STUDY GUIDE for Dramatic Literature Exam

PLAYS

Man in a Case by Wendy Wasserstein

• based on the short story of the same title by Anton Chekhov

• different from the short story in that it focuses primarily on showcasing the dynamic between Varinka and Byelinkov, whereas the original story emphasizes the internal struggles of the characters from the town’s perspective, mainly being the story of Byelinkov.

• Explores themes of societal pressures and personal freedom.

Conflict

• The play hones in on the complex dynamic between Varinka and Byelinkov. It shows audiences an interpretation of how they would’ve actually interacted with one another, something which is not detailed in Chekhov’s original version.

Characters

• Byelinkov: a reclusive schoolteacher who struggles with social interactions and the constraints of his own emotional barriers.

• Varinka: a lively and free-spirited woman who challenges Byelinkov's worldview and encourages him to break free from his self-imposed isolation.

Setting

• Russia, 1898. A small garden.

The Afterlife by Gary Soto

Characters

• Chuy: Protagonist. Age 17. Latino. Upbeat and energetic. Murdered over an unintended slight in the bathroom of a nightclub near the beginning of the play, becoming a ghost.

• Crystal: Age 17. Chuy’s love interest in the afterlife. Latina. She is devastated by her college rejection letter, and when she compares herself to her sisters, Crystal sees herself as a failure. She also falls victim to body shaming on social media. Losing hope, she overdoses. Like Chuy, she becomes a ghost in the afterlife.

Premise

• 17-year-old Mexican American Chuy is murdered for no good reason in a club bathroom in Fresno, California.

• He then becomes a ghost. The play follows him through his afterlife as he witnesses the aftermath of his death.

• Other key events include: His encounters with his killer and other ghosts, his romance with Crystal, and his journey of self-discovery and finding meaning in life and death. 

A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen

Characters

• Torvald Helmer: Nora’s husband. Torvald delights in his new position at the bank, just as he delights in his position of authority as a husband. He treats Nora like a child, in a manner that is both kind and patronizing. He does not view Nora as an equal but rather as a plaything or doll to be teased and admired. In general, Torvald is overly concerned with his place and status in society, and he allows his emotions to be swayed heavily by the prospect of society’s respect and the fear of society’s scorn.

• Nora: The protagonist of the play and the wife of Torvald Helmer. Mother of three children. Nora initially seems like a playful, naïve child who lacks knowledge of the world outside her home. She does have some worldly experience, however, and the small acts of rebellion in which she engages indicate that she is not as innocent or happy as she appears. She comes to see her position in her marriage with increasing clarity and finds the strength to free herself from her oppressive situation.

• Nils Krogstad: A lawyer who went to school with Torvald and holds a subordinate position at Torvald’s bank. Krogstad’s character is contradictory: though his bad deeds seem to stem from a desire to protect his children from scorn, he is perfectly willing to use unethical tactics to achieve his goals. His willingness to allow Nora to suffer is despicable, but his claims to feel sympathy for her and the hard circumstances of his own life compel us to sympathize with him to some degree.

• Mrs. Linde: Nora’s childhood friend. Kristine Linde is a practical, down-to-earth woman, and her sensible worldview highlights Nora’s somewhat childlike outlook on life. Mrs. Linde’s account of her life of poverty underscores the privileged nature of the life that Nora leads. Also, we learn that Mrs. Linde took responsibility for her sick parent, whereas Nora abandoned her father when he was ill.

• Doctor Rank: Torvald’s best friend. Dr. Rank stands out as the one character in the play who is by and large unconcerned with what others think of him. He is also notable for his stoic acceptance of his fate. Unlike Torvald and Nora, Dr. Rank admits to the diseased nature (literally, in his case) of his life. For the most part, he avoids talking to Torvald about his imminent death out of respect for Torvald’s distaste for ugliness.

Premise/Plot

A Doll’s House opens on Christmas Eve. Nora Helmer enters her well-furnished living room—the setting of the entire play—carrying several packages. Torvald Helmer, Nora’s husband, comes out of his study when he hears her arrive. He greets her playfully and affectionately, but then chides her for spending so much money on Christmas gifts. Their conversation reveals that the Helmers have had to be careful with money for many years, but that Torvald has recently obtained a new position at the bank where he works that will afford them a more comfortable lifestyle.

Helene, the maid, announces that the Helmers’ dear friend Dr. Rank has come to visit. At the same time, another visitor has arrived, this one unknown. To Nora’s great surprise, Kristine Linde, a former school friend, comes into the room. The two have not seen each other for years, but Nora mentions having read that Mrs. Linde’s husband passed away a few years earlier. Mrs. Linde tells Nora that when her husband died, she was left with no money and no children. Nora tells Mrs. Linde about her first year of marriage to Torvald. She explains that they were very poor and both had to work long hours. Torvald became sick, she adds, and the couple had to travel to Italy so that Torvald could recover.

Nora inquires further about Mrs. Linde’s life, and Mrs. Linde explains that for years she had to care for her sick mother and her two younger brothers. She states that her mother has passed away, though, and that the brothers are too old to need her. Instead of feeling relief, Mrs. Linde says she feels empty because she has no occupation; she hopes that Torvald may be able to help her obtain employment. Nora promises to speak to Torvald and then reveals a great secret to Mrs. Linde—without Torvald’s knowledge, Nora illegally borrowed money for the trip that she and Torvald took to Italy; she told Torvald that the money had come from her father. For years, Nora reveals, she has worked and saved in secret, slowly repaying the debt, and soon it will be fully repaid.

Krogstad, a low-level employee at the bank where Torvald works, arrives and proceeds into Torvald’s study. Nora reacts uneasily to Krogstad’s presence, and Dr. Rank, coming out of the study, says Krogstad is “morally sick.” Once he has finished meeting with Krogstad, Torvald comes into the living room and says that he can probably hire Mrs. Linde at the bank. Dr. Rank, Torvald, and Mrs. Linde then depart, leaving Nora by herself. Nora’s children return with their nanny, Anne-Marie, and Nora plays with them until she notices Krogstad’s presence in the room. The two converse, and Krogstad is revealed to be the source of Nora’s secret loan.

Krogstad states that Torvald wants to fire him from his position at the bank and alludes to his own poor reputation. He asks Nora to use her influence to ensure that his position remains secure. When she refuses, Krogstad points out that he has in his possession a contract that contains Nora’s forgery of her father’s signature. Krogstad blackmails Nora, threatening to reveal her crime and to bring shame and disgrace on both Nora and her husband if she does not prevent Torvald from firing him. Krogstad leaves, and when Torvald returns, Nora tries to convince him not to fire Krogstad, but Torvald will hear nothing of it. He declares Krogstad an immoral man and states that he feels physically ill in the presence of such people.

Act Two opens on the following day, Christmas. Alone, Nora paces her living room, filled with anxiety. Mrs. Linde arrives and helps sew Nora’s costume for the ball that Nora will be attending at her neighbors’ home the following evening. Nora tells Mrs. Linde that Dr. Rank has a mortal illness that he inherited from his father. Nora’s suspicious behavior leads Mrs. Linde to guess that Dr. Rank is the source of Nora’s loan. Nora denies Mrs. Linde’s charge but refuses to reveal the source of her distress. Torvald arrives, and Nora again begs him to keep Krogstad employed at the bank, but again Torvald refuses. When Nora presses him, he admits that Krogstad’s moral behavior isn’t all that bothers him—he dislikes Krogstad’s overly familiar attitude. Torvald and Nora argue until Torvald sends the maid to deliver Krogstad’s letter of dismissal.

Torvald leaves. Dr. Rank arrives and tells Nora that he knows he is close to death. She attempts to cheer him up and begins to flirt with him. She seems to be preparing to ask him to intervene on her behalf in her struggle with Torvald. Suddenly, Dr. Rank reveals to Nora that he is in love with her. In light of this revelation, Nora refuses to ask Dr. Rank for anything.

Once Dr. Rank leaves, Krogstad arrives and demands an explanation for his dismissal. He wants respectability and has changed the terms of the blackmail: he now insists to Nora not only that he be rehired at the bank but that he be rehired in a higher position. He then puts a letter detailing Nora’s debt and forgery in the Helmers’ letterbox. In a panic, Nora tells Mrs. Linde everything, and Mrs. Linde instructs Nora to delay Torvald from opening the letter as long as possible while she goes to speak with Krogstad. In order to distract Torvald from the letterbox, Nora begins to practice the tarantella she will perform at that evening’s costume party. In her agitated emotional state, she dances wildly and violently, displeasing Torvald. Nora manages to make Torvald promise not to open his mail until after she performs at the party. Mrs. Linde soon returns and says that she has left Krogstad a note but that he will be gone until the following evening.

The next night, as the costume party takes place upstairs, Krogstad meets Mrs. Linde in the Helmers’ living room. Their conversation reveals that the two had once been deeply in love, but Mrs. Linde left Krogstad for a wealthier man who would enable her to support her family. She tells Krogstad that now that she is free of her own familial obligations and wishes to be with Krogstad and care for his children. Krogstad is overjoyed and says he will demand his letter back before Torvald can read it and learn Nora’s secret. Mrs. Linde, however, insists he leave the letter, because she believes both Torvald and Nora will be better off once the truth has been revealed.

Soon after Krogstad’s departure, Nora and Torvald enter, back from the costume ball. After saying goodnight to Mrs. Linde, Torvald tells Nora how desirable she looked as she danced. Dr. Rank, who was also at the party and has come to say goodnight, promptly interrupts Torvald’s advances on Nora. After Dr. Rank leaves, Torvald finds in his letterbox two of Dr. Rank’s visiting cards, each with a black cross above the name. Nora knows Dr. Rank’s cards constitute his announcement that he will soon die, and she informs Torvald of this fact. She then insists that Torvald read Krogstad’s letter.

