Monday, August 28, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W35: Pay the Writer, A Will To Live

What: A new play by Tawni O'Dell about the decades-long friendship between a novelist and his literary agent, and I guess also about how the novelist was a bad husband and a bad father? I could tell you the plot beats but I couldn't actually tell you what this is about.
And? Ugh.

Marcia Cross, Bryan Batt, and Ron Canada as Lana, Bruston, and Cyrus.
Photo by Jeremy Daniel.



full review here

Masha King as Helena Weinrauch. Photo by David Zayas, Jr.


Margin Notes: A Will To Live

Masha King as Helene Weinrauch.
Photo by David Zayas, Jr.

Seen on: Saturday, 8/26/23.

Plot and Background
A one-woman play adaptation of Helena Weinrauch's memoir. She wrote her memoir while she was still recuperating in a Swedish hospital after surviving three concentration camps and a death march. Adapter (and Chain Artistic Director) Kirk Goskowski said of his work adapting Weinrauch's memoir that "Anything we left out was omitted for length and to make it a play. These are all her words. My only job here is to be the steward of her story."


What I Knew Beforehand
That it was adapted from a memoir of a Holocaust survivor. I'd also seen and reviewed several other Chain productions over the years.

Thoughts:

A young woman curls up on a clean white bed, wrapped in a blanket and robe, staring away from the audience, out at the peaceful seaside view of her hospital room in Sweden. She has survived years of torment so barbaric she doesn't remember it all at first. She doesn't remember the moment her body was discovered to be alive, rather than one of many corpses found by British soldiers. She doesn't remember being turned out from a German hospital for fear of typhoid. She doesn't remember the journey to Sweden. But the times before that, they start to come back. The sweet and innocent times before, living in Germany with her mother, father, and sister. Her sixteenth birthday, her piano lessons, helping her mother squirrel away jewelry in the event they would need it for bartering. And she remembers when the war started, and what came next. How her parents and sister were rounded up and disappeared, how she was hidden, given false identification papers. How she was recognized and tortured anyway. How she spent three years in three separate concentration camps--Plaszow, Auschwitz, and Bergen-Belsen--how numerous small kindnesses or sheer luck saved her from sudden death even as she was rescued only twenty-four hours from a slower one.

This is the story she remembers. This is the story she tells.

Monday, August 21, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W34: Infinite Life

8/18/23: Infinite Life
What: Atlantic Theater Company, in conjuction with National Theatre, presents Annie Baker's newest play, about several patients staying at clinic specializing in water and juice fasts to treat chronic pain and illness. 
And? While this doesn't come close to John or The Antipodes, I still think an Annie Baker play is always worth seeing. She's so unlike anyone else, and her plays always seem to know exactly what they are, even if they at first appear to be about nothing. This is an interesting meditation on what it means to be in constant pain, and how to exist around the edges of that.



Monday, August 7, 2023

Weekly Margin 2023, W32: The Shark is Broken

What: The Broadway transfer of the Edinburgh Fringe/West End play about the making of Jaws, starring and cowritten by Ian Shaw (playing his father, Robert Shaw), along with Alex Brightman as Richard Dreyfuss and Colin Donnell as Roy Scheider. Over the course of the film shoot, the three actors use their downtime while waiting on a broken mechanical shark to bicker, to play games, and to share stories.
And? I feel a bit terrible for saying this, because Ian Shaw is clearly doing this in tribute to his father, who died only three years after Jaws came out, but this is such a mediocre paint-by-numbers play. Every few minutes we get another wink-wink line that the audience, who knows the future, gets to chuckle sensibly at ("No one will be talking about this movie in fifty years!" is one such hackneyed example). I'm amazed the actors don't turn to the audience and hold for laughter each time they say one. The content of each character's various revelations is about as in-depth as a Wikipedia article, the conflicts are half-baked, and there isn't actually much enlightenment thrown on the troubled set (the shark may be broken--a great title, for what it's worth--but we're not gonna deal with that much). I desperately craved some kind of transformative moment, or even a moment of joy baked into all the woes and carps of the business. Instead, we're stuck on the same static claustrophobic boat these three men are (scenic design Duncan Henderson), going nowhere slowly. Literalism in theater isn't always terrible, but it's also rarely necessary. Theater is where we can do metaphors, y'all. Theater is where Jessica Chastain's Nora can stand up from the chair she hasn't left for the past two hours, open the back door of the theater, and step out into Times Square. The final beat of The Shark is Broken is a great one, and well-earned, but it deserved a bit more underlining from the design. This was our moment to break the play, and we missed it.

Additionally, we need to talk about the challenge of having period characters (or in this case, representations of actual real-life people) spouting cruelties. I'm going to pre-empt the defense of "people are complicated, people say and do bad things, this is just realism." Sure they are, sure they do, and sure it is. But there is a difference between someone saying something cruel under the play's and audience's recognition that this isn't okay (think: anytime a white character in a piece of fiction uses the N word), and that same cruel utterance being met with chortling laughs. That's punching down, and that's the audience laughing at the punching down. That's the audience agreeing that it's okay to bodyshame people, because fat bodies don't deserve as much compassion as thin bodies with alcohol dependencies. That's the play saying this behavior is okay, and the audience's complicity in that same cruelty.

Listen, I don't like Richard Dreyfuss either. But most of the digs at him in this play (which, like Robert Shaw, very much does not like Richard Dreyfuss) center around his being fat and his being Jewish, either overtly or covertly. There are ways to frame personality conflicts that do not center two things over which someone has no control. But here it seems to be "we don't like Richard Dreyfuss because he's a fat Jew, and therefore it's okay to laugh at him over it." Even his character's accusation that Shaw's play The Man in the Glass Booth is antisemitic (I haven't read it but, going by the plot description and premise, it sounds like it is problematic at best) is met with derision, like he's another Jewish person looking to be offended. When Shaw bemoans that actors like him and Scheider are being replaced by neurotics, all I can hear are dog whistles.

There are ways to frame these conflicts. And then there's this. Where the audience laughs every time Shaw is abusive to Dreyfuss.

And that's not how I want to spend my energy.

Hell, the mediocre writing didn't even make me want to go rewatch Jaws, and it should have achieved that at the very least. Aaron Sorkin could have fixed this, when he was a good writer. But unless they call in a script doctor, stat, we're stuck with this. Did no one call it out during the West End run? Are there not enough Jewish people there to say "hey maybe not with the latent antisemitism threading through this whole thing?" I don't think I'm another Jewish person looking to be offended. I think I'm a Jewish person who is tired of having to explain why things are offensive in the first place.

Um. All three actors were good. But this is a bad play.

Colin Donnell, Ian Shaw, and Alex Brightman as Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw,
and Richard Dreyfuss. Photo by Matthew Murphy.