A Very Brief Word About the Theater

Why go to see a play?  Instead of, say, reading a novel?  They're both about stories, right? And some plays are even based on books, often well known.

"It's a night out," some might say.

"Or, I like to see live acting. No matter how many times it has been rehearsed, anything could happen and, arguably, no two performances are ever exactly the same."

Leaving comedy aside, the main reason to go to the theater, I think, is to experience emotional behavior of the sort that can't easily be expressed safely in ordinary life.  Often, such emotions are transgressive in nature -- the sort we often feel, but have to suppress because they are dangerous or antisocial. In this respect, one can argue the theater functions as a sort of safety valve.

I mention this because I just received a brochure in the mail from New York's Roundabout Theater Company, a respected non-profit entity that puts on Broadway plays. "Take A Ride On Our Emotional Roller Coaster," the cover of this flyer, announcing the 2019-2020 season, urges.

If you are interested, check out the company's website.

"The Humans:" Life is a Downer For The 99%

The New York Times recently ran a lengthy obituary of John Bradshaw, who achieved considerable renown as a self-help evangelist.

 

I mention this because Bradshaw, who initially experienced severe alcoholism after a troubled childhood, has been credited with bringing the term "dysfunctional family" into common use during his subsequent, very successful career.

Now, it seems we can't get away from it. Among other things, it has become a staple of a great deal of contemporary fiction and, of course, live theater where the emotions ordinary people may feel, but have difficulty expressing without disastrous consequences, are given free rein on stage.

One of the latest examples of this is a current Broadway play called "The Humans," by Stephen Karam.

In a Times review earlier this year, Christopher Isherwood called the play, about a family gathering for a somewhat makeshift Thanksgiving dinner in a distressing New York apartment, superlative.

"Written with a fresh-feeling blend of documentary like naturalism and theatrical daring, and directed with consummate skill by Joe Mantello, Mr. Karam’s comedy-drama depicts the way we live now with a precision and compassion unmatched by any play I’ve seen in recent years. By “we” I mean us non-one-percenters, most of whom are peering around anxiously at the uncertain future and the unsteady world, even as we fight through each day trying to keep optimism afloat in our hearts."

The play is, indeed, well acted and the set is all-too convincing -- to the point where one feels as if one is in the apartment with the family. And at times, it is very funny. But the jokes are for the most part transgressive in nature -- at the expense of people in difficult circumstances of one sort or another. One laughs at the punch lines and then doesn't feel particularly good about having done so.

While the family is depicted as treasuring strong bonds, as time goes by and one character after another is revealed to be troubled, compromised or having come up short in one way or another, those bonds seem increasingly superficial. The only character not in danger of heading into a downward spiral is the live-in boyfriend of the family's younger daughter -- but only because he will soon come into a trust fund rather than from his own efforts. He has little to offer other than the food.

If Mr, Isherwood is correct in saying that the play accurately depicts "the way we live," that myriad of life-is-a-downer New Yorker short stories that  I have complained about may not be so far off the mark. I also have a related post on what is missing in contemporary fiction.

How does it all end?  Well, without giving anything away, as the emotional intensity steadily increases -- in "The Humans" as in other plays in the same genre -- one begins to wonder how the playwright is going to bring things in for a landing.  Not easily and not always in a satisfactory fashion in my theater-going experience.

Embrace My Brand, Get Hooked on a Feeling

Writing in the program notes, Seattle Opera General Director Aidan Lang said Georges Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers espouses the idea that honor and friendship should be held in the highest esteem, even to the extent of suppressing one’s own sexual fulfillment.

"But in an era of the gradual erosion of communal values, of the focus on the individual, of the ‘selfie,’ is it such a bad idea to be reminded of these redeeming human characteristics?” Lang asked.

I cite that because this blog has episodically taken a look at the impact electronic social media appears to be having on individuals and what that might mean for the future of fiction. Most recently, I addressed the topic in a post entitled “Literary Hand-Wringers,” which, among other things, noted a new book by MIT professor Sherry Turkle in which she argued that digital technology is eroding the ability of humans to feel empathy for others.

In that vein, the Oct. 25, 2015 edition of T, the New York Times style magazine carried an article called “Hooked on a Feeling,” with the subtitle “Thanks to social broadcasting networks, everyone and everything is its own brand. Now we want the one thing the Internet can’t buy: human emotion.”

“The empathy economy is booming. Facts are out, feelings are in,” the author, Michael Rock, declared. But not, it appears, on the basis of a return to direct, person-to-person interaction among humans. In fact, far from it.

“Branding is supposedly not about what something says, or what it means, but how it makes us feel. A brand is a promise. It’s the emotional payoff on an investment in a particular product, place or individual. … When we talk about a strong brand, it consistently delivers the emotion it promises,” Rock said.

The article then goes on to discuss the “mood board,” a tool long used by designers to help them come up with a certain look for, say, the interior of a room or a line of women's wear. A mood board usually consists of a collection of images that, taken together, supposedly conjures up feelings that are often hard to directly express in words alone – feelings clients will then supposedly experience when they live in the rooms in question or wear the clothes.  

How is this related to social media and human emotion?

Well, here’s one possibility. “Instagram,” Rock said, “turns every individual life into a social network mood board.”

I show you my feelings, and you show me yours, coded and subject to interpretation, of course, and not in a manner that might be uncomfortably intrusive.

“When everything is available all the time and we’re inundated with information in every way, shape and form, we are left with no choice but to favor what makes us feel,” Rock  concluded.

So here’s the new plot line:  will she or won’t she – hit the thumbs-up button and “like” the latest posting on her favorite social network so as to satisfy her emotional cravings? (As opposed to, say, enter into an in-the-flesh relationship with another person.) Sounds like a compelling read.

But wait a minute: wasn't that T Magazine article entitled "Hooked on a Feeling?" You know the song: "When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's all right." Alas, that notion was written in 1968 and as for The Pearl Fishers, 1863. How can one relate to either of those when "it's all about me?" You want emotional contact with me? Embrace my brand, soak up the feelings.

 Communal values? How quaint.