Beautiful Pain: Tender Napalm at Signature Theatre

And now for something completely different…

The arts have a magical ability to transform intense pain into beauty. The pain is not diminished or ignored. Rather, by expressing painful emotions through an artistic medium – painting, song, dance, writing – the arts can unlock something beautiful even in the most excruciating human experiences. I don’t know if anything else in the world can do that. Tender Napalm by Philip Ridley was a penetrating example of that phenomena.

 

As the name suggests, the play Tender Napalm is about the contrasting sides of love: the deeper we love, the deeper the hurt. While many plays explore that theme, Tender Napalm sets itself apart in the way it used language to pull me into a labyrinth where feelings were made manifest into fantastical sojourns. Words that I thought I knew were combined in ways that made me feel like I was hearing them for the first time. The monologues of Man and Woman pushed against the walls of what was possible in my imagination and dared me to believe in a world where unicorns lead us to our true love, sea serpents rise from debris, and grenades are an integral part of sex.

Director Matthew Gardiner said of the playwright:

“Philip Ridley seeks to re-invent the language of love. The words we use to express love have become fossilized. ‘If you leave me my heart will break’ no longer sounds violent…Repetition has dulled these common phrases. Philip Ridley seeks to awake our senses, to draw us away from our common and seemingly mundane expressions of love.”

Tender Napalm definitely snapped my senses to attention, but it was not an easy ride. However, if it was anything less than excruciating, the play wouldn’t be doing justice to the incredible loss at the core of this couple’s relationship right now. The spare set design, a platform of clear plastic squares lit from underneath, added to my sense of unease, as did the fact that the play was performed in the round, with the audience on all four sides. You couldn’t leave without entering the action yourself. We were trapped, and we were forced to acknowledge the other people in the room. Furthermore, there was action onstage that made me physically tense. There were words that made me flinch.  There were images that I mentally resisted at first (who sits around thinking about hacking your way through the fleshy organs of a sea serpent?) because they initially felt too strange. Sometimes I wanted to look away, but I was completely captivated.

But for those brave enough to face a kind of theatre that they may not have encountered before, Tender Napalm is a powerful piece of theatre, beautifully acted by Elan Zafir and Laura C. Harris. I’m surprised and impressed that this show was part of Signature Theatre’s season. A play about the dreamlike emotional playground of a London East End couple might seem out of place in a musical theatre in Arlington, VA.  But which one of us hasn’t known that being in love is violent and turbulent as much as it is beautiful and blissful? How many of us haven’t wanted to just scream our heartbreak to the world and let it all out? Who hasn’t wished, even for a moment, that they could travel to a world of their own making, where they are the Queen or the Hero?

My only disappointment was that I counted only about 10 people who were under the age of 40 in the 100-seat theatre. More people my age – the 20-somethings – should familiarize themselves with this type of theatre. They will be the future patrons and practitioners of the art. I would like to see more plays like Tender Napalm, plays that are challenging and cut through the mediocrity of daily life to force us to feel and reflect. If price deters you (speaking as millennial myself), take advantage of Signature’s $30 rush tickets, an hour before the show.

Love is a battlefield. Dare to embrace the explosion.

“I’d rather be unhappy in her world than happy in another.”

 

Children Will Listen: Why I do what I do

I emerge from my blogging absence with lots of stories to tell and thoughts to organize. As it turns out, a full-time-and-then-some internship and a second job makes one quite busy! I was not idle in my hiatus, however. I was simply too busy DOING to record anything. I would like to find a better balance between work and writing, and I would like to keep my skills honed and my online presence…existent. So upon the conclusion of my internship, here is my first post about the most important thing I learned from the experience working on the Signature in the School’s production of the new play “Hero Worship” by Joe Calarco: what I’m doing with my life and why it matters.

---

Nervous energy courses through the air as a group of young soldiers mills around the small space. Some listen to music to get in the zone. Others chatter about school. Some simply concentrate on the task at hand. What they are about to do will take courage, focus, and teamwork. If they succeed, they might just change the world.

“June 6, 1944.”

This isn’t June 6, 1944. This is March 10, 2014, and although this group of teenagers isn’t facing Nazi troops and bullets, they have some things in common with the D-Day soldiers they are portraying. They’re young (many soldiers at Normandy lied about their age and were actually 16 or 17). They’ve trained together for weeks (including an 3-week dramaturgy/acting rehearsal intensive called “boot camp”). They believe in their cause (these kids gave up 3 hours of time every day AFTER long days at school to rehearse.) And they’re a little nervous, because what they’re going to do is hard: they’re about to perform a play with very mature/controversial themes in front of 250 of their peers.

