Words, words, words

Or in this case, verbatim words, words, words.  I imagine those artist attempting to put together a verbatim play must at times feel like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost...

Like Dharmik, I also found myself wondering if anything can truly be considered verbatim once it finds its way to the stage. Inherent in presenting something as a piece of theatre, or a piece of art, is the idea that it has also been in some way crafted. That is, a director and playwright have edited and shaped the words of real people into something that could be a playable script. And how does one do this without inherently imposing a perspective onto it? 

I feel like in today's world, the only truly verbatim theater we have is politics. Trump's Inaugural Address could be considered a form of verbatim theater. It was theater (of the absurd, some would argue) and it was delivered to the world verbatim. But I don't really know how to continue down that path without arguing that all life is theater. Which, maybe it is. And maybe that is the place that documentary filmmaking holds. More so than theater, documentary films have an opportunity to present real people and real events to the rest of the world in a way that (ideally) casts no judgement or opinion, but rather says, "This happened. And here are the people and things that caused it to happen. And maybe by sharing the honest experience of what happened with the rest of the world, some people somewhere can learn a little bit about themselves and their communities that they didn't know before."

I have a little experience as a playwright using actual words from someone in a play. I never set out to compose a piece of verbatim theater, but my play SNUC is based on the real life of Andy Martin. 

A good friend of mine have composed a site-specific theater piece while in grad school, in which he went to cancer hospitals and read pieces of letters and journals that Andy had written while he was fighting cancer. I saw my friend's show, and thought there was an opportunity to expand it to a full length play. He was too close to the project, but he gave me all of Andy's emails and journals and newspaper articles and told me to take a stab. Having the blessing of Andy's family, I started writing. And while I never set out to write a verbatim play, I wanted to find opportunities to use Andy's actual words in the play. I sprinkled them here and there, and then towards the end I was able to use a big bulk of Andy's writing in his final monologue. Quick synopsis: Andy was diagnosed with a very rare form of cancer that hides in the sinuses. He discovered he was sick around the same time he was accepted to Tulane Medical College. So he decided to go to school and research his own cells with the time that he had left. He was also an avid rock climber, and the back wall of the set is a giant white board that in this last monologue Andy begins to climb. He is asked by his lab assistant to name things he has left to live for. I've highlighted the words that are Andy's and not mine. 

ANDY

Climbing. Mountains. Sunsets. Have you ever watched the sun set from the side of a mountain? It is quite a thing. Like a reward for the work it took to make it to the top. A brilliant gold medal that morphs to orange, red, violet...colors in between that you wouldn't dare to dream existed. That you could spend your entire life trying to recreate on canvas, reaching for just the right brush, just the right paint. Pablo Picasso once said, "Everything you can imagine is real."

Andy looks up at the setting sun. Mixed into the colors of the sunset is an echo of the line of cells Andy diagrammed earlier. He reaches up and finds a handhold on the wall near a cell, and begins to climb, each new hand and foothold mapped out by the cell diagram in the sunset. He makes his way up the wall towards the very top corner and the sun.

As he climbs...

ANDY

Doctors, studiers of disease, in the lab I've always felt that we are like painters. We start with a canvas, a cell, a dish. And we decide color, shape, texture, line, image. We...create. And if we have to resurrect Picasso to facilitate this process, we will. We imagine, we believe that the results are out there waiting to be discovered, to be made real. Once these cells can be reliably grown, with or without me to do it, we can learn how they behave and then how to eliminate them! One step at a time, chasing sunset after sunset until finally I...you...we...reach the summit and can at long last look out and see that that distant horizon is, impossibly, closer. More real.

Andy has reached the very top of the wall. He holds on by two feet and one hand. The next, final, handhold just out of reach.

ANDY

Fucking dead points.

He steadies himself, and then pushes up, reaching for the handhold. He hangs in space for a second and then grabs the top of the wall. He pulls himself up to sit, staring out at us.

Below him, the sun sets.

The lab, the rain, everything else fades away and Andy sits in a small pool of peaceful light.

I'm...I'm tired.(Beat)

I...I'm losing.

(Beat)

I...am, I said."

(He allows himself a laugh at this)

"I am, I said. To no one there. I am, I cried. And I am lost and I don't even know why."

(Beat)

I have another round of chemo coming up. The doctors

tell me that there is the possibility that the radiation will leave me blind.

(Beat)

No more sunsets.

((Beat))

There are so many people I want to keep fighting for. My parents, the Chief, Kevin. All the patients waging their own similar, private wars. It's just so hard. At this point all I am equipped with is the viable hope that someone, somewhere, will not rest until this disease is brought under control. Even if that someone is not me.

(Beat)

In all my days of climbing I never fell. Not once. Just lucky, I guess. That's me. Lucky. There were times, though, camped on the side of some majestic pile of rock, when I would wonder. What would it feel like? One final dead point staring you down. That last handhold just barely out of reach. You push, you surge upward and then comes that moment when you stop rising and just hang there between two realities...either your fingers catch hold or gravity takes over. A quick moment of panic, a surge of adrenaline, and then...just you and the air. Given how much pain there is in this world, would it be a relief? The moment would be quick but how long would it feel? Could you live another lifetime in that moment of peaceful falling?

