See "ETC Article: August" for context.
In Spite of It All
Sometimes, circumstances are so utterly insane that laughter is the only rational response. There are those of us who feel this way about the national economy of the past couple of years (although in fairness, it seems we ought to have found certain fiscal practices prior to the decline more laughable). Now just imagine how the residents of New Orleans feel. Massive flooding with tragic lasting effects, economic meltdown, then oil spill, with tragic lasting effects. For that matter, take a wider view of Scranton in the 20th century: the iron ore runs out and its founding family leaves for grayer pastures, WWII leads to strip-mining the land, and then disaster, dwindling demand, and restructuring the railroad take away even the coal mining industry. Ridiculous. What can you do?
You have to laugh.
I don’t mean to trivialize disaster or economic ruin. Quite the opposite. It’s my firm belief that the higher the stakes of something, the more necessary and natural the need to laugh, at or in it. I think that - particularly in recent western history - laughter has come to be associated with judgment and mockery, but that’s an awfully limited view of a complex emotion such as humor. We also laugh because we identify, or need catharsis, or from involuntary physical response, or from fear, or (and this is the one that’s really fascinating) because it’s the only thing we can think to do.
That’s one of the funny things about working on a Zuppa del Giorno show - the initial conversations almost always end up being geared around serious ideas and concepts. Look at some of our themes: encroaching capitalism and the lust for status, anarchy, lives lost to regret, ambition’s bitter aftertaste, excess in times of struggle, and first love’s tragic demise (granted; that last was more Shakespeare’s than ours). It’s not until we get to the details that we start the incomparable high of making one another shoot milk from our noses. The gags spring from complex and often weighty ideas.
Two weeks ago I was in Scranton working with fellow Zuppa member Heather Stuart to teach the youth of Marywood about commedia dell’arte, and I used the opportunity to meet with our set and costume designers, Drake Gomez and Mary Ann Swords-Greene respectively (and, respectably: the coolness of their names reflects their talents). We talked about different things, with regular interjections from me along the following line: “Now, keep in mind, nothing is set yet. All is subject to change. I mean: ALL.” In spite of that, some exciting ideas were bandied about. Ideas like stages within stages, classic commedia dell’arte characters cloaked by contemporary clothing, and mirrors.
This week the development weblog will go live, and we collaborators will all have a repository for our notions and spit-balling. Each of the actors - Conor in Scranton, Todd in New Orleans and Elizabeth in New York City (a town that has known its own share of upheaval) - will be able to convene online before our first development rehearsal at the start of October. Yes, in spite of great distance and incredibly varied schedules, we’ll start to build a show together. And guess what? You can watch it happen. You, dear reader, can even get involved. Here’s the ‘blog address: http://thepuppeteersproduction.blogspot.com/ Follow us, comment, but remember: all is subject to change. I mean: ALL.
What we do to entertain ourselves during times of ridiculous struggle is interesting. It would be easy to dismiss these entertainments as distractions or escapism, but I find that just by scratching the surface we can find an intense relevance between what we’re challenged by and what we’re making to theoretically offer some relief from those challenges. While we create characters and engineer pratfalls and possibly play with puppets, the world will go on whirling out upheaval and disaster. Maybe that’s actually the cause of our comedy. I won’t venture to guess. But I will say this: You have to laugh. In spite of it all.
In Spite of It All
Sometimes, circumstances are so utterly insane that laughter is the only rational response. There are those of us who feel this way about the national economy of the past couple of years (although in fairness, it seems we ought to have found certain fiscal practices prior to the decline more laughable). Now just imagine how the residents of New Orleans feel. Massive flooding with tragic lasting effects, economic meltdown, then oil spill, with tragic lasting effects. For that matter, take a wider view of Scranton in the 20th century: the iron ore runs out and its founding family leaves for grayer pastures, WWII leads to strip-mining the land, and then disaster, dwindling demand, and restructuring the railroad take away even the coal mining industry. Ridiculous. What can you do?
You have to laugh.
I don’t mean to trivialize disaster or economic ruin. Quite the opposite. It’s my firm belief that the higher the stakes of something, the more necessary and natural the need to laugh, at or in it. I think that - particularly in recent western history - laughter has come to be associated with judgment and mockery, but that’s an awfully limited view of a complex emotion such as humor. We also laugh because we identify, or need catharsis, or from involuntary physical response, or from fear, or (and this is the one that’s really fascinating) because it’s the only thing we can think to do.
That’s one of the funny things about working on a Zuppa del Giorno show - the initial conversations almost always end up being geared around serious ideas and concepts. Look at some of our themes: encroaching capitalism and the lust for status, anarchy, lives lost to regret, ambition’s bitter aftertaste, excess in times of struggle, and first love’s tragic demise (granted; that last was more Shakespeare’s than ours). It’s not until we get to the details that we start the incomparable high of making one another shoot milk from our noses. The gags spring from complex and often weighty ideas.
Two weeks ago I was in Scranton working with fellow Zuppa member Heather Stuart to teach the youth of Marywood about commedia dell’arte, and I used the opportunity to meet with our set and costume designers, Drake Gomez and Mary Ann Swords-Greene respectively (and, respectably: the coolness of their names reflects their talents). We talked about different things, with regular interjections from me along the following line: “Now, keep in mind, nothing is set yet. All is subject to change. I mean: ALL.” In spite of that, some exciting ideas were bandied about. Ideas like stages within stages, classic commedia dell’arte characters cloaked by contemporary clothing, and mirrors.
This week the development weblog will go live, and we collaborators will all have a repository for our notions and spit-balling. Each of the actors - Conor in Scranton, Todd in New Orleans and Elizabeth in New York City (a town that has known its own share of upheaval) - will be able to convene online before our first development rehearsal at the start of October. Yes, in spite of great distance and incredibly varied schedules, we’ll start to build a show together. And guess what? You can watch it happen. You, dear reader, can even get involved. Here’s the ‘blog address: http://thepuppeteersproduction.blogspot.com/ Follow us, comment, but remember: all is subject to change. I mean: ALL.
What we do to entertain ourselves during times of ridiculous struggle is interesting. It would be easy to dismiss these entertainments as distractions or escapism, but I find that just by scratching the surface we can find an intense relevance between what we’re challenged by and what we’re making to theoretically offer some relief from those challenges. While we create characters and engineer pratfalls and possibly play with puppets, the world will go on whirling out upheaval and disaster. Maybe that’s actually the cause of our comedy. I won’t venture to guess. But I will say this: You have to laugh. In spite of it all.
No comments:
Post a Comment