Stage Banter: The Arena Stage Blog

Is there a God in the House?

by David Dower

The post show discussions at The Quality of Life continued to dive deeper into the questions raised by the play. Last night's guest was Professor Terrence Reynolds, professor of theology at Georgetown University.

When I stepped on stage to introduce the professor, I saw the stunned and red-eyed faces of an audience that had just witnessed one of the most commanding performances of the play the actors have given to date. I asked them how they'd liked the show and a huge burst of applause answered for them. People talked about the "catharsis" the play creates, of their amazement at the performances, and when I mentioned playwright Jane Anderson by name another burst of applause even though she wasn't present.  This was a group that had been profoundly touched by the play.

When Professor Reynolds joined me, the conversation jumped immediately into the deep end of the pool. The first question: "So, professor. 9-11. Many of us were saying 'how could God allow such a thing to happen?' And yet, the last words from the men who flew the planes were apparently 'God is great'. How do we reconcile that?"

Mind you, there's nothing about 9-11 in the play. But there are big questions about God and Faith and whether God's hand is in every human action, and "where you go for moral guidance" if you don't believe.   (And a reminder here that the play has an almost alchemical mix of humor and pathos. It's not a heady experience in any way: it manages to touch the heart, the mind, and the funny bone in equal measure. And it makes you want to talk with strangers. So people stay and ask big questions or share intimate doubts.)

Professor Reynolds and the audience proceeded to discuss the question of whether or not God treats believers differently from nonbelievers. And the purpose of a personal relationship with God, if in fact he's unmoved by our belief or behavior. And about autonomy-- whether we have the right to take our own exit from this life and whether we have a responsibility to the potential of our remaining days, the potential to do good. And the difference, if any, between faith and Faith. Oh, and whether the sort of cataclysmic, cathartic, empathic conversation the play depicts-- as heated and clumsy as human interactions so often are-- could have leapt the chasm of their different definitions of faith if the characters hadn't been family. In other words, can the country bridge its own divide without a tie that binds us as firmly as the family bond?

The discussion was going full boil as we approached 11pm. I tried to cut it off, thanking people for coming and asking for their help in spreading the word about the show.  Another round of applause. And people got out of their seats and clumped into small groups, some in the lobby, some in the theater, still wrestling with the implications of God's presence in tragedy, His indifference to belief, and whether or not empathy with people of opposing values was possible. I had to move the groups out to the hallway so the theater staff could go home. The conversations continued, echoing down the empty late night walkways of the Crystal City underground in both directions.

Thanks, Professor Reynolds, for provoking the big questions and for guiding the wrestling that results. This is exactly what we are trying to do with this series of conversations. I hope you, dear reader, will join us for some of them! And, again, thank you Andrew Ammerman for making this series possible.

Virtuous Tolerance

by David Dower

At today's post-show discussion, our guest moderator was Professor James Lamiell, of Georgetown University. He introduced the topic of "Virtuous Tolerance", which is in ample evidence in Jane Anderson's The Quality of Life. Here's a brief synopsis from his writing:

Virtuous tolerance is predicated finally on a genuine respect for human individuality, i.e., on individuals' principled regard for others as people whose thoughts and actions reveal what they as individuals have embraced and rejected in the realm of human values. Unlike mere forbearance, which encourages the uncritical acceptance of 'difference' for its own sake, virtuous tolerance is demanding. It requires the active engagement of each person in the critical appraisal of one's own values and the values of other people, to the end of judging the proper place of those values in the life of the community. In this, tolerance demands that people view other people individually, rather than in the stereotypic fashion licensed by discourse that persistently labels and so encourages the further labeling and subsequent understanding of other people as mere instantiations of demographic categories: gender, race, ethnicity or religious confession.

He spoke about the concept of tolerance as it is currently understood and practiced in our civic relationships as something more akin to forebearance than empathy. A sort of cosmic shrug on differences, an entire country saying to each other "Whatever". Jane Anderson, who joined him on stage, picked up on the notion of Virtuous Tolerance being demanding. She spoke of her own rage at, and dissapproval of, the protesters here last weekend who's dissent took an extreme and alienating form for her at the rally. But she also spoke of learning from her own play, recalling that a few years back she was here marching for Gay Rights in equally strident and alienating terms. "If I don't want people to ridicule and dismiss my values, and my dissent, it is on me to make room for these people to express themselves as well, in their terms." She went on to say that "If you find yourself depressed or losing hope over the tone of the conversation, or worried about our country, you are here in Washington.  You need only walk the mall, go to the Jefferson Memorial and see those big words, see the fabulous minds of our Founding Fathers on display in this city, and you'll know we're on a solid foundation. We're still in good shape."