Torvald reads the letter and is outraged. He calls Nora a hypocrite and a liar and complains that she has ruined his happiness. He declares that she will not be allowed to raise their children. Helene then brings in a letter. Torvald opens it and discovers that Krogstad has returned Nora’s contract (which contains the forged signature). Overjoyed, Torvald attempts to dismiss his past insults, but his harsh words have triggered something in Nora. She declares that despite their eight years of marriage, they do not understand one another. Torvald, Nora asserts, has treated her like a “doll” to be played with and admired. She decides to leave Torvald, declaring that she must “make sense of [her]self and everything around her.” She walks out, slamming the door behind her.

At a Glance

• Full title: A Doll’s House

  Author: Henrik Ibsen

  Type of work: Play

  Genre: Realistic, modern prose drama

  Tone: Serious, intense, somber

  Setting (time): Presumably around the late1870s

  Setting (place): Norway

  
  

Native Gardens by Karen Zacarias

Premise/Plot

Quick Synopsis: In the suburbs of Washington D.C., a high-powered lawyer named Pablo and his very pregnant, doctoral candidate wife named Tania, have just purchased their dream home. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but luckily Tania is a brilliant gardener and plans to transform their outdoor space into a beautiful native garden. Their new next-door neighbor, Frank, is a gardener himself and spends most of his time nurturing his non-native garden to win the annual gardening competition in the neighborhood. Frank and his wife Virginia have lived here for a long time and welcome Pablo and Tania with open arms. However, when Pablo invites his whole law firm over for a BBQ, Tania and Pablo set to work on building a fence and discover that their property line is 2 feet into Frank’s beloved garden. This creates friction between the neighbors and an all-out border dispute erupts. The two couples show their true colors and it is unclear who will win the war.

Overview: Native Gardens is a 90-minute one-act (split into two acts for this production) that follows two sets of couples who live beside each other in a lush, historic D.C. neighborhood. Frank and Virginia Butley are an elderly white couple whose son has aged and moved out of the house they’ve lived in for decades. Frank spends most of his free time perfecting his manicured garden, a pastime he hopes will relieve his chronic stress and win him an award from the Potomac Horticultural Society.

New next door are Tania and Pablo Del Valle, a Latinx couple in their early 30s. They’re expecting their first child and have big plans for their fixer-upper, including a “native garden” made of plants indigenous to the environment. The idea is the brainchild of Tania, a Ph.D. candidate in the thick of identity experiments for her doctoral dissertation in anthropology. As she explains in the play, “I am interested in origins, and when we claim them and when we stop.” Pablo is a lawyer with dreams of making partner at his new firm—an ambition that gives him the idea of inviting his entire 60-person firm to their not-yet-fixed-up fixer upper. 

That’s where the fence comes in.

With Frank and Virginia’s blessing, Tania and Pablo plan to replace the run-down chain-link fence that separates the two yards with “the kind of stately wood fence a law firm would appreciate,” as Pablo puts it. But after examining the plan for their yard, the Del Valles discover they’re entitled to more space than currently demarcated—two feet, to be precise. But moving the fence to claim those two feet promises to ruin Frank’s garden just days before his competition, while keeping it where it is robs the Del Valles of their rightful property.

The ensuing fight over the fence’s true location is riddled with racism, ageism, microaggressions, and questions of who can (and should) claim ownership of land. Some lines read like they’re ripped from the headlines (and they are).

Declares Tania to Frank and Virginia: “I’m building my fence to keep you out!” 

Adds Pablo, “And you’re going to pay for it.”

In the end, the neighbors are able to come together for the greater good with a happy compromise. Pablo and Tania do not erect a fence. Frank and Virginia agree to a happy compromise, an indigenous bush instead of a fence between the two houses’ gardens.

Characters

Tania Del Valle: Tania is a pregnant doctoral candidate who is determined to fix up her fixer-upper with a native garden. Bright, energetic, naturally optimistic, she wants to co-exist with the neighbors but is fiercely protective of her ideas and values

Pablo Del Valle: Pablo is an ambitious and successful attorney trying to make partner by “fitting in” and hosting a BBQ for the entire firm in his unkempt backyard. He is smart, argumentative, generally tolerant and willing to overlook a lot until he is pushed over the edge by the Butleys.

Virginia Butley: Virginia is a female executive working for a large defense contractor in the DC area. Friendly and civil, her opinions are well engrained and she will fight ruthlessly to protect her turf.

Frank Butley: Frank is a gentle and sensitive soul who has devoted himself to his pristine English garden in his retirement. He wants to get along with the neighbors but cannot embrace a native garden next door.

