**As a final project for my Directing class this semester, we were given the assignment to write a Manifesto for the theatre. The prompt was riddled with questions like "Why is theatre important? Why do you do theatre? Why should theatre be seen?" It is a broad topic with many answers - and tons of theatre artists are constantly discussing it. But on a personal level, this essay was a great exercise in articulating the reasons why I do theatre - why I think it's important. And the assignment came at the perfect time - right before I make my journey east to New York City to explore the world of theatre... This is a document that I will come back to in a year or two - most definitely to revise. After all, my perception of the world always evolves with the more things I see. But here it is for now! Enjoy, and feel free to respond with your own thoughts!**
***
Before I even put words to this
page, I looked back at a handful of other pieces I had written about my musings
on the theatre. They were mostly comprised of old blog posts from the blog I
started the summer before my sophomore year. I intended to see if I could use
sections from a few of them to comprise this manifesto; after all, how much
could my thoughts and beliefs about the theatre change in a year and a half? A
lot, apparently. The only adjectives I could think when reading my past self
was naïve and idealistic. I had written about the rehearsal and performance processes
in vague terms – commending the fantastic work the cast and crew was doing on
each of the productions and praising the beauty of the production process. But
there was no real depth. I avoided the difficult parts of the production
process, or if I acknowledge them, I tried to justify the hardship by saying,
“we love theatre!”
So, okay, we love theatre, yes.
That’s why we do it. But really why?
Why does theatre matter? Why can two people instantly bond when they discover
the other is in the theatre? Why do theatre artists keep going back to the
exhaustion and stress of tech week, the pressure of tightening deadlines, the
frustration at the stack of line notes at the end of the night, or the impulse
to tear your hair out if that one scene isn’t perfect yet?
Every theatre artist has his or her
own answers to those questions; but for me, it is the end result: the
performance. So I’ll write my manifesto backwards, in a sense – from the
performance to the first meeting with the director.
Theatre is a rush. Backstage, before
“Places!”, everyone is in jitters – actors and technicians alike. All with one
goal in mind: to put on a great show. One that is powerful, one that shocks,
one that hits home, one that gets laughs, one that inspires, one that entertains.
We all want people to leave the theatre saying, “wow! That was a great show.”
But if not – if it offends – we want to encourage people to wonder why (it’s
the reason so many new works have talk backs nowadays). Whether the play is purely
for shock value or the message is clearly in your face, we are always asking,
“What does this play mean? Why is it important?” And there are hundreds of
answers; different answers for each play, even. And that’s okay. It gets people
to discuss, to wonder, and to share. Theatre is about people – humanity from
all spectrums and walks of life. That is
what the audience sees. Theatre artists thrive on that moment when they can
finally share their humanity with the rest of humanity. In fact, that could be
said of anyone – not just theatre artists. Everyone on Earth is trying to
express their humanity in their own way.
It
just so happens that performance is what gets theatre artists excited to share
their humanity. That moment when the lights blackout and a mass hush runs through
the audience is priceless. It is in the performance where we get to share all
the hard work we’d been doing for the past several weeks; where we get to
invite the audience into this story. For two hours or so, time and space
outside the theatre is irrelevant. What matters, what is real, are the people
on stage – those characters. Whether those characters are people you would aspire
to be or people you would never associate with, they are real for that moment –
until the final curtain.
Theatre is discovery. That is what
the rehearsal process is all about; discovering who the characters are and how
to make the concept of the play’s world real. If theatre is an expression of
humanity, then the rehearsal process must determine what makes the characters
human and what grounds their world in reality (no matter how surreal the play
is). We, as humans, cannot fully wrap our head around a piece of art if we
cannot relate it to our humanity in some small way – it’s a natural impulse to
try to justify the unknown in terms that are known.
If
performance is the why, then rehearsal and production are the how. How do we
reach the place we want to be – the emotions, the actions, the moments, the
message we want to present with the audience? What is the most effective way to
represent the theme through performance and presentation? Will it be more
effective to deliver this monologue on the high platform or down center in
front of the audience? What happens if we go into the audience? Then there are
all the questions we ask ourselves; how the play affects us, as opposed to the
audience. What does this play mean? Why are we performing it? What makes it
important?
All
these questions are asked with a desire for detail; the detail that makes the
humanity we represent effective. Less attention to detail, less effective play
(even in a minimalistic play – then I think you have to pay more attention to
the people right in front of you, as opposed to the elaborate scenic
transitions). If we want the audience to share in the experience in a full way
(notice I didn’t say positive or negative) then we must focus our energy in the
production process to discovery. Discovery calls for an open mind. Coming into
a production with a closed mind creates a close-minded play. Theatre artists who
begin with open minds create an environment full of possibilities – full of
things to discover.
Theatre
is anticipation. That first meeting with the director – as an actor, designer,
technician, or stage manager – is rife with anticipation. The initial stage of
a production can be boiled down to one thing: the vision. What is it? Why that?
How do we conceptualize it? The vision is the culmination of What, Why, and
How. The vision (the director’s vision at the helm, fed by the visions of all
the other members involved) is what drives the production. It is this one
pinnacle that we want to share. This is why our work should be shared. The
vision of the play is personal, real, and relatable; it breathes life into the
words on the page, if you will. Having a vision – a scope, a trajectory –
allows the humanity of the play to be realized. And that all begins in the
first meetings when the director explains why he or she decided to perform this
play at this given moment in time. From there, the play springboards into
production with everyone driven by the anticipation of sharing their
discoveries with an audience in the rush of the performance! (Was that sentence
tacky? Oh, well! I liked it!).
Whether
a theatre artist takes on a project that purely entertains or that packs a
poignant punch, the characters portrayed in the play are human. The audience is
human. The actors, the technicians, the designers, and the director are all
human. Theatre is our way of expressing that humanity; sharing it in a way that
make us feel important – just as anyone’s passion makes them feel important.
And whether an audience member is moved to tears or laughter, pleasure or
frustration, we can be comforted in knowing that we shared our humanity with
them. Theatre is a witness to the truth of what it means to be human – the
good, the bad, and the ugly.
I
do theatre – no matter how tame or ludicrous – because I believe in humanity. I
believe there is good, bad, and ugly in the world. There are so many people who
come from different places, believe in different things, and cope with life in
different ways. That is one thing I can say is true. There is so much talk
about needing to fix other people – that there are good people and evil people,
intelligent people and ignorant people, or right people or wrong people. But I
have learned that one person or group of people cannot fix another – it may be
possible to change another’s mind, but that is different than fixing someone. And changing a mind
takes a lot of courage, understanding, and empathy.
What
is important to remember is this: the things a person says or does don’t make
them any more or less human than
their neighbor. And that truth is seen all over the theatre. Theatre represents
the human being trying to belong, to understand, and to live.
