THEATRE JOURNAL最新文献

Abstract:

Below the Blanket (2019), a performance installation at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh, staged the enmeshed multispecies relationships present in the Flow Country, the largest blanket bog system in the world. While Below the Blanket represented the Flow Country through various artistic mediums, the physical matter—the sphagnum and peat mosses—that comprises the bog was conspicuously absent. Using critical plant theory, ecodramaturgies, and performance theory, this article grapples with the ethics of staging ecological matter such as mosses within the colonial contexts of the botanic garden and provides insights into the complex ethics of ecological performance.

Reviewed by:

• Kpop by Jason Kim
• Kyungjin Jo

When KPOP opened in 2017 as an immersive off Broadway production, curious audience members moved from room to room in a two-story building in Hell’s Kitchen that had been reimagined as a K-pop factory. The show allowed them to voyeuristically observe the manufacturing process for K-pop idols and eavesdrop on their private conversations. K-pop was portrayed as a peripheral subculture waiting to win US acceptance and approval, and the audience became a focus group empowered to share their input on how K-pop could successfully cross over to the US market. Five years later, in 2022, KPOP proudly heralded K-pop as a “global phenomenon” as it ventured onto Broadway. This hybrid production, which blended elements of a backstage musical and a K-pop concert, explored K-pop idols’ struggles and triumphs and celebrated K-pop as a representation of Korean identity and culture, staking its claim on the Great White Way.

KPOP follows the journey of K-pop idols signed to the fictional Korean label RBY—female solo singer MwE, the boy group F8, and the girl group RTMIS—as they prepare for their international debut in New York City. The central tension is MwE’s emotional breakdown as she verges on quitting during dress rehearsal, revolting against Ruby, the label’s dominating CEO and her surrogate mother, in an attempt to pursue her artistic and personal independence. [End Page 110] Through fla hback scenes, the audience learns about MwE’s eighteen-year career progression, from her audition as an 8-year-old K-pop trainee for the RBY label to her rise as a global star.

and RTMIS perform “Blast Off” in KPOP. (Photo: Matthew Murphy.)

One of two subplots highlights F8’s internal strife. Brad, a mixed-race Korean American who joined the group for the US tour, is shunned for being “not Korean enough.” In another plotline, RTMIS’s relentless pursuit of perfection pushes them to the edge of disbandment as they struggle to endure their grueling training regimen. The idols ultimately persevere through the chaotic dress rehearsal and successfully make their New York debut. The show’s final twenty minutes are a spectacular concert.

In performance, KPOP presented K-pop as a platform to joyfully celebrate Korean and Korean American identities. The upbeat and lively electronic dance track “This Is My Korea” introduced K-pop as an exuberant medium to claim and affir Korean culture. The lyrics exclaimed, “This is my Korea / This is my

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• Radical Black Theatre in the New Deal by Kate Dossett
• Elizabeth A. Osborne

Kate Dossett’s Radical Black Theatre in the New Deal joins the work of scholars like Rena Fraden, Glenda Gill, and Adrienne Macki Braconi that delves into the Federal Theatre Project’s (FTP) Negro Units. Widely celebrated by scholars as socially progressive, examinations of the Negro Units frequently appear in articles and book chapters rather than in complete monographs. As such, extant research tends to focus on single units, people, or productions—often Harlem’s behemoth, popularly known as Unit 891, and famous productions like Orson Welles’s “voodoo Macbeth.” In contrast, Dossett’s extensive study offers a scrupulously researched examination of the archival remnants of the 1930s using a multifaceted historiographic approach. Rather than focusing only on staged productions, she traces the lengthy and often fraught process of creation, including work that has never reached the stage. To do so, Dossett centers on what she calls “black performance communities”—a concept based on Richard Barr’s “temporary social organization” of performance, which incorporates the creative team, performers, audience, and the surrounding community as a temporary and fluid group. This approach allows her to consider the many invisibilized influences on a performance text. As Dossett argues, the FTP’s manuscript collection serves as “an archive of black agency, for they not only record how and when white mastery was contested within and beyond the theatre, they also document the scope and ambition of black creativity” (6–7).