Significant Article

MINUTES AFTER HEARING NATIVE GARDENS read aloud by her cast for the first time, director Melissa Crespo wanted to talk about neighbors. "I'm one of those people who likes to know who I'm living near," she said to the cast following the table read. It was Jan. 22, the day after Martin Luther King Jr. Day and 32 days into the nation's longest-ever government shutdown, which would last 3 more days. Some 800,000 federal employees were with- out a paycheck for much the same reason Crespo and her cast sat around a table in Syracuse, N.Y.: a border dispute between neighbors. "Walls are very much in our lives right now-they're constantly being talked about," Crespo said after the reading in the Syracuse Stage rehearsal room while Lulu, her rescued Basset Hound mix, sat on her lap. The Brooklyn-based director is at the helm of a three- way co-production of Native Gardens, which first ran at Syracuse Stage Feb. 13-March 3, would move on to the Geva Theatre Cen- ter in Rochester, New York March 26-April 21, and will wrap its run on Portland Center Stage's U.S. Bank Main Stage May 18-June 16. Along with Crespo, the four lead actors-Anne-Marie Cusson, Paul DeBoy, Erick González, and Monica Rae Summers Gonzalez- are traveling with the production to all three locations. The silent Latinx gardener roles are cast locally in each city (in Syracuse they were played by Baker Adames, Luis A. Figuerosa Rosado, Aaron J. Mavins, Isabel Rodriguez, and Devante Vanderpool). After hearing Native Gardens read aloud by her cast for the first time, director Melissa Crespo wanted to talk about neighbors. "I'm one of those people who likes to know who I'm living near," she said to the cast following the table read. It was Jan. 22, the day after Martin Luther King Jr. Day and 32 days into the nation's longest-ever government shutdown, which would last 3 more days. Some 800,000 federal employees were with- out a paycheck for much the same reason Crespo and her cast sat around a table in Syracuse, N.Y.: a border dispute between neighbors. "Walls are very much in our lives right now-they're constantly being talked about," Crespo said after the reading in the Syracuse Stage rehearsal room while Lulu, her rescued Basset Hound mix, sat on her lap. The Brooklyn-based director is at the helm of a three- way co-production of Native Gardens, which first ran at Syracuse Stage Feb. 13-March 3, would move on to the Geva Theatre Cen- ter in Rochester, New York March 26-April 21, and will wrap its run on Portland Center Stage's U.S. Bank Main Stage May 18-June 16. Along with Crespo, the four lead actors-Anne-Marie Cusson, Paul DeBoy, Erick González, and Monica Rae Summers Gonzalez- are traveling with the production to all three locations. The silent Latinx gardener roles are cast locally in each city (in Syracuse they were played by Baker Adames, Luis A. Figuerosa Rosado, Aaron J. Mavins, Isabel Rodriguez, and Devante Vanderpool). Native Gardens has been wildly popular among regional the- atres, sliding into the eighth slot of the American Theatre's Top 10. A 3-theatre co-production of Karen Zacarías's 'Native Gardens' sparks dialogue about border disputes and neighborly conduct PRODUCTION NOTEBOOK Most Produced Plays of the 2018-19 season, with a dozen produc- tions at TCG member theatres. Penned by one of the 10 female writers on that list, it helped earn Zacarías the fifth spot on another of AT's lists, the Top 20 Most-Produced Playwrights of 2018-19. Both lists were the most diverse they've ever been, with Zacarías one of 6 playwrights of color and 11 women on the playwrights' list. Native Gardens also marks a breakthrough for the 45-year-old Syracuse Stage: It's the theatre's first creative team entirely com- posed of women of color. This includes Zacarías, who was born in Mexico and lives with her family in Washington, D.C. "It's an over- due milestone for our theatre," said Robert Hupp, now in his third season as Syracuse's artistic director. Hupp said the theatre did not set out to assemble a team solely of women of color-it just hap- pened. "We did set out intentionally to assemble an outstanding team of inspiring designers," he said. That team includes, along with Crespo, scenic designer Shoko Kambara, costume designer Lux Haac, lighting designer Dawn Chi- ang, and sound designer Elisheba Ittoop. "I personally love work- ing on all-female teams," Crespo enthused. "I don't know why, but the communication's easier for some reason. We all come to each other with greater respect and understanding and collaboration." Native Gardens is a 90-minute one-act (split into two acts for this production) that follows two sets of couples who live beside each other in a lush, historic D.C. neighborhood. Frank and Vir- ginia Butley are an elderly white couple whose son has aged and moved out of the house they've lived in for decades. Frank spends most of his free time perfecting his manicured garden, a pastime he hopes will relieve his chronic stress and win him an award from the Potomac Horticultural Society. New next door are Tania and Pablo Del Valle, a Latinx cou- ple in their early 30s. They're expecting their first child and have big plans for their fixer-upper, including a "native garden" made of plants indigenous to the environment. The idea is the brainchild of Tania, a Ph.D. candidate in the thick of identity experiments for her doctoral dissertation in anthropology. As she explains in the play, "I am interested in origins, and when we claim them and when we stop." Pablo is a lawyer with dreams of making partner at his new firm-an ambition that gives him the idea of inviting his entire 60-person firm to their not-yet-fixed-up fixer upper. That's where the fence comes in. With Frank and Virginia's blessing, Tania and Pablo plan to replace the run-down chain- link fence that separates the two yards with "the kind of stately wood fence a law firm would appreciate," as Pablo puts it. But after examining the plan for their yard, the Del Valles discover they're entitled to more space than currently demarcated-two feet, to be precise. But mov- ing the fence to claim those two feet promises to ruin Frank's garden just days before his competition, while keeping it where it is robs the Del Valles of their rightful property. The ensuing fight over the fence's true location is riddled with racism, ageism, microaggressions, and questions of who can (and should) claim ownership of land. Some lines read like they're ripped from the headlines (and they are). Declares Tania to Frank and Virginia: "I'm building my fence to keep you out!" Adds Pablo, "And you're going to pay for it." THE SEED FOR NATIVE GARDENS WAS PLANTED AT A DIN- ner party. Zacarías was looking for ideas for a play she was writing for Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, and a friend told her, "kind of jokingly, 'Oh, you should write about me, I'm in a fight with my neighbors,'" Zacarías recalled. As the friend described the fight, other party guests chimed in with their own tales of neighborhood squab- bles. The stories were both "absurd" and "really stressful," she said. While the stories were told with laughter, they stuck with the playwright. "All of those fights are so primal and poetic and absurd in some ways," Zacarías said. "But the consequences were really real and emotionally upsetting. And I kept thinking, Wow, it's almost like every single battle between nations or tribes, etc., boils down to this fight about property and culture, in a sense." The play also gave Zacarías a platform for creating Latinx char- acters who are seldom seen onstage. "I was over the moon about the fact that I got to play a smart, passionate Latina who was very educated and I didn't have to put an accent on for," said Summers Gonzalez, who plays Tania. It also could hardly be better timed. Though Zacarías wrote the play long before Donald Trump even began talking about building a wall, obviously, she said, "There's been something in the atmo- sphere for much longer that made this comedy about gardening and planting and building a fence have a much deeper resonance." Since the play premiered at Cincinnatti Playhouse in January 2016, Zacarías has peppered the script with details that deepened its connection to current events, particularly as Trump's wall entered the national conversation and the piece grew and moved on to larger productions. (That's where the "you'll pay for it" line came from.) The text is now in its final, ready-to-publish form. Native Gardens drew Hupp's attention in January 2018 as he programmed the next season. The play addressed "issues that our season wasn't confronting that I wanted us to talk about," he said. No one involved knew that the president's demand for a wall would effectively shut down the government by year's end. But of course, as in real life, a wall is not just a wall; it's also a metaphor for fear of the unknown, for cultural differences, and for the toxicity of divisions. Though unlike in real life, the play is actually intentionally funny. MONTHS BEFORE THE CAST WAS ASSEMBLED, IN AUGUST 2018, Syracuse Stage brought the Native Gardens design team together. The theatre organized a design conference, providing two 34 AMERICANTHEATRE MAY/JUNE1 9 days of meetings for each designer to share their vision of the play. "It's such an important part of the process, where we get to just be in a room together and dream up the show and then start put- ting the logistics on it," Elisheba Ittoop said. It was then that Crespo discovered that in addition to doing sound design, Ittoop composes music, and asked her to craft music for the scenic transitions. Many of the transitions contain short vignettes in which the neighbors quietly stir the pot-such as throw- ing acorns from one yard to the other-or the Latinx gardeners bring in some plants, take others out, or bring in supplies to build the wood fence. Ittoop tends to compose original music for shows she works on to help defray the costs of pre-recorded music. It also gives her the flexibility to cut or manipulate the music in any way needed. "I do care about artists getting fairly compensated for their music," she said. "I'm less and less interested in putting up music that's not paid for, that we haven't gotten the rights for. And I'm more interested in creating, crafting something that's specifically for our show." Crespo and Ittoop worked together to translate each character musically. For the aging Butleys, they chose an elegant and classical sound. Ittoop described this music to the theatre's marketing team as "a little bit of a raised eyebrow," drawing inspiration from Mark Mothersbaugh's score for The Royal Tenenbaums. For the young, vibrant Del Valles, Ittoop steered clear of the obvious choice of using Latin music to characterize a Latinx cou- ple. "That's not really interesting to me, and I think that also goes in to stereotypes really quickly," she said. Instead, Ittoop focused on the feeling of disruption that comes along with the Del Valles' pres- ence. A marching band, she and Crespo determined, would evoke this mood, citing the way the CW television show "Jane the Virgin" uses a marching band for many of its musical transitions. Ittoop also drew inspiration from the theme of NBC's "Parks and Recreation." Hints for Shoko Kambara's scenic design appear to be embed- ded in the text: Tania and Pablo refer to their "patched grass," a gnome, and a majestic oak tree, among other items, giving Kam- bara a vision of how their yard should appear. "It's like reading a murder mystery where you have to collect the clues," Kambara said. After researching neighborhoods in Washington, D.C., Kam- bara settled on row houses for each couple. The Butleys' home was modern and renovated, complete with a back deck, while the Del Valles' appeared to have not seen attention in years. Kambara cre- ated two houses very similar in design, as though the Del Valle house is what the Butleys' would look like prior to renovation. "Probably, in that neighborhood, they're all the same, and then everyone adds their little flavor to it," Kambara said. While much of the material for the Butleys' house could be found online, the Del Valles' had to be custom-made to appear old and run-down. And then there's Frank's garden. While Crespo and Kambara researched many of the flowers mentioned in the play, finding the silk form of all the flowers for Frank's garden was too costly, so they focused more on the color palette than the actual type of flower. "I tried to keep the larger flower beds in a tighter color palette, so it wasn't too dis- tracting," Kambara said. "I didn't want it to look like a birthday cake, like confetti." A special custom mix- ture of fake dirt was con- cocted by the props depart- ment to avoid the bugs and mud that real dirt would bring. A dry mixture of coco- nut fiber substrate, dark ground cork, buckwheat hulls, and light ground cork, it was mixed together and combined with corn starch, soap, and water. "I actually garden myself, so when I tested it I was like, 'This is what my hands look like when I dig in my garden," prop supervisor Mary Houston explained. At each performance, flowers get yanked and portions of the garden are torn up. So Kambara designated specific flowers-com- plete with fake roots and dirt-that could be pulled out. Actors were instructed which parts of the garden they could destroy, and which had to remain intact. "Part of the trick is to make Frank's yard so tightly designed that even a little shift in it will [cause dis- ruption]," Kambara said. She was also tasked with creating a set that could not only travel but fit inside a few different theatres. "It's designed for three spaces, and we slightly shift the downstage area in each venue," Kambara said. "But it's almost the same." A significant element of Kambara's scenery was the towering oak tree, requiring close collaboration with lighting designer Dawn Chiang to ensure the foliage didn't get in the way of the lighting instruments. After working with Syracuse Stage's technical director Randall Steffen, Kambara and Chiang were able to get the leaves high enough to allow for light to seep through. Chiang's lighting bounces between daytime, nighttime, and short vignettes performed during transitions. And it varies slightly with each theatre, due to differences in equipment. Chiang and Ittoop MAY/JUNE19 AMERICANTHEATRE 35 Top: Lux Haac's costume renderings. Bottom, from left: Anne-Marie Cusson, Paul DeBoy, Erick González, and Monica Rae Summers Gonzalez. Shoko Kambara's set rendering. DeBoy and Gonzalez. are the only mem- bers of the design team who are going to each theatre to help ready the show. "Because [lighting instruments are] so unique to every venue that you go to, I have to go because I have to reposition everything and re- cue everything," Chiang said. Cre- spo will also travel to Rochester and Portland to direct each city's new batch of gardeners. Color played an integral role in how costumer designer Lux Haac helped tell the play's story. "The thing that was important to Melissa and I when we started this was just really making sure that these were real people and that they came across as very genuine, and that that came through in the costumes," Haac said. Not unlike their theme music, the refined lifestyle of the But- leys was also reflected through color. "The Butleys' garden is much more traditional, which led to their costumes being more conser- vative," Haac explained. Haac's inspiration also came from the characters' relationships to their gardens. For Tania, she used a vibrant, vivid color palette that reflected Tania's high energy and the new life she's starting with Pablo. "She is dressing for the garden she aspires to have," Haac said. She dressed the Butleys in a more subdued palette that con- trasted with their colorful garden. Despite all the pronounced conflicts among these characters, reflected in the show's design, Crespo stressed to the whole team the importance of conveying that the characters all like each other and take every action with good intentions. This is key during the couples' first meeting, where, "in the wrong hands, the begin- ning of the play can really go south very quickly," Crespo said. Summers Gonzalez admits that, in the early stages of rehearsal, she was working too hard to communicate that Tania did not agree with the Butleys. Instead of instilling Tania with nuance, she came across as somewhat of a know- it-all. She knew she needed to make an adjustment to align with Crespo's vision and the intent of the play. "All of these characters are good human beings," Summers Gonzalez said. "You can be a really great person and not necessarily agree with how someone lives their life, but that doesn't mean that you need to make that apparent." This is evident in the character descriptions that Zacarías pro- vides in the beginning of the script, which begin the same way for every character: "Smart, likeable." There are no easy villains here. "All of these characters, they want to do the best they can and no one wants to offend the other," Gonzalez said. "Everyone wants to get along." And unlike in real life, both parties are willing to work together and compromise to reach a happy ending. NATIVE GARDENS MET ITS BUDGETED SALES GOAL FOR its Syracuse run by Feb. 13, the first day of previews and two days before the play officially opened at the 499-seat Archbold Theatre. "That is a relatively unheard-of statistic for us, for a play to achieve its full goal before opening night," Hupp said. To him, the box office numbers indicate "a desire to confront these issues." This desire was reflected in the play's reviews, which were over- whelmingly positive. In a review for the city's local news site, Syra- cuse.com, Linda Lowen called the comedy "an upbeat workout of the funny bone, releasing the sort of toxins we'd all be better off without." It was not lost on Lowen that it was a work from a design team entirely of women of color. "What happens onstage isn't the only political statement being made by Native Gardens," she wrote. Native Gardens's official opening on Feb. 15 landed on the day Trump declared a national emergency to access the funds he says he needs to build his wall. "It felt very eerie," Crespo said of the play's timing with current events. At the same time, as she listened to audiences laugh and react around her, she realized, "It's good that the play is there for people to have an outlet to talk about it." But it wasn't just laughter that stuck with Summers Gonzalez. After one performance, she recalled, a Latina audience member began to cry while speaking to her. "She was like, 'You don't know how much it means to see someone like me onstage,'" Gonzalez recalled. To which she responded: "I'm right there with you." Maggie Gilroy, a former intern of this magazine, is a news reporter for The Press & Sun-Bulletin in Binghamton, N.Y. In 2015 she interned for Syracuse Stage's dramaturgy dept. 36 AMERICANTHEATRE MAY/JUNE1 9 MICHAEL DAVIS MICHAEL DAVIS Top: González and Gonzalez. Bottom: Cusson, DeBoy, and Gonzalez. Copyright of American Theatre is the property of Theatre Communications Group and its content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use.

