some inexpert thoughts on theatre
I used to think that audiences craved little theatres. They needed just that much gesture.
~ Elisa Sampedrin
even Sampedrin concurs that "little theatres" are unsatisfying to both critic and audience, though, to be fair, she thinks that such little theatres do something important, that the form will help theatre as a whole survive through this period, characterised (she says...& i think i agree) by a lack of hope and energy, on both of which qualities theatre relies.
nonetheless, i disagree. i think that audiences crave theatre of epic proportions, a space big enough to contain our growing sense of grief and terror, a space fit to contain the revolutionary ideas we need to change the world -- a space, i think, for which all art and criticism is responsible for. theatre must contend with crisis: [T]here was a war, they lost possessions, the child died of meningitis, the water was putrid, there was no water, the road was blocked; they couldn't come. The schoolteacher was face-down in the ditch. certainly, little theatres, potentially provide continuity between cataclysm: [L]little theatres does not intend anything about the human body. In fact, the actors feel a bit caught out, to be there taking up so much room while the play is going on. where, though, in a theatre that intends nothing about the human body, is there room for the human? what is left when small gestures outside the actors [provide the space] where the real "ideas" of little theatres germinate. This sound of grass, for example?
the play must contain the feelings of real life, must provide a place for them to grow -- by presenting drama that (without minimizing them) dwarfs our day to day lives. this allows an audience to go back to their lives after the play is over. contained enormity provides us with relief.
& yet, i too, cringe through theatrical spectacle, caught in my desire for subtlety.
(this random tidbit has been brought to you courtesy of my comp-studying frenzy, which will, with any luck, be over next thursday.)
~ Elisa Sampedrin
even Sampedrin concurs that "little theatres" are unsatisfying to both critic and audience, though, to be fair, she thinks that such little theatres do something important, that the form will help theatre as a whole survive through this period, characterised (she says...& i think i agree) by a lack of hope and energy, on both of which qualities theatre relies.
nonetheless, i disagree. i think that audiences crave theatre of epic proportions, a space big enough to contain our growing sense of grief and terror, a space fit to contain the revolutionary ideas we need to change the world -- a space, i think, for which all art and criticism is responsible for. theatre must contend with crisis: [T]here was a war, they lost possessions, the child died of meningitis, the water was putrid, there was no water, the road was blocked; they couldn't come. The schoolteacher was face-down in the ditch. certainly, little theatres, potentially provide continuity between cataclysm: [L]little theatres does not intend anything about the human body. In fact, the actors feel a bit caught out, to be there taking up so much room while the play is going on. where, though, in a theatre that intends nothing about the human body, is there room for the human? what is left when small gestures outside the actors [provide the space] where the real "ideas" of little theatres germinate. This sound of grass, for example?
the play must contain the feelings of real life, must provide a place for them to grow -- by presenting drama that (without minimizing them) dwarfs our day to day lives. this allows an audience to go back to their lives after the play is over. contained enormity provides us with relief.
& yet, i too, cringe through theatrical spectacle, caught in my desire for subtlety.
(this random tidbit has been brought to you courtesy of my comp-studying frenzy, which will, with any luck, be over next thursday.)