Craig Quintero Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 2 Visit Journal Homepage The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness Craig Quintero By Published on May 20, 2022 Download Article as PDF The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness. Yuko Kurahashi. Jefferson, NC: McFarland Books, 2020; Pp. 240. Yuko Kurahashi’s The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness presents the first comprehensive analysis of Ping Chong’s five-decade long theatre career in which, according to Kurahashi, Chong “has created the largest and most complex body of work of any Asian American artist” (5). Kurahashi defines Chong as an “avant-garde artist who is also Asian American” instead of an “Asian American avant-garde artist” in order to highlight that his work extends beyond issues of Asian American identity and focuses on broader global concerns of displaced communities, marginalization, and racial and economic injustice (5). Kurahashi’s study traces the evolution of Chong’s performances from his early abstract productions to his multi-media performances, historical projects, and community-based oral histories, while also detailing the manner in which “the trajectory of his life and experiences underpin” his art (173). In Chapter 1, “Transpacific Journey of Two Opera Artists,” Kurahashi introduces the broader cultural and political landscape that Chong was born into in 1946 in Toronto, noting seminal moments that led to the massive influx of Chinese immigrants to North America in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and the discriminatory laws enacted by America and Canada to stem this flow. Chong’s parents were both Cantonese Opera artists (his father was a director and his mother was a performer) who first made their way from Guangzhou, China, to San Francisco in the 1930s with a traveling Cantonese Opera company, before moving to Canada and finally settling in New York in 1947. Kurahashi emphasizes the impact that being raised in an immigrant household had on Chong, with issues of “isolation, loneliness, and the struggle of self-identity” recurring in his work as he grapples with being a “culturally hyphenated man” in America (11). Chapter 2 details Chong’s formative collaborative relationship with Meredith Monk that began after he completed his undergraduate degree in film at the School of Visual Arts in New York. He joined the Meredith Monk Dance Company in 1972, and later that year, Chong and Monk collaborated on the dance Paris. This collaboration provided the foundation for Chong’s early performances that emphasized abstraction, non-linear or non-existent narratives, tableau, music, dance, voice-overs, “framing” by constructing faux proscenium arches, projections, “bricolage” (a technique inspired by Joseph Cornell’s artwork in which Chong juxtaposed unassociated objects onstage to create new meaning), incorporation of movement styles inspired by Japanese Noh and other Asian performance traditions, and use of language as a “medium” instead of an “instrument of communication” (35-41). Kurahashi reads these early experiments as Chong’s attempt to “integrate a multiplicity of stage elements to provoke the audience to look at the work and their world anew” (42). Chapters 3-10 introduce Chong’s major performances from 1975-2017. Kurahashi presents his works chronologically, while also dividing the performances into thematic “categories” including fear of the unknown (Chapter 3), myths (Chapter 4), modern dystopia (Chapter 5), revisionary history of East-West relations (Chapter 6), staging voices in the community (Chapter 7), memories and stories of local communities (Chapter 8), puppet theatre (Chapter 9), and collaborating with educational institutions (Chapter 10). In each chapter, Kurahashi presents “mini-reviews” of 2-5 performances in which she briefly describes the design (set, costumes, props, music, etc.) and images from the works, while also providing her interpretation of the performances’ meaning. Kurahashi’s brief analysis often relies on piecing together published reviews, resulting in a fragmented description that is difficult to visualize. Black and white rehearsal and production photographs are important additions to the book, providing readers with a clearer understanding of the performance aesthetics. Kurahashi’s analysis is most insightful in Chapters 6, 7, and 8. In Chapter 6, she critiques Chong’s “departure from the abstract and allegorical works he completed in the 1970s and 1980s” as he shifts to “historical works which focus on cultural collisions and encounters” in The East/West Quartet (82). Kurahashi describes this series as an attempt to “bring to light history which would otherwise disappear” (86). Each of the four performances addresses specific cultural and political junctures of contestation: Deshima (1990) portrays Japanese and Western colonialism from the sixteenth through twentieth century (82), Chinoiserie (1995) illustrates the manner in which Western powers attempted to assert financial and political control over China (84), After Sorrow (1997) depicts Chinese and Vietnamese culture through a poetic combination of music, dance, text, and projections (85), and Pojagi (1999) demonstrates the impact colonizers had on Korea which culminated in the division of the country during the Korean War (85). Chapters 7 and 8 are dedicated to Chong’s ongoing collaborative, community-based oral history series, Undesirable Elements (1992–present). Chong initially designed the series as a creative space for displaced people to share their personal narratives before expanding the emphasis to encompass people who he describes as having experienced “otherness beyond the boundaries of the transit” (101). For the series, Chong and his creative team visit a host community, interview local residents, select the participants for the production, conduct more in-depth interviews, refine the “scripts,” then rehearse what Chong describes as a “seated opera for the spoken word” (99). Foregoing the elaborate theatrical design of his earlier works, the Undesirable Elements series requires minimal scenery, with performers seated in a semi-circle facing the audience and reading from their scripts (100). These performances provide a public space for marginalized people to share their memories of the past and dreams for the future (110). Chong has developed over forty productions with diverse communities in cities including Berlin, Tokyo, Rotterdam, Seattle, and New York. In the book’s final chapter, “Future: ALAXSXA/ALASKA and Beyond—Quest for Identity, Otherness, and Humanity,” Kurahashi describes one of Chong’s most recent works, ALAXSXA/ALASKA, which addresses environmental and political concerns of Alaska’s Indigenous people before addressing trends in Chong’s ongoing work. In this closing analysis and throughout the book, I found myself longing for more interviews with Chong and his collaborators, more details about his creative process (how does Chong structure his interview process and textual revisions?), and clearer descriptions of Chong’s performances instead of lengthy interpretations of their meaning. Nevertheless, The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness will serve as a useful introductory resource for scholars and classrooms, helping to deepen critical understanding about one of the most important and, unfortunately, overlooked theatre artists of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Craig Quintero Grinnell College Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Embodied Reckonings: “Comfort Women,” Performance and Transpacific Redress The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration Introduction to Asian American Dramaturgies Behind the Scenes of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies On Young Jean Lee in Young Jean Lee's We're Gonna Die by Christine Mok Representation from Cambodia to America: Musical Dramaturgies in Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band The Dramaturgical Sensibility of Lauren Yee’s The Great Leap and Cambodian Rock Band Holding up a Lens to the Consortium of Asian American Theaters and Artists: A Photo Essay Theatre in Hawaiʻi: An “Illumination of the Fault Lines” of Asian American Theatre Randall Duk Kim: A Sojourn in the Embodiment of Words Reappropriation, Reparative Creativity, and Feeling Yellow in Generic Ensemble Company’s The Mikado: Reclaimed Dance Planets Dramaturgy of Deprivation (없다): An Invitation to Re-Imagine Ways We Depict Asian American and Adopted Narratives of Trauma Clubhouse: Stories of Empowered Uncanny Anomalies Off-Yellow Time vs Off-White Space: Activist Asian American Dramaturgy in Higher Education Asian American Dramaturgies in the Classroom: A Reflection Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

European Stages serves as an inclusive English-language journal, providing a detailed perspective on the unfolding narrative of contemporary European theatre since 1969. Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back European Stages 22, 2026 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Power, Shame, Vanity and Opportunism – Productions of the 63rd Berliner Theatertreffen Published: July 15, 2026 Download Article as PDF By Steve Earnest Image Credits: Article Featured Image: Cast of Wallenstein . Photo credit: Armin Smailovic At the audience talkback following the nominated production Three Times Left is Right , Vincent Koch, a member of the Theatertreffen jury noted that one of the key elements involved in this year’s final show selection had to do with each work’s provocative quality – it’s ability to provoke the audience through the theatrical process. Given the increasing worldwide polarization in political positions, a great many of the works considered not only the nature of world politics but also many of the byproducts of that ongoing dialectic. It may be said that “the politics of war” was a theme of this year’s festival – not only traditional war between nations or regions but wars in the bedroom and war against oneself. As is always the case at the festival each May, many unique production approaches were seen and many great seasoned and new theatre figures displayed some of the highest-level work in Europe. Sadly, Florentina’s Holzinger’s A Year Without Summer could not be presented during the festival dates as it had been previously scheduled to tour to Australia during May 2026. The work was rescheduled to appear in October 2026 at the Volksbühne. Also, given the early starting dates of the festival it was not possible to review productions of The Leopard or Mephisto . A total of seven of the works of the 63 rd Berliner Theatertreffen