Some background information on “Women of Lockerbie”

This is the dramaturgy which will appear in the program.  No real “spoilers” and it may help you to read this at your leisure.

One of the first things one notices in reading the script for The Women of Lockerbie is that it is structured in the form of Greek tragedy. Instead of scenes, the play is divided into “Choral Dialogues,” “Choral Odes,” and “Episodes.” Deborah Brevoort, in her preface, encourages producers of her play to “trust the form”.  [To the blog reader: The idea I want to stress to everyone thinking of seeing this, is:  Yes, it's sad.  But it's also hopeful.  The ending will be worth the price of admission.  And the entire play is only about 80 minutes long.  Please take a chance on this!  You will not regret it. ]

It was therefore appropriate for us to research Greek theater, and to share some highlights of our findings with you so that you can view this piece in a more informed way. The Greeks are credited with virtually creating theater as we know and understand it. Here are some things to keep in mind about their theatrical style:

1) It was designed to be viewed by huge audiences;

2) It was written to provoke intense emotional response (catharsis–see note below)

3) It was political

4) It incorporated music and dance and poetry as a rule rather than an exception

The “Greek Chorus”: most of us have heard this term, but may not understand exactly what it means. The Chorus function both as storytellers and as witnesses to the story. They are characters in the drama, and also stand outside it (the chorus in a Greek play might be soldiers, townspeople, prisoners, etc). They help the audience to focus on the central events, and they also comment on those events. They speak of their own feelings and also of the overarching ideas being presented. Their part is often sung and/or danced.

In The Women of Lockerbie, the two women, plus Olive, speak three Odes (“Grief,” “Lockerbie,” and “Faith”). The final Ode, “Washing,” is wordless. There are also Choral Dialogues, and “Episodes”. The Episodes are the most naturalistic in style, and it is there that the primary action takes place. The Dialogues are often hard to distinguish from the Odes, except that in them the women speak of their individual experiences, and in the Odes they speak more universally. We have employed some stylized movement for the women to underscore the Odes, and parts of the Dialogues.

Presentational style: Greek theater usually involved no more than three actors, who wore large masks so that the vast amphitheater full of people could distinguish one from another. Each actor might play several roles, using a different mask–and a different voice–for each. Actors moved little, using voice and large gestures to communicate their words and emotions. You will notice in our play that most longer speeches are delivered directly to the audience, and that there is less blocking (movement onstage) than you may be accustomed to seeing.

Most theater today is more commonally done in a “representational” style–striving for realism, where the audience is asked to believe that events are really happening on the stage. There is an invisible “fourth wall”. The characters onstage are supposed to be unaware of having an audience; the spectators are passive, eavesdropping on the action.

Presentational theater is typically more minimalist, employing only suggestions of sets and locations. Frequently, actors will play multiple roles. The audience members are challenged to become more active in creating the action, filling in with their imaginations the elements which are being depicted onstage. Actors may speak directly to the audience.

Production Design: The play is set on a hillside in Scotland. Even with a minimalist approach, there were several possibilities. We’ve chosen to employ a visual metaphor. As violence tears at the fabric of our lives–both individually and communally–and since the women are determined to wash the clothing of the victims, it seemed appropriate to construct the set completely of textile materials. This renders the setting abstract and stylized, rather than trying to achieve a realistic exterior.

The use of visual projections–whose concept as well as production are thanks to Joel Miller–is in recognition of the fact that we live in a highly visual culture, and we are describing events our younger audience members will have little or no knowledge of. Visuals allow us to present much information dramatically, in a very short time, while heightening the emotional impact of the words which will follow.

Catharis: Originally a medical term, ‘catharsis’ literally means a purging. Aristotle was the first to use this term as a metaphor for the strong emotional response by an audience at a play. This response was the intended result of the performance. and might take the form of tears, laughter or other ecstatic emotion. The Women of Lockerbie, written in the wake of the World Trade Center destruction, as well as multiple epic natural disasters, offers to a culture in danger of being inured to tragedy an opportunity for profound and healthy emotional release. Grieving, which is generally personal and private, and progresses at a different pace for each of us, is not often expressed corporately in American culture, and there are not always public opportunities to grieve world events–unless one is able to attend a memorial service which may take place in another state or another country.

To facilitate this invitation to grieve, all for One is providing not only tissues in the program, but grief counsellors on site, and talk-back sessions the first weekend at the end of each performance.

