Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Peter Shaffer on Revising "Amadeus"

If revisions weren't intimidating enough, Peter Shaffer certainly raises the bar. I really admire the way he doesn't get so attached to his early drafts that he is able to cut out entire chunks and re-write and re-write and re-write. Its not that I think my early drafts are perfect and don't need work, its the idea that I could put so much time and energy into a scene or an entire act (or an entire chapter in fiction writing, an entire stanza where I had agonized over every word but still disrupted a poem) that in the end will be cut and the work will have been nothing. But writing is a process and thinking through ideas is a processing and sometimes you just have to try out the idea and develop in order to come to the brilliant idea that ties the piece of writing all together.
In Shaffer's revisions, its not that he finds his endings ineffective. In fact he says "In some ways the above [1st] scene...was tremendously effective" (xxi). He talks about the themes it emphasizes (atonement) and how that theme has come and gone throughout his revisions. Its the whole "What does this approach cost me and what does it buy me" approach that we use so much in literary analysis and analysis in our on writing and in Laurie Frankel's classes! It took Peter years to realize the revisions excluding the theme of atonement had been an error (xxii). This is daunting...really shows you how a piece of writing is never ever ever ever years later even ever done. So much for a sense of accomplishment! In his third version Shaffer talks about how his revised climatic scene "On paper...looks to be pretty uncinematic-- just line after line of instrumental and vocal notation-- but when it is played on screen, it bursts into vibrant life" (xxvi) and Shaffer's ability to imagine this in his head before seeing it played out is something I am very envious of.
I was really struck by his like that "The work I did in Stratford was really not radical enough, but it did start me thinking very seriously about how I could humanize Salieri more" (xxvii). This line stood out to me so severly because it shows how, as Shaffer rearranges the ending time after time, his understanding of his characters changes. He is able to get in their minds more, he is able to see what is missing in their portrayals and how to put together a more convincing production. This is powerful because it affects more than just the ever-evolving ending of "Amadeus" but the character of Salieri throughout the entire play. The idea that Salieri needs to be more humanized is going to sit with Shaffer as he re-reads each scene and he is going to start reading the character of Salieri differently and see where, in other parts of the script, he can humanize Salieri even more.
As an aspiring playwrite, I am both intimidated and inspired by Shaffer. His commitment and his ability to form such a deep understanding of his characters is astounding and admirable. His refusal to settle for something that isn't all-around the best it can be is incredible. He keeps pushing himself.
"Indeed, sometimes I wonder at those writers who display no desire to alter anything when work is revived. And sometiems, too, I envy their seeming certitude-or even their indfference, which maybe a form of instinctive wisdom" (xxxiv) Shaffer writes.
No Shaffer, indifference is not wise. Being stuck and certain in one way, one story, one possibility, close-minded to unearthing full characters and understanding what REALLY FITS with them, is cheating the audience. Its telling a story with characters who are not as true as they could be and there is no wisdom in producing something untrue. To alter work reflects the author's growth and passion, to never be satisfied is a sign of requiring the best work out of one's self. And these are traits and habits to strive for.

Fences

I was really glad that we got to see a play on stage that we were reading for class. It really helped me to understand the translation of plays from the page to the stage. At this point, I have probably read more plays than I have seen, and I still haven't even read that many plays. Basically I just do not know much about plays and the script's translation from the page to the stage. Reading Fences and then getting to see it performed really helped with this process. As an aspiring playwrite, understanding the way my words will work on the stage is vital. I think my biggest weakness is just my lack of experience in the theater- seeing them and participating in the process of putting on a production.
The most striking aspect about this performance of Fences was the way the set, the accents/dialects, the costumes, all really transported me to a black neighborhood in the 1950's. I was thoroughly convinced I was sitting at the edge of someone's backyard 60 years ago. However, I did still have a hard time keeping my mind from wandering. Maybe it was because the dialects made me work harder to understand what was going on, maybe it was because I was sitting off to the side, but I had a really hard time focusing. I also had this problem when I saw this play a few years ago at the Court Theater, sitting in a smaller theater in the first few rows. I don't know if Troy is just a hard character for me, a white 20 year old female in 2010, or if I really just want more action on stage. Setting the whole play in one scene works well in emphasizing the passing of time. Setting it in the backyard makes it feel more intimate. But I nothing physical happens except for shouting matches, a few swings at a baseball hanging from a tree, and bit of a physical fight between Troy and his son. The staging with the baseball hanging from the tree was beautiful, I'm not trying to detract from its power. Maybe my attention span has been too shortened by pop up ads and billboards and tv commercials for me to engage in something that isn't visually stimulating for very long.
Because of this, the play worked very well for me on the page. Part of that is because I understand ideas better when I read them than when I hear them. But I think a big part of it was also that I could read it at my own pace, stop and start when I wanted and needed to, and because I had my imagination more at work. What was lost on the page, however, was the setting, the dialects, and the feeling that I had stepped back into time into someone's intimate space.
So how can I take these ideas and incorporate them into my own play? If I want to set a play all in one setting, I need to make sure the setting is continually interesting. Changes, disturbances, physical action, etc. If I want to write a play focused on relationships, I need to make sure I have a wide array of characters that audience members will be able to identify with (August Wilson did this quite nicely. Even though I couldn't always identify with Troy I could identify with his Cory struggling to please himself and his family. I found myself sympathetic to Rose when she takes Troy's illegitimate child under her wing. I could relate to her staying with Troy despite his mistreatment.). If I want to write a play focused on the transformations of relationships and lacking in much visual action, I need to figure out how to keep the audience engaged. That's a tough one and I'm not quite sure how to do it. In my character play, "Dial Tone," I tried not to just have the physical action turn into screaming and yelling and crying drama. I tried to include a variety of scenes in different places that included preparing and eating dinner, little kids scattered across the stage silently engaging in homework, games of cards, coloring, etc., and cleaning out of spaces (Margaret's apartment). I don't if on stage it would be enough or not. I don't know if the relationships are dynamic enough that visual action would be distracting.
I am still working on trying to understand how words on the page will exist acted out on stage as I'm writing them down. This prediction is a hard one to master.