will be considered in this article. Admittedly, hearing that The Glass Menagerie was selected as one of the “Ten Remarkable Productions” was something that did not excite me. Having seen the production in the USA various times in both professional as well as amateur settings, it only conjured images of Tom and Amanda sparring in a typical box set with Laura presented as someone with various deficiencies. From the outset it was clear that this would not be the case with this production from Theater Basel. Director Jan Woodcock-Stewart focused on the fragile structure of the family and especially the roles of women in the work. Many metaphors were created with regard to the scenic elements utilized in the first half of the play – the layout consisted of several loosely defined performance areas: a long winding upstage walkway used for all entrances and exits, a small office and computer area for Laura (the production was not at all tied to the 1930’s) and a family gathering area, loosely defined by contemporary power plates, vibrating cushions typically used for exercise. For several of the scenes the actors stood on the vibrating plates and delivered their lines – creating a metaphor for the “shaky ground” on which each was standing. To further enhance the metaphor, coins had to be inserted by Tom into the power plates in order for them to keep working. Laura’s peculiar nature was defined in numerous ways, but none more striking than her online vocal lessons with a female teacher of heavy metal screaming. The hilarity of these scenes cannot be overstated. The inclusion of this element paid huge dividends later in the production, particularly in the scene when Tom and Amanda were discussing Laura’s “peculiar nature” while she was running around the room in headphones screaming heavy metal lyrics. Antionette Ullrich’s performance as Laura was highly physical and worked against the notion of her being crippled physically, but rather socially. The menagerie itself was striking, and Laura used a hand-held camera to focus on the collection of glass horse figures as all were horses except for the one unicorn that was later broken. As Amanda, Hilke Altefrohne gave a much younger take on the role than one might typically see. At one point a microphone appeared, and she sang the sexy disco song “Rescue Me,” as her desperate financial situation became increasingly apparent. The visit of Jim, the “gentleman caller” was marked by an incredible scenic change. An enormous realistic/dream set was lowered onto the stage to symbolize Amanda’s ideal dinner night. Dark green in color, the unit set was only used in that scene and marked a clear break from the fragmented world previously established to define the dysfunctional, fragmented life of the trio. As Laura had been forced into what appeared to be the costume of a whore, Amanda had arranged a beautiful table for dinner; Jim arrived on a motorcycle and wore a flashy motorcycle outfit. However, before coming face to face with Jim, Laura ripped off the dress in favor of a baggy sweatshirt and more traditional house clothing. Led by Tom, played by Jan Bluthardt, the family sang grace by rote and the scene followed with the table being vibrated by the same power plates used in the early scenes. The entire dinner became a physical fiasco due to the vibrating table and the resultant spillages and even breakages of plates and glasses. As is often the case, the Jim and Laura scene was one of the play’s highlights – Julian Anatol Schneider’s portrayal of Jim was marvelously understated. As he left, so did the marvelous set and thus Amanda’s dream was ended. In the end Tom screamed “Laura – blow out the candle’s!” nearly ten times before she did it, leaving the audience somewhat unsettled. Amanda, Jim (Julian Anatol Schneider) and Tom in the Gentleman Caller scene. Photo Credit: Lucia Hunziker The production received a mixed reaction to those in attendance that evening, with some audience members loudly booing the directorial interpretation of the work. It should be noted that there was an equally loud group who stood and cheered the approach and the bold choices made by Woodcock-Stewart and her production team. The young British director is noted for her refusal to simply retell works in their traditional form but to find new methods of storytelling that reenvision stories for a contemporary world. The Glass Menagerie was a prime example of this directorial process. Hilke Altefrohne as Amanda with Tom (Jan Bluthardt) and Laura (Antionette Ullrich). Stading on vibrating cushions. Photo Credit: Lucia Hunziker Presented at the Hans Otto Theatre in Potsdam, Serotinin was based on the novel by Michel Houellebecq and was presented as a monodrama by the actor Guido Lambrecht. Directed and designed by veteran Sebastian Hartmann, the work was presented on the small Probebühne stage in Potsdam on a single white set. The nearly five hour work was characterized by moments of stillness, silence and thought – an endless stream of consciousness monologue presented by Lambrecht who fared very well given the Herculean task of telling the story of his life, his parents, of the new generation, and key elements of his own personal struggles that reflect many of the struggles of western society. Embodying the character of Florent-Claude Labrouste, Lambrecht tells the story as someone whose life is near its end. Rendered impotent by prescription drugs, he relives many of his failed relationships both with women and with others though his sad and uneventful life. Lambrecht’s performance was extremely filmic, and an argument could be made for this work to be presented in that medium. As a theatre work, it was somewhat tedious, and the absence of any subtitles made it difficult to follow the entire story with complete accuracy. Because of the relative stasis of the work which included very little movement and really no scenic variety whatsoever, it made the work stand apart from the entire slate of other performances. The work seemed a curious selection when compared with the other, highly developed gesamtuntwerk -like productions of the 2026 Theatertreffen. However, there is a history there - Serotonin was not the first of Houellenbercq’s novels to be staged as a theatrical work; The Elementary Particles was staged by Schauspielhaus Zurich in 2004 and invited to the 2005 Theatertreffen. The writer maintains a strong presence among the European public and his works continue to speak to the contemporary public in a relevant way. Guido Lambrecht in Serotonin . Photo Credit: Thomas M. Jauk Another solo work, Fräulein Else , was presented by Volkstheater Wien, directed by Leonie Böhm and performed by Julia Riedler. Much shorter than Serotonin , Riedler’s performance lasted a mere hour and a half – still quite a feat as a solo work. The work was adapted from Arthur Schnitlzer’s controversial novel of the same name, written in 1924, that involved Else’s father, deeply in debt and a deal that is brokered to resolve the debt. An elderly art deal named Dorsay agreed to resolve the debt provided that Else exposes herself naked to him for a quarter of an hour. Böhm and Riedler adapted the work as an inner monologue that explored both the comical as well as the more serious and even shameful nature of the situation. Apparently, Dorsay had observed the young Else since she was thirteen years old and had always been a “fan.” She describes in detail the meeting between them as he asks her to sit on his knee, fondling her and calling her names like “dear child” and “desirable creature.” Throughout the work Riedler remained in constant dialogue with the audience, actually asking questions and receiving answers, which guaranteed each performance to be slightly different based on the responses given. On the night I saw the production she asked the audience whether she should expose herself or not, to which the majority shouted “nein!” But she told them she would only say yes after she had the bank transfer in hand and had taken a very strong tranquilizer. Her strip show was a little spectacular. Julia Riedler in Fr ä ulein Else. Photo Credit: Marcel Urlaub Presented on the main stage of the Berliner Ensemble, Fräulein Else began with Riedler in the audience trying to make her way onto the stage while stopping to flirt with and ask questions of many of the (particularly) male audience members. Obviously, a seasoned actress in improvisation the journey to the stage took nearly a quarter hour, and when she finally arrived on stage her narrative discussion of the story began. Within the context of the work, she investigated areas of power, male dominance, humiliation and shame. Utilizing only a large mountable chandelier she once rode up on the device that was lifted to a great height in the theatre. Soon after her decent she began to take off her clothes and appeared naked on stage for the required quarter of an hour, discussing the nature of what it felt like to be naked in front of others in such a voyeuristic situation. Riedler’s great skill as a comedic actress was certainly the highlight of the show; she had the audience up dancing in the aisles and even doing “the wave.” Riedler also pointed out the fourteen naked female statues that were a part of the interior architecture of the Theater am Schiffbauerdamm and managed to throw an insult out to the former leader, Bertolt Brecht, who was well known as a womanizer (in her words). Schiller’s epic Wallenstein trilogy was presented by the Munich Kammerspiele as “A Slaughter in Seven Courses.” Staged by resident director Jan-Christoph Gockel, the seven-and-a-half-hour spectacle included nearly everything one could imagine from a theatrical performance. Power, betrayal and opportunity dominated the work which spanned decades but in fact considered many different times and places all united by the landscape of war. In the original, the character of Albrecht von Wallenstein was in fact, a mercenary, a loyal subject (but basically a businessman) who profits from war. Gockel introduced the parallel story of Vladimir Putin’s contemporary associate Yevgeny Prigozhin, a mercenary who supplied the Russian army with food during the early years of the war in the Ukraine. A huge Putin loyalist, Prigozhin had worked his way up from the position of a menial worker to Putin’s lead chef. To illustrate that conceptual idea, the first major scene of the play, nearly one hour in length, consisted of a huge kitchen area, populated by nearly one dozen chefs and cooks, all contributing to the creation of a magnificent feast. Entitled “Cooking is War,” an onstage camera crew (popular with many productions at this year’s TT) captured all of the slicing, dicing, mixing, straining