 

Announcing a blog specially created for “Emma”

If you are interested in all things Jane Austen, and want to whet your appetite for our upcoming production of Emma, please visit our new blog, Creating Emma, which chronicles our journey through this production, complete with lots of Regency research and behind-the-scenes stories.  We hope to add photos soon.

Adapting a classic: Our journey with “Emma”, part 2

If you’ve ever seen a screen adaptation of any of Jane Austen’s works, you may have noticed that dancing plays a significant part in the social life of her characters.  Whether it’s Anne in Persuasion, who is considered an old maid and consequently expected to play the piano while her younger cousins dance with the man she loves…or Marianne in Sense and Sensibility who is publicly snubbed by her former love in a London ballroom…or the tense conversation between Elizabeth and Darcy in Pride and Prejudice…Austen uses dancing in dramatic, specific ways to advance plot and reveal character.

Emma is no exception.  A key plot element takes place at a dance in Highbury’s town hall, and no less than three separate dances are specified in the script–the thought of getting this scene right has had me on edge for a month.  How fortuitious, then, that just when I needed the contact, I happened to notice an event listing in Whatzup.  There is a contra dance evening, open to the public, on the third Saturday of each month on the campus of St. Francis University.  It is hosted by the Fort Wayne Traditional Dance and Music Society–an organization I’d never heard of before.   I contacted them and spoke with Barry Dupen, who agreed to choreograph and teach the three dances.

Tuesday night our cast, some in dance shoes, some in sneakers, took their places–I could see some nervousness and some excitement.  Barry was an excellent teacher, explaining and demonstrating the moves, counting them out slowly, having the dancers walk the steps slowly, and finally adding the music.  Much laughter, some discussion about who was supposed to be dancing with whom (and why), intense concentration, coaching from the sidelines…the hour flew by.  We’ll have another hour-long session with Barry on Saturday morning, and then we’re on our own.

The most helpful and encouraging thing he said to our group was that these dances were a great social occasion, a chance to flirt in a way that the period did not allow at any other time (hand holding! lots of eye contact! wow!).  Also, the dances didn’t happen all that often, so it’s not as if everyone was proficient.  The main thing was to appear to be enjoying oneself.  So–an acting scene, in which some people happen to be dancing.  Perfect.

I should say a word about the music, since that too has been an answer to prayer.  I went hunting online (how did we ever manage to find anything before we could web-surf?) for Regency-era dance music, and found a CD entitled The Regency Ballroom.  To my surprise, it was produced by a group of musicians in Berkshire County, Massachusetts, just down the road from where my parents lived for over 20 years. ‘Spare Parts” has an impressive catalog of historic dance music CDs.  Bill Matthiessen, one of the core trio of musicians, engaged in a friendly email dialogue with me, negotiating our use of some selections from the CD.  I’m thrilled that afO has the privilege of using what I know to be authentic, carefully researched music of Jane Austen’s time.

 

Adapting a Classic: our journey with “EMMA”–part 1

This is our third Home Stage Production of the season, and also our third adaptation of a famous story from another medium.  We started the season with a very short Bible story (Ruth), and presented it as two contrasting one-acts.  Then we mounted an O. Henry short story (The Ransom of Red Chief) as a full-length comedy.  Now we’re attempting to present a dramatic version of a much-loved novel by Jane Austen, Emma.

All adaptations have their challenges, and the challenges are different from story to story.   While the O. Henry story is familiar mainly for its twist, and Ruth is well-known for a couple of famous lines, Jane Austen has become a household name in the past twenty years or so, with film after film based on her six completed novels.  Three good screen versions of Emma (two of them for television) have been done just in the past 15 years.   So when we approach this novel, we do so knowing that our audience not only loves the story, but they can quote it at length and they have pictures in their heads already of what the characters are like.  They have expectations about the costumes, the scenery and music.

All of which makes it daunting to attempt to recreate Austen on stage–and on a small stage, at that.  And yet the idea was irresistable:  here was a much-loved writer whose work had not been produced here in Fort Wayne in my memory. When I discovered that Jon Jory, a notable theater director and writer, had published adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility and Emma, I knew at once that I wanted to do one of them.  It took very little contemplation to decide on Emma.  For one thing, I personally haven’t found the screen versions of Emma to be as completely satisfying as the other two.  (Who can compete with the BBC version of P&P, especially Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, really?  And Emma Thompson’s imaginative big screen take on Sense and Sensibility was so perfect, I wouldn’t want to compare it to any other.)  For another, those two stories range through many different locations, including London and Derbyshire, and multiple large estates figure in each book.  There are subplots and back stories to explain.  But Emma is a very simple, straightforward tale with one setting, the fictional village of Highbury, and a small cast of characters who all revolve around the eponymous central figure who touches all their lives.

