Recently, I saw a play that centered on a group of young collegiate creatives. This group was bonded together through their shared artistic endeavors and dreamed of a friendship that’d last generations and bring untold artistic success. Unfortunately, their insecurities eroded whatever trust and comfort they had cultivated. By the final bow, not a single friendship remained. Seemingly.
The play was fun and silly, with flashes of heart. All the trappings of an enjoyable night at the theater. Well, not for me. It felt like the play was keeping me at a distance, preventing me from inhabiting the story. Since the play was a comedy, I started with the humor. Though the play was packed with jokes, I failed to recognize the subject of the humor. I’ve been involved with the theatre for most of my life. I am, unfortunately, incredibly familiar with the inner workings of improv groups, drama clubs, and the intense agony of waiting for the cast list. So it isn’t like I simply “didn’t get it.” That was the problem, actually. The humor seemed to be reliant on my familiarity. Without it, I pondered whether I’d understand the play at all. For example, there was a bit in which an actor preparing for an acting class couldn’t remember some of the most iconic lines from Uncle Vanya. I’m not the most avid Chekhov fan, so the fact that this actor was struggling with the famous text was doing nothing for me. The audience of other theatergoers, however, found it quite amusing. At this moment, I was taken out of myself, and my dramaturgy thinking cap switched on. The further I thought, I realized that it wasn’t only the humor whose punchlines were reliant on my familiarity with the theatre canon. The structure of the dialogue. The tone of speech. The effect of certain plot points. Even the characterizations were reliant on the recognition of certain archetypes in the theatre world. Without all of this, everything falls flat.
This revelation got me thinking. This production is obviously far from the first and definitely won’t be the last example of theatre whose enjoyment is reliant on interest, knowledge, and experience in the theatre itself. The question, then, is, what is the point of productions like these? At their best, these kinds of shows can utilize a common vocabulary to target a specific audience in order to more effectively impart some message or framework of thinking/feeling. At their worst, these kinds of shows perpetuate an everlasting echo chamber that propagates the same upper middle class mostly white theatre practitioners
that share a love for solipsism that tells them they’re more important than everyone else.
Now, I’m not saying that all plays that utilize a theatrical setting are inherently useless. Theatre changed my life. From an early age, the stage helped me find my voice. I’m obviously a huge supporter of theatre’s capacity for change, or else I wouldn’t still be here. I pray that every person finds a medium through which they can practice self-expression, and it only makes sense that artists create through the medium that inspired them. We start to veer into insularity, however, when we lose track of the questions at the heart of our exploration. Why is this story important to me? Who is this story for? Why is this story important to them? The production I saw could’ve been about the importance of found family. The ways in which group hierarchies in young adults lead to resentment. The poison of jealousy between compatriots is told through the structure of institutionalized art education. But no. Instead, we got a 2-and-a-half-hour joke fest that simply teased all those messages. It was very evident to me that this play was for theatre kids to laugh and theatre kids and feel for theatre kids. You leave with a subtle tug of nostalgia in your heart if you’re lucky and a deep distaste for theatre kids if you’re not.
Why even take the time to write all of this?
I do believe that there is something special about the construction of art, especially theatre. However, with the arts under attack, we can’t afford to gatekeep theatrical production anymore. We sing about the importance of diversifying our audience bases, yet we continue to write and produce works that alienate anyone that has not been in the theatre for at least a decade—a state of being that is typically accompanied by uncommon access to both wealth and opportunity. I’m for us all to look deeper. Even a layer or two beneath the surface. What is at the heart of your silly improv troupe play? What are the human truths that you’re trying to convey? Of course, not every play has to be for everyone, but when we continue to write plays that are targeted at the same audiences, we’ll never move the craft forward.
Sincerely, Däv 