Pass Over by Antoinette Nwandu

Characters:

Moses: Hardened with rage by the life of the street, filled with racist gut-punches and a lifetime of hard-luck. His resentment for the state of his world stokes his passion for plotting, planning and dreaming of escape away from his street corner, across the river and into the land of milk and honey.

Kitch: A sweet-tempered, life-loving, humorous extrovert. He passes the time with Moses on the street corner, c

onversing with him and trying to help both of them get to a better place.

Mister: A preppy young white man with an, at first, innocuous demeanor. His name is pronounced “Master.” He is cordial, polite, and friendly initially, but overall represents a specific white perspective, uncaring (or, in some versions downright hateful) towards black people.

Setting

Program notes indicate that the playwright wants you to recognize that the contemporary street where Moses’s feet are deeply sunk into the cement also stands in for a slave plantation, “a desert city built by slaves” and a future world to come.

From a literal staging standpoint, this entire play takes place on what looks like a modern city street corner.

Premise/Plot

Synopsis: Two young black men, Moses and Kitch, talk about someday reaching the Promised Land as the story harks back to ancient Egypt and the antebellum South. Layers of history, enslavement, and the fight for liberation fold into each other as the two characters pass the time. Moses is full of rage for the brutally racist cards the pair has been dealt in their world. Like his friend, Kitch is desperate to get off the street corner and begin his life, but something keeps him rooted in place. If it isn’t gunshots, it’s a racist cop, etc.

Overview: Inspired by Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, Antoinette Nwandu’s Pass Over is the story of two young black men, Moses and Kitch, who are forever stuck in a cyclical existential conundrum: How do we get off this street corner and into paradise? They swap visions of the “promised land” imagining all the delights that await them there. Enter a white man, Mister, (pronounced “Master”) startling Moses and Kitch with his preppy demeanor. Mister has lost his way while heading to his mother’s house to bring her a basket of food. With his bottomless basket of delicious treats Mister is blissfully free and bursting with potential. Mister leaves and shortly after Ossifer, a white Policeman, enters the scene. The exchange between Ossifer and Moses and Kitch is violent and disturbing. There is a brief power struggle between Ossifer and Moses but Moses, having lost his brother to a police shooting, eventually backs down. Moses and Kitch are once again left alone at the street corner

Following Beckett’s repetitive structure, Act Two begins similarly to the first but the conversations about the promise of freedom appear to weigh heavier on Moses now. His dialogue is preoccupied by his thoughts about incarceration and death as every day occurrences and commonalities for his community. Ossifer returns to the scene and there is once again a physical conflict. Moses, losing hope for a way out, confronts Ossifer despite knowing that it could cost him his life. This confrontation ends with the Ossifer leaving and Moses experiencing profound strength from his bold act of survival. Before Moses can walk away Mister returns and in an instant, he shoots and kills Moses.

The play ends with a haunting and thought-provoking direct address from Mister that show (having been changed in different versions, either:) an outwardly brutal and vicious demeanor towards Moses and Kitch (and, by extension, black people as a whole,) where he tells the audience to go on as if they saw nothing, or a nonchalant and uncaring brush-off of what just happened, beginning with “Another black man died today.”

Significant Articles

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett (1953) Vladimir and Estragon are waiting, on a country road by a tree, for the arrival of the mysterious Godot, who con- tinually sends word that he will appear but who never does. They encounter two odd fellows, Lucky and Pozzo, they discuss their miseries and their lots in life, they con- sider hanging themselves, and yet they wait. Each of the two Acts of the play ends with: "Well, shall we go?" "Yes, let's go." (They do not move.) Vladimir and Estragon are a pair of human beings who do not know why they were put on earth; they make the questionable assumption that there must be some point to their existence, and they look to Godot for an answer, of even enlightenment. Many believe the name Godot is an allusion to God. Passover In the narrative of the Exodus, the Bible tells that God helped the Children of Israel escape from their slavery in Egypt by inflicting ten plagues upon the ancient Egyptians before the Pharaoh would release his Israelite slaves; the last and worst of the plagues was the death of the all Egyptian family's first-born child. The Israelites were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the blood of a slaughtered spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord (or Angel of Death) knew to pass over the first-born in these homes, hence the English name of the Jewish holiday. From the Amer. Theatre magazine interview with Antoinette Nwandu: Why didn't you want Pass Over to end with the moment of joy? Why did you want it to go further? Emotionally, yes, it would have been wonderful to end with Moses and Kitch literally getting off the block. Kind of like giving the audience an emotional high-five. But I wanted to root out this notion that just because we, as a nation, did one sort of morally cool thing-like voting for Obama-but just because we did that, or because half of us did that, it doesn't mean there isn't still pus in the wound. Let's say that a miracle happened tomorrow and a Moses-type figure were able to call down plagues to eradicate the police state in the United States as we know it. So the state- sanctioned murders of black people, people just like me, whose murders are on my mind in some capacity every moment of every day, just stop. That would be amazing. A true miracle. But then I'd still have every other white person to worry about, you know what I mean? All the ones who aren't wearing a uniform. At least a police officer announces their power with a badge. But if I'm walking down the street, half of the white people I encounter voted for a man who literally wants to disappear the laws that ensure my equity in this country. And increasingly, we hear where many of them are taking it upon themselves to make it happen, either by calling the police unnecessarily or directly committing violent action. So that's the shitty joke of it: Yeah, it would be great if we could dismantle the police state. But then we'd have everybody else.

Pass Over BY ANTOINETTE NWANDU

THE BREAKDOWN

MOSES: Black, male, late teens/early 20s. A young man from the ghetto. Brokenhearted. Courageous. Angry. Sad but also a slave driver but also the prophesied leader of God's chosen people.

KITCH: Black, male, late teens/early 20s. A young man from the ghetto and Moses's best friend. Jovial. Loyal. Kind. Naive. A lovely friend to have but also a slave but also one of God's chosen people.

MISTER: White, male, late 20s/early 30s. A man in a light-colored suit. Out of his ele- ment. Earnest. Wholesome. Terrified but also a plantation owner but also Pharoah's son.

OSSIFER: White, male, late 20s/early 30s. An enforcer of the law. Not from around here, but always around. Pragmatic. Intimidating. Also terrified but also a patroller but also a soldier in Pharoah's army.

TIME: Now. Right now but also 1855 but also 13th-century BCE. PLACE A ghetto street. A lamppost. Night but also a plantation but also Egypt, a city built by slaves. NOTE Words in [brackets] are explanatory and should not be spoken. A row of dots indicate that a character isn't speaking; they don't mean, however, that he is isn't communicating. This play should NOT have an intermission. If Moses and Kitch cannot leave, neither can you.

PEEK OF SCRIPT:

ACT 1

A ghetto street. A lamppost. Night. Two men, Moses and Kitch, are on the block. Both wear dark-colored pants, saggin. Tanks or T-shirts. Trainers, maybe Tims. Black baseball caps, brims crisp, cocked to the side or backward. They also have one hoodie between them, which they share. Moses, who is sleeping, wears it now. Kitch keeps watch. Then Moses wakes up. MOSES: yo kill me now

KITCH: bang bang

MOSES: n*gga

KITCH: whats good my n*gga

MOSES: man you know

KITCH: you know i know

MOSES: you know i know you know

KITCH: you know i know you know i know MOSES: you know i know you know i know you know

KITCH: you know i know you know i know you know you i-you know- you-shit!

MOSES: my n*gga

KITCH: shit!