These high school actors blew me away.

“I pretended to be a man so I could go to war!”

“You don’t see any black soldiers in ‘The Longest Day,’ do you?”

They not only handled serious content (like war, race, PTSD, and suicide) with maturity and sensitivity, they showed some real talent on Signature’s professional stage. But as an educator, what most impressed me wasn’t their innate talent – although there was plenty of that – but rather their openness to instruction and support of each other. At one point, I had to make one of the actresses recite a monologue in which her character is reading her father’s suicide note again and again. I had to push the actress to completely break down and find her character’s vulnerability. She did it without question. At another point, I was responsible for directing 6 teenage boys by myself through a complicated D-Day sequence. They were completely attentive and respectful while I gave notes. On another day, when we did an exercise in which the whole cast was  to go around  a circle and say one positive sentence about each other person, everyone ended up saying a paragraph.

“Just don’t call me a hero. I was just doing my job.”

Perhaps the most validating moment for me as a dramaturg came during the talkbacks in the public performances. I had spent 2 months putting together what turned out to be a GIANT history resource guide for the cast and crew. I knew after the fact that I wrote too much, and there’s no way these kids would read it all. I was also convinced I had botched my dramaturgy teaching in the boot camp rehearsals. That was my first time teaching history to high schoolers, and the kids’ first impression of me. Many of them had already had one or two other interns from previous participation of Signature in the Schools. I was so nervous! Yet during the public talkbacks, when someone asked how they prepared for their roles, they immediately referenced the boot camp lessons and my resource guide. I almost exploded with pride.

Some of the crew joins the actors for a selfie!

These actors and crew members are young adults, not children, but they DO listen. They are about to become old enough to vote and enlist. They are solidifying values and opinions. And they make me very hopeful for the next generation of theatre practitioners and American citizens. Because of Signature in the Schools, they will be aware of the issues of war and returning veterans for the rest of their lives. They know the significance of D-Day and the Greatest Generation.

Students had the privilege to work with DC professional actress Nancy Robinette

That’s the power of dramaturgy,  teaching, and high school theatre programs. Theatre education programs are not just a way to keep the theatre at non-profit status. They might be the most important outlet to change society that a theatre has, if done right. Regional theatres and public school districts should not underestimate these kids. They will rise to the standards their educators set, so aim high.

After doing this internship, I believe that more greatest generations are yet before us. That’s why I do what I do.

 

2013: Dramaturg Rising

I love New Year’s. I love the possibility of closure for last year, and a blank page for the next chapter. Maybe that’s just a lot of metaphorical crap we tell ourselves, but I love the symbolism. It forces me to self-reflect and take actions toward making my future a reality. And for a night, we can exist in an infinite moment of liminality, where we stand in a doorway, a threshold, two places at once. I was taught that as a dramaturg, that should be our favorite place to be, because that’s where magic and metamorphosis takes place.

2013 was a big one for me as a dramaturg. After several years of exploring my craft, incubated by mentors and like-minded people in my major, it was time to leave the nest of Carnegie Mellon and apply what I had learned. Here are my highlights from a year of thrilling, terrifying, and ultimately transformative dramaturgy:

1) Questing for Employment

Trying to fill out job apps while balancing coursework, clubs, and (multiple) campus jobs is like playing a video game where your ultimate goal is to kill a big Boss, but hordes of smaller minions stand in the way, preventing you from getting to the real point of your mission. Fortunately, CMU had hardened my will power and time management. I sent out a lot of applications, and received a lot of disappointments. I graduated without any promise of a job, but with the belief that I had the skills and determination to make that happen.

2) The Real World

I had the privilege of being a student of professional dramaturg Heather Helinsky this spring.  As an active production dramaturg and coordinator for the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival, she had a lot of connections, and  she was extremely generous in introducing me to other artists and making recommendations on my behalf. Networking was still stressful, but I began to see the beauty of a career in the arts as well. Part of a dramaturg’s job is making connections with other theatre artists and staying up-to-date on cool new work popping up from creative minds all of the country. The Real World was still kind of scary, but there was a lot of joy out there as well.

