This week’s topic was challenging for me because I honestly
haven’t seen much in the way of verbatim or documentary theatre. I have seen The Laramie Project, but it was years ago and I don’t remember it
very well. I’ve seen YouTube clips of
Anna Deavere Smith’s work and when I have time, I’m going to watch Notes from the Field on HBO (maybe a
Spring Break viewing). The piece I
remember the most is The Agony and the Ecstasy
of Steve Jobs at Actors Theatre of Phoenix back in 2012. I had the pleasure of seeing one of my oldest
and dearest friends (and the man who married my husband and I!) perform the
role of Mike Daisey. Afterward I posted
this on FB.
I’m not usually one to gush over shows on FB. But I was clearly affected by this production. Not just because one of my friends was in in
it- although he was amazing in the piece.
But because it worked on me. I
remember having a conversation with my stepdad later that night about how he
needed to break the habit of buying new technology. My stepdad is sort of like Mike Daisey is- or
was. Any time he had a piece of
technology- be it a phone, a printer, something that could become outdated
within the year, he always wanted the newest best thing. I argued against this, said it was wasteful,
said that workers were being treated very poorly, simply so that he could have
his new toys. And he seemed not to
care. And that’s weird, because he’s
normally a humanitarian and kind to everybody.
But people are definitely addicted to their technology. I didn’t realize how addicted I was to my phone
I lost it five minutes ago and it felt like the world was ending until I found
it. Now, I’m frustrating that this piece
of theatre that moved me. That it
inspired me to go Facebook and talk about and email people and share my
feelings. Only to find out years later
that the story was fabricated. It worked
on my emotions, so Mike Daisey was successful in his attempt to stir me to
action. But at what cost? As Soloski says, “the process of selecting,
organizing, contextualizing, and clarifying, conducted with however much integrity
and sensitivity to the source material, unfailingly alters that material.” Which I couldn’t agree with more. But if you are intentionally altering what
you claim to be factual details for the sake of story, it becomes
problematic. And now, I’m going to
question every piece of documentary theatre that I see. And I don’t like that. I agree with the statement that, “If ethics
is the field that asks how we ought to live and what we owe to one another,
then theatre’s answer lies in its insistence that no single version of events
can be counted as truth.” What Daisey
did was ethically wrong. But it made for
good theatre. And I feel bad that I
enjoyed it as much as I did.
Usually, I want to go to the theatre to go into a different
world. A different place. A different construct than what I usually am
in. Admittedly, I’m not one to seek out documentaries
or documentary theatre for two reasons. First,
they make me think. Which isn’t a bad
thing. Certain people (like Osi’s
husband) crave documentaries because they want what’s real. They want to be informed. Except that for me, much like my writing, in
my thinking I have a tendency to over-do.
I dwell on an issue and go down the rabbit hole of the internet
searching out facts, seeking answers, and get really depressed. Because I wonder what I can do to change
things. And I struggle with the fact
that quite often there’s nothing I can do.
(Pause- Drea, try and remember what Dr. Fletcher said yesterday about
the little things that we can do that help.)
But it’s frustrating because I admit I’m results oriented. I want things to change now. The other thing that scares me about documentaries is that as
an actor and playwright, I’m committed to “getting things right.” I’m such a perfectionist as an artist. Any time I’ve played a “real-life” person,
I’ve wanted it to be a perfect representation.
I am in awe of Anna Deavere Smith because of what she does. I am fascinated by her taking on of every
little nuance of a person. Their tics,
their hics, their ums. And I think
that’s how it should be. But that makes
for a really long and tedious process.
She’s perfected it. She has created “performable text” that still honor
her subjects, yet is also theatrical. If
Daisey had used her model rather than his own creative (read- fabricated)
storytelling, the show may have still been able to get its message across
without manipulating the truth. Interestingly,
when I saw the show, Ron (my friend) had studied Mike Daisey and went the
Deavere route of finding all of his movements and vocal nuances, yet without
simply imitating him. Which is a fine
line to walk as an actor- one that I know for me would be personally difficult.
Finally, in regard to verbatim and documentary theatre, I
keep coming back to the idea of my responsibility to others. I have used family member, friends,
co-workers, etc. as inspiration for characters I’ve written or played. I think if any of my work that I’d based upon
them became profitable, I’d go Hudes’ route and try and compensate them for
it. So, if the following Verbatim Play
goes viral, I guess I’ll owe my New Kid
cast big money. Or at least a beer.
