Last Sunday I went on a theatre binge, working the Fringe booth at pride, racing off to see Walking Shadow's Fat Pig, then to Jeune Leune for Don Juan Giovanni. Jeune Leune won the Tony for best regional theatre in 2005 (Minneapolis is the only city to have won twice thrice, ahem). It's a commedia based company, founded by locals and frogs who studied at the Ecole Jacques Lecoq in Paris. People I know who grew up here viewed it as the holy grail of innovative, physical theatre. It's lost some of its luster, partially because they keep rehashing old stuff to bring in cash, partially because they are doing less challenging work to appeal to subscribers and bring in cash, and partially because they always seem to need cash, and every year imply that if we don't start paying up, they're going to go under. As Foster put it, you can't simultaneously be French-arrogant and pathetic-beggarly (well...he said it better than that, but you get the idea).
The show was impressive, though it didn't blow me away. What did floor me was the pretentiousness of the program, in which the show is, in part, described as
...a river without banks. It is neither a reflection nor an essay, but an event made of opera and theatre. It contains scenes of seduction, separation, hatred, idiocy, intuition, and love. It is not recommended for people who fear the sense of vertigo that comes from staring into the chasm between life and death.
This got Philip and I gagging, but the true retching commenced only with the discovery of the significance of the symbol next to a few of the artists' and technicians' names. You know, like the little symbol for equity status, except this one promised that the artist "supports peace in the world, equality and justice for all, and the fundamental human rights of speech and all forms of artistic expression." I almost asked for my money back.
Worse than this pretentious, forced liberality, however, was the audience at the earlier show I attended. Fat Pig is a Neil LaBute play; you may be familiar with Bash, The Shape of Things, or the movies In the Company of Men or Your Friends of Neighbors. I'm not a huge fan of LaBute, because he's a pessimistic misanthrope who dwells on the worst of people and relationships, but I deeply appreciate him for the same reason. The plot is pretty simple: a skinny guy falls for a fat woman; his asshole friend (Carter) at work and asshole sort-of-ex girlfriend give him shit about her; he breaks up with her, aborting his happiness and hers because of weakness and fear.
Here's a sample of the dialogue
Carter: I'm not saying she can't be happy. That she shouldn't meet somebody, but it oughta be a fat somebody, or a bald one. Whatever. Like her. A somebody that fits her.
Tom: That's crazy... things aren't just based on appearance!
Carter: Maybe you should snap on the TV once in a while. I'm not talking about what people deserve, I'm saying what they get. You look one way, you have access to all this. Look some other way, all you get is that. Sorry, but it's true.... People are not comfortable with difference. You know? Fags, retards, cripples. Fat people. Old folks, even. They scare us or something. The thing they represent that's so scary is what we could be, how vulnerable we all are. I mean, any of us. Some wrong gene splice, a bad backflip off the trampoline ... too many cartons of Oreos! We're all just one step away from being what frightens us. What we despise. So ... we despise it when we see it in anybody else.
All during and after this speech, and other insightful and disturbing commentary, I could hear people around me tsking and gasping and sighing in disgust. What I couldn't hear I could feel - their holier than thou asses squeaking disapproval with every politically incorrect word. They angered me far more than the one year old sitting 3 seats away. She was whining in understandable ignorance; they were willfully fucking lying to themselves.
I'm no expert on art, but it seems to me that if it has a purpose, it is to better illuminate the world for us, whether that is the world outside our door, the world beyond our limited ken, or, what moves me most, the world inside ourselves. While I was annoyed, or, let's be honest, rather infuriated, by my fellow theatregoers' myopic judgment, I really should pity them. If they refuse to recognize, and thereby open the door to understanding and, just maybe, beginning to address their own prejudices via the conduit of this rather simple play, what else are they refusing to see? What cathartic pain, what cathartic beauty are they missing out on every day?
Or maybe everyone there was just a far, far better person than I.
sorry, hon, we've won the regional theatre tony THREE times. guthrie, children's theatre, and jeune lune. check it out.
Posted by: amber | July 06, 2007 at 08:36 AM
Remember I think highly of you, so this is not a slam, just a question - by distancing yourself from the pretentious and willfully ignorant in order to judge their lives and motivations - aren't you also closing the door of understanding? Maybe it's just that I'm awfully pretentious sometimes and willfully ignorant at others, but something struck me as odd there.
Posted by: Kathleen | July 06, 2007 at 09:18 AM
oh, I'm sure you're right Kathleen. But like Walt Whitman before me, I relish the privilege of contradicting myself, whether in word or deed.
Posted by: zoe | July 06, 2007 at 01:22 PM
*smile* Suddenly it all makes sense again.
Posted by: Kathleen | July 06, 2007 at 06:45 PM
"supports peace in the world, equality and justice for all, and the fundamental human rights of speech and all forms of artistic expression."
Sweet, merciful, Christ. Or Vishnu. Or whoever. That's just revolting. I'm betting that with the 2008 campaign we'll be hearing many politicians promising that they are for change, against terrorism, in favor of equality, and believe in a strong America. And God. And Motherhood. I expect that drivel from politicians. The crap from artists is breaking my heart.
Posted by: Rik | July 09, 2007 at 06:10 PM
Yegods.
Posted by: Travis | July 12, 2007 at 11:41 AM
Love y'all but think peace in the world is not such a bad thing to hope for and actively support, same with equality, justice for all, free speech and all forms of artistic expression.
Perhaps I'm wrong, but isn't every single one of those basic concepts under attack? Or did the current administration drown in it's own phlegm when I wasn't looking?
Posted by: Kathleen | July 14, 2007 at 10:45 AM
What's wrong with expressions of hope? Sure, the Jeune Lune variety is a little gooey, but doesn't positive change start with positive thinking? What great things ever started with cynicism?
As far as Fat Pig goes, what's wrong with an audience having a shocked reaction to a shocking play? Is everyone supposed to react like you to be right? How do you know they were blocking out the ideas of the play with their reactions? Maybe their reactions were so big and emotional _because_ they were taking the play in. And maybe they _were_ revolted at how it reflected the world they live in. Did you actually talk to any of these audience members? Or do you assume that just because they aren't you or people like you that their reactions are wrong?
High-handedly dismissing others as ignorant, pretentious or self-righteous is easy. Understanding is others hard.
"Or maybe everyone there was just a far, far better person than I." That kind of false humility bespeaks a true arrogrance.
Posted by: twin cities gary | July 16, 2007 at 07:45 PM