(Beat)

There are so many mountains I didn't climb.

He closes his eyes and spreads his arms wide. Silently, he falls backward, over the wall and out of sight, leaving us in darkness.

So, not truly a verbatim experience, but it was interesting taking someone's actual words and trying to craft a dramatic story around those words. Basing everything on what was said and known about Andy, and trying to honor that while also crafting something playable and dramatic. 

I think verbatim theater is an interesting endeavor, and I also question if it's 100% possible. And if it is achievable, is it achievable in a way that is also still theater, and not just the re-creation of life. Which, come to think of it, is actually our jobs as artists anyway. Damn. I know nothing.

Attention Must Be Paid

In honor of--and response to--Mark's post, I give you: a presentation of the Louisiana Environmental Emersion Theatre...

Described almost universally as being about the American Dream, DEATH OF A SALESMAN (DOAS) is masterpiece of the modern theatre, and as such is usually presented in a traditional theatre environment. But Schechner's 6 Axioms work just as well for this well known gem as for any other script. I would manifest it as follows, and with the conceit that I have lucked into unlimited funding from some Old South Louisiana mint julep madame who wants to finance my every endeavor.

She starts by buying me an extremely large performance space, some kind of abandoned warehouse with at least 50 feet of height, because step one is to build the LOMAN house. This adheres to steps 2 and 3 of Schechner, which tells us that all space may be used for performance, and that that space may then be either found or transformed. We will be transforming a non-theatre space, because we need the ability to build an entire house that will conform to our needs. DOAS exists primarily in the memory of the Loman family, centered mainly around the house and the members of that house. Step 5 of Schechner's list is our next guideline, which states that all production elements speak their own language. In this vein, we will be using the top radio hits of the 1940's to underscore the themes and elements of the play. Arthur Miller references music many times in his stage directions for DOAS. Act I begins with "a melody heard and played upon a flute." At the end of the play, Willy seems about to head to bed, when Miller writes, "Suddenly music, faint and high, stops him. It rises in intensity, almost to an unbearable scream." Willy then gets in his car and rushes off; to his death, we later realize.

So. These are the elements we have in play: a fully realized house in the style of the late 1940's, which would make Arthur Miller (and the Loman family) proud. Perhaps it will look like this:

Second, we have a catalogue of music popular in the 1940's to choose from, and which will be used to underscore the show. The general idea, is that upon entering the space, the audience finds themselves looking at the front of the Loman house. Sitting on the front porch are Willy and Linda Loman. Willy has an acoustic guitar in his hand, and is serenading his wife, singing the Mills Brothers "You Always Hurt the One You Love."

When he finishes, he and Linda get up and enter the house. The audience then has the choice to follow them or explore the surroundings. Wherever they go, there will be actors dressed as the characters from the play, and also musicians mirroring those characters. So if the audience chooses to walk to the back yard, they will see Biff and Happy and Bernard playing catch, which a mirror of Biff sings, "I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover,"

Different scenes from the play take place throughout the house: in the upstairs bedroom Biff and Happy discuss their dreams and plans. In the kitchen Willy talks to his boss Howard about his job. In the living room, Biff and Willy have a bitter argument with Happy and Linda looking on. In the attic we discover a secret hotel room, where we see Willy engaged in an affair with another woman. At some point, Biff enters the room and catches his father in the act. Songs from the 40's will play throughout, before, during, and after scenes. In the basement of the house is speakeasy, where we see Happy and his lovely ladies, as well as Biff and Willy joining for drinks. And at the end of the night, back in the front yard and happening only once, we can join in the funeral for Willy Loman. All of the actors gather around the grave, and Linda sings, "You're Breaking My Heart."

The script for DOAS will be used in all of the scenes, with varying length and necessity. For example, I imagine the entire bedroom scene between Biff and Happy played, with audience members scattered throughout the bedroom. But the scene between Willy and his mistress in the hotel room can happen more as a piece of choreographed movement set to music. Willy's dead brother, Ben, can wander the entire area as a ghost, interacting here and there with only Willy. The fight in the living room can use much of the Miller script, whereas the backyard football scene can be more improvised.

The idea is to allow the audience to partake of as much of the Loman's life as they want. Schechner says in step 4 that focus is flexible and variable. A guide can be printed before entering the space, instructing the audience of which scenes take place when, so that if they wish they can track things chronologically. Or, they can let chance lead them, and experience the story as a series of connected but disjointed scenes. The audience gets to decide if they focus in on one particular room and experience all that it has to offer, or if they want to broaden that focus and move through the house seeing everything.

Ultimately, the audience will be able to say  that they gave the salesman his due. For, as Linda remarks towards the end of Act One, "He's a human being. So attention must be paid."