Ah, the ABSURDITY of it all!
Well, I saw two plays tonight at TheatreZone in Chelsea as part of Actors Revenge (where the actors pick the plays, the parts, and the directors), "A Woman Alone" by Dario Fo and Franca Rame and "Self-Torturous and Strenuous Exercise" (stupid title but rather interesting work) by Harry Kondeoen (nope, I haven't heard of him, either). Both plays were absurdist but worked, and my friend Anna and I tried to figure out why. We had seen "The Play about the Baby" by Edward Albee several months earlier, hated it, and wondered why these plays were more effective than that one. It suddenly hit me that it was b/c these both contained humor. "...Baby" is nothing if not extremely earnest; these plays didn't take themselves too seriously, particularly the second one. If you're going to deal with themes of adultery, attempted suicide, lack of faith, and death, you damn well better make include some humor if you want the absurdity to work. Otherwise, what do you have to go on? (Of course, the opinions expressed here are mine and mine only; your mileage may vary.)
Afterwards, as Anna and I weaved our way through parts of Boston unknown (what the hell is Route 99, anyway?!), I thought, Geez, why don't I try some humor in my plays? It seems so damn obvious, after four years of improv training and a stint in a sketch troupe, and yet...no. I've included the wryly amusing line here or there, but that's it. Why not try black comedy? God knows, I can think some pretty disturbing thoughts, but my plays tend to be so HEAVY, and are not tempered by much humor. It can't hurt to try. I feel so lonely and sad so often, and I often use humor to compensate, and yet...not in my writing. So if I return to the short play about the father who buries his young daughter to teach her lesson in self-reliance (Freudian allusions, anyone?!), why not bring some more humor into it? Will it be successful? I have no idea, but I have to try. If Suzan-Lori Parks, a former schoolmate of mine at Mount Holyoke (not that she remembers, but I did train her on WMHC, the campus radio station), can win a Pulitzer for her work, I can come up with dramedy, surely. Or fail trying.
And no, not a word from any of the festivals I've applied to. DAMN YOU, FESTIVALS! I shake my fist in your face. Who holds auditions before plays have been chosen? (You know who I'm talking about, particularBostontheatre.) Rather absurd, wouldn't you say?
Afterwards, as Anna and I weaved our way through parts of Boston unknown (what the hell is Route 99, anyway?!), I thought, Geez, why don't I try some humor in my plays? It seems so damn obvious, after four years of improv training and a stint in a sketch troupe, and yet...no. I've included the wryly amusing line here or there, but that's it. Why not try black comedy? God knows, I can think some pretty disturbing thoughts, but my plays tend to be so HEAVY, and are not tempered by much humor. It can't hurt to try. I feel so lonely and sad so often, and I often use humor to compensate, and yet...not in my writing. So if I return to the short play about the father who buries his young daughter to teach her lesson in self-reliance (Freudian allusions, anyone?!), why not bring some more humor into it? Will it be successful? I have no idea, but I have to try. If Suzan-Lori Parks, a former schoolmate of mine at Mount Holyoke (not that she remembers, but I did train her on WMHC, the campus radio station), can win a Pulitzer for her work, I can come up with dramedy, surely. Or fail trying.
And no, not a word from any of the festivals I've applied to. DAMN YOU, FESTIVALS! I shake my fist in your face. Who holds auditions before plays have been chosen? (You know who I'm talking about, particularBostontheatre.) Rather absurd, wouldn't you say?
posted by Sue B at 8:25 PM
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