and other duties associated with food preparation. The extensive detail of the cooking session featured no actual stage dialog, instead the soundscape consisted of the sounds created by the chopping, mixing and casual unscripted conversation of the onstage workforce. The cameras allowed for the action to be seen from many angles as projected onto the three onstage screens. Samuel Koch and Katharina Bach in Wallenstein. Photo credit: Armin Smailovic Portrayed by paraplegic actor Samuel Koch, the character of Wallenstein became a puppet – both literally and figuratively. Two incredible elements contributed to this idea – a miniature puppet of Koch’s character that was skillfully manipulated by actor and puppeteer Michael Pietsch and an amazing electric “wheelchair/throne” that turned the character of Wallenstein into something of a monster puppet (i.e. a monster truck). Though a loyal ally to the emperor, Wallenstein made enough mistakes (a parallel to the story of Prigozhin) that he was eventually assassinated. The funeral scene (as it may be called) took place on a large green screen as Wallenstein’s (Prigozhin’s) span of life was chronicled through a series of images that illustrated the incredible damage to the war effort (Ukraine) that he helped orchestrate as a supportive ally. The powerful ending revealed one of Wallenstein’s greatest epiphanies – that man is greater than war. Katharina Bach’s performance as Illo was one of the true highlights of the festival. Playing the part of a male associate of Wallenstein, Bach donned a male muscle shirt and even exposed a long penis at one point – cutting it off and flinging it into an onstage mess of residual effects. Later in the play Illo went hunting for the severed penis and, in a hilarious video assisted scene, found the object among the aisles of the audience and Illo arrived to try and revive the penis, offering “chest pumps,” as well as mouth to mouth resuscitation. The incredibly funny scene was just one of many from a production that created an incredible balance of serious as well as comedic scenes. Wallenstein included a total of 5 pauses – three were 30 minutes in length and the other two were about 10 minutes each. Two of the lengthier breaks were themed as audience members were fed the Russian soup dish soljanka during one of the breaks and another consisted of a Russian “kitsch,” a dance party with techno music as audience members were invited onstage to dance with the cast members. Following the dance party break, certain selected audience members were given scripts to read selections from Sergei Okunev’s writings about the lives of mercenaries. Based on a concept from playwright/director Heiner Müller, the use of audience members led to several very comedic moments but also some extremely profound and meaningful scenes. The audience members were joined onstage by many of the cast members, who lightly coached the chosen spectators, all of whom were seated on a very wide table situated downstage. Wallenstein featured a great deal of audience interaction, which helped to alleviate any issues caused by the production’s length. In so many ways, Wallenstein was the most complete and stylistically solid production of the 2026 Theatertreffen. Paulina Alpen as Thomas Melle. Photo Credit: Julian Baumann Die Welt im Rucken (The World at My Back) chronicles the life and experiences of Thomas Melle, who suffered from extreme bipolarism. Initially a successful playwright and novelist, Melle’s mental condition led him to sell off his prized library, live in a drunken stupor, engage in sexual fantasies, and be confined to a psychiatric hospital after numerous arrests, several of which were violent in nature. The stage version of the novel, produced by Schauspiel Stuttgart under the direction of Lucia Bihler and Gwendolyne Melchinger featured a cast of seven – Paulina Alpen as Thomas Melle flanked by a company of six doppelgangers; all were dressed in the same costume but only Alpen’s role saw many visual changes as far as costumes as properties were concerned. The doppelganger’s served as a chorus for the work. A complicated theatrical performance, the play began with an overview of Melle’s condition: the loss of his library, his criminal undertakings and other activities considered to be a part of the large “elephant in the room” of Melle’s life and career. The staging and performance of the work were exceptional. By developing the Melle novel into a Greek style chorus the work was one of the most celebrated of the Theatertreffen. The choral aspect of the work included many physical feats (trampolines as well as choreography) but also the repetition of key sections of text were an important element of the performance. Cast of Die Welt im Rucken. Photo Credit: Julian Baumann Perhaps the strongest element of Die Welt im Rucken was the scenery, designed by Paula Wellmann. The striking pink curtains served as an enveloping scenic element to frame the action within a particular world. Once Melle’s condition reached a certain point, the curtains were dropped and formed a physical barrier for the action. Additional platforms and other scenic elements, including flying equipment, accentuated the play’s action. The stunning curtain drop and later use of the fallen curtains to provide a scenic space was an ingenious invention. The space was utilized to provide a universal setting for many of Melle’s both lived and internal events that defied the necessity of a literal place. Wellmann was able to construct a literal “mental landscape” that supported Melle’s journey. Carl Zuckmayer’s The Captain of Köpenick is a standard German farce and is typically known by all German readers of literature and theatre. As presented by Staatstheater Cottbus, It was very much a performance about the work and not a play of the performance itself. The work was presented as something of a puppet show in a confined environment that allowed the performers a frontal space defined by their ability to communicate in a parallel environment – very close to visually resembling a large puppet stage. The cartoon like element of the production – seen in many previous Theatertreffen finalists – has been a popular format for productions in Germany and offers directors and production teams the ability to experiment with stylistic choices in a formalized structure. Entrances and exits were often made from below, as characters were able to simply “pop up” from below. Music was utilized throughout and there were many scenes that had the feel of a Berlin cabaret, and most of the 8-person cast played at least one musical instrument. The text itself was altered greatly, and long sections of narration were interpolated into the work. For example, a section was included from Zuckmayer’s personal writings regarding his travels from Germany to France during the war years. Additionally, there was a long discussion of the Berlin transit system as Sebastian Hartmann’s concept took into the consideration the village of Köpenick itself, Cast of The Captain of Köpenick . Photo Credit: Bernd Schönberger Studio Julian Hetzel presented Three Times Left is Right , an autobiographical work based on the lives of a real couple – an undisclosed husband and wife from Vienna – who were portrayed by Belgian actors Kristien De Proost and Josse De Pauw. As the actors, acting as narrators in the beginning noted, the couple was exceedingly happy and loving and, in the end, had only one major difference – their political views. The work began in direct address – the preshow video listed the numerous elements of the play that some audience members might find offensive. These included: abusive language, hate speech, homophobic references, physical violence, toxic masculinity and basically any possible element that could offend anyone. As Kristen and Josse took the stage (they used their own names) they spoke the entire performance in direct address to the audience. While they were clearly in love physically, as they displayed throughout the production, their political views were polar; Josse was a left-wing liberal but Kristen was a well-educated right-wing writer and scholar. The production balanced their views and conversations until the point that Kristen decided to cut open Jesse’s belly and pull up his intestines and other internal organs, including his liver. The production, which has now played in not only Germany but Belgium, Holland and Switzerland, has opened a true dialog about the nature of political polarization, especially among individual households. The political bent of the work was clearly neutral, and kudos to the production team for creating a work that allowed a space for reflection, decision making, comedic reaction and ultimate choice. Julian Hetzel’s team created a work that served as a forum for both political and social discussion and did so through a medium that generated both comedic as well as serious face to face discussions. Kristien De Proost and Josse De Pauw in Three Times Left is Right. Photo Credit: Nurith Wagner-Strauss Three Times Left is Right was presented in the rather astonishing Hebbel Theater, a space I had never visited before. The beautiful theatre space was in the area of Hallesches Tor, a major area of the former East Berlin and the theatre obviously held a major position in the community there. With almost all seats in the theatre being less than 50 meters from the downstage center area, the theatre had one of the most intimate feelings of any major theatre I visited in Berlin over the past 30 years. Interior of the Hebbel Theater, Berlin. The 2026 Theatertreffen marked the 7 th straight year that the judges utilized a minimum of 50% female quota as far as directors are concerned. However, after extensive meetings and consideration, that quota will be abandoned for the 2027 and 2028 festivals, and productions will be selected solely based on merit rather than the gender of the director. It was noted that the process is completely fluid and would be revisited each year to make sure that all elements of inclusion were considered. At the end of the day, the works are consistently stellar and continue to provide evidence that the Germanic Theatre system (including Germany, Austria, Switzerland and all related countries in the region) is the strongest among the theatre producing countries of the world. References References About the author(s) Steve Earnest is a Professor of Theatre at Coastal Carolina University . He was a Fulbright Scholar in Nanjing, China during the 2019 – 2020 academic year where he taught and directed works in Shakespeare and Musical Theatre. A member of SAG-AFTRA and AEA, he has worked professionally as an actor with Performance