Dossett organizes Radical Black Theatre in the New Deal into two primary sections, both of which include multiple chapters. The first two chapters focus on how Black performance communities operated outside of predominantly white theatre institutions. They functioned in ways that enabled these institutions to represent Black life on US stages, whether they were adapting white-authored plays for Negro Unit performances, writing manuscripts that were ultimately left unstaged, or engaging in debates within Black journals or newspapers. The first chapter examines the popular and well-known white-authored play Stevedore (George Sklar and Paul Peters). The second chapter delves into two living newspapers written by Black authors for staging in the Negro Units: Liberty Deferred (Abram Hill and John Silvera) and Stars and Bars (Ward Courtney and the Connecticut Negro Unit). Each chapter uses multiple script iterations to tra

Reviewed by:

• The Wife of Willesden by Zadie Smith
• Carla Neuss

Zadie Smith’s The Wife of Willesden, which premiered in November 2021 at London’s Kiln Theatre, transposes Chaucer’s (in)famous Wife of Bath from The Canterbury Tales to the present-day, multicultural suburb of London named in the title. For those needing a refresher on fourteenth-century literature, Chaucer’s magnum opus is comprised of twenty-four stories told by medieval English travelers to pass the time while on a pilgrimage to Canterbury Cathedral. The stories range from biography to sermons, farce to fantasy, but the Wife of Bath’s tale has had particular staying power due to her proto-feminist narrative of sexual fulfillment and female autonomy.

In Smith’s reimagining of Chaucer’s original, the Canterbury road is relocated to a pub in contemporary Willesden that is holding an open-mic storytelling night. Using this conceit, Smith reincarnates Alyson, Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, as Alvita, a British Jamaican woman in her fifties who, like Alyson, has been married five times and is more than happy to recount the story of her misadventures in love and matrimony. In addition to her titillating autobiography, Alvita, like Alyson, offers her audience a tale that promises to divulge what women really want. Smith’s theatrical adaptation is loyal to the narrative structure of Chaucer’s text; the play devotes sixty minutes of its one-hundred-minute run time to Alvita’s account of her life and lovers. The final thirty minutes feature the story of a rapacious knight who must ascertain the true desire of women or else forfeit his life, but transposed to a mythic colonial Jamaica instead of the idylls of medieval England.

Smith maintains some key aspects of Chaucer’s original: her dialogue features a rhyme scheme that echoes Chaucer’s poetic meter; her Alvita, played virtuosically by Clare Perkins, is as arresting and entertaining as Chaucer’s Alyson; and her use of [End Page 99] contemporary slang cannily captures the cheek and wit of Chaucer’s pantheon of personalities. In other ways, though, The Wife of Willesden faltered in attempting to transpose its literary source material to the dialogic medium of the stage. Smith’s Alvita was backed up by an ensemble of nine other players who enacted her story as she narrativized it; however, the production at times seemed to reduce the ensemble to dioramic puppets, whose actions merely served as visual aids against which Alvita’s monologue played. In this way, it struck me that the Wife of Bath’s tale would perhaps be in better company not with ensemble-based performance but wit

Reviewed by:

• Mahabharata by Ravi Jain and Miriam Fernandes
• Stephen Low

The Mahabharata is an ancient Sanskrit epic poem that is rarely performed on contemporary stages. Toronto’s Why Not Theatre, in association with the Barbican in London and the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, have brought this Indian epic to life for contemporary audiences.

Director Ravi Jain and associate director Miriam Fernandes adapted the Mahabharata—using poetry from Carole Satyamurti’s Mahabharata: A Modern Retelling (2015)—into a two-part, six-hour theatrical experience. Transforming the Mahabharata—which includes many sacred texts in the Hindu religious tradition, such as the Bhagavad Gita and an abbreviated version of the Ramayana—is a fraught task that involves making difficul choices, especially when it comes to cutting, abridging, and altering language, stories, and ideas that have deep spiritual meaning for many people around the world. As the playwrights’ note for this production contends, there are “as many Mahabharatas as there are storytellers.” This multiplicity is reflected in Jain and Fernandes’ adaption and in a production that was ancient and contemporary, secular and spiritual, earthly and divine.

The first part of this two-part epic, Karma: The Life We Inherit, began with Fernandes, as the Storyteller, stepping into a circle of red sand sprinkled on the stage, with the other members of the cast sitting on stools outside of it. By simply stepping over the perimeter of red sand into the circle, she established the formal performance space. She then lit a flame in a wide-mouthed metal bowl that she placed outside the circle. Fernandes, as the Storyteller, explained to King Janamejaya why he should show mercy to the snakes of the world; he was about to sacrifice several to a holy flame to avenge his father’s death by venomous snakebite. This scenario acted as the framing narrative within which the Storyteller narrated the other tales that make up the Mahabharata. The flame Fernandes lit provided a sense of religious ritual to the proceedings but also stood in for the flame over which the snakes were held aloft as the King considered their fate. This initial framing was represented by a curtain of ropes, echoing the shape of snakes, hanging along the back of the stage. At first, this curtain of ropes appeared to be the sort of backstage mechanism present in any theatre—perhaps cords used to hoist scenery into the fly space above—which had been left exposed. But at a critical moment, they were rais

