Blurring the Real and the Imagined

Jeremy Gable’s The 15th Line is a good example of time and pace reinforcing the Reality Effect.  He wrote this play via Twitter over the span of two months, starting with an announcement of a subway disaster.  Over the next two months, “the play followed the reporter and five other imaginary characters whose lives intertwine in the aftermath of the accident (48).” So, these imaginary characters are posting on Twitter as any real-life person does, and they are dealing with the accident in real time. This isn’t a night in the theatre where you see a character have a journey and transform from beginning to end over the span of two hours. These Twitter characters are dealing with life as life actually passes not just for the characters themselves but also for the audience experiencing the play. As Muse says, “works like The 15^th Line call attention to current events and ape the format of ordinary interactions on Twitter reveal Twitter’s potential to blur the line between everyday life and performance (44).” Since The 15^th Line spanned over the time of two months, Gable also acknowledged events that came up over that time. Holidays and political happenings were not ignored, but included in the action, which further strengthened the Reality Effect.  Someone coming into the play a month late might actually wonder if this were real-life or imaginary. “Twitter plays help to expose the newly fragile distinction in a digital age between theatrical spectatorship and the experience of real-life events (44).” Since the Twitter audience/participants are all involved in some kind of theatrical spectatorship while browsing Twitter, how are the imaginary circumstances of these imaginary characters any different from the goings on of any real-life person’s Twitter page? Yes, a real Twitter page reflects a life that is actually being lived, but in the digital world of Twitter, that looks no different from the pages of these imagined characters. Whether real or imagined, everyone is bound by the same rules and limits on Twitter, and real and imagined alike changed and evolved over the same span of the two months it took Gable to write The 15^th Line.

            The common thread between all the types of theatre we read about this week seems to be the merging of performance and reality. The Reality Effect is taken even further than it is with naturalistic kitchen sink dramas. On Twitter, imagined characters live life alongside real people. In durational theatre, it is about unscripted, unpredictable, and unplanned interactions. Essentially, you are watching people just being and existing.  The element of truth becomes incredibly important, and the conventional theatrical format becomes less important. Where will we go from here? Theatrical events will most likely slip into every digital app we spend an excessive amount of time on such as Instagram, Snapchat, and whatever the next new social media fad turns out to be. I am actually more interested in the evolution of the durational pieces, because I am much more interested in watching theatre than I am in reading it. We live in an age that wants to be able to do everything from home, including be an audience of theatre. Pretty soon, we’ll have no reason to step outside our doors. This is not to say that theatre shouldn’t be explored in the digital world, by all means, it should be explored on every frontier. I suppose I am just a bit old-fashioned in that I still want to see the interaction that exists between people when you go see live theatre. So, I would be interested to see the six hour durational pieces taken to the next level where not only the line between performance and real-life is blurred, but it would also be interesting to see what would happen if the line between audience and performer was blurred. This idea harkens back to what we talked about last week with space and focus and having certain spaces where there is no forth wall and every part of the space becomes fair game as the playing area, and focus can be set on the general audience or on one person or a small group of people. I’m sure this has all been done before, but it seems like after the real and imagined start merging together; the next step would be to blur and bend the confines of audience and performer.

Oak Alley

I think it would be interesting to take Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and put it on in one of the historic plantation houses down here. There is a specific one I am thinking of called Oak Alley Plantation that is located between Baton Rouge and New Orleans in Vacherie, LA. Here is a link:

http://www.oakalleyplantation.com

The architecture of this house would be ideal for the idea I have in mind, because it has expansive verandas that surround both the first floor and the second floor. The show could be done intimately, with smaller audiences, so that people are not crammed too harshly into small and uncomfortable places. The audience would come to see the show under the pretense of attending Big Daddy’s birthday party. The party itself would be held on the main floor, and as audience members come in, they would be treated like party guests/family members; their coats and tickets would be taken, and they would be offered a drink and perhaps some food. The party would be complete with entertainment provided by the screaming “no-neck monsters” as Maggie so lovingly calls Grooper and Mae’s children. This would all be part of the pre-show, and at any point, audience members may choose to go upstairs to Brick and Maggie’s room. While downstairs at the actual party, audience members may be allowed to sit at the dinning room table with the actors. However, once they go upstairs, the audience would be outside Brick and Maggie’s room, on the veranda. Ideally the window/door leading from the room out to the veranda would be large enough that when open, the audience gets the sense that they are looking in on the private lives of these characters, but their vision of the action is not obstructed enough to be aggravating. This would create an interesting dichotomy of being part of the family downstairs, and feeling intrusive, like they are interrupting a private conversation, while upstairs. Anytime the characters come out on the veranda, the audience would again be included in the action as if they too belonged there as part of the family.