Riverside, The Burt Reynolds Theatre, The Jupiter Theatre, Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theatre, The Colorado Shakespeare Festival, Birmingham Summerfest and the Riverside Theatre of Vero Beach, among others. Film credits include Bloody Homecoming , Suicide Note and Miami Vice . His professional directing credits include Big River , Singin’ in the Rain and Meet Me in St. Louis at the Palm Canyon Theatre in Palm Springs, Musicale at Whitehall 06 at the Flagler Museum in Palm Beach and Much Ado About Nothing with the Mountain Brook Shakespeare Festival. Numer ous publications include a book, The State Acting Academy of East Berlin , published in 1999 by Mellen Press, a book chapter in Performer Training, published by Harwood Press, and a number of articles and reviews in academic journals and periodicals including Theatre Journal, New Theatre Quarterly, Western European Stages, The Journal of Beckett Studies and Backstage West . He has taught Acting, Movement, Dance, and Theatre History/Literature at California State University, San Bernardino, the University of West Georgia , the University of Montevallo and Palm Beach Atlantic University. He holds a Ph.D. in Theatre from the University of Colorado, Boulder and an M.F.A. in Musical Theatre from the University of Miami, FL. European Stages European Stages, born from the merger of Western European Stages and Slavic and East European Performance in 2013, is a premier English-language resource offering a comprehensive view of contemporary theatre across the European continent. With roots dating back to 1969, the journal has chronicled the dynamic evolution of Western and Eastern European theatrical spheres. It features in-depth analyses, interviews with leading artists, and detailed reports on major European theatre festivals, capturing the essence of a transformative era marked by influential directors, actors, and innovative changes in theatre design and technology. European Stages is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents Review of 'In The Heights' at the Teatro Variedades Editor's Statement - European Stages Volume 20 Spring in Europe – Beyond the Theatertreffen Power, Shame, Vanity and Opportunism – Productions of the 63rd Berliner Theatertreffen “The more I give to thee, the more I have…” 15th edition of the International Shakespeare Festival in Craiova Finding Lear’s Shadow: Compagnia de' Colombari's King Lear at the 2026 Craiova International Shakespeare Festival Robert Wilson Beneath a Cabbage Leaf: 7 Solitudes at the Nacionalinis Kauno Dramos Teatras NE:BITEF 2025: The Festival that Refused to Disappear Displacing the Orient: Postcolonial Negotiations in Purcărete's Adaptation of One Thousand and One Nights Staging Tradition, Testing Form: The Second Showcase of the National Theatre of Sofia Poetics of the Unfulfilled: The Seagull at the Jordan Hadji Konstantinov-Dzhinot Theatre, Veles, North Macedonia Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

European Stages serves as an inclusive English-language journal, providing a detailed perspective on the unfolding narrative of contemporary European theatre since 1969. Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back European Stages 20, 2025 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Duende and Showbiz: A Theatrical Odyssey Through Spain’s Soul Published: July 1, 2025 Download Article as PDF By Adam Pelty Image Credits: Article Spain doesn’t just welcome you; it grabs you by the collar, spins you into its whirlwind of color and sound, and dares you to keep up. Madrid sprawls with boulevards and architectural flourishes so magnificent they seem to wink at you, as if to say, “Yes, we are this fabulous, and no, you can’t afford any of it.” Then there is Seville, in the South, the sultry heart of Andalusia, where history lingers like the scent of orange blossoms, and the air is thick with the strum of distant guitars and the echo of heels striking cobblestone. I made off to Spain to fling myself into Flamenco, the raw, guttural, earth-shaking duende that dominates the south—Cádiz, Granada, Jerez de la Frontera, and most potently, Seville. It isn’t just performed, it’s exorcised from the very depths of the soul, a deeply rooted cultural institution that demands a level of commitment bordering on religious devotion. You don’t just dabble in Flamenco. You either give yourself over to its unrelenting demands—its passion, its virtuosity—or you get the hell off the tablao . Madrid, though? Madrid is the glam showbiz cousin. Yes, there’s incredible Flamenco, but there’s also a staggering volume of musical theatre, opera, and contemporary dance. Now, I realize this is the kind of thing one should know—like knowing that water is wet or that Andrew Lloyd Webber is inescapable. Yet, up until six months ago, I had absolutely no idea that Madrid was the second-most prolific hub of Broadway-style musical theatre in Europe, just behind London’s West End. As my car sped from the airport to the hotel, I was blindsided by the sheer number of marquee lights blinking seductively from the streets— Book of Mormon, Phantom, Titanic, Come From Away, Aladdin —alongside original Spanish productions that are boldly redefining what theatre can be. Madrid, it turns out, is a city that breathes performance. Every street corner hums with its rhythm, every theatre pulses with an audience hungry for spectacle. It’s dazzling. The Spanish approach to musical theatre is something truly special, much like a beautifully executed Flamenco performance. It’s all about vulnerability, strength, emotional availability, and a vivid freedom to express very specific intentions with no apologies. This spirit is deeply etched into Flamenco, but it was equally palpable in the Spanish productions of The Book of Mormon and Gypsy that I caught—both of which left me giddy and a little emotional about my industry, which was frankly surprising. These Spanish performers have more than competence—they’ve got soul. The technical aspects of their craft seem effortless, leaving the crucial part—the emotion—free to roam. There is fearlessness. No slick Broadway airs here; I felt invited to experience something raw and genuine. Compared to some recent Broadway shows, Some Like It Hot and & Juliet come to mind (both excellent productions when I saw them), which can sometimes feel like they “insist upon themselves” (to steal Seth MacFarlane’s Family Guy line), these Spanish performances feel like a true invitation to connect. In shows like these, the pressure to impress takes a backseat to the vital act of sharing a story. Watching Broadway performances, I can’t help but feel there’s certain theatrical gymnastics happening back home—impressive, sure, but does it invite me in? Or am I just a spectator, watching the finalists flex their muscles for the judges? Musical theatre performers, like athletes, generate explosive and brilliant energy. Yet, inevitably, it’s about connection. When it works, the audience becomes part of the experience. So let’s talk Flamenco. Over six weeks in Andalusia, I saw lots of it, from the caves of Granada to the more slick and professional stages of Seville—it’s all utterly mesmerizing. And yet, beneath the swirling skirts and searing wails, there’s a rhythm, a structure, a sacred ritual. Flamenco is part storytelling, part catharsis, part sanctioned public outburst. It is what you would get if tap dancing and an existential crisis had a baby and raised it on Spanish wine and heartache. The commitment required is absolute. And let’s be real: only a select few are graced by the diodes del baile with the innate ability to fully embody this art. The tablao —that hallowed ground of Flamenco—follows a time-honored pattern, a method of learned and studied laws that have been passed down by the greats for the last two hundred years. The artists drift in and out of work like wandering minstrels, the finest among them tearing across Spain in a week, paid per gig, living for the moment, for the music, for the duende. One performance in Seville, an electrifying display of artistry and mastery, was notable. At its heart was a Seville-based dancer, Juan Fernandez, possessing the magnetism of a movie star and the skill of a seasoned maestro. Of all the Flamenco performances I witnessed over my time in Spain, this one stood apart—raw, precise, and transcendent. Seville based flamenco dancer, Juan Fernandez The lights came up on three singers and a guitarist, seated in a circle of chairs facing outward—one even turned upstage. Shadows and rich hues painted the stage, smoke billowing through the air. Then, the dancers emerged—two tall, striking figures in silhouette, male and female, like the Flamenco gods you see on tourist posters and souvenir magnets. As the lights rose, their feet took focus—cracking the floor with impossible speed, like rhythmic lightning. Technically masterful, magnetic, dangerous. They moved with the kind of chemistry you only see in a Fellini film—seductive, electric, larger than life. For one hour, six geniuses set the stage on fire. The lead singer—formidable, fifty-something, owned the stage with nothing but her voice and the guitarist at her side. They sparred, teased, played—like two actors improvising the scene of their lives. Passion, argument, seduction. I found myself thinking, ‘And the Tony Award goes to…’. Each performer took their turn like some divine emissary of chaos, conjuring entire universes in ten-minute bursts—erotic, combative, mournful, and laced with sharp wit, it could slice through the air itself. The tocaor (the guitarist) weaved a spell that bound them all together—first as a collective, then in electrifying solos. Watching them, you got the distinct impression that if the room were to spontaneously combust, they would simply weave the flames into the rhythm, stomping out embers in a frenzy of duende-fueled ecstasy. Now to Madrid. The Spanish Book of Mormon —an absolute joy. While the Madrid production might feel more intimate than the Broadway original, it’s more than welcome. All the desired spectacle is in place; the comedy is in crisp-top shape and the performers look to be having the time of their lives. My first thought as I took my seat: Do the Spanish even have Mormons? Will they grasp what South Park maestros Matt Stone and Trey Parker are skewering? Spain does have a notable Jehovah’s Witness presence—door-to-door evangelists, strict doctrines, globe-trotting missionaries—so, in theory, the joke should land. But will it land with the full, glorious thud of satire intended? The answer is yes, absolutely. Alexandre Ars, towering at six-foot-six, owned the role of Elder Price. His presence is magnetic, commanding