• Many Rammans in Uttarakhand: Jak and Bhumyal Renditions
• Prateek (bio)

This essay is meant to serve as a compendium to my documentary, Many Rammans in Uttarakhand: Jak and Bhumyal Renditions, which can be accessed here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISJ3Mnea0MU. The film highlights the diversity of the folk performance tradition of Ramman in the Indian hill state of Uttarakhand by analyzing two variants of the ritual, each dedicated to a village patron deity: one to Jak (alternatively known as Jakh) and the other to Bhumyal. Although the tradition is prevalent in many villages in the Garhwal district of Uttarakhand, the documentary focuses on the Ramman (dedicated to Jak) of Jaal Malla and Choumasa, two villages in the Rudraprayag district, and the Ramman (dedicated to Bhumyal) of Salud and Dungra, twin villages in the Chamoli district.

Map of the Jaal Malla, Choumasa, Salud, and Dungra villages in Uttarakhand, India. (Source: Prateek.)

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Before filming, I sought permission to shoot footage in these four villages from the village council or elders. In most cases, I took this permission orally for two reasons: First, the participants felt more comfortable with oral permissions due to my position as a village outsider, as well as their local cultural norms and low literacy rates. Second, some participants insinuated that the written word intruded upon a terrain that venerates the oral traditions of the Himalayas. So, rather than seek written permission, I did what my grandmother, a native of Uttarakhand, taught me: seek the blessing of the village deity in front of those whom I filmed. The villagers also underlined their implicit permission by providing me with accommodation, as these hamlets are in peripheral locations that lack easy road access and hotels.

D. R. Purohit, former faculty member at Hemvati Bahaguna Garhwal University, Srinagar, and a historian of the Garhwal region, provided guidance on identifying the four filming sites, which would have been otherwise difficult to locate. He has remained a significant influence on my ethnographic research. Purohit is a well-regarded expert on Garhwal, with a strong desire to assist other scholars researching the Garhwal region of Uttarakhand. Meanwhile, the credit for the documentary and my ethnographic process goes to my grandmother, Parvati Pandey, who since childhood has enriched me with regional folklore from the hill state while sensitizing me to the nuances of Uttarakhand’s demigods and deities. Her pedagogy instilled in me a critical eye toward oral traditions without succumbing to the desire to sensationalize or exoticize certain rituals, such as the possession ceremony. No

Reviewed by:

• Rediscovering Stanislavsky by Maria Shevtsova
• Alisa Ballard Lin

English-language writings on the work of Konstantin Stanislavsky have been abundant ever since the Moscow Art Theatre (MAT) toured the United States a century ago. But as we now recognize, for decades Stanislavsky was misunderstood as a result of poor translations, Soviet censorship, and distortions of his System by his US continuators. Landmarks in Stan-islavsky scholarship like Sharon Marie Carnicke’s Stanislavsky in Focus (1998; 2nd ed., 2009) have corrected entrenched misbeliefs about Stanislavsky’s work by offering more nuanced and accurate understandings of crucial terms for him such as perezhivanie (experiencing). Maria Shevtsova’s new book, Rediscovering Stanislavsky, is poised to become another such landmark in Stanislavsky scholarship.

As the book promises in its title, Shevtsova offers a thorough reinterpretation of Stanislavsky’s legacy, from his productions at the Society of Art and Literature prior to the MAT’s founding, through his housebound and bed-ridden work at the Opera-Dramatic Studio in the final years of his life. By consulting a range of primary and secondary sources, including archival materials, Shevtsova has uncovered numerous fresh insights into Stanislavsky’s System and its origins, as well as his directorial and pedagogical work, relationship to Soviet politics, and administration of the MAT studios. She portrays Stanislavsky as a sharp and original, highly spiritual thinker who knew how to succeed within his political and social reality.