MOSES: you-shit you-

KITCH: fuck you n*gga damn

MOSES: dat shit be funny tho

ARTICLE BY VULTURE

At the first rehearsal for what will be the first play to open on Broadway since the start of the pandemic, the team members of Pass Over are gathered in a midtown dance studio psyching themselves up. Director Danya Taymor kicks things off with a speech. It's been three years since the Off Broadway run, and many of them are returning from that production. "This project always attracts what it needs and always gives us just enough time to do it." "Oh, does it!" interjects Antoinette Nwandu, Pass Over's playwright and producer, looking up from her salad. There's laughter. They have a whole lot to do this time around. After all, Nwandu is changing the play's ending. On August 4, Pass Over will start previews in its Broadway debut. The show, which Nwandu has staged in different iterations since 2016, tells the story of two Black men on a street corner, blending the clowning humor of Waiting for Godot with the biblical tale of Exodus and requiring only three actors - an advantage at a time when the entire cast and crew need to spit into vials for COVID-19 testing every few days. Moses (Jon Michael Hill) and Kitch (Namir Smallwood) entertain themselves with wordplay and games and talk about a promised land to which they might "pass over," if and when they can leave the corner. Preventing that journey are two versions of whiteness that descend upon them: the seersucker-suited Mister, who condescends to tell them to stop using the N-word, and the menacing Ossifer, a policeman. In previous versions of the play, Moses and Kitch never make it to the promised land - just when it starts to seem possible, Moses is shot. This time around, though, Nwandu doesn't want the story to build to the shock of Moses's death, but to emphasize the two characters' hope and playfulness. "I just want every- one's humanity to take up more time," Nwandu tells the cast and crew. The new version of the script doesn't exist yet; the plan is to work through it in the room, teasing out where the actors can modify their performances now that both protagonists will survive. In their first read-through, with fans humming in the corners to circulate air, they revisit the 2018 version. "I'm trying to find joy," says Hill afterward, "but it is what it is." Playwrights often hone their scripts when their shows move to Broadway. It's rarer to revise with an eye to the current historical moment. After living through 2020, Nwandu decided she did not want to spend her time "rehearsing a play about a lynching," did not want to put more death onstage. She started working on what would become Pass Over while teaching public speaking at Manhattan Community College, toying with an idea built around the story of Moses, one of her favorite Bible tales, with characters who spoke like her students. In 2013, she saved up to see the Broadway production of Waiting for Godot with Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen - as she puts it, the "crème de la crème." "Then I remember having this really shitty thought," she says. "When Beckett wrote this play, it represented the height of white western anxiety - the fact that these two men might be abandoned by God. It's a terrible, existential feeling. But I looked up at them, and I was like, Wait, but they still get to be old. If they were Black, these characters wouldn't be old." She realized the Exodus-inspired play she was working on could respond to this, too. She first developed a version of Pass Over for audiences in 2016 with the two characters playing Beckett-like games while in fear of distant police sirens. The show kept evolving: Nwandu rewrote Pass Over again before its 2018 run at Lincoln Center, "taking it from a sledgehammer to a shiv": It now ended with Mister bemoaning the fact that Black men keep getting murdered and he, a nice liberal white man, can't do anything to help them. "This is a white, possibly Jewish, audience. They didn't vote for Trump," Nwandu says. "That ending pokes these people in the ribs." The discussions about bringing Pass Over to Broadway began in February 2020. In the year that followed - with a pregnancy ending in miscarriage, a marriage ending in divorce, and being stranded in isolation in a COVID ward - Nwandu felt her creative priorities for the play realign away from simply confronting a white audience. She set a goal for herself to imagine a version of the play that could do without Moses's death and avoid re-traumatizing Black audiences. She compares it to a New Testament version of the script, where divine redemption is hard-won but possible. "I want to offer an ending that will help heal people," she says, "and will help bring joy and beauty and laughter and a little bit of grace and a little bit of Afrofuturism to any audience member, regardless of their race. I had an energetic change," she says. "Out with the old, in with the new." So they set off with a new goal for their play: to imagine happiness for Moses and Kitch and to offer it to their audiences. Nwandu is also hoping to change who those audiences are. (She also intends to keep the earlier versions of Pass Over available for licensing, just in case theater companies feel the need for confrontation. "If your town is infested with MAGA people," she says, "then yes, please produce Pass Over 2017.") "I do didactic work," Nwandu says. "I'm going to give you something to think about. I don't think of myself as an Evangelist, but I cannot divorce myself from the sensibility that when human beings get together, they can create a certain alchemical space that invites the higher self. Our relationship to the world needs to be healed," she says. "My small part is to create a work of art that will give you the space to begin that inner healing."

The Motherfucker With the Hat by Stephen Adly Guirgis

Plot/Premise

Jackie is a former drug dealer who has just been released from prison to join the American workforce. His girlfriend Veronica, however, still uses cocaine and other drugs. The play begins with an intense and comic phone conversation between Veronica and her mother, who's also an addict. Jackie arrives shortly thereafter. Just as Jackie and Veronica are jumping into bed, he sees a hat in her apartment. Realizing it is not his, he accuses her of cheating, going to his drug and parole counselor, Ralph D., for help. Meanwhile, Ralph's wife, Victoria, has "had it up to here with his helium."^[3]

Jackie obtains a gun. Ralph insists that he not keep it, so he gives it to his cousin Julio for safekeeping. Jackie reveals that he had slept with his previous Alcoholics Anonymous counselor, which may be part of the reason Veronica mistrusts him. Later, Veronica is entertaining a lover, which is revealed to be Ralph. They had slept together a handful of times while Jackie was in prison.

Meanwhile, Jackie gets the gun back and returns the hat to a man in their building who he thinks is its owner. He then throws it on the floor and shoots it. Jackie talks about this with Victoria, who is tired of Ralph's cheating and begs Jackie to sleep with her. She reveals to him that Veronica and Ralph have slept together—Ralph was really "the motherfucker with the hat." Jackie shows up at Veronica's apartment drunk, hurt because they have been in love since high school. When he gets loud, she hits him with a bat.

Julio takes Jackie in. He reveals that he is grateful because, years ago, Jackie showed unexpected kindness to him. Jackie wants to confront Ralph, and Julio is willing to cover his back, claiming to be a "Van Damme".

Jackie goes to Ralph's. The two men try to fight it out but end up futilely wrestling on the floor. Ralph admits he slept with Veronica and explains that she will never love him until she chooses to sober up. In spite of everything, he would like to be friends with Jackie. Jackie refuses to accept his friendship and returns to the apartment to pick up his things. He has broken parole by shooting the gun and is heading off to prison for a short stint. He tries to tell Veronica he loves her, but she runs out of the room, unwilling to listen. He leaves. A few moments later, Veronica comes out of hiding and calls his name.

Other Plays by Guirgis

Other Plays by Stephen Adly Guirgis

Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train: Angel Cruz is a 30-year-old bike messenger who has lost his best friend to a religious cult. At the opening of the play, he is in his second night of incarceration, awaiting trial for shooting the leader of that cult in the "ass." For one hour a day, Angel experiences daylight from a cage on the Riker's Island Prison roof. His only source of human contact is is Lucius Jenkins, a.k.a. "the Black Plague," works out furiously in the cage next to Angel. A sociopathic serial killer awaiting extradition to Florida, Lucius pauses from his workouts only to chain smoke and to "save" Angel. Lucius Jenkins has found God, and Angel's life and the course of his trial will be changed forever.

Our Lady of 121st Street: The Ortiz Funeral Room is in big trouble: The body of beloved community activist and nun Sister Rose has been stolen from the viewing room, and waiting for her proper return are some of NY City's most emotionally charged, life-challenged neighborhood denizens, trying to find a place to put their grief, checkered pasts, and their uncertain futures. The 12 tragically hilarious characters in this dark, insightful, and very funny comedy inevitably square off on each other, motivated by rage, pain, and a scary desire to come clean-perhaps for the first time.

In Arabia We’d All Be Kings: Lenny is a recently released ex-convict. Despite his imposing size, he was gang raped while incarcerated and struggles to find his manhood on the outside. Daisy, his alcoholic girlfriend, craves a "real" life with a "real" man and abandons him at a seedy bar. At the bar is Skank, a former failed actor turned junkie, who is trying to outlast the rain storm, and Sammy, an old, dying, guilt-ridden drunk who exists somewhere between reality and the afterlife. Skank's girlfriend, a young crackhead hooker, plays Go Fish with the bartender Charlie, who thinks he's a Jedi warrior and who buys meals for Chickie because he loves her. Unaware that their last piece of home is about to be pulled out from under them by gentrification, the bar patrons struggle on.

The Last Days of Judas Escariot: Set in a time-bending, darkly comic world between heaven and hell, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot reexamines the plight and fate of the New Testament's most infamous and unexplained sinner by putting him on public trial in contemporary New York City night court and calling witnesses from the Bible to testify for and against him. Consistent with recent biblical scholarship and the archeology of of a "Book of Judas." an alternate universe where anything can happen.

Between Riverside and Crazy: Ex-cop and recent widower Walter "Pops" Washington and his newly paroled son Junior have spent a lifetime living between Riverside and crazy. But now, the NYPD is demanding his signature to close an outstanding lawsuit, the landlord wants him out, the liquor store is closed-and the church won't leave him alone. When the struggle to keep one of NY City's last great rent-stabilized apartments collides with old wounds, sketchy new houseguests, and a final ultimatum, it seems that the old days may be dead and gone.

Halfway Bitches Go Straight To Heaven: In a women's halfway house on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, the unmoored residents struggle with addiction, abuse, mental illness, and neglect. Between daily therapy sessions, they clash with the staff and each other, form alliances, and fall in love. All the while, they live under constant threat that the place they call home may soon be shuttered at the behest of their wealthy neighbors. By turns harrowing, humorous, and heartbreaking, Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven roaringly brings to life the experiences of women who society has tried to shuffle out of sight and out of mind.

Mlima’s Tale by Lynn Nottage

Plot/Synopsis

On the protected savannas of a Kenyan game preserve, Mlima roams the night, aware of the constant and imminent danger of poachers seeking to secure his legendary tusks. Soon the elephant is overcome by two Somali poachers, Rahman and Geedi, who have spent forty nights stalking Mlima away from the watchful eyes of the preserve’s rangers. Rahman talks of his hungry family and Geedi assures him that the market price for Mlima’s tusks will keep him and his family fed for years to come. As Rahman and Geedi butcher Mlima to extract his tusks, Mlima’s soul emerges from the elephant’s body, becoming an embodiment of the tusks as they leave the game preserve and are shipped down the “Ivory Highway.” The play follows the movement of Mlima’s tusks from their transfer to the corrupt police chief who manages the illegal poachers, to their sale and subsequent smuggling out of Kenya on a cargo ship, to their confiscation by Vietnamese customs agents. The tusks ultimately land in China, where they journey through carving houses and increase in value to $7 million before finding their final resting place in a wealthy couple’s penthouse.