the stage with grace, intent, and emotional availability. He made space for me, for the audience, and his performance had a warmth I can’t quite describe. Alejandro Mesa, playing Elder Cunningham, was a masterclass in physical comedy—nuanced, sweet, and hilariously real. Their chemistry was undeniable, even if my lousy Spanish didn’t catch every line. The African cast was spectacular—versatile and hilariously funny. Aisha Fay as Nabulungi was perfectly matched with Mesa’s antics, delivering a clear and powerful performance. Yet, there were moments where things didn’t quite land. Nil Carbonell’s Elder McKinley felt… overdone. A bit too broad, too lecherous, lacking that necessary subtlety. The male ensemble of missionaries, too, seemed to fall into the trap of generalization. They were all “gay” in the same way, and it felt like a one-size-fits-all performance rather than the more layered, repressed pseudo-theologians the characters are meant to represent. Still, these flaws didn’t dampen the fun. The production, fresh since 2023, is irreverent, joyous in it’s naughtiness, and a spectacular showcase of talent. I attended opening night of Gypsy , directed by Antonio Banderas, and sat right behind the magnetic movie star now director at Teatro Nuevo Apolo. He developed this production at the Soho Caixabank Theatre in Málaga, a venue quickly becoming a hub for creative innovation with considerable help from him. Banderas is a force, thrusting Spain further into the global musical theatre spotlight—and it’s incredibly exciting. The most important thing I can say about this Gypsy is that it pushes boundaries. Banderas takes this traditional title and introduces contemporary impulses that breathe new life into it. The show’s concept is intimate yet theatrical, blending emotional depth with spectacle. Banderas’s vision emphasizes a deep exploration of the themes of ambition, reflecting on what he describes as “the pathology of success.” His intensity permeates the production, which feels distinctly Spanish in moments—and why not? He’s speaking to a Spanish audience. His success shines brightest when his leading lady, a fiercely talented and committed Marta Ribera, shares dramatic moments with her co-stars, especially with the patiently seductive Carlos Seguí as Herbie. Their scenes, especially their final confrontation, are beautifully staged, full of subtlety and fire, given an extra kick by Banderas’ conceptual flair. Lydia Fairén and Laia Prats bring fierce energy to the roles of Louise and June, electrifying the stage. These triple threats are allowed to transcend the original era and become 2025 versions of their historic characters. It is a departure from the 1930s vaudeville style, but it worked. Banderas, however, undeniably provides the heartbeat of this production. He pushes the boundaries with quirky, contemporary touches—like the expanded “Let Me Entertain You” sequence in Act Two, which is re-imagined with Louise headlining a Liza Minnelli-like extravaganza. In this extended section, ensemble members morph into inflated Emcee-like roles. It’s funny, albeit a bit indulgent, and I assume culturally significant. However, with the costume design, I was reminded of another iconic musical with a titular emcee that shall remain nameless. Some choices left me scratching my head. The set, a massive silver veil wrapping the entire proscenium, including the orchestra on a second level, is a big choice. The projections onto this luminescent shower curtain were often dazzling, but the reason for this bold choice escaped me. The costumes, mostly veering off-period, seemed intentionally conceptual, were often dazzling, but didn’t always land. Here’s my take: Mama Rose stays rooted in the vaudeville era, costumed impeccably for that period. The world around her is a cacophony of her present and future, something she refuses to step into. The orchestra, under the direction of Maestro Arturo Díez Boscovich, played this magnificent score on opening night with sublime splendor. Lush, vibrant, and perfectly executed, the music nearly carried the whole production on its own. The overture was stunning, adding beautifully to Banderas’ vision. Yet, in an ironic twist, the overture was overshadowed by choreography that felt more suited to a modern-day show choir than this iconic musical. As much as I wanted to love the choreography, it just didn’t quite hit the mark. At times, it felt too contemporary and abstract for a piece so deeply rooted in its historical context. Aside from the strangely jejune overture, poor Tulsa, played by the talented Aarón Cobos, could’ve used more help in telling the broader story in his iconic number, “All I Need is the Girl.” This is a vital emotional crescendo for Louise as well as Tulsa, but it falls flat. There’s a lack of that delicate push and pull where one character’s brilliance enhances the narrative journey of another. It’s a missed opportunity. Despite all this, the evening reminded me of the true purpose of musical theatre. It’s not just about spectacle or skill (of which there is an abundance) or making ‘correct’ choices; it’s about emotion, vulnerability, and connection. And when it’s done right, that’s the magic we all feel in the theatre—whether we understand every word. That’s what is happening here and thriving. In short, Banderas’ Gypsy is a bold experiment that captures the essence of why we love theatre—its energy, its emotion, and its unpredictability. I had my quibbles, but there is no doubt that this is a thrilling time to be a part of Madrid’s artistic landscape, and the Spanish, recently with lots of help from Banderas, are most definitely leading the charge. Spain, in all its theatrical, passionate, unapologetically expressive glory, has left its mark on me. From the raw, soul-shaking power of Flamenco in Seville to the dazzling musical theatre of Madrid, this country doesn’t just perform—it lives, breathes, and bleeds artistry. Whether it’s a single guitarist commanding a room with aching melodies or an entire ensemble pouring their hearts into a Broadway-caliber production, Spanish performers remind me why we tell stories in the first place—to connect, to reveal, to transcend. Here, theatre isn’t just entertainment; it’s an extension of life itself. And if there’s one thing Spain has taught me, it’s that art should never just be observed—it should be felt, fought for, and flung into with reckless, wholehearted abandon. Some notes on Spain’s Acting Scene Madrid. The pulsing heart of Spanish theater, where the scent of churros and chocolate mingles with the glitz and glamour of world-class theatr e . The industry here is a passionate, unpredictable beast—brimming with opportunity, yes, but riddled with instability. Performers leap from stage to screen, juggling Shakespeare, Almodóvar-style melodrama, and the occasional detergent commercial just to keep the lights on. From what I’ve gathered through old-school research and conversations with actors, Madrid’s acting schools aren’t just institutions; they’re artistic battlegrounds where actors are sculpted, shattered, and reborn. Whether you want to master classical theatre, embody raw emotional realism, conquer the screen, or defy gravity, there’s a training ground tailored to your brand of artistry. Incidentally, if you’re interested in studying performance in Spain and you are not fluent in the language—or the many dialects—of the Iberian Peninsula, I suggest diving into those language apps posthaste. And then take a formal course. While the British may revel in the elegance of their native tongue, the Spanish-trained actor is also a virtuoso of vocal expression, wielding their language with astonishing precision and power. Formal Acting Schools & Conservatories in Madrid: A Theatrical Wonderland From hallowed conservatories to avant-garde training grounds, Madrid boasts institutions that turn hopeful performers into genuine stars—sometimes with a bit of existential suffering thrown in for good measure. The competition is fierce, but it feels less overwrought and populated, more specific and focused, filled with those who truly belong, who are ‘Initiate’— in an environment where only the committed, the obsessive, and perhaps the unhinged survive. RESAD: The Shakespearean Boot Camp of Spain https://www.resad.es/ Let’s start with the Real Escuela Superior de Arte Dramático (RESAD), Spain’s version of Juilliard or RADA, where the walls ooze history, and you can practically hear the echoes of centuries of Spanish theatre legends yelling about fate and honor. This is where actors go to be properly forged in the fires of theatrical rigor, emerging with a predilection for declaiming Lorca monologues while sipping overpriced café con leche. RESAD specializes in classical and contemporary theatre, ensuring students can handle everything from Shakespearean soliloquies to brooding avant-garde absurdism. The facilities match the intensity: multiple theaters, both indoor and outdoor, providing full-fledged performance spaces rather than just a dusty black box with a broken spotlight. The library is legendary, filled with plays, historical texts, and possibly a few haunted scripts. It is a place of discipline, tradition, and, if you make it through, prestige. While it’s best known for its rigorous classical theatre training, it also offers a specialization in Musical Theatre. This is where the academically inclined Ariana DeBose wannabe goes, where you’ll analyze the historical evolution of musical theatre in the morning and belt out a Sondheim ballad in the afternoon. Cristina Rota: The Rebel’s Playground https://escuelacristinarota.com/ If RESAD is the polished grand dame of Spanish theatre training, then the Escuela de Interpretación de Cristina Rota is the rebellious rock star in ripped jeans and a leather jacket. Known for its intensive Meisner-based training, this school pushes actors toward emotional authenticity, raw vulnerability, and the occasional existential meltdown. Forget the grandiosity of RESAD—Escuela de Interpretación de Cristina Rota is raw, intimate, and probably smells a bit like sweat and ambition. This place isn’t about fancy buildings; it’s about emotion, technique, and stripping your soul bare in front of your classmates. Minimalist black box theaters, because who needs elaborate sets when you ARE the drama? Cristina Rota’s alumni list reads like the Spanish version of an indie film festival lineup—including Paco León, who became a household name for his comedic genius, and Juan Diego Botto, who juggles theatre, film, and social activism. And then there’s Penélope Cruz who graced the halls of this institution before charming the world with her undeniable talent and Pedro