            I think by creating an environment that is incredibly similar to that written in the play and using the found space of the plantation home, it would cause the audience to feel closer to the action and subsequently closer to the characters, as though they are just observing and being a part of these people’s lives instead of simply going to see a show. Whether the space would be accommodating for an audience would factor into how much the space enhances or diminishes the overall experience. Obviously, for money-making reasons, it would be better to have a large audience, but this idea would be much more successful for a very small audience. Again, this would increase the intimacy as well as narrow the focus of the actors and the audience as a whole. With this idea, it would put the show in a very naturalistic frame.

            I think the quote from Kantor is incredibly valid. Often times, just walking into a theatre sets up an expectation for what is to come. In found spaces or site-specific places there is more of a chance for spontaneity and the unpredictable to happen. Audiences know what to do when they walk into a theatre. They find their seat, sit down, blend into the crowd, and watch with a certain distance existing between them and the action onstage. There is a safety to traditional theatre spaces, because there is an understanding for how they work. With found spaces and site-specific spaces, it takes the audience out of the realm of the comfortable and puts them in a situation where they don’t know what to expect; there is more risk, a little more danger, and therefore an excitement and perhaps a little fear of the unknown. So, before the show even starts, there is already an air of anticipation and wonder.

It's a wheel

First of all, I’m really sorry this blog post is late. But without further ado, onward to answering the questions! I think the theatre is in an interesting bind right now with this dilemma that you mention, because our current world is so technology hungry and driven and we crave instant gratification and spectacle. These things will, of course, have an impact on the current theatre we create and present. Perhaps it will, as you suggest, melt into other forms and became diluted. We have talked about art and theatre being dialectic; they are in a circular evolution where they change and develop out of a reaction to what has come before. Yet, this circular evolution is like a wheel, so instead of being stationary, it is also always moving forward and advancing in its evolution. Perhaps, at this time, theatre and performance art as well as other forms are converging and being overrun and bogged down by the rampant technology of our age, but whether change is just around the corner or years down the road, I do think theatre will again be reinvented as its own form. I think we are still trying to figure out how to coexist with technology in a lot of ways; it is still a fairly new concept. Yes, it is quickly and constantly getting more advanced and more prominent in our daily lives, but we will learn to adapt with it. The thing about theatre that I think will ensure its escape from extinction is the presence at its core, the truth. No matter how advanced or spectacular technology can be, it cannot be as powerful as simple human connection and presence. We just need to figure out where and how the theatre can thrive in this day and age.

            This may be a stretch for the “imagined memory”, but I thought of my first trip to California. Growing up, whenever we went on family vacations, they were usually out east. It wasn’t until after I graduated from undergrad that I actually went out west. Before this, my “imagined memory” of California was shaped mostly by what I had heard about LA. Since most media about California is centered on LA and Hollywood, I had formed this idea, no matter how ridiculous I knew it might be, considering that I had never been there, that all of California was hot, sunny, busy, superficial, and obsessed with beauty and perfection. However, when I finally made it there, I was in Northern California, and it was January. I found myself surrounded by red woods, mountains, and small towns. It was cold, especially at night, as no one we stayed with turned on their heat at night. I can’t remember another time I have been that cold at night.  I realized my whole vision, my whole “imagined memory”, of the huge state of California was shaped entirely by the media focused on LA, just one city in a vast state. The places I visited in California on that trip ended up being nothing like what my preconceived notion was.

            I think this idea of “imagined memory” can have a huge impact on theatre and art. I wonder though, if it is more of an obstacle to overcome, than it is any kind of asset. Theatre and art should break people’s preconceived notion. Theatre and art are not about creating judgments based solely on second hand knowledge that the media supplies. They are about breaking conventions, general conceptions, and unsubstantial judgments. However, in order to break those things, I suppose they have to exist in the first place . . .