What's remarkable, and deeply moving, in this play is the way Jane has allowed each of her characters, who are arrayed along a values spectrum from Conservative to Liberal, to be changed by each of the others. The conservative Christian Bill is altered by his Act 2 encounter with the liberal, agnostic Jeanette and finds his way back to a deeper dialogue with his wife. Jeanette, for her part, finally asks Bill for instruction for how to "get out of bed" following a tragic loss. She is able to turn away from her own abyss as a result of their exchange. Even the two characters in the middle of the spectrum grow from the intense give and take of the conversation, with Dinah finding her own spine and voice-- locating herself after being swallowed by her own grief for so long-- and Neil finding the words to both confront and console his own shattered wife, Jeanette.

This, Dr. Lamiell seems to say, is that destination we are seeking-- a place of Virtuous Tolerance. Not simply putting up with each other's differences, but engaging each other as different, and in the process moving each of us to a deeper understanding of our personal complexity as well as the complexity of our culture.

There are more of these stimulating discussions to come. The complete schedule is here. I hope you will join us for one or many of them. These discussions are free and open to the public, but your engagement with them will be greatly impacted by having seen the play beforehand. They are made possible by the deep generosity of Mr. Andrew Ammerman, who has underwritten the entire series of events that constitutes our elaborate and enriching partnership with Georgetown University.

Citizen Reviews: The Quality of Life

It's common practice here at Stage Banter to invite and publish "Citizen Reviews" on the work we produce and present at Arena. The comments are starting to pop up for The Quality of Life and, so far, they are glowing. It is a powerful evening in the theater, and we'd love to hear from you when you've had a chance to catch it. So, as always, the comment window is open and we invite you to leave your thoughts here.

Arlette gave the play Four Stars (of four) in her Goldstar review and writes "Very powerful play. Particularly resonated with my friend and me since we both are facing situations similar to those on stage. It was gut wrenching at times. I want to read the play because there were some unforgettable lines that I am afraid I will forget."

Also at Goldstar, an anonymous poster writes, in another Four Star review, "I really enjoyed this play! It was thought-provoking, emotionally moving, and well-acted."

It is highly unlikely that everyone will have this flat out praise for the show, though based on the comments of people leaving the theater, many will. But we're interested in your thoughts. And don't feel intimidated if you have a wholly different response. This dialogue is all part of the experience we're trying to create for our artists and audiences.

I/Thou and the Quality of Discourse

by David Dower

This whole Van Jones thing has me unsettled. I woke up Sunday morning to see it as a "trending topic" on Twitter. I had met Mr. Jones several times during my Bay Area days and, though I knew he'd joined the administration, had lost track of him. I was startled to see his name there. Not a follower of Glenn Beck, I had no idea he'd become a lightning rod. I clicked on the link and up popped a series of the ugliest little tweets I hope I'll ever read. Talk of "scalping" and "lynching" and "Commies" and "picking 'em off one at a time". Violent, hysterical, hateful stuff.

I then went off to rehearse with Josh Kornbluth for the presentation we did yesterday at the Kennedy Center's Page to Stage Festival. We're working on a piece titled Andy Warhol: Good for the Jews? which we'll premiere at Theater J in the Spring. Josh was riffing on one of the ten portraits of "Jewish geniuses" that Warhol selected for his project. Martin Buber. At the center of Buber's work was the theory of I/Thou. I'm paraphrasing, badly, and over simplifying, but from what I was understanding, Buber was talking about dialogue and relationship, and how when one objectifies another entity (a person, an object, a community, a class) they create an I/It relationship, one which allows the "I" to do or say unspeakable things to the "It". An I/Thou relationship values each as subject, connecting each to the world equally. It seemed to me that empathy, and community, and dialogue all reside an I/Thou approach to the world.