3) From Coast to Coast

This small-town Central-PA girl made it California! School of Drama sends the seniors to a Showcase in LA every May. I was fortunate enough to meet many people in the industry, reconnect with alumni old and new, tour studios, and taste the wonders of West Coast sushi and margaritas. It was fast, furious, and fun, but I realized I probably wouldn’t be heading to the movies. You have to have guts of steel to survive out there, and I tend to have the heart of a hobbit. But I admire my friends who are daring that crazy place: I hope you make it, and I can’t wait to read your name in the credits someday!

We also got invitations to the Magic Castle. No big deal.

4) “I do Believe I have been Changed for the Better”

The ceremony was hot, crowded, and I was running on almost no sleep (perhaps the most accurate depiction of my time at CMU haha), but I admit I was pleased. I kind of like the theatricality of ceremonies, particularly when I’ve been expecting them for a while. I was proud of that over-sized piece of paper that said officially: Kelley Harrington, Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dramaturgy. But I also knew that celebrations that meant the most to happened when I wasn’t wearing the tassle: raising a glass with close friends over the summer, singing with my a cappella group for the last time in 4 years, and taking a trip with my boyfriend to New York. And my time at CMU was not measured by hours of sleep I lost or that shiny diploma. I will always remember it for the incredible people, teachers, and skills I picked up while listening to the bagpipes playing in the background.

I think Malcom Reynolds would agree: This degree was very shiny.

5) A New City & My First Job

When I heard about the internship position with Tony-Award-Winning Signature Theatre in Washington, DC, I knew it was a great match. They needed someone who could work with kids, research a new play, and develop a resource guide, all areas into which I had poured many hours of my life already. Several months of research with Signature culminated in a 100-page mini-textbook for high schoolers about D-Day. My greatest challenge was sifting through this material and figuring out how to present it in a way our teenage students would want to read it. Years of formatting actor’s packets came in very handy here. I’ll continue my partnership with Signature for another few months, but I’ll always be grateful to them for opening the door to DC for me.

6) Getting my Hands Inky

Thanks to the generous, delightful folks of Inkwell Theatre here in DC, I got to dabble in new play development this year too! Inkwell’s core purpose is to unite dramaturgs, playwrights, and directors to make work that creates “impossible worlds” and poignant pieces that also shed a profound light on the human experience. Their enthusiasm for new stories is contagious, and I was particularly touched by the true consideration with which they approach the  dramaturg-playwright relationship. Inkwell recognizes that baby plays are delicate things that need time, care, and fertile conditions to grow. In Inkwell’s workshops, dramaturgs learn how to best serve their playwright’s precious, valuable ideas. Likewise, the playwright learns to trust the dramaturg. Inkwell’s program helps different members of the creative team work together, and reminds us that we share a common goal: making new, bold, beautiful art.

In conclusion, I’ve been a dramaturg by choice for years, but in 2013, I became a dramaturg by trade. It was a momentous year. However, like Walter Benjamin’s Angel of History, I’m being blown into the future even as I contemplate the past. So onward to 2014! Anyway, I should get some sleep.

I have rehearsal tomorrow.

The monster in the middle of this blog…

“It’s my belief that the study of history should be our preparation for understanding the present, rather than an escape from it.” – Elizabeth Kostova, “The Historian”

Tonight, while the government of the United States of America attempted to recover from knocking itself into a shutdown, I retreated from the barrage of facebook opinions into the Shirlington Library to finish a book. I’ve been working through this book since moving to DC by covering 50 pages at a time on my 2-hour metro commute (both ways!). In the rays of the dying sun, I devoured the last few chapters, rediscovering my indelible hunger for ancient books, new knowledge, and monster hunts.

“The Historian,” by Elizabeth Kostovo, is a beautifully-researched take on the Dracula mythos. The narrative weaves through the first-hand written recollections of several generations of characters, so  the reader is drawn into the mystery across time and space as each new clue comes to light. Through the course of the book, I traveled to worlds beyond my previous imagining. I looked down from Pyrenees heights in France. I strolled in the proud Oxford archives. I watched the sunset over my native Budapest. Kostovo takes her time unfolding a world of such descriptive depth that I was able to smell the Eastern Orthodox incense, taste the Turkish delicacies, and smell the pines of Romania.

What truly captivated me about this book was that it validated the intellectual attraction I have always had to history and monsters. For the characters, understanding the past was literally the difference between life and death. Only by researching the ancient clashes between Byzantium and the Ottoman Empire, and the morbid true story of the Wallachian Prince Vlad Tepes the Impaler, “Son of the Dragon,” could they uncover the truth that would save them.