Mlima releases one final shocked trumpeting protestation, urging other creatures to “run!,” aggrieved by his desecration so some collector can “own” a sculpture made from his soul.

Despite being played of a small cast of just 4 people, the characters are distinct, accentuated by quick costume changes and precise but varying accents.

Characters

Mlima: A noble large elephant slaughtered for his enormous tusks. He is the central character of the play as it follows his tusks (containing his soul, represented through Mlima).

Geedi and Rahman: Somali poachers. They illegally murder Mlima on a reservation on the savannah. They are not shown to be bloodthirsty monsters, but men trying to better their lives (one of them mentioning how he needs to feed his family,) by poaching. However, the play makes explicitly clear that they, like the other characters, are a part of a larger, tragic, disturbing trail of ivory engagement.

Githinji: Intimidating and direct. Geedi and Rahman’s boss whom they bring elephant tusks from their poaching to for pay.

Wamwara: Regional warden of the wildlife park.

Alice: A wealthy Chinese woman who, the final character to be involved in the path of the illegal ivory, places in her house what has become of Mlima’s ivory.

Cambodian Rock Band by Lauren Yee

Plot/Premise:

Summary: The play tells the story of Chum, a Khmer Rouge survivor returning to Cambodia in 2008 for the first time in 30 years, as his daughter Neary prepares to prosecute one of the country’s most notorious war criminals, referred to as Duch. As the play jumps back and forth in time, Chum must confront his past as he finally shares it with Neary. The “play with music,” as Yee describes it, is backed by a live band (cast members doubling up as the musicians) playing contemporary hits by the band Dengue Fever, as well as classic Cambodian oldies.

Synopsis: The play takes place in three time frames: 2008, 1975 and 1978, all taking place in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia. Narrated by Jue as Duch (pronounce Doik),  the story starts with Cambodian-born 51 year old Chum paying a surprise visit to his American daughter Neary, a lawyer working with the International Center for Transitional Justice on the prosecution of Khmer Rouge leader and war criminal Kang Kek Iew aka Duch. Of the 20,000 prisoners that passed through the S-21 prison camp that he oversaw, only seven are known to have survived. However, Neary has evidence that an eighth one survives.

Her father claims to have come to take her home after her two years’ legal work in Cambodia. He jokes about being a tourist and wants to see all of the local sites including the bar of the Sheraton Hotel across from Neary’s residence. Neary quickly comes to believe that her father is the eighth survivor but he had never spoken to his family about his experiences in Phnom Penh before coming to America. When Neary goes missing, Chum vows to tell her the truth about his experiences.

Mixing fiction and fact, new Signature Theatre Residency playwright Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band is an engrossing, entertaining and appalling  investigation into the Khmer Rouge’s genocide in Cambodia in the 1970’s and its aftermath. Using authentic Cambodian rock music from the 1960’s and 70’s as well as the songs of Dengue Fever, the Los Angeles-based Cambodian American band, the play is emceed by the genial Duch played by Francis Jue who turns out to be the play’s greatest villain and a real person now in prison. Chay Yew’s production is one that does not require prior knowledge to get caught up in the fictional play and the ugly, true history of Cambodia.

The play takes place in three time frames: 2008, 1975 and 1978, all taking place in Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia. Narrated by Jue as Duch (pronounce Doik),  the story starts with Cambodian-born 51 year old Chum paying a surprise visit to his American daughter Neary, a lawyer working with the International Center for Transitional Justice on the prosecution of Khmer Rouge leader and war criminal Kang Kek Iew aka Duch. Of the 20,000 prisoners that passed through the S-21 prison camp that he oversaw, only seven are known to have survived. However, Neary has evidence that an eighth one survives.

Her father claims to have come to take her home after her two years’ legal work in Cambodia. He jokes about being a tourist and wants to see all of the local sites including the bar of the Sheraton Hotel across from Neary’s residence. Neary quickly comes to believe that her father is the eighth survivor but he had never spoken to his family about his experiences in Phnom Penh before coming to America. When Neary goes missing, Chum vows to tell her the truth about his experiences.

The scene segues to Chum’s rock band back in 1975 just before the fall of Phnom Penh to the Khmer Rouge. At the end of the session, Chum informs his bandmates, Leng (his best friend), Sothea (Leng’s girlfriend), Rom and Pou that he and his family are leaving for Paris and that they should leave too. However, it turns out to be advice given too late.

We then jump ahead to 1978 and the S-21 prison where Chum now renamed Comrade Song is brought in as an enemy of the people for being an educated person (although musicians were also suspected by the Khmer Rouge and generally executed as decadent.) There he meets one of his former bandmates now working for the Khmer Rouge, Leng, and ultimately comes to the attention of Duch himself. Both confrontations prove to be very dramatic. Ultimately back in 2008, Chum finds his daughter and plays her the only surviving tape of his rock band.

Characters

Chum: A survivor of the Khmer Rouge’s Cambodian genocide. (Present and past scenes)

Neary: Chum’s daughter. (Present scenes)

Ted: Neary’s boyfriend. (Present scenes)

Duch: Director of the Khmer Rouge’s S-21 prison. (Guide of the play, directly addresses audience, meta. He is also in the past scenes as himself.)

Sothea: A member of Chum’s band. (Past)

Rom: A member of Chum’s band. (Past)

Pou: A member of Chum’s band. (Past)

Leng: A member of Chum’s band and his close friend. (Past.)

THEORY/CONCEPTS

Aristotle

Plato vs Aristotle on Art as Imitation (Mimesis)

Plato, in The Republic (375 BCE): Art is imitation, and that's bad.

·Epistemologically: an imitation is not reality; the author imitates things that he does not understand.

· Theologically: poets and other artists represent the gods in inappropriate ways.

· Moral and mentally: a convincing imitation can damage the stability of any person by making us feel sad, depressed, and sorrowful about life itself. Drama shows bad examples, making men wicked, or even effeminate. Aristotle, in The Poetics (335 BCE): Art is imitation, and that's educational and worthy.

· Imitation is natural to humans from childhood. We all learn from imitations.

· Tragedy can be a form of education that provides moral insight and fosters emotional growth.

· In the best tragedies, typically, a noble or admirable character experiences a reversal of fortune due to some failure or mistake (hamartia), often due to hubris (excessive pride), followed by his suffering.

· A successful tragedy produces a healthy catharsis. Catharsis (or katharsis) is described as a purification through pity and fear-although there is much debate about the nature of this effect and about whether it is an effect upon the audience or upon characters in a play.

Aristotle's Poetics is mainly devoted to drama, or tragedy (he mentions his book on Comedy, but this has been lost to history). Aristotle provides both a history of the development of poetry and drama, and a critical framework for evaluating tragic drama. This is the first systematic essay on literary theory, full of insights, and it has been monumentally influential. Using Sophocles' tragedy Oedipus the King as an example of a perfect drama, he observes that certain qualities of the play contribute to its effectiveness. It must be stressed that his analysis was a description of the best Greek tragedy, not a prescription of how they must be. Nonetheless, many neo-classic scholars later distorted his observations, turning them into rigid rules governing the creation of imitative new tragedies (most of which, due to following old "rules," are awful). Aristotle outlined two surprisingly useful ways of looking at drama: First, in the course of his analysis he distinguished Six Elements of drama:

1. Plot was first, in terms of importance. In our day, when critics refer to an "Aristotelean plot" they mean a carefully constructed linear plot that is causal (where one event logically leads to the next), orderly, and socially beneficial.

2. Character is described largely in terms of the need for persons to be consistent and appropriate to their station in life.

3. Thought refers to the ideas (themes, morals), expressed primarily by words but also perceived through other means.

4. Language (or, Diction) is the style of the spoken text or lyrics, as well as it's performative quality. Its poetics.

5. Spectacle is the staging, lighting, sets, costumes, and the like. All the visuals. This would include dancing.

6. Melody (music or sound in general) refers to the aural qualities, as many (chorus) parts of Greek tragedy were sung.

These aspects are still, basically, the things we talk about when discussing or analyzing drama-if you had to write an impromptu essay about any play, you could begin instantly by discussing some of these ideas. Hard to avoid it, even. Secondly, Aristotle also observed that the superior dramas were Unified in three ways:

1. The time of the action should be unified, so that the plot can be held in memory as one action. Aristotle thought this would limit the action to the events of one day (as we find in most Greek drama). Thus, no time jumps.

2. The place in which things happen is likewise unified. They thought it would be implausible to represent multiple locations on one theatrical stage (Greek theatre didn't employ any scenery). Thus, it's all happening in one place.

3. The action (or story) of the plot should also be unified, depicting one continuous story-line that is set up, logically developed, and ends in a climactic conclusion. (Along with twists, turns and surprises to keep the viewers' interest and arouse the emotions of pity and fear.) Sub-plots or side stories of minor characters were considered a distraction and weakness. Thus, one main plot only.

These "Three Unities" of action, time and place were much discussed and added to by Renaissance writers, eager to recapture the glories of Greek culture. Failure to stick to the "Unities" was often cited as a failing in a work. Of course, Aristotle was not responsible for the excesses of this code, having no intention of producing a set of rules in the first place. But the Poetics remains an impressive accomplishment, and many of its insights continue to ring true. It still seems a good general rule that a plot should have one main story; that it progress by causes rather than accidents; that character should be revealed by action (and be psychologically consistent); that surprising turns can be a great help to a plot; and that one should not try to cover too much time during a play. The idea that art portrays the universal-"not a thing that has been, but a kind of thing that might be."-is still a potent one. And terms he uses like hubris and catharsis are still used in modern discourse, as in this 2019 NYTimes article about the Democratic party: "Why, then, even with the potential catharsis of impeachment proceedings against President Trump underway, do so many feel so awful?"