Musings on Being an
Outsider (Taken from a recording of a New
Kid rehearsal)
Drea: I’ll start with
Sarah since Osi’s eating. So, uh, Sarah, in a few sentences, what does it mean
to you to be an outsider?
Sarah: Uh, sure. See
now, when I see the thing recording (giggle), it means hee hee, not quite
fitting in anywhere, it means standing out from… a thing a conglomerate, I think
of the movie Flubber -
Drea: (laughing) Okay Sarah:
Where everything is one whole pulsing thing
Sarah: And not being able to meld and fit with that
thing. It’s just moving and being and
Dharmik: That’s a good image Sarah:
breathing.
Drea: Dharmik, how ‘bout you? What does it mean to be an
outsider-
Dharmik:
What does it mean to be an outsider? Um, yeah, along the same lines as Sarah,
uhum, just (slowly) not fitting in, I know growing up or whatever I never fit
in (sound of Osi’s fork against her dish)…anywhere is what I felt? Uh, with my friends- I did have friends- but
I didn’t quite fit in there. ‘Cause I
would never really meet them after school, we never really, it was always a
weird thing…um, and then at home, I didn’t fit in with my family ‘cause it just
I uh it was different.
Drea: Mmhm.
Dharmik: Sooo, it was just me doing whatever I wanted to
dooo- (trails off) – by myself for a very long time.
Drea: Mmkay.
Alejandro?
Alejandro: Uhmm
Drea: What does it mean to you to be an outsider?
Alejandro: I think outsider has a lot of negative connotation to the word? Whereas you can actually look at it in a positive type uh
way. You just- Drea: Absolutely.
Alejandro:
You don’t mesh with the group because you’re either a leader or you’re an
outcast so, ya know, it just depends which one you wanna be.
Drea: Kay. Osi:
Hmm.
Drea: Osi?
Osi: Outside (clears throat loudly) Outsiders- excuse me!
(Giggles softly) uh, when I think of aha the word outsider I think that there
is an inside circle so there is there’s uh that that the outsider there is not
a part of. So, uh, exclusion, I think, I
think of exclusion, I think of um, of uh being separate, ‘cause separate is
kinda like a mentality and um, yeah.
Outsider- I don’t really- when I first hear the word it’s not, it’s not
positive. It’s not a positive thought
that comes to me first. When I think
about it more, and I try to be smart like Alejandro (laughing)
Drea/Alejandro:
(laughing)
Osi:
I can think of the positive parts of being an outsider, you know. Like, you know, there are, you know, you can
make it positive. In the uniqueness that
comes with being not like everybody else.
But my first thought is, yeah, exclusion and ‘cause this inside circle
that you’re not a part of.
Drea: (slowly) Cool. Thanks you gu- (Recording cuts off)

We're gonna be rich! Or at least moderately tipsy, yay!
ReplyDeleteYou cover two topics very nicely in this post; what it means to make good theatre and what it means to be authentic. I think theatre practitioners are always dancing between two very sharp needles here, where you can get it just right, or fall to a grim and grisly death. I think there is no denying that entertainment is one of the major purposes of theatre; we use it as an escape from the dreary monotony of our own existences and hope to emerge refreshed and better equipped to understand this thing called life. This just goes to show how powerful theatre can be, and how this power can be utilized both positively and negatively.
In the case of Mike Daisey for example, he knew that he had a large number of minds paying him full attention for at least two hours. He also knew that there were facts he NEEDED to communicate, but that facts by themselves would not cut it. And so, he added that secret sauce. He tipped the balance and stirred in a need for justice and retribution. He awakened their humanity. Of course, when it was discovered that he had fabricated most of these events, the secret sauce turned bad and the fire he had stoked in the masses was considerably dulled.
But the idea was still there. I would dare to assume that, even in your indignation with Daisey's deception, you remain aware of the nugget of truth that was embedded underneath all that fluff. Ethics have the potential to turn into a chokehold. Like we were discussing in class the other day; if we focus so hard on attaining and maintaining authenticity, then we lose the transformational magic of the theatre. We should not lie to our audiences, but at the same time I think we can take the liberty to put a shine over what we present. It is performance after all.
But it is not deception. Authenticity should remain only in as far as it preserves the common laws of respect, transparency, decency and dibs.