Several people who have recommended this book to me said that it could also be titled “The Dramaturg.” Why do dramaturgs spend so much time wandering among archaic information? Why give heed to monsters and other “imaginary” beings? What relevance does it all have to the living, breathing theatre onstage now? I would argue that knowing history is key to creating any intelligent, meaningful, powerful art. Only through tracing the paths of history – including the seemingly insignificant side-trails and ESPECIALLY the dark forested eaves we fear to enter – can we truly understand our how we got to where we are now and how to make responsible decisions about the present. History teaches us that reality extends far beyond our conscious lives, farther than the one-thousandth of books ever written that we actually still possess in the 21st century, into folk songs and decorated manuscripts and the land itself.

These histories are haunted by monsters. Sometimes they appear as someone who actually lived and is now twisted by cultural memory, like “Vlad Drakulya.” Other times, as in the case of 20th century dictators like Hitler or Stalin, dark imagination could hardly come up with more insidious characters. Sometimes monsters are manifestations of our fears, such as the witches of early American Salem. The bloodstains in history are as real and horrifying as any Dracula. The more we ignore the demons of our past, the closer they can come to sneaking up on us. If we’re not careful, they turn us into monsters as well.

But I also believe that history is full of moments of grandeur, courage, and simple beauty. Equipped with those stories of inspiration, dramaturgs expose the shadows of the past to keep them from corrupting our present. We should not afraid to explore the realms where monsters real and imagined roam. Only by facing them can we create a safer, more compassionate present.

My important dramaturgical research question of the evening: Is Kate Beckinsale sexier hunting vampires or being one?

Delving into history is a search for truth, and the search must always continue. Because monsters of the past never stay dead for long.

Happy October, everyone.

 

Writing my Signature

I have officially completed Day 1 as the Signature Theatre education intern! There were some fun parts, there were some less-fun administrative kind of parts, but at the end of the day, I’m excited to be part of this staff. I like the vibes in the office. My fellow desk-mate would occasionally break into his own adaptations of Broadway songs, and there was enough intermittent laughter to make me think that these people genuinely like each other and their jobs.

I’m excited to be working at Signature because I’ve always had a soft spot for musical theatre. I love my Martin McDonagh and Oscar Wilde and Carol Churchill and Tony Kushner, but my first experience with theatre (as is true for many people) was Les Miserables. At nine years old, I learned how music could connect me to ideas and stories so much bigger than myself, even if I didn’t fully understand yet what a world “beyond the barricade” looked like. And Signature’s specialty is Sondheim, who has created some of the most brilliant musicals in our American repertoire. Ever since I worked on Assassins for the “Junior Performance Project” at Carnegie Mellon, I was smitten. Signature has done Assassins twice, Sweeney Todd three times (to the initial shock of its first audiences), and Into the Woods at least once. They’re not afraid to make productions of even “classic” musicals fresh, fun, and fabulous. But I think my favorite part of Signature so far is that they do musicals in a 250-seat black box theatre space. Although I have appreciated the grandiose halls of the National Theatre or the Benedum Center (good ole’ Pittsburgh college nights out on the town!), I love that Signature audiences can SEE the emotions on the faces of the performers as well as hear it in their voices. The audience is practically part of the show, which has always been my favorite kind of theatre.

Additionally, to conclude the adventures of the day, there is a lovely little restaurant called “Busboys and Poets” (named so in honor of Langston Hughes) a few steps away from the theatre. I was initially going to get my food to go, but the bartender convinced me to linger a bit, and the menu’s dedication to organically-grown produce and social activism caught my eye enough to stay. I was sold on the place when I got the check and realized that my margarita was on the house. I think I may have found my friendly neighborhood pub, a staple for any place to feel like home to a true Irish lass.

In conclusion, I like it here. I still need to see how the next few months unfold, but so far, I feel welcomed by new coworkers and strangers alike. I know I”m going to be working hard with not a big budget, but my mind is happy to be back in “active” mode. I have already started a little “dramaturgy” for Signature’s “Off-Book” talk-back session next week that they do in conjunction with the Shirlington Library, which shares their building.  Yes, I work in a theatre/library. Anyone who has ever known me would agree that I’m in the right place. I’m sure I’ll have tough days and rough weather, but at least to start me on my way, I have blue skies over D.C.