Freytag’s Pyramid

Freytag’s Pyramid is a narrative structure that breaks the story arc of a drama into five distinct sections. Also known as Freytag’s triangle, it is a variation on the five-act structure that storytellers have used for centuries.

There are five plot elements of Freytag’s Pyramid. They are as follows:

1. Exposition: Also known as the introduction or Act I, exposition sets up the setting, or time and location of the story, as well as the main characters, and the atmosphere of the story. Exposition also informs the reader or viewer about each character’s backstory and how they relate to each other. The most important element of this first act is a suggestion of the story’s primary conflict through an exciting or compelling event, which is also known as the exciting force or inciting incident. In Freytag’s Pyramid, the exposition is the structure’s lowest part on the left.

2. Rising action: In Act II in Freytag’s Pyramid, which he labeled the “rising movement,” the story builds toward its central conflict by placing obstacles in the path of the protagonists as they attempt to reach their goals. The action rises further with the introduction of new characters—the primary antagonist and other adversaries who further complicate matters for the other characters. Rising action is the middle left portion of the pyramid, just above exposition.

3. Climax: The third act in Freytag’s Pyramid is the part of the story that signals a turning point and occupies the highest point on the plot structure. The climax foreshadows the fate of the main character and the series of events that will lead to their success (in a comedy) or downfall (in a tragedy). These series of events, which form the second half of the story are also known as the counterplay, and represent those external factors created by the main character’s choices that impact them in the remainder of the story.

4. Falling action: Act IV in Freytag’s Pyramid foreshadows the final outcome of the story. The conflict between the protagonists and antagonists will soon reach a conclusion, but Freytag also notes that a successful drama will also feature a sense of “final suspense”—a possibility that the conclusion may not end as expected. In Freytag’s Pyramid, falling action is an arc that’s separate from the previous three acts.

5. Denouement. The fifth and final act, the denouement—also known as the resolution, conclusion, or moment of catastrophe—is the end of the story. It’s either a happy ending—the protagonist achieves their goal—or a tragic ending, in which they fail to overcome the primary conflict. Writers tie up loose ends in the denouement and provide audiences with a moment of catharsis—a series of events that allows the tension of the story to dissipate. The lowest right side of the pyramid, just below the falling action arc, is the location of the denouement.

An elaboration on Freytag’s Pyramid:

1. The establishment of context, in both theatrical and fictional terms: a. theatrical conventions that will operate in this play b. exposition 2. Inciting incident: the intrusive event that gets the ball rolling 3. Emergence of the protagonist's objective, usually occurring immediately on the heels of the inciting incident (creating the Major Dramatic Question) 4. Resistance (complications): obstacles that the protagonist) strives to overcome a. another character's objectives (antagonist) b. external forces/obstacles-a perilous journey, for instance c. internal forces/obstacles-psychological obstacles 5. Crisis: the moment of decision when the central issue must be faced; this is often the "obligatory scene," the scene which satisfies the anticipation that has built up since the inciting incident, often a confrontation between protagonist and antagnoist 6. Climax: the decision, which snaps the tension that the audience has been caught up in, following right after the crisis; the result of the confrontation between the protagonist and antagonist. We would expect to get the answer to the major dramatic question here 7. Denouement: the unraveling of tension and re-establishment of the new stasis.

Initial Stasis Intrusion, then Struggle to find new stasis, then New Stasis.

Conventions and Conventionalization in Theatre

We view plays, films, or television dramas with an unconscious understanding of basic rules by which drama works. These are called conventions. Innumerable conventions operate during our viewing experience, often as acceptable and practical substitutions for reality. The employment of conventions makes it art. The most fundamental theatrical convention would be what the Ancient Greeks called mimesis: a person is acting a role, a character other than himself, and we understand that what he says and does is a fiction rather than his own real actions. Even if we are watching a movie star whom we've seen in many other roles, or watching our classmate act in a school play, we accept the premise that he or she represents another person or character, not himself. And if he or she dies on the screen or on stage, we are not worried that our movie idol or friend is actually dead; in fact, we cry at the end not for the popular a

ctor, but for the fictional character whose story we have been following. A dog cannot make the mental leap to comprehend such abstracted experience: what's happening on stage is reality to the dog. Thus, aesthetic distance-our ability to stand back and recognize art in place of reality-requires an intelligence that can recognize a system of artificial conventions at work and is willing to participate in the artistic process. We have learned to view scenes of life abstracted, and it becomes so routine for us that we usually don't think about this process as we follow hundreds of non-real, conventionalized, aspects of drama. We might praise a movie movie as being wonderfully "realistic," and yet, actually, what we saw was light being projected against a wall. We applaud an elaborate theatrical set when the curtain opens for all of its realistic details, and yet we ignore the fact that the big beautiful room we're looking at has only three walls, with no ceiling, and most of the furniture all seems to face towards us. We willingly engage in what the poet Samuel Coleridge called "the willing suspension of disbelief"- choosing to ignore that missing ceiling, for example, because it allows dozens of lighting instruments (not natural light) to illuminate the action on stage. We do not protest that a 19-year-old actor on stage is portraying a 79-year-old man-we know we're watching college theatre, and we may even be quite impressed by how well the young actor mimics an old man's mannerisms. We know (or should know) that it's really all pretending. In the same way that the everyday word "convention" can mean two things- a traditional way of doing something (like eating turkey at Thanksgiving), or a coming together of people (like a political convention)- performance conventions may also be familiar and traditional, but still require our complicity, our coming together in agreement with the performance event. If we cannot accept or understand the conventions being used, we cannot appreciate the performance. As Our Town author Thorton Wilder reminded us, the convention is "an agreed-upon falsehood." Other examples of common Stage conventions: 1. lights dim, then rise again-a conventional signal that some time has passed between scenes; 2. a character may enter a room through an imaginary door, or pantomime eating nonexistent food; 3. amplified sound effects and rotating flashes of light can create the impression that a helicopter is hovering over the stage- good enough for most of us, because we know a real helicopter is impossible (tell that to Miss Saigon!). 4. we know that a drunk character who consumes a bottle of whiskey on stage is actually only drinking tea; 5. the center of the stage is quite bright during a night scene, even with no lamp or streetlight in view; 6. one character may speak directly to us, while others on stage never acknowledge the existence of spectators; 7. characters on stage might suddenly break into a song and dance, and then go back to acting like it never happened; 8. actors generally face outward, toward the audience, rather than turning their backs to us to speak to each other; 9. the characters on stage may speak in extraordinary, poetic language; 10. a character can be a ghost, clearly seen by the audience, but is evidently unseen by others on stage. Although each example above is inherently unnatural, we have learned to accept these pretenses by dramatic necessity, or simply because it's interesting to hear poetic language and fun to watch characters sing and dance. These devices are usually so "conventional" as to be taken for granted. But the theatre artist can also often introduce a new or unfamiliar convention into a play, especially if it is carefully established and repeated. We usually accept the new device because it makes sense in the circumstances that it is used, a certain logic prevails at the moment. Thus, even a child who is seeing his or her first live play can induce the meaning of many conventions simply because they serve a purpose-and because so much of a child's play is based upon imagination and pretending. But if an invented convention is illogical, inconsistent or unclear, we very likely may reject the entire situation. It's a two-way street. When the system fails, our appreciation of the performance goes with it. Below are some familiar conventions used in film & television: 1. during the action, underscore music is playing, unheard by the characters; 2. characters who are outside of the picture frame typically do not hear what those inside the frame are saying, even if they are all in the same room; 3. bad guys can't shoot straight, and good guys can knock someone out with one punch; 4. a slow, gradual fade-out and fade-in tells us that a significant amount of time has passed; but a quick cut usually implies simultaneous action happening in another place. 5. a character can learn karate, try on dozens of wedding dresses or cook a fantastic dinner-all in less than three minutes - through a short montage, conventionally unified by a short piece of music underscoring the process; 6. Russians or Germans or Japanese may all speak English; There are hundreds more. Some we might call a cliché: a too-convenient, over-used convention. For example, Hollywood movies have so often been given happy endings-even when the original story does not-that Europeans use the term "American ending" to describe any film that ends happily. They see such happy endings as a convention governing most films coming out of Hollywood, like a rule. A genre-such as tragedy, comedy, melodrama, or musical-is a set of story conventions operating in common with other works in the same genre. • Classical tragedies typically involve the death of a serious and noble person, who is ultimately doomed by some error (his "fatal flaw"), such as excessive pride or an arrogant defiance of the gods; • Classical comedies, on the other hand, usually involve common or ridiculous people, engaged in silly quests for love or sex; consequently, many comedies end with a wedding, or the promise of one; • Melodrama, a newer genre, blends the life-or-death threat of tragedy with the happy outcome of comedy, accentuated by plot twists, physical action, and strong emotional moments driven by underscored music. Good vs Evil is played out by a good guy and a bad guy, with an innocent woman caught in the middle. The character types, story patterns, and themes that are shared within a genre are so familiar to us that much of our joy is in seeing the whole group of conventions played out according to our expectations. Deviations from genre rules can be risky: an audience might rebel against any break with convention. Nobody wants to see the villain of a melodrama just turn himself in to avoid a fight; Harold and Kumar must eventually get to White Castle. Conventions such as genre are not only the glue that holds a drama together, but also a source of enjoyment. The history of drama is a history of evolving stage conventions. In the ancient Greek theatre conventions such as these were established practice for many generations: 1. only 3 main actors were used to play all the roles, shifting masks quickly offstage to return as different characters; 2. men played all the parts, even female characters; 3. a chorus of 15 or more people stayed on stage, sometimes chanting and dancing, but also interrogating characters in the play about their intentions and commenting upon the morality of the situation or the dangers to society; 4. actors spoke their poetic verses in a bold, declamatory style, enhanced by small megaphones built into their masks; 5. the plays were highly unified: happening one place, within one day's time span, and following only one plot line; 6. although there are many violent events in Greek tragedy, they kept the actual violence off-stage, thinking of it as improper to show on stage- typically a messenger would enter and report the whole bloody business; Shakespearean theatre employed some similar conventions (poetic verse, for example), but deviated in many ways: 1. some characters could make private jokes or remarks to the audience (asides) which the others don't seem to hear; or a character might be alone on stage and give a significant speech (soliloquy) directly to the audience; 2. since they performed in daylight, they might mimmick night by carrying torches or lanterns; 3. without scenery, places were indicated by a few props, or by "spoken decor"-just saying where we are now; 4. like the Greeks, only men were allowed to perform- boys played the parts of female characters; 5. unlike the Greeks, Elizabethan theatre showed plenty of violence- but they wouldn't dare do any political material as the Greeks were free to do (in comedies); 6. Shakespeare's tragedies always included a Clown figure (their comic actor) and elements of humor; Thornton Wilder claimed that the best theatre ages employed the most conventions. But that isn't entirely accurate: historical theatre simply had more obviously unrealistic or imagined conventions. A modern realistic play uses just as many conventions, every moment is built on them, but they are less noticeable, less pronounced. "Realism" is actually the ultimate convention-the pretense that this is real.