Our season was announced, and at once I heard a buzz–there was more excitement about Emma than perhaps anything else we’ve ever done.  We had a decent turnout at auditions.  Not surprisingly, the majority of my potential actors were women, reminding me that Jane Austen is (perhaps unfairly) perceived as a woman’s writer.  This was reinforced at the first read-through of the script:  When I inquired, every female in the room had read the novel; none of the men had.

In order to immerse us all quickly in a culture and time period two hundred years remote from our own, I did something I’ve rarely done before: I gave the cast several homework assignments.  One, obviously, was to read (or re-read) the book.  I asked each one to find a) some passage about his character which described him in a way not found (or not so clearly) in the play, and b) a line of dialogue spoken by his character in the book, but not in the play, which gave him some new insight into his role.  This homework is to be shared with me, but not necessarily the whole cast. It is my way of reminding everyone (myself included) that the best way to be faithful to Austen is to develop these characters using all the information she left for us–much of which is not found in the pages of the very compact script adaptation.

The second assignment was due first: I assigned each actor a specific topic related to the world of Jane Austen and Regency England, which they were to research, prepare at least a half-page typed report, and email it to me so that I could format all the reports and distribute a packet of them to each cast member.  Each actor presented his or her research at either the first read-through, or the first ensemble blocking rehearsal.  I will be posting a separate blog before we open, with a condensed version of the results. These will serve as an expansion of the dramaturgy notes in the program (and we’ll put a link to the blog in the program, as well).  I hope that students in particular will find the background helpful.

Feature coverage in September 22nd issue of News-Sentinel

Click on this link to see photos and feature in Thursday’s Ticket! section, but online a day early! Thank you to Cindy Larson for the excellent article.

The Art of Adaptation, part one: The Book of Ruth

By: Lauren E. Nichols, artistic director and playwright for The Redemption of Ruth

Years ago, when I was a very green playwright, a veteran writer and actress confronted me abruptly with the question, “What’s your philosophy of adaptation?” Under different circumstances, I would have loved to ponder that question, and construct a truthful, accurate answer. Being totally cowed by this woman, a larger than life figure to me, I stammered something stupid and was undoubtedly dismissed by her as careless at best.

But I found, in thinking about the question later, that I did in fact have such a philosophy. It has become clarified over time, as I have both written and directed other adaptations, and guided some playwrights who were adapting their stories from other sources.

The playwright (or screenwriter, for that matter) has a responsibility to the spirit of the original story. If one is going to claim that the story is “adapted from” another specific source, one is inviting a comparison to that material. In many cases–such as movies or plays based on children’s books or literary classics–one may even be hoping to create an interest in the original work. But if the adaptation contains material which is completely different from its source, the viewer who wants to compare may well be confused or put off by the differences.

My goal as a playwright is to be faithful to the original, in spirit and in fact, to the best of my ability. That being said, my fidelity is also based on how much I respect the original material. Having a profound reverence for the Christian and Jewish Scriptures, I handle a story from either Testament with much greater care than I would any other source material. And as a director, when a playwright references the Bible I will make sure that this is done accurately.

[A little aside, as an illustration: Crime and Punishment, a play adapted from a novel by Fyodor Dostoevsky, contains a memorable scene in which one character reads the acccount of the raising of Lazarus from John's gospel. It's an important scene, and the playwrights chose to include it. However, in condensing it (it is a long passage, and even Dosteosky didn't quote it in full), they edited out one of the major characters in the story. Feeling that this took away from the story's integrity, I re-abridged the passage so that it was still faithful to the original text, making the scene just slightly longer in the process.]

In approaching the book of Ruth from the Jewish scriptures, I wanted to make the story understandable although it would appear with no context to many audiences. (However, as a matter of fact, we have presented the story several times over the years as part of a sermon series on Ruth, providing a living illustration of the story.) I tried to describe the action in plain terms, including the legal and cultural setting and plot details. I employed poetic language because Ruth was included in the Poetic books by Jewish tradition (along with Song of Solomon and Psalms).

