Happy coincidence: the play I'm studying this week in class is being performed at the Regents Park Open Air Theatre. What makes the coincidence happier: the boys in my class have been recruited to act as ghostly airmen during the last 15 seconds of this very play. What all this means: I get a free ticket. No, I'm not that shallow... the free ticket is just an added perk.
I have been a fan of Arthur Miller since I performed in The Crucible a few years ago. I read many of his plays, but somehow never came across All My Sons. I hate that I hadn't discovered it earlier. Like all of his plays, it touches on the sense of right and wrong, and that blurry gray line that runs between the two. Morality is a tricky subject, and it's by no means simple. What do you cherish most, and what would you give up for it? And if you lose it, what do you do next?
The play starts with your typical, all-American family. Neighbours are gathered in the backyard gossiping and drinking cold drinks. There's a romantic love story that unfolds and war heroes that are mentioned. And in typical Miller fashion, the play unfolds to reveal that things aren't as they seem. Everything we see is built on a lie and aimed at maintaining the lie. Joe Keller is a guilty man, and revealing his guilt would mean losing everything, namely his son.
As we look at it and dissect it in class, I'm finding just how complicated the script is. When you're harbouring secrets and lies with such weight and the subject comes up, in real life, how can you stop your heart from racing and suddenly start choosing your words very carefully to make sure your story holds up? Basically, almost every line has subtext embedded in it. Even during the first act, when things seem light, there ought to be a sense of unease felt by the characters. It's by no means an easy thing to play.
I didn't see it onstage. In the first act, nearly everyone was flat. I only saw the surface, or the happy-go-lucky, greeting card family. That, of course, made it boring to watch. Where were the stakes? Why was it important to tell this story? What was I supposed to feel for the characters when they were living lovely lives?
The second act was much better. When all of the lies came to the surface and the drama became the surface level, it's natural that the audience become all the more interested. But even so, there were no sparks. Fights ensued, relationships broke, but I wasn't moved. Although I should give credit to the actors who played Joe and Kate; their last moments onstage were actually stunning. The problem is that, because I wasn't gripped and invested from the beginning, I didn't take anything away as I left the theatre.
You need the sparks from the beginning! Those undefinable charges between characters that speak to what they're feeling, even if they're not saying it. There are many ways to draw audiences in: comedy, tears or in the most special of cases, silence. But regardless of what form they take, the charge needs to be there. Otherwise, why am I watching? It's not enough to glimpse everyday life; I can sit in a cafe and people watch for free. Give me a reason to watch!
I have been a fan of Arthur Miller since I performed in The Crucible a few years ago. I read many of his plays, but somehow never came across All My Sons. I hate that I hadn't discovered it earlier. Like all of his plays, it touches on the sense of right and wrong, and that blurry gray line that runs between the two. Morality is a tricky subject, and it's by no means simple. What do you cherish most, and what would you give up for it? And if you lose it, what do you do next?
The play starts with your typical, all-American family. Neighbours are gathered in the backyard gossiping and drinking cold drinks. There's a romantic love story that unfolds and war heroes that are mentioned. And in typical Miller fashion, the play unfolds to reveal that things aren't as they seem. Everything we see is built on a lie and aimed at maintaining the lie. Joe Keller is a guilty man, and revealing his guilt would mean losing everything, namely his son.
As we look at it and dissect it in class, I'm finding just how complicated the script is. When you're harbouring secrets and lies with such weight and the subject comes up, in real life, how can you stop your heart from racing and suddenly start choosing your words very carefully to make sure your story holds up? Basically, almost every line has subtext embedded in it. Even during the first act, when things seem light, there ought to be a sense of unease felt by the characters. It's by no means an easy thing to play.
I didn't see it onstage. In the first act, nearly everyone was flat. I only saw the surface, or the happy-go-lucky, greeting card family. That, of course, made it boring to watch. Where were the stakes? Why was it important to tell this story? What was I supposed to feel for the characters when they were living lovely lives?
The second act was much better. When all of the lies came to the surface and the drama became the surface level, it's natural that the audience become all the more interested. But even so, there were no sparks. Fights ensued, relationships broke, but I wasn't moved. Although I should give credit to the actors who played Joe and Kate; their last moments onstage were actually stunning. The problem is that, because I wasn't gripped and invested from the beginning, I didn't take anything away as I left the theatre.
You need the sparks from the beginning! Those undefinable charges between characters that speak to what they're feeling, even if they're not saying it. There are many ways to draw audiences in: comedy, tears or in the most special of cases, silence. But regardless of what form they take, the charge needs to be there. Otherwise, why am I watching? It's not enough to glimpse everyday life; I can sit in a cafe and people watch for free. Give me a reason to watch!