Almodóvar-approved magnetism. Instituto del Cine Madrid: The Hollywood Gateway https://www.institutodelcine.es/ For those who prefer the buzz of film sets over the scent of dusty velvet curtains, the Instituto del Cine Madrid is your best bet. Specializing in screen acting, camera techniques, and making sure you don’t awkwardly blink at the wrong moment, this school prepares actors for the wild world of film and television. Who trained here? Many of the actors working in Spain’s booming Netflix and HBO España productions have passed through its doors, and while they may not yet be household names internationally, they are steadily climbing the ladder of cinematic fame. The school’s real strength is industry connections, making it a top choice for anyone on the film and television trajectory. Juan Carlos Corazza: The Mind-Bending Masterclass https://estudiodeactuacion.com/en/home/ If you’re looking for something a little more esoteric, a little more soul-searching, and potentially life-altering, welcome to the Juan Carlos Corazza Studio . This isn’t just actor training; this is an odyssey into your own psyche. It’s a Stanislavski-Meisner-movement-infused pilgrimage, and those who survive it emerge as acting titans with an almost eerie emotional depth. Javier Bardem, Spain’s finest growling, brooding, scene-stealing Oscar winner trained here. If it worked for him, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us mere mortals. Musical Theatre Training Musical Theatre is an industry that’s exploded in recent years, with Madrid establishing itself as the Broadway of the Spanish-speaking world, producing everything from Sondheim to original Spanish-language mega-musicals. But where do these triple-threats-in-the-making hone their craft? Let’s dive into the musical theatre training grounds of Madrid—places where singers become storytellers, dancers learn to act, and actors learn, well, to count to eight. Escuela de Teatro Musical Memory: The Broadway Bootcamp https://www.escolamemory.cat/ca/ If RESAD is the hallowed temple of theatre, Escuela de Teatro Musical Memory is the sweaty, fosse-walking rehearsal studio where the magic actually happens. This school is entirely devoted to musical theatre, meaning you won’t have to sit through a lecture on 17th-century Spanish drama before launching into a full-throated rendition of "Defying Gravity." Here, it’s all about technique: voice, movement, acting, and most importantly, stamina—because if you can’t belt through an eight-minute dance number, are you even a musical theatre performer? The school’s facilities are state-of-the-art, with professional dance studios, recording spaces, and performance venues that make it feel more like a working theatre than an educational institution. The training is full-throttle, preparing students for the grueling reality of eight-shows-a-week contracts. Scaena: The Contemporary Powerhouse https://scaenaartesescenicas.com/ Scaena , founded by the illustrious Carmen Roche, is another serious contender in Madrid’s musical theatre scene. With a faculty stacked with industry professionals and a curriculum that blends classical technique with contemporary performance skills, this is where you go if you want to be employable in both West Side Story and whatever avant-garde, genre-bending musical is about to take over the industry next. Scaena is known for its holistic approach—training students not just in singing, dancing, and acting, but also in the business side of theatre. Graduates have gone on to perform on Madrid’s biggest stages and, in some cases, taken their talents international. If you’re looking for a well-rounded, forward-thinking approach to musical theatre training, Scaena is a solid bet. SOM Academy: The Industry Pipeline https://somescuelademusicales.com/ The new kid on the block but already making waves, SOM Academy is the brainchild of Stage Entertainment, the production company behind Spain’s biggest commercial musical theatre hits. If you want direct access to industry professionals and a training program designed with actual casting needs in mind, this is the place to be. SOM Academy is less about academia and more about real-world training. Students work with active directors, choreographers, and vocal coaches currently employed in Madrid’s theatre scene, meaning your final showcase could literally be an audition for your first professional gig. The school’s facilities include recording studios, full-scale rehearsal spaces, and performance venues that mimic the conditions of actual commercial productions. Since it’s directly connected to Madrid’s most successful theatre productions, the alumni list is growing fast, with many graduates booking ensemble and lead roles straight out of training. It’s the ultimate fast-track for those looking to go from student to working professional with as little downtime as possible. La vida del actor para mí Let’s consider the life and times of the Spanish actor—that bohemian struggle between artistry and financial ruin, between thunderous ovations (mercifully, the Spanish don’t stand up after every performance) and standing in line for unemployment benefits. And what better way to explore it than by comparing two of the world’s great theatrical cities: Madrid and New York. The city’s musical theater scene has been the subject of some dramatic exposés—tales of grueling schedules, low pay, no vacations or sick leave, and the kind of exhaustion that turns jazz hands into trembling claws. These conditions have fueled a surge in union activism, as actors demand to be treated as professionals rather than disposable props. Sound familiar? It should—to anyone who knows the history of Actors’ Equity Association in America. Speaking of America, New York actors navigate a world just as cutthroat but armed with a powerful shield: the union. And unlike Spain, where performers are still fighting for basic protections, New York has its fortresses—Actors’ Equity Association (AEA), the Screen Actors Guild (SAG-AFTRA), and a network of contracts designed to ensure actors aren’t working themselves to death for the price of a subway swipe. Broadway performers are still flogging themselves nightly—belting, leaping, and sweating their way through eight-show weeks—but at least there are structured breaks, minimum salaries, and a health plan that doesn’t require one to barter a kidney. And since the COVID era, the old adage “the show must go on”—once a rallying cry for actors to struggle through sickness and like it—has given way to a new mantra: “Stay home and keep your coughs to yourself.” Swings and understudies now step in all the time, proving that the industry can, in fact, survive without forcing its performers to push through pneumonia for the sake of a matinee crowd. Progress? Perhaps. But whether in Madrid or New York, the hustle remains eternal, the struggle is real, and the show, as ever, must go on. Now the money—because as much as we like to pretend it’s all about the art, passion doesn’t pay the bills—Madrid actors face a salary roulette that makes the stock market look stable. One source pegs the average annual salary at a respectable €56,779 (roughly $59,500.00), while another (Glassdoor) suggests it’s closer to €15,000 ($15,730). That’s a discrepancy so vast; it’s like comparing a West End leading role to playing “weeping willow on the left” in the school play. Meanwhile, in New York, a Broadway actor under union contract starts at around $2,034 per week—if they can land a full-year contract, that’s over $100,000 annually. Just breaking poverty in New York, but still… Off-Broadway? Less predictable. Indie films, immersive theater, TV guest spots, experimental performance art in a Brooklyn warehouse? Welcome to the hustle. Let’s break it down even more. According to a report from El País in October 2024, ensemble members, replacements, and understudies in Madrid’s musical theater scene earn a base salary of €2,556 gross per month . After social security and a moderate income tax rate (~15%), the net monthly salary could be around €1,900–€2,050, or €475 - €513 per week. That’s what I made in 1992 in Chicago. I’m sure working through the economics of it, considering a lower ticket price, FREE health insurance and $3 copa de Rioja ($18 in New York), etc, might soften these horrifying stats, but still. Quaint hobby is, indeed, how one might categorize a career as a performer nowadays. For context, ensemble members in the Broadway production of “The Book of Mormon” have been reported to earn approximately $2,095 per week, the current minimum weekly salary for a member of the actors’ union (AEA). And then there’s the challenge of work itself. Madrid’s performers talk of brutal rehearsal hours, minimal breaks, and an industry that expects them to power through illness like some kind of method-acting exercise in suffering. New York, at least in the unionized world, has mandated breaks, sick leave, and some attempt at humane working conditions. But make no mistake—whether it’s Broadway, Off-Broadway, or grinding out guest spots on Law & Order, New York actors are still running a constant marathon of auditions, callbacks, side jobs, the ever-present spectre of the two-week notice, and competition that feels like Squid Games . Home life is farther away from work as well… who can afford to live in Manhattan? The 475 square foot, two-bedroom apartment I rented on 51st and 9th, a few blocks from Broadway’s theatre district from 1995 - 2010 for an average $1600.00 during that time goes for $7000 per month in 2025. I have no discernible words for that preposterous fact. And yet, despite the odds, they persist. Because for the true actor, the show really must go on—even if it means doing it for exposure, a travel stipend, or the occasional free drink at an industry mixer. References References About the author(s) Adam Pelty is a nationally recognized performer, director, and choreographer. He created the original choreography for The Scarlet Pimpernel on Broadway and received the IRNE Award for choreography for his work on Billy Elliot - the Musical at the Ogunquit Playhouse. His Broadway acting credits include Cyrano: The Musical, Steel Pier, A Christmas Carol, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Titanic . As a director and choreographer, he has worked regionally at theaters such as North Shore Music Theatre, The Fulton Theatre, Argyle Theatre, Merrimack Repertory Theatre, Capital Repertory Theatre, and Porchlight Music Theatre. Pelty has served on the faculties of Interlochen Center for the Arts, Ithaca College, AMDA, and NYU. Currently, he is Professor of Musical Theatre and Dance at Coastal Carolina University in South Carolina, where he lives with his