That got me to The Quality of Life, which had its first rehearsal on the set this weekend. I've been talking about how this play makes an entertaining and powerfully moving attempt to create a conversation across the values divide that's so hobbling our nation of late. And I noticed that the I/Thou relationship is at the center of the play's dynamic. In the scenes where the two couples seem to butt heads and bounce off each other, the character of the discussions is one of objectifying the others' values. Conservative Christian Bill calls the Berkeley couple "godless" and "crazy" because they are not guided by the same concept of damnation. Jeanette dismisses them as "Christers" at one point, effectively bottling up the true things they've offered along with the opinions she rejects, and tossing the whole conversation into the recycling.

But then come those moments, which are thrilling, where they approach each other from a place of empathy, from the places which unite them rather than the places that divide them, and it begins to approach the state that Josh describes in his riff on Buber-- that place of I/Thou, which feels like a prayer. Particularly in the second act, where Bill and Jeanette (the "Christer" and the "godless crazy") sit vulnerable with each other and with themselves, and reach for clarity, for direction, for freedom from greif-- they are reaching out, into the night sky, up to the stars. Not with the same rules or belief structures, but reaching and hurting and hoping in equal measure. And the reaching together is comfort. Is an answer. Is a way forward.

Van Jones deserves much better than he's getting here. I promise you. You may disagree with him, but you cannot dismiss him as someone who has earned this spewing of hate. If you have ever come into a dialogue with this person you'd know that. But we all deserve better than an I/It world. I hope you'll join us at the play and the discussions following as we reach, hurting and hoping together, for I/Thou.

The Quality of Life, California Style

by David Dower

How many ways can one play anticipate current events? The headlines and images from the Soutnern California wildfires provide yet another startling connection to the play that is currently loading in to our Crystal City theater. There was already this, and then this, plus there's the whole "Death Panels" mishegos.

But, about those fires. Here's the opening of Jane Anderson's The Quality of Life, as it looks on the page:

ACT I,

SCENE ONE

LIGHTS UP ON a middle-aged couple, DINAH and BILL, sitting in two chairs. He’s a stoic, farm-bred man, a contractor by trade. She’s a housewife with a comfortable figure and a kind, anxious face. He’s reading his paper. She’s knitting -- a bit obsessively.

DINAH

I got a call today from my cousin Jeannette. I finally sent her a note about Cindy. She was so very sorry and sends us all her love.

BILL

Uh-huh.

DINAH

We had a long, long talk. She and her husband are going through their own tragedy right now. You know that big fire out in California a few months ago?

BILL

No, I don't remember.

DINAH

Yes you do. Remember I had said to you, "oh, I wonder if Jeannette and Neil were affected."

BILL

No.

DINAH

Honey, we had a fight about it. You started going on about how people shouldn't live next to uncleared brush and then you went on about earthquakes and what fools the people in San Francisco were to build on landfill and I got mad at you and said you were being a crank and you said don't be such a bleeding heart and I wouldn't talk to you for the rest of the night -- you don't remember that?

BILL

No.

Women in Charge

by David Dower

With all the talk of late in the theater press about the gender gap in American plays and productions, I thought this short clip from the Making of The Quality of Life made a pretty succinct statement about where Arena Stage sits on the issue. Meet Jane, the playwright, Molly, Arena's Artistic Director, and Lisa, the play's director. The Quality of Life follows on the heels of The Legacy of Light, our world premiere of Karen Zacarias' new play. Oh, and no coincidence that Karen Z. is the first Resident Playwright in Arena's new Mellon-sponsored initiative The American Voices New Play Institute. For more on the play and the people behind it, you can now visit the Sub/Text site.

Across the Great Divide

by David Dower

I've been watching the visciously degrading conversation around Health Care Reform over the summer and, among the many emotions it stirs is one of gratitude for the opportunity to do the work I do. Theater sometimes can charge to the rescue.

The Quality of Life seems exquisitely timed, in a way similar to Citizen Josh earlier in the Restaged era. That monologue about participatory democracy (currently touring India, btw) ran in the three weeks prior to the election, in a swing state. Quality arrives at a similarly propitious moment and in a similarly appropriate venue: the center of the debate on Health Care.

