My World is My Stage

This post is a continuation of a post I wrote on Arena’s New Play Blog.

I’ve really invested a lot of mental space (and there wasn’t really much there to start with) into thinking about festivals. In the #newplay world, it seems to be an integral part of what we do. Everyone is trying to get their plays to these festivals, administrators flock to them like they are some kind of Mecca, and patrons/board members/etc. look to them to get a picture of what new plays are out there. For all intents and purposes, new play festivals must be a big deal. But are they really?

In an interview by the Actor’s Theatre of Louisville, Molly Smith Metzler revealed that Humana is a big deal.

“…I don’t want to seem immodest, but [Humana] is as big a deal as it gets. Everyone wants to be in the Humana Festival and everyone wants to go to the Humana Festival, and, honestly, everyone does go to the Humana Festival…everyone pays attention to Humana and it feels like a New York festival because of how much everyone here in New York cares about it.

So if the artists involved in the festival think it’s a big deal, does that make it a big deal?

Or is it how many productions these plays get from these festivals, is that what makes them a big deal? Most of the literature these festivals put out around their festivals talk about how many productions get done out of these festivals. I would argue with that point. If you take the amount of people who actually attend these festivals and compare that to the number of productions the plays they see actually get, I think the numbers would be fairly laughable. Let’s be honest, plays get produced because of personal relationships the “gatekeepers” (stay on the look-out for a future convening at Arena Stage about this topic) and decision-makers (assuming they aren’t the same person) have with the generative artists. Point-blank period. 

Humana’s stated goal is “to introduce these plays to the world and have them produced in the diverse landscape of the American theatre.” Other festivals intended missions are to expose the field to the best new plays being written in the field. If that’s the case, then what is the purpose of having literary offices? What’s the point of doing scouting? Are festivals only for theaters who don’t have functioning (take that to mean the an absence of one or one that doesn’t do much) literary offices? I don’t mean to sound crass but if we are relying on a few people to pick the best places of the year for the field, we may be operating WAY below our capacities.

Whatever the mission of festivals are, I think we can push their functions. I am a big fan of talking (like you couldn’t tell) and I would LOVE to see more conversations around topics in the #newplay field at all of the festivals. I’d also like to see more conversations about mentorship. I applaud ATL and Humana for having a conversation about the field and mentorship for women, but as I stated on Twitter, a lot of people were left out of the conversation and more questions need to be asked and answered. I think we need to put just as much thought into the ancillary activities at these festivals as we do (supposedly) to the play selection. Doing more of this will increase the importance of these festivals. It would also help create new advocates for new work. We’d educate a larger group of people about the challenges and the success of the field. We’d provide more platforms for field-wide inquiry and discussion. We’d allow more spaces for the young generation to meet and learn from the biggest names in the field. There may be more instances for the young people in the field to have their voices heard (I’d be an advocate for that!). 

Again, I digress. I can talk about these things forever. Ultimately, I enjoy attending all of the #newplay festivals that I’ve been able to attend. I feel truly blessed to attend these festivals where new plays are being presented. Like everything, I think there is room for improvement. I think most people would agree with me. The challenge I put to the field, especially to those who put these festivals together, to think harder about not only the play selection, but the overall purpose of your festivals and things you can do to make these events more profound.

*steps down from soap box*

Molly Smith Metzler’s Elemeno Pea was by far my favorite play of the entire festival. Was it the most well written script? Probably not. Did it feature the best direction? No. Was I blown away by the performances? Not really? So then why was it my favorite? Because it spoke to so many experiences and it seemed like the only play that asked me questions without answering them before I had a chance to.

In the story, Buffalo born Devon and Simone have a sister’s weekend in Martha’s Vineyard where Simone has become the personal assistant to a woman who has married into her wealth. Devon’s first day in the Vineyard everything seems to come to a crashing halt when Simone’s boss, Michaela Kell, finds out she is getting a divorce. Questions about class, race, and the cost of “perfection” are all brought to the front and Molly Smith Metzler asks the audience to draw their own conclusions.

One of the best moments in the play is when Michaela reveals that she had a late term abortion and that decision is what is behind her husband wanting to get the divorce. She reveals that the reason she choose to have the abortion is that after finding out the baby would be a dwarf the husband was insistent on forcing the child to undergo surgeries that would make him “normal” and fit in to the “Martha’s Vineyard Society.” She was unwilling to put her child through that type of pain and scrutiny, so she decided to abort the child. She couldn’t bring up a child in a world that forces you to live up to this false sense of “perfection.” Up until this point, we’ve only seen Michaela as a bitchy, over-indulgent, self-rightous woman who we shouldn’t feel compassion for although Simone insists that she’s a good person. 

Not only did I appreciate the play, I really appreciate all of the material they provided about the writer. Here are a few excerpts:

On her seemingly sterotypical characters:

I think if you only read the first half of the play, you might think it was just a stupid, rich-person comedy. These people aren’t the stereotype you think they are at the top of the play- or that I thought they were at the top of the play. All three of these women surprised me in interesting ways as I got to know them.

Some of my colleagues stayed in the mindset of the first 10 pages. Yes, the broad style in which she chose to (and I don’t think the direction helped out much either) introduce us to the characters did make it hard to like/appreciate them so when the play goes to those emotional places later on, a lot of the audience was there with her. I think Metzler may also speak to another issue; script submission policies, especially first 10 page reads. If someone only read the first few pages of this work, they may (or already may have) passed on it. 

Talking about the play’s concepts and why she wrote it:

…I’ve been thinking about you gain entry into that world; what you give up to be in that world; what it feels like to wake up and live in the houses I saw

The theatre world. Being of that world. What do I have to give up to be there? Am I there? Am I sleeping and waking up in the same glass houses I’ve been throwing stones at? Already? Am I on that path? Do I want to be?

Responding to why she has minimalist stage directions:

I don’t want to be too specific. I’ll write something like “the couch is very confident” and let them figue out what that looks like. I love collaborating; that’s why I’m not a novelist. I love the idea that the four or five of us sit down and realize this world, and I fund that thrilling.

Speaking about the parallels between Simone’s perception of herself as more than an employee and Michaela’s position as a wife but more as a contractor:

One of the things I observed [the summer she worked on Martha’s vineyard] is that if you are magnificently beautiful, like Michaela, you can get in. But if you come in on that boat, it’s a very different game. The “trophy wife” is very different than the “moneyed wife.” It is kind of like being hired because you have a very specific skill set: you have to do four hours of Pilates every day and be gorgeous. It’s very lonely to me because you don’t actually get to make any friends; you don’t have anybody’s respect. It seemed to me a very sad and lonely gig.

She wrote about her experiences and those around her. Why do people of color get demonized when we do the same thing? When majority writers do it, they are “emphasizing the specific in order to highlight the universality” but when POCs do it, they are being too “culturally specific” and not speaking to the greater human race. Explain that too me!