wife, Hillary Patingre Pelty. European Stages European Stages, born from the merger of Western European Stages and Slavic and East European Performance in 2013, is a premier English-language resource offering a comprehensive view of contemporary theatre across the European continent. With roots dating back to 1969, the journal has chronicled the dynamic evolution of Western and Eastern European theatrical spheres. It features in-depth analyses, interviews with leading artists, and detailed reports on major European theatre festivals, capturing the essence of a transformative era marked by influential directors, actors, and innovative changes in theatre design and technology. European Stages is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents The 2025 Festival International New Drama (FIND) at Berlin Schaubühne Editor's Statement - European Stages Volume 20 Willem Dafoe in conversation with Theater der Zeit The Puzzle: A new musical in the Spoleto Festival, Italy presented by La MaMa Umbria Varna Summer International Theatre Festival Mary Said What She Said The 62nd Berliner Theatertreffen: Stories and Theatrical Spaces That Realize the Past, Present and Future. Interview with Walter Bart (Artistic Leader, Wunderbaum Collective & Director, Die Hundekot-Attacke) from the 2024 Berliner Theatertreffen Duende and Showbiz: A Theatrical Odyssey Through Spain’s Soul Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Johan Callens, Guest Editor Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 30 2 Visit Journal Homepage Introduction: Mediations of Authorship in American Postdramatic Mediaturgies Johan Callens, Guest Editor By Published on May 30, 2018 Download Article as PDF For a good understanding, the Spring 2018 American Theatre and Drama Society issue of the Journal of American Drama and Theatre is best considered as an initiative that follows up the BELSPO sponsored international research project, “Literature and Media Innovation: The Question of Genre Transformations.” Running from 2012-2017, it brought together six research teams, four of which hailed from Belgian institutions—two Flemish (KULeuven & VUB) and two Walloon ones (Louvain-la-Neuve and Liège)—besides one from Canada (UQAM) and one from the US (OSU). [1] Among the many genres analyzed and fields explored in light of the increasing mediatization of the arts and society at large, theatre and performance fell to the Center for Literary and Intermedial Crossings (CLIC) at the Free University of Brussels. On March 17, 2016, this Center organized a conference already devoted to the theme of the present journal issue, even if the ATDS contributions zoom-in on specifically American inflections of the topic. Still, in a globalized world, the mobility and mixed roots of artists, besides the constant need to find sponsors, renders the characterization of projects in national terms perhaps questionable and their mediaturgical interests seldom exclusive. As Jacob Gallagher-Ross, one of the speakers at the Belgian conference, in the meantime has argued, it is somewhat ironical that the first installment of Nature Theater of Oklahoma’s media-enabled Life and Times project, “singing the sorrows and pleasures of a very American childhood, was featured in Berlin’s Theatertreffen festival as one of the ten best German productions of the year.” [2] Aside from the ironies of international funding, and scholarship, we may add, I here want to mention, as a preliminary, some of the more general issues that the March 2016 VUB conference tackled. [3] Thus, Matthew Cornish (Ohio U) dealt with the reliance on diagrammatic scripts by the English-German theatre collective Gob Squad to support their improvised encounters with people on the streets, synchronously relayed into heavily mediatized stage productions. Bernadette Cochrane (U of Queensland) discussed the destabilization of the spatio-temporal locators of productions and audiences in global but not necessarily democratizing “livecasts,” whether from New York’s Metropolitan Opera or London’s National Theatre. Dries Vandorpe (UGent) returned to mediaturgical theatre’s related deconstruction of the vexed ontological distinction between live and techno-mediated performance on the grounds of diverse arguments (spatiotemporal co-presence and spectatorial agency, affective impact and authenticity, contingency and risk, unicity and variability…)—arguments all flawed because of logically defective classification systems. With the aid of some intermedial choreographic work by Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker, I myself queried the reciprocity between technology’s invitation to appropriation and adaptations’ increasing hybridization because of that very technology, a process challenging the logical discreteness, self-presence or self-sufficiency, as well as hierarchical character of generic, media, and gender identities, both, much like traditional authorship, making for an empowering yet disenfranchising exclusiveness. [4] The themes of the Brussels conference and present ATDS issue also adhere closely to the remit of the doctoral project conducted by CLIC member Claire Swyzen, here represented by an essay on the Hungarian-American Edit Kaldor and New Yorker Annie Dorsen. Kaldor’s Or Press Escape (2002) and Web of Trust (2016) are shown to open up the theatre stage to the social media, converting it into a more apparently than actually co-authored media-activist site, joining physically present and tele-present audience members. As a result, the authorship here already signaled towards Michel Foucault’s more discursive author function. Dorsen’s Hello Hi There (2010) in fact consisted of a staged conversation between two chatbots mouthing text bits partly culled by computer algorithms from an interview between Foucault and Noam Chomsky on whether language creates consciousness or vice versa. [5] As indicated by Dorsen’s post-human talk show, whose textual database was expanded with material from the Western humanist tradition, the scope of Swyzen’s research and of postdramatic mediaturgies obviously exceeds the American context, reaching out to the very processes of cognition. The term and concept of the “postdramatic” were nevertheless popularized by German scholars like Gerda Poschmann and Hans-Thies Lehmann who theorized the notion with the aid of the varied theatre practice in Germany and surrounding countries during the late 20th century. [6] As recently as 2015, Marvin Carlson still argued the relative absence of postdramatic theatre from the North American mainstream, despite important contributions from experimentalists like the Wooster Group, Richard Foreman, and Robert Wilson. [7] On both sides of the Atlantic, however, there have been misconceptions regarding the precise nature of the postdramatic, leading to confusions with collective, interdisciplinary, and devised theatre productions. [8] After all, these just as easily allow for the contribution of independently active playwrights with a lingering dramatic bent as for the more broadly defined writing integral to postdramatic mediaturgies. Central features of postdramatic theatre are the reconfiguration, if not abandonment, of Aristotelian dramatic concepts and traditional theatrical notions such as character, action and plot, proscenium stage and set, normative temporality and spatiality, etc. As a corollary, conventional drama’s underlying mimetic premise is challenged, too, though illusionistic effects, whether aestheticizing, activist, or media-critical, remain common, as Swyzen demonstrates with regard to Kaldor’s Web of Trust . These illusionistic effects are also hard to resist, as when critics interpreted the fragmentation of Spalding Gray’s recollections in India and After (America) (1979) as reflections of his cultural alienation and psychological breakdown, as argued by Ira S. Murfin in his contribution to the present ATDS issue. Mimesis possibly survives the postdramatic mediaturgical turn in the guise of reenactments which problematize any arguable paradigm shift, insofar as the “post-dramatic” signals both continuities and discontinuities. Reenactments therefore could be said to limit dramatic theatre’s creation of a “fictive cosmos” [9] to the overt recreation of a “reality,” whether artistic or not, often with the help of advanced technology, as in the scrupulously reproduced everyday speech, at times verging on uncanny nonsense, in the productions of Nature Theater of Oklahoma. This invites comparison with what Dorsen calls the occasional “near-sense” of the chatbots’ dialogue foregrounding the thingness and materiality of language, undermining dramatic theater’s logocentrism as well as infusing postdramatic theatre like Dorsen’s with an unexpected lyricism. As Gallagher-Ross argued at the Brussels conference and in his subsequently published study on Theaters of the Everyday: Aesthetic Democracy on the American Stage (2018), the technology-based practice of Nature Theater of Oklahoma, besides documenting an extant reality, touches on the very processes of perception and thought, struggling to achieve verbal expression prior to any artificially imposed aesthetic or (post)dramatic form, given that in the different installments of their epic Life and Times they also experiment with extant genres and media forms. Reenactments do not, for that matter, automatically reclaim realist art’s function as illusionistic slice of life. To the extent that this function indeed depends on maintaining the fourth wall, it actually staves off everyday reality to the benefit of some Platonist ideal controlled by the dramatist. Gallagher-Ross traces the roots of America’s theaters of the everyday, like that of Nature Theater of Oklahoma, to American Transcendentalism but this democratic homebred tradition represented by Emerson and Thoreau, revalorizes the aesthetic value of daily life as personally experienced. Quite surprisingly, a similar impulse may be at work in Kaldor’s work, insofar as it seems to share characteristics with the Slow Media movement, as argued by Swyzen. This reflective, contemplative impulse should be distinguished from European idealist aesthetics permeating the continental dramatic tradition via Hegel’s abstract moralism up to the late 19th century and beyond, which is not to say, as Gallagher-Ross argues, that there is no ethical-critical dimension to an enhanced awareness of our everyday experiences, be they technological or not. [10] In Swimming to Cambodia (1985), one of Spalding Gray’s “talk performances” discussed in the present JADT issue by Murfin, the manner in which Gray incessantly and obstinately pursues an idealized yet heavily mediatized “Perfect Moment” makes him