My most significant “departure” from the original was to put words in Boaz’ mouth which are quotations from David the psalmist. Since David is actually his great-grandson, this is a deliberate anachronism. Boaz, as the Kinsman-Redeemer, is a “type” (foreshadowing) of Christ. He and David are also in the direct line of Jesus the Christ. Therefore I chose to have Boaz speak for himself and his descendant, in a way which is often prophetic.

Stephen Baldwin’s adaptation of Ruth’s story, in his play, My Name is Ruth, is a modern retelling which he’s chosen to set immediately after the second world war. This setting serves several useful functions: it provides a reason for Naomi to have lost her husband (in WWI) and both sons (in WWII); it provides a context in which a young woman is having a difficult time finding a job which will support herself and her mother-in-law. In the aftermath of the war, the flood of returning servicemen took the available jobs and women were expected to return to their primary roles as housewives and mothers. Ruth is neither, and as such is a foreigner in the culture, as well as having been displaced from her home state of Minnesota.

The Jewish law which is the background for the biblical story is a bit obscure. The idea of redeeming a family member’s property isn’t explicitly stated outside of the book of Ruth (although Deuteronomy 25 stipulates that a man should marry his brother’s childless widow and father a son for him, so that his line will not die out). So an adaptation in modern times has very little to go on, and must create a situation which is understandable for us today, without doing violence to the original story. The idea of a lienholder who needs to be satisfied is easy to grasp. The more obscure statute about marrying the widow is given a somewhat tongue-in-cheek treatment… we all have heard of old statutes still on the books which are not followed any more.

Audiences seeing an adaptation can rightly ask themselves: What is the main idea in this version? What is the theme? What does the playwright want me to take away from this? It’s entirely possible for different versions of the story to result in very different answers to these questions. One hopes that each version adds insights to make a richer story, rather than telling a story which is contrary to the intent of the original.

Director’s notes for “Miracles”

Autism. Not even a word, much less a known condition, until the early 20th century. Is it a mental illness or a physiological one? Is it triggered by allergies? vaccines? trauma? After reading books, watching videos, talking with the parent of an autistic adult, and interviewing a teacher with many years’ experience in the field–the most emphatic thing I can say about autism is I don’t understand it. Is it a personality disorder? A neurological birth defect? Is it hereditary? Curable? Treatable? Is there any hope?

If there is a common theme that we try to incorporate into every all for One production, it is hope. In Frank Higgins’ new drama, Miracles, Tom Hudson thinks that he ran out of hope long ago. His only daughter, Eve, is profoundly autistic and has never spoken. Nonetheless, he and his wife cared for her at home…until his wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Eve is sent to a private boarding school for disabled students. Tom’s wife dies. He tries to get on with his law career.

Then Eve’s teacher, Kate, holds out a completely unexpected beacon of hope: Eve has begun to communicate, through the use of a letter board and with the support of her teacher’s hand on hers. She is spelling out sentences, thoughts…and poems. Can Tom come to visit? Will he sign a contract on Eve’s behalf, so that she can publish a book of her poetry?

The audience follows the emotional ups and downs of these three dynamic individuals: the hope-filled teacher, the skeptical, hope-starved lawyer, and the enigmatic, silent girl. In a number of intriguing fantasy sequences, we also get to see Eve as her father and teacher dream she could be.

Miracles is not intended to be a propaganda piece in support of–or in protest against–the tool of facilitated communication, a therapy which we were surprised to discover has progressed in its 20 years or so from amazing breakthrough to controversial sideshow to despised and rejected fakery. (Incidentally, both my interviewees spoke favorably of FC, from personal experience with it.) Rather, Miracles is an exploration of personhood, and our desires–conscious and unconscious–to understand and perhaps pigeonhole people who are different from ourselves.

Is Eve a savant? Is she a zombie? Or something else entirely? In the tug-of-war over her future, Kate and Tom need to find an answer to the question, “Who is Eve?” Perhaps Eve will lead them to the answer herself.

David Scribner, new to afO, plays Tom Hudson, and Rebekah Fodrey makes her afO debut as Eve. afO veteran actress (and this season’s set designer) Stacy Munsie is Kate Kingsley, Eve’s teacher. all for One is pleased to be presenting this drama to our community in advance of this year’s Autism Awareness Month in April. It is our own hope that we will not only entertain our audiences but lead them to a new and compassionate appreciation for those who live with autism.

Miracles will be performed in the auditorium of the downtown Allen County Public Library, Friday and Saturday, March 11 & 12, 18 & 19, at 8:00 pm, and Sunday, March 13 and 20, and 2:30 pm. Call 260-622-4610 for more information.