On the Nature of a Theatrical Moment
Since my first encounter with the work of Peter Brook, Jerzy Grotowski, and the various theorists of theatre represented in my graduate school classes back at the University of Texas, I have been fascinated by what I simply call a moment of theatre. The unique fact of a body in physical space initiating an imitation of an action in front of an audience continues to stun me every time I see it. Which is not quite the same thing as saying I am stunned every time I see a piece of theatre.
It is hard to say why, but some of the happiest moments of my life have been catching glimpses of such moments of theatre, moments where two or more human beings are engaged in designed, physical space, and between the two human beings a near-visible arc rises, not unlike a ribbon of electricity (and energy it certainly is), and in that moment, the arc also stretches toward me, triangulating the action on the stage with my own imaginative life, and somehow (I have no idea how or why), the curtain on the unseen seems to part. All that sounds lofty, I know, but it is a loftiness I know in my bones, and speaks to the why of my too common grumbling as I stumble out of a theatre unmoved.
What makes for such moments?
This may simply be another way of asking the question, what is the nature of "good" and "bad" in the theatre. My goodness, we live and die by these reviews, reviews published by unknown folks who I'm sure are sincere in their desire to help. But is there a shared vocabulary as to what "quality" really refers to in the theatre? And for goodness sake, what would it mean to bring the whole notion of Christianity into the picture? If Christ were to sit down with me (or you) in a theatre, and we were to watch the play together, chat at intermission over a molasses cookie, and then do coffee after the whole thing was over, what would we talk about? In terms of theatre?
Jeff: Did you like that moment?
Jesus: Didn't believe it for a minute.
Jeff: Why not?
Jesus: The actor took a wrong turn, but it wasn't just the fact that the wrong action was played, but there's a disconnect between what the actor's saying, and the intention he's trying to play, and the fact that his body tells me he's not really in the building.
Jeff: Is it just fear?
Jesus: Yeah, probably, but I wouldn't know unless I could take him through some exercises.
Jeff: So you think it's all about the body.
Jesus: Mostly...the blocks kills us. Freedom's the thing, of course. The question is: for the actor (or any artist, for that matter), how do you get there?
Now, if you're uptight because I've got Jesus talking acting, my assumption is that he's as up on that category of human experience as any, though the practicality of that conversation is a little out of reach in this dimension. But you see my point: a moment of theatre is up for discussion from the heavens back down to the smallest of theatre classes in the tiniest of high schools.
Anybody want to talk about it? Here's the strange thing...I'll bet if you're a theatre artist, you spend a good deal of time talking about what's good and what's not. In fact, if you're in rehearsal or in design conferences, you're constantly adjusting moments and lines hoping to make the work "better." But when was the last time you had a conversation that lasted more than five minutes about what "better" actually entails?
Here's the question for you who might want to follow this thread along: what questions must be asked if an "aesthetic" defining a theatre is to be constructed? What questions must be asked in trying to discover the nature of theatrical truth for this specific time in history? There are some big categories here, but they're worth plumbing. And if we're all too busy to stop and ask these questions, what hope do we have of pushing the art form forward, in the name of Christ or anybody else?
...the answers determine the training, the approach, and the work itself...
8:31:27 AM
