festival, the exploitativeness, cynicism and fear that reside in the Kind are all to familiar. One of the most resonating scenes is one in which Bock subtly interweaves a recipe for apricot torte with the horrors of medical treatment and the general population's indifference. Imagistic and sardonic with the triumph of the evil king at the end, Medea Eats vibrates with rage at man's inhumanity and is a powerful portrait of a very sad time in America's recent history.
In 1990 Heidi Carla deftly makes visible the Invisible Woman as she portrays the interactions of the lesbian community in a public space. Her ensemble piece Sidewalks highlights the complex codings the women needed to protect themselves in public spaces.
Sung J. Rno's rapid pen strokes and bold images capture the corn and landscape of rural Ohio, the search for and avoidance of identity and ancestry of Korean-Americans in the Midwest. In his Cleveland Raining Rno portrays the burden of immigration, assimilation and disconnectedness felt by a new generation in the '91 Festival.
Bridget Carpenter's The Death of the Father of Psychoanalysis (& Anna) is an imaginative trip to the last minutes between Freud and his daughter. This time it is the daughter, not the father who is doing the talking. Carpenter lifts Anna from the shadows and gives voice to her painful search for identity and fulfillment.
A comedy of errors in an amusement park in the age-old search for love is the subject of Madeline Olnek's Spookyworld. Olnek's subtle, yet vivid portrayal of the women and a shy humor that permeates her writing gives unprecedented depth and dimension to all her characters.
The contemporary Afro-American couple in Dominic Taylor's Photo-Op has come a long way. Successful, affluent and separated, they each remember their relationship differently as they pose for the photographers. Taylor's writing is vibrant, sizzling with the energy and language of urban America. His transmigration of Jacob and Leah to the biblical couple of the same name provides a unique lens to modern problems.
In this last decade of the 20th century, many playwrights are expanding playwriting by translating film techniques into theatrical skills. Increasingly, many young stage writers are interdisciplinary (film, videography, perfomance) artists who combine all of their skills in their plays. Dennis Davis and Ruth Margraff are two of the finest examples of this newest breed of playwrights.
In The Song of Seven Cities, Dennis Davis's ingenuity for storytelling, mellifluous language and commitment to riveting images on the stage is in full view. The time is 1930 and we follow Juniper and Jazipher, a "rag tag pair," through the seven cities in a "nation of seams that is tearing apart. The play is presentational in style, and the boys' visit to each city is performed in seven dummy shows. It is satire at its slyest, iconoclastic yet joyful and exuberant. The Song of Seven Cities is a delightful theatrical, optical and aural journey in Davis's wordland.
Davis is also dedicated to a visual presentation of his script on the page. His arrangement on the page is an organic part of the play and, I believe, may presage a trend in playwriting toward more visual presentations of scripts to further enhance readability.
Ruth E. Margraff is heavily influenced by video, music, performance and the Bible and all can be seen in his Wallpaper Psalm, and "electric and hysteric operetta." It is a deeply disturbing play whose themes are urban and human decay, the vulnerability of old age and psychic and physical violence. Margaret renders all these themes in song and dialogue with poetic precision. Her language is intense, immediate, and lyrical and her images overpowering. Margraff goes for her audience's jugular veins, her goal is for felt experience and anything that might dilute that effect is stripped away. Presented in the '95 Festival, Wallpaper Psalm confronts, challenges and enraptures audiences. It is a new kind of play that calls for a distinctive acting style and lies at the frontiers of the art form.
The sole manifesto of NuMuse is to be a seed bed, spawning ground, in the development of new voices in the tradition of Joseph Papp. One of Papp's many great contributions to the theatre was his obsession with the next generation of playwrights and the development of their voices. It is in the spirit of providing a venue for these voices that NuMuse is presented to you.