Shevtsova brings to Stanislavsky the perspective of a scholar of contemporary theatre, and accordingly, she gives continual attention to those aspects of his work that have resonated with more recent directors and actors indebted to him. Overall, her book paints a rich and full picture of Stanislavsky’s wide-ranging career, synthesizing aspects of his life often kept separate or even ignored in scholarship into broadly conceived chapters on contexts, actor, studio, director, and legacy. Shevtsova’s choice to discuss Stanislavsky so comprehensively leads to a rewarding, though sometimes wandering, narrative that integrates Stanislavsky’s personal and professional lives with his cultural context. [End Page 126]

From the beginning, the book establishes Stan-islavsky as a “colossal” innovator (x), and Shevtsova adds much to traditional conceptions of just how Stanislavsky innovated. Particularly radical, she underscores in chapter 1, was his notion of ensemble theatre. Stanislavsky believed in creative collaboration based in shared values among all th

Reviewed by:

• The Theater of Narration: From the Peripheries of History to the Main Stages of Italy by Juliet Guzzetta
• Stefano Boselli

Despite its minimalist setup—consisting mostly of a single performer on stage, sitting on a chair or standing—the Italian theatre of narration exhibits a surprising vitality. Beginning with its earliest solo shows in 1987 and following its rise to national prominence, especially with the first televised performances a decade later and their wide distribution on DVD, the genre importantly speaks to Italians’ experiences and concerns. Juliet Guzzetta argues in The Theater of Narration: From the Peripheries of History to the Main Stages of Italy that because narrators bridge personal life events with those of their local communities in relation to national-level issues, connecting their stories with history at large, these performers’ activities—archival research, interviews, and creative storytelling—are a form of “historical praxis” (6). Akin to the methods of microhistorians such as Carlo Ginzburg and Giovanni Levi, these performances contribute to the reevaluation of history from a plurality of perspectives, emphasizing those of the common folk. Each of the volume’s five chapters brings together the historical, cultural, and theatrical context while referencing critical and performance theory to analyze the genre’s genealogies, unique traits, and particularly remarkable productions.

Guzzetta points out that the Teatro Settimo theatre company was central to the beginnings of the Italian theatre of narration (chapters 1, 2, and 4). It was founded in 1974 by director Gabriele Vacis, performer Laura Curino, designer Lucio Diana, and others in Settimo Torinese, an “industrial wasteland” near Turin (27), at a time of violent social and political upheaval in Italy. Guzzetta underscores three major influences on the company: the politically engaged monologues of Nobel Prize-winning playwright-cum-performer Dario Fo and especially his wife Franca Rame, with their performance setting in close proximity to the audience; Jerzy Grotowski’s Poor Theatre, in its quest for what is truly essential for live performance; and the practice of animazione teatrale (theatrical animation), which, stemming from the 1968 student and workers’ protests, viewed the narrator as a cultural laborer didactically engaged in improving the lives of the underprivileged. Indeed, the company’s first improvised performance, Questa storia non ci piace: Buchiamola! (We Don’t Like This Story: Let’s Punch Holes in It!)—based on interviews

Reviewed by:

• Black Theater, City Life: African American Art Institutions and Urban Cultural Ecologies by Macelle Mahala
• Sandra M. Mayo

Theatre historian and educator Macelle Mahala sharpens our understanding of cultural ecology as she documents the relationship between race, historical moment, and milieu in the perseverance and survival of African American theatres. In Black Theater, City Life: African American Art Institutions and [End Page 127] Urban Cultural Ecologies, Mahala focuses on theatres in Cleveland, Pittsburgh, San Francisco, and Atlanta, chronicling their missions, development, challenges, and memorable productions. She juxtaposes this overview with an analysis of the interrelationship between these arts organizations and the communities they serve.

Mahala’s work addresses the scarcity of scholarship on regional theatres. African American theatre historical narratives have often concentrated on the New York area (e.g., Loften Mitchell’s Black Drama, 1967), have given only a brief review of theatre in the regions outside of New York in larger narratives (e.g., Errol Hill and James Hatch’s A History of African American Theatre, 2003), or have developed the history through the work of major writers (e.g., Leslie Catherine Sanders’s The Development of Black Theater in America, 1988). In this regional focus, Mahala’s book joins Jonathan Shandell’s The American Negro Theatre and the Long Civil Rights Era (2019), Sandra M. Mayo and Elvin Holt’s Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas (2016), and Harvey Young and Queen Meccasia Zabriskie’s Black Theatre Is Black Life: An Oral History of Chicago Theater and Dance, 1970–2010 (2014). An in-depth study of regional theatres, as achieved by Mahala, complements and broadens our understanding of theatre in America. For example, Hill and Hatch’s laudable study of African American theatre has only a few paragraphs on the arts in the Atlanta area. Mahala addresses this paucity with a chapter that addresses production histories, notable artists, and community partnerships in enlightening detail.

Chapter 1 begins the narrative with Karamu House in Cleveland, founded in 1915 as part of the settlement house program designed to help new immigrants acclimate to the city. This summary of over one hundred years surveys the evolution of the institution from a recreation program to a nationally acclaimed theatre, starting with a children’s theatre initiative. Inspired by actor Charles Gilpin of Eugene O’Ne