Echo

I was really interested in seeing "Echo" because I wanted to know how the projects I was working on in class could be turned into something that would end up the stage. It made the process I was engaging in in class more consequential, like something really could actually come of the ideas and drafts I was producing now. After seeing the play, I could pretty much guess which assignment it originated out of (the character driven play?). Unfortunately, I was a bit disappointed in the writing.
I walked into the theater expecting to learn more about post-traumatic stress for soldiers returning from war. I wanted more than just the vague idea that it ruins their life because no one knows what it was like overseas and now they can't function normally in everyday life back home. But I walked out feeling like I hadn't learned anything more about PTSD in soldiers returning to their family and to America. This really reminded me to write what I know.
Writing only what I know seems limiting and branching out into the unknown may be tempting. But writing what I know means that I can provide greater depth. I can go further, explore more angles, avoid cliche. I can make it more believable. I think some of the plays I outlined this semester did delve into situations I didn't really know. I think my character play was one of them. Writing about a divorced wife with three children...that isn't something I can relate to. Loss, rejection, feeling like a failure, distracting oneself from the more pressing traumas...that I can relate to and those feelings I did include in my play. I also tried to develop the three children which is something I know more about (what it's like to be a 15 year old girl, what it's like to reject my family) and I think this personal understanding also helped ground the play. These are risks we take...writing what we do and do not internally know in our gut, on many many levels of our consciousness.

The Vagina Monolouges

"The Vagina Monolouges" was the first theatrical production I have participated in since my senior year of high school. The timing was quite nice since we were studying monolouge plays, their structure, their purpose, etc in class while I was in rehearsal for the production here on campus. Participating in this year's production had large influence on both my monolouge play and my first ten-minute play. By participating in the play, I thought a lot about different ways to stage a monologe. Only the speaker could be on stage. Or the entire cast could be on stage while each actor delivers. Or only part of the cast could be on stage for each monolouge delivery. Quiet, on-stage cast memebers could react to the monolouge or they could remain stone-faced as if they don't hear anything. These were all things I thought about when writing my play. Which arrangement of the cast would be most effective for each monolouge delivery? The other thing that "The Vagina Monolouges" helped me with for my monolouge play was to think about the flow and order of the monolouges. Did I like putting two starkly contrasting personalities and opinions right next to each other? Or did I want the opinions/personalities to flow into each other? Participating in this production helped me think about the flow of my own monolouges a great deal.
I think "The Vagina Monolouges" helped me mostly with my first ten-minute play, "In Memory Of." In the production here on campus, the monolouge I was in, "Say It," was split into five parts. The five of us operated as a supportive group for each other, shared lines, and still presented a cohesive monolouge. I think splitting the piece into five parts gave it more strength. Passion and tension and anger built between us as we spat out names of diseases or names for the comfort women. We played off each other very nicely and the communal aspect to the monolouge strengthened it. I used this in my slam piece, two women building off of each other, engaging in internal debate, and building tension, anger, and other emotions throughout the piece. Performing a group piece that was orginally meant for just one person helped me think about the strength of a single narrative split into multiple parts and delivered by more than one person.