God, I really like this play. I mean, it’s beautiful, right? I read the whole thing in one sitting and I was quite affected by it. Without analyzing the dialog or the plot or the character development--just taking it in as an experience--I was a little in awe. It was just all so romantic. And hopeless. And profound in surprising ways. And tragic in that satisfying way. Alas...
And the dialog is so poetic. Achingly poetic (I must be in a romantic mood...), but seriously, even the stage directions are beautiful. That got me thinking about stage directions as more (or equally) for the reader. Cause an audience member isn’t going to know that a certain sound is “a sound of forgetfulness” but the reader gets to imagine that. It def is a play that is an example of dramatic literature. It has a life on the page. It doesn’t require players.
I think this is an example of the how people really talk/how people sound real on stage crux. They don’t sound like people we’ve ever heard, and yet they sound real, right? But in some of our writing isn’t nearly as weird or foreign, sometimes verbatim conversations and it sounds far more foreign. Help us, Sarah.
The greek chorus of stones is cool. I like that it keeps with the choral tradition but is also just super weird. I like the note: “The STONES should be played as though they are nasty children at a birthday party. They might be played by children.” That’s so specific and weird... in a compelling way. I like that Orpheus and Eurydice are “a little too young and a little too in love” -- don’t you know those people? or have been those people? She’s good.
I like what she says in the preface too: “I’m interested in anyone who dies twice...I’m interested in mythic architecture. The architecture of myth--its structure, its bigness, its formal elegance--can frame stories that are smaller and more personal...I think that theater can connect our personal mythologies to stories that are bigger than us--that connection between bigness and smallness brings me back to theater again and again.” She touches on a lot of interesting ideas here. I like the idea that myth can frame smaller stories, that we come back to myths and find our world still inside them. I like the connection of bigness to smallness, gods and humanity. I think adaptations can be cool if it feels like you’re getting a secret back-story or a behind-the-scenes look at a well known story. I think that’s why people are often compelled by adaptations--it feels like you’re getting let in on the Real Story. I think Eurydice, as Ruhl has endeavored, is appealing partially for this reason--that it’s getting at a base humanity within a mythical world.
Sarah Ruhls?
(too easy.)
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Easy, but cute. The title too (although it made me think you didn't like this one or didn't think it as good).
ReplyDeleteMeantime, yes yes yes: small stories in big myths, adaptations as behind the scenes, our world in the timeless, infinite one. That's the goal here.
Indeed, Ruhl's big enough at this point -- if only just probably -- to assume she'll be read as well as performed. Her plays also lend themselves to being read. And that's a good explanation for SDs that aren't necessarily replicable by actors, especially ones whose point seems just to sound pretty. I was also taken by Ruhl's comments linking drama to poetry, and we surely see that playing out here. Certainly, actors feel poetry too, come to understand their roles and life in general more as a result, but it's true that this lives on the page too. That is also why these characters don't really talk like real people -- and sound odd and off even on stage. You're right -- very weird and romantic. And very appropriate, I think, for these characters, this story, this myth, and the places it leads us.
What you have said here about her preface and her over-arching themes I tend to agree with. Connecting gods with humanity is a great way to bring a new audience to an old subject. Bringing humanity into the mythical world. I see what you mean and see how she attempted to do so. But I do not know if she succeeded.
ReplyDeleteYou say, "It doesn’t require players." But isn't that the essence of a play to have players. Staging a show such as this one would be quite different and while certain parts of the play flow off the play with great expressed eloquence other pieces fall flat. I see a play as all or nothing and this show wasn't all. For me, that is.
I really liked the dialogue, too. It was weird at some points, but I definitely agree that is sounded very natural without being awkward.
ReplyDeleteWhy is weird good, though...? :/
The "too in love" comment IS a great one, I'll admit. That is good. I like basic, easy, "apparent-but-something-we-don't-usually-think-about" human connection like that.
You know, even though the play kind of WAS backstory/behind the scenes, it really didn't feel that way to me. It just felt... so completely different. I don't know why.
rofl, "Sarah Ruhls." I wish I had thought of that.
Hey Emma,
ReplyDeleteI love that you loved it. Even more I love that you loved it for its romance and its beauty even though its a totally sad story when you get right down to it. It's interesting that there have been numerous stories written about people who are too in love, too quickly, too young for all of the above (Romeo and Juliet comes to mind first although there are others) I think that you are right that the dialogue sounds simultaneously very strange and very natural. A bizarre combination and to be sure, one that we all wish that we could emulate in our own dialogue. Oh to be so multitalented that dialogue could be two things at once. Alas, as you say. I also totally agree with you on the rock front. TOTALLY weird and bizarre without yoinking the reader out of the story or out of the weird alter reality that Sarah has created for her characters to exist in. It makes sense and at the same time is totally nonsensical. Would that we all could be so cool to be both simultaneously.
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ReplyDeleteI agree with you about the beauty. For me, the story itself is just inherently ... beautiful (there is not other word I can think of that fits so perfectly). However I think you also made an interesting observation that links right into why I like this particular adaptation so much. While the story is beautiful and Ruhl does a good job retaining the beauty, she also addresses the problematic nature of the story. They are too in love, too young, and there is no happy ending. Like you discussed in Ruhl's comments- the idea of dying twice. It is utterly fascinating. And there is something in this particular adaptation that I think creates an even more potent insight into the concept of two deaths. Orpheus loses Eurydice once due to an event that he could have prevented, but isn't directly linked to- but the second time he gives up everything (including his life) to bring her back, only to be the one to lose her. It is an interesting twist that adds so much complexity to the story- complexity that I think Ruhl captures through the natural yet poetically unreal dialogue.
ReplyDeleteAnd you are right- Sarah Ruhls.
(And if you like her work- I would strongly suggest looking into Enda Walsh. I think you would enjoy his work as well. The Waldorf Farce in particular)