Bad theatre
It’s not unusual for me to find myself entwined in discussions about “bad theatre” with fellow practitioners. Sometimes these discussions are in person, sometimes they’re virtual. Here’s a sample email, received this morning:
“Saw [the new show directed by a mutual friend/colleague] and cannot recommend it. It isn’t bad, and there are some laughs, but I also think there are some inconsistencies in the performances, and the script is obscure. … I keep saying this and then letting it go, but I really don’t know why I go to theater in L.A. anymore. In the past 12 months I’ve probably seen 25 to 30 shows, and I think I really liked two. Water and Power at the Taper or Dorothy Chandler or one of those, and Huck and Holden at Black Dahlia. I can’t think of anything else I’ve really been happy I saw, instead of saving my money and staying at home. Not that they’ve been bad, most of them, just that they didn’t give me any more than I’d have gotten staying at home surfing the net, or watching tv or reading. I know I’ve not mentioned the car plays, of which one was yours. I enjoyed that, and thought the concept was terrific, but it didn’t knock my socks off, sorry.”
All tastes are individual. I would disagree with him about The Car Plays (which Moving Arts is bringing back to the Steve Allen Theatre this summer) which was terrific precisely because of the concept and its execution, but because I was involved in that perhaps I’m biased. I can’t disagree with him about the show he describes because I haven’t seen it. I have to agree with him that in most cases my socks stay firmly on — just as they do through most movies and television. It’s hard to get these socks knocked off any more. Whether the play winds up being good or bad, I still get a visceral thrill from going to the theatre; its very nature (of having to drive there, and arrange for tickets in advance and so forth) makes it far more of an event than lying on the couch scanning channels, and given the backwoods environment I grew up in I still count myself lucky to have such opportunities.
With regard to my friend’s batting average, I would say that it sounds about right. I think he’s equating “knock your socks off” with excellence — and isn’t excellence at the furthest end of the continuum? Excellence is by its nature exceptional. If there were more of it, it wouldn’t be excellent. I wrote about the batting average here, and here’s the relevant clipping:
Every once in a while you see a show that rewards your devotion to the theatre. Some months ago I asked a group of fellow playwrights how often they were glad they’d seen a show. How often had it been worth the effort involved? Responses ranged from 25% (the always upbeat and bright-eyed comedy writer Stephanie) to 10% (me) down to 5% (the would-be curmudgeon in the group who is a closet romantic — and isn’t that what every cynic is: a romantic who got burned?). The theatre is notoriously difficult to pull off. The writing has to be good, as well as the performing, it has to be pulled together and presented well by a director and designers, the theatre had better not be too hot or too cold, the right audience has to have found it because they are very definitely part of the experience, there had better not have been a bad parking or driving or box-office experience, and on and on and on.
So why do so many of us go so often? Just to get angry at ourselves for our blockheaded refusal to give up? No — because when it is superb, nothing surpasses the visceral thrill of performers and material connecting with an audience in a defined space. I love great performers of all stripes and honestly feel blessed to have worked with so many wonderful actors, and I love great provocative writing. Put the two together and you’ve got the theatre — when it works.
I stand by that. I have had some amazing experiences in the theatre. Are they frequent? No. Then they wouldn’t be amazing.
April 16th, 2007 at 9:49 am
90 percent of everything — books, TV, film and even blogs — is disappointing. Theatre is no exception, but I agree that great theatre is more rewarding, especially because of the chance that it can’t be replayed or captured again. Of course every play I ever wrote falls into the category of great theatre.
April 16th, 2007 at 6:20 pm
Sturgeon’s law in action.
My perception of plays is skewed toward the sock-knocking-off end of the scale because I get to see very few, live or on PBS. I’m in no danger of becoming jaded.
When Lee was living here in South Jersey I accompanied him to a few productions that he was reviewing. One was about a guy who was frustrated with his job driving a truck, and a woman who was an optimistic dreamer. It was a powerful study in contrasting personalities. I still think about it from time to time, especially in relation to my exciting job at the Post Office.
“All arts are inhibited, in our day, by those who know too much and feel too little; it is inhuman to judge everything alongside perfection.”
Peter Ustinov
April 17th, 2007 at 9:48 am
Love the Ustinov quote. Thanks for that.
The play we saw was “The Woolgatherer” by William Mastrisimone. She collected sweaters left behind by men who’d left her behind, hence the pun in the title.