Like Josh, Jane has a knack for mining serious and difficult terrain with real humor and a powerful humanity. She's a good writer, as you know if you've seen any of her plays or movies. The writing is crisp and the stories in the play are gripping. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. And it's deeply moving.  You might find yourself so caught up in the characters that you overlook the real achievement in the writing: that she has crafted a play in which opposing points of view on a loaded topic are balanced, debated, and ultimately moved to deeper empathy for each other.

On Life/On Death: A Love Story

by David Dower

This post on Jane Fonda's blog rings with deep resonance to Jane Anderson's beautiful play. I especially love the comments that her post has prompted. The Fonda Jane writes about her practice of imagining her own death and how that sharpens and enriches her focus on her life.  She speaks of the death of her father, the great actor Henry Fonda. Her readers are moved to write in stories of their own, some of them powerful love stories. I imagine that Anderson Jane's character Neil from The Quality of Life and Fonda Jane would have had a deep and beautiful conversation on the topic had they ever met. Perhaps the two Janes will, or have. I am certain that Fonda Jane would fall madly in love with this play if she were to see it. Perhaps she will! (If you're coming, Ms. Fonda, let us know.  We'll show you the birthplace of 33 Variations.)

Arena Restaged Rolls On, Rolls Out

by David Dower

Followers of this blog are used to the Arena Restaged story by now. A quick review for the newcomers.  (And welcome, btw!) Arena is building a new building. The name of it is The Mead Center for American Theater. Over multiple visits, you will see the broad canvas of American work illuminated on the three stages: American classics, contemporary plays and musicals, new works, new forms, from a wide range of cultural perspectives, and works that speak in the distinctive voices of the many regions of the country where theater is alive and thriving.  We are also restaging our purpose and role in American theater with the launch of the new building, committed to making the Mead Center a place for production, presentation, development, and study of American theater. Arena Stage: Where American Theater Lives.

Did you see the news? Thanks to the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation's support, we've launched the American Voices New Play Institute as another significant step in the metamorphosis of Arena Stage as we prepare to head back to 6th & Maine, SW next summer. I'll write in detail about the purpose and strategy of the Institute over at the NPDP blog. But I wanted our readers to have a sense of what this is going to mean to patrons of Arena Stage.

There are going to be many, many opportunities to intersect with the programs of the Institute. One I'm most looking forward to is the Theater 101 program. Modeled on the highly successful program developed at Steppenwolf, it creates a kind of radical transparency for 100 audience members, using the new play development process as an open lab for understanding what it takes to get a play from idea to production. An extended seminar for the theater-curious, the "101ers" will have access to the entire planning, rehearsal, tech, and performance process of a series of works in development. Participants will be in the room when the plays are chosen, when the creative teams are formed, for the auditions, the rehearsals, and the techs. They will have regular discussions with the writers and theater staff about how and why these particular decisions are being made.  And they will see the plays together at the end of the process and talk with Arena staff and the artists about them.

Road Trip: June, 2009

by David Dower

Regular readers of this blog (hi, Mom...) know that part of my role as the Associate Artistic Director of Arena Stage is scouting-- regular bursts of travel around the country to catch up on significant new works of American theater. I feel privileged to be able to get this view of the nation's theater community. I especially look forward to the days of the Mead Center, when you'll be able to get closer to this experience yourself, without ever leaving the city. We're working on a number of different strategies for bringing you the broad canvas of American work in the new digs, but for the next little while I'll try to stay current on these road trip reports.

June has started with a bang! Literally.

I started last week in Los Angeles.  I was there to see the last performance of Rajiv Joseph's Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo at Center Theater Group's Kirk Douglas Theater.  Tiger was one of the two selections for the Outstanding New American Play from the NEA NPDP (a program we chronicle extensively here). The production was directed by Moises Kaufman (33 Variations, Laramie Project) and was startlingly beautiful for a play about the darkness in-- and damage to-- the spirit in a time/place of war. The onstage gunshots and the explosive interplay of disturbing images and ideas kept jolting me out of my seat. From the looks of the packed house full of LA somebodies, this play is going to have a longer life in the region. The play also sends up a bright flare to the field: Mr. Joseph has some things to say and we will be hearing much, much more from him. You'll have a chance to catch up with this play yourself when Arena presents the culminating festival of the first round of NPDP projects at the Mead Center, if we don't see a full production in this area first, that is.