Melodrama

Melodrama became the dominant dramatic genre in the 19th century, and despite the modernist rebellion against it that followed, beginning with Ibsen's A Doll's House, the genre has held sway ever since. It is notoriously emotional-not only in performance style, but also as a kind of story that hooks an audience from beginning to end. 99% of the serious drama you have seen in your lifetime is melodrama, and almost every film that ever hits the cinemas. Melodrama is seductive, the most emotionally satisfying dramatic form ever invented, and will no doubt continue to be for a very long time. I love it, too. • Melodrama is usually a story of good vs evil-which can range from clear hero vs villain to any good person struggling against something not-so-good. It was conceived as serious drama, like tragedy but for and about Everyman, not just kings and gods; but Everyman's audience wants a survival, not ruin. It is a relatively easy formula to accomplish, by putting an innocent central character, or an admirable hero, in a threatening situation-followed inevitably by victory, deliverance, rescue, salvation, or marriage and puppies. If modern realism often tries to generate empathy (an understanding of and concern for others), melodrama on the other hand is all about sympathy (strong feeling, independent of intellectual reckoning). • In melodrama, the morality is invariably quite simple. This is one reason why most prominent modern dramatists don't indulge in it: because it presents a simplistic view of life that believes situations are black&white and good will always triumph in the end. It's an effective formula to engage an audience for an emotional payoff, not for making an audience think. Life, in melodrama, is not complicated: it is a struggle that demands action. In its resolution, melodrama is ultimately comforting (hence, profitable). • The conventions of melodrama are now so entrenched in our culture that the goal of melodrama-strong emotional effect-is widely considered the only goal of all drama. Thus, for many of us the term "drama" has become synonymous with emotion, whether it's a play about suffering with cancer, fighting off monsters or an overtime basketball game. But the study of Drama, like other subjects, has its own specific jargon, and in this class we should stick to the broader concept of the art form and resist any temptations to speak of drama in terms of emotional effect. It's all drama here. • Melodrama comes from "melodious drama," an older form of drama with a constant piano playing in the background to enhance the effect. This is called "incidental music" now, and we never see a televised or film drama that is without it. Incidental music sets the emotional atmosphere and helps maintain it. It tells us how to feel at almost every moment in a movie, and as it works subconsciously it succeeds very well in this. This music triggers and accentuates both our feelings and our understanding. • Melodrama became popular in the 1800s, during massive migration of workers to cities with new factory jobs in the Industrial Era. This growing working class had a little money to spend and craved entertainment. But the uneducated masses weren't interested in Shakespeare or the classical dramas that the elites had studied and prized. They wanted exciting adventures, clear conflict between heroes and villains, whatever would get them emotionally interested. There were also many different types of 19th century melodrama: apocalyptic melodramas, fairy-tale melodramas, nautical melodramas (with naval battles at sea), real estate melodramas (good people forced out of their homes), crime melodramas, supernatural gothic melodramas, and social reform melodramas such as Uncle Tom's Cabin. • Many a melodrama involves a sort of triangular struggle between: a hero-a villain-and an girl who needs rescuing. (e.g. Luke Skywalker-Darth Vadar-Princess Leia). This simple formula works, and it's used in countless movies. Other stock melodrama characters included sympathetic father figures (Obi Wan Kenobi), helpful servants (C3PO, Chewbacca), and agents of the villain (Mandalorian?). The genre is dominated by adventure and action films, but a good lawyer or proud farmer or spunky young girl can be a melodrama "hero" as well. And of course, the world never runs out of evil antagonists. • In many ways, Ibsen's Doll's House proceeds like a common 19th century domestic melodrama, which has been defined as "a plot with victimized or suffering protagonists and a mixture of difficulties...where the typical story depicts events in the home affecting a family as it endures emotions such as love, jealousy, rivalry, financial distress, and hatred." An emotional family situation which ultimately ends happily for all (except for the d

efeated villain). Nora's overwhelming distress in her troubled situation- from her want of a "wonderful" hero to her considering suicide as a last resort-are easily recognizable features of this genre, although the play's outcome deliberately subverts it.

Theatricalism

(adj. theatricalized): a style of performance that exploits or emphasizes the artificiality of theatre, calling attention to its modes of presentation, while constantly reminding the audience that it is watching theatrical presentation (not representation). Theatricality deliberately uses less-realistic conventions, it is not just poorly done realism. It hopes to make the experience of being in a theatre as interesting as the dramatic story being told. This can be especially challenging for us as readers, demanding that we read all the stage directions very closely and employ a vivid stage imagination. Musical theatre, for example, exhibits a high degree of theatricality in its songs, dances, presentational acting styles, spot lights, and flashy scenery. Some musical theatre even has the musicians visible on the stage. No one would confuse all this with realism. The "showiness" of it all is part of the pleasure. • Any direct address-breaking of the imaginary 4th wall-might be considered Theatricalism. It shakes us from the convention of witnessing events anonymously, from an outside reality. The chorus commentaries in Greek tragedies employ direct address, as do characters with solo monologues such as Hamlet's famous "To be, or not to be" speech. In smaller venues, even just a stern or comic look to the audience can function in this way, communicating something nonverbally but directly. Between scenes in Cambodian Rock Band, we get short monologues by Duch-who serves as a sort of Master of Ceremonies for the play-that provide much-needed exposition for the play.

• Singing is almost always a bit of theatricality, whether it's a full-blown musical where all dialog is sung, in the manner of opera (such as Hamilton), or songs that interrupt dialogue scenes, or just musical interludes between scenes. Music and songs remind us that we're being entertained in an entertainment venue. CRB includes songs of its era performed between scenes, almost like a variety show, that contribute to the play's theme (the loss of this music) by in an almost celebratory way.

• Meta-drama (or Meta-theatre) refers to a drama -or a moment-that is directly about it being a play. We'll hear several such remarks by Duch in CRB, like "This is the part where I enter the story." References to the stage itself or to the play script, or even a snide comment about the playwright (which, of course, was written by the playwright) all remind us that we're viewing a work of art, not life itself. Some other conventions of theatricality that may be employed are:

1. asides- characters speaking to us-or to each other-but unheard (incredibly) by other characters who are on stage with them at the same time and would care to hear if they could. Asides are a special type of direct address: a violation of the norms of 4th-wall realism, but typically an audience favorite.

2. suggestive scenery- not fully furnished or constructed, just enough for us to imagine the full setting-eg. two chairs might represent the front seat of a car, a single street light (as in Pass Over) can indicate that the setting is a street corner, or a just a desk can indicate that we're in an office. This is something actually seen on the stage, not usually specified in a script.

3. pantomime- such as actors knocking on an imaginary door or eating imaginary food, or a stylized dance-like fight- eg. Chuy's flying over Fresno and Chum's prison-camp escape. Movement without speaking that helps tell the story.

4. staginess- sound effects, attention-getting lighting, pantomime, dance numbers, bizarre costumes or makeup, trap doors, smoke, magic, etc-all the tricks of the stage.

5. stylized acting- actors performing in a historical, exaggerated or unnatural style. The character may be weird or severe, but we see the actor is performing in a deliberate, over-the-top manner. Has to be seen, not read. Like Tyler Perry in any of his female "Madea" roles-nobody is fooled, but we enjoy watching him pretend to be an old woman.

6. doubling- some actors are obviously playing multiple roles (therefore, one actor does not equal one character). Very likely, there is only minimal attempt to disguise this. An actor's ability to adopt multiple roles is often quite impressive, even thematic if it suggests some relationship between them. Mlima's Tale is told by 3 "players" doing 19 characters! This is usually practical-making use of a single actor rather than having to employ two in very small roles. But it can also be fun.

7. changing in full view- actors changing costume pieces -or even applying new makeup-without going off stage or out of view is quick, efficient, and openly theatrical. Or, changing set pieces in full light-like when the crew rolls in new scenery while a scene is still going on during CRB, or Chum quickly transforming from an old man to a young one without leaving the stage.

8. Incorporating the audience- as when actors walk into the auditorim, converse with audience members, or even drag a spectator up onto the stage for some comic business. Not just directly addressing spectators, but directly involving them. When we're sharing our space with the actors, we're all in the same boat, as the saying goes.