oblivious to the everyday beauty Emerson advocated. On Karon Beach in the Gulf of Siam Gray apparently found his “Shangri-La,” evocative both of perfect Kodachrome color spreads for luxury resorts and of Robert Wilson’s mediaturgical theatre of images. [11] Emerson is explicitly referenced by Gray when he mentions his own studies at Emerson College and in his moment of “Cosmic Consciousness” echoes the philosopher’s famous “transparent eye-ball”-passage from his essay on “Nature.” The eventual shift to a non-contigent idealism making timeless abstraction of the evanescent everyday could be seen as evidence of Murfin’s claim that Gray’s early talk performances solidified in later productions under the influence of the very technologies he initially played off to preserve his monologues’ freshness. Put differently, Gray’s talk performances, as here argued, moved away from a more postdramatic authorship deflected by “intermedial contingency,” to a more self-authored dramatic literary model. Lehmann in this regard speaks of realist drama’s and the dramatic form’s “catharsis” of the real, [12] supplementing tragedy’s much debated abreaction of pity and fear (or the negative features of these emotions) in the course of a dramatic action thereby completed and closed off. Postdramatic theatre, by contrast, tends to reduce the dramatist’s control, it opens up the stage to the everyday, and redistributes authorial power. This happened partly under the influence of technology, partly by promoting the performer-audience relation or so-called theatron axis, [13] thus releasing a social activist potential in the joint “creation” of text and performance. What is eventually lost in terms of illusionistic representation, aesthetic pleasure and entertainment value may be gained in terms of political awareness, as the physical embodiment and exposure of, and to the mediation returns a sense of agency in a mediascape obfuscating its operations, material and immaterial, for whatever reasons (sheer complexity, profit, ideology…). The media’s prominence in contemporary dramaturgies has led Bonnie Marranca to coin the term “mediaturgy” for those productions where the technology is integral to the composition of the theatrical performance rather than a surface phenomenon. [14] Cases in point she provided at the time were Super Vision (2005-2006) by The Builders Association and Firefall (2007-2009) by John Jesurun. This is one of the reasons why the Brussels conference on postdramatic mediaturgies featured Shannon Jackson (UC Berkeley) as keynote speaker, with a talk on “The Relational Construction of Form and Authorship in Cross-Arts Collaboration.” In that talk, she explored a variety of institutional settings—museums, theaters, festivals, installations—and considered how conceptions of form and authorial signature change accordingly. Depending, in part, upon the curatorial conventions of the venue, a performer may be a collaborator, a subordinate, or a form of material. Similarly, moving work across institutional venues may shift the stance taken towards artistic contributions, whether by the artists-creators or spectators-consumers. Work discussed included that of The Builders Association, on which Jackson and Marianne Weems published the first lavishly illustrated monograph, and which Marranca deemed exemplary of postdramatic mediaturgies. [15] That Weems, the director of The Builders Association, together with several company members, should have co-authored this critical-genetic study which is partly archive, partly (auto)biography, marks the extent of her creative practice and possibly the postdramatic remediation of a retrograde seeming, paper-based platform, all too easily lending itself to linear single-authored stories. [16] The meticulous crediting of each and every one involved in each of the Builders Association productions is further evidence of the dispersion of traditional authorship, which may well have been the default of theatrical creation. To quote from the book’s intro: “Early pieces such as Master Builder , Imperial Motel (Faust) , and JUMP CUT (Faust) restaged and rearranged classic tales across unorthodox architectural assemblies of screens and bodies, a practice of postdramatic retelling to which The Builders returned in their recent restaging of House/Divided .” [17] The epilogue, too, in a conversation between Weems and Eleanor Bishop, extensively dwells on the mediaturgical aspect of The Builders Association’s work at large, more in particular the prominence of computer-aided media design as dramaturgy and the medial creation of meaning and implementation of media-related ideas, like the networked constitution of self by such a mediascape. [18] Thus the media become material and metaphor. This reciprocity gets reflected in Jackson’s critical vocabulary when she speaks of the company’s “theatrical operating systems” and “storyboard” phases—terms derived from computer science and cinema to designate the mediaturgical postdramatic (re)assembly process, “that may or may not be post-narrative as well.” [19] The resulting “smart” productions are directly addressed to a “smart” audience perhaps too much at ease with “smart” technologies [20] to fully fathom or question their implications. Hence these technologies have become the means and object of theatricalization, as in Super Vision , dealing with the economics and politics of “dataveillance,” or Continuous City (2007-2010), exploring global social networking technologies and their impact on how we inhabit local geographies. John Jesurun, that other exemplar of postdramatic mediaturgies Marranca singled out, has been at the center of the scholarship which Christophe Collard generated in the context of the inter-university research project on genre transformations and the new media. Like the predoctoral work of Swyzen, some of his wide-ranging postdoctoral work is here sampled, albeit with a more programmatic contribution in which Jesurun’s “ecological,” i.e. organic and holistic interrelational interpretation of the mediaturgical concept allows for a brief survey of his creative output. In the course of his playwriting career, Jesurun has collaborated with Weems’s Builders Association, as well as with Ron Vawter, founding member of the Wooster Group, on scripts that were subsequently produced by other companies, too. [21] But Jesurun is also reputed to reduce his live performers to language-machines, as here argued by Collard. This again attests to the lingering tension between the loosening and tightening of authorial control, equally evident in Dorsen’s algorithmic theater, where the options for the chatbots’ conversation in Hello Hi There have been preprogrammed and are thus contained by Dorsen and her collaborator, the chatbot designer Robby Garner. Even in Kaldor’s Web of Trust , the seemingly co-authored protocol in retrospect was prescripted, as Swyzen discovered. Whereas Kaldor herself may have obfuscated the “rehearsal” of the protocol for her Web of Trust prior to its live performance, Gray’s critics were the ones who tended to miss or neglect the reliance on media of reproduction in his low-tech monologues. [22] At first sight, his early “talk performances” seem diametrically opposed to Dorsen’s chatbot and Kaldor’s computer desktop performances. Yet Murfin in his discussion of Gray’s monologues demonstrates their postdramatic mediaturgical stance by foregrounding his deliberate extemporaneous use of language as material and process rather than narrative content, in reaction to medial fixity and dramatic linearity. This resonates with the aleatory artistic tradition in which Dorsen also inscribes her work partly because of the manner in which freedom is generated by constraints, just as for Jesurun language provides an enabling limit for his performers and technology, even if he opposes his actors’ improvisation. Contrary to his later reputation as unassisted “solo” performer, Gray’s monologues were heavily determined by media objects. During the creation and performance of his early work these were used as found or documentary material triggering improvisation rather than as support of a fixed script, whether the taped interviews with family members, slides, and vinyl recording of The Cocktail Party in Rumstick Road (1977), a dictionary in India and After (America) (1979), or his journal entries on a West Coast tour, framed by contemporaneous newspaper, magazine and book excerpts in The Great Crossing (1980). However, Gray’s reliance on the same media (writing, print, audio and video recordings) for the development and circulation of his monologues, in a sort of feedback loop fixed them, whereas the human recall and extemporization earlier on made for fragmentation and discontinuity, at the expense of an authoritative voice and story. What may have accelerated this process, Murfin argues, is the artist’s need for a commodifiable format or comedy act. By doing without the diary entries in Nobody Wanted to Sit Behind a Desk (1980) Gray very much resolved the dilemma in favor of the dramatic lineage and replication, but at the expense of intermedial contingency. Gray’s autobiographical talk performances, dependent on predominantly analogue media, form a radical contrast with the collective identity performance of in-groups by means of social media and the web, dealt with by Ellen Gillooly-Kress. This hybridized live and digital identity construction through visual signposts, insiders’ language and performative gestures, rather than solidify in the course of time, as argued by Murfin for Gray, keeps changing, as the markers of identity are appropriated by opposite parties, like anti-fascists and white supremacists. The hazards of the social media are indeed such that any meme can be co-opted and abused in ideological conflicts. This recalls Roland Barthes’s claim that the only way to outwit myths is to remythify them in turn, the more since myths in his definition exchange a physical reality with a pseudo-reality, much like the internet may be said to do. The partly arbitrary choice of a meme as vehicle for a new ideological content also fits Barthes’s myths, though in both kinds of appropriation, the original content is still needed as support of the new signification. [23] The initiative for these appropriated identity memes and their ideological reinscription may have been taken by individuals or be limited to the policy-makers of the ingroup. Yet, the memes’ viral spread on the social media and imageboard websites like 4chan and Reddit collectivizes authorship, short of exploding it altogether. Through its antagonistic rhetoric, making for a war-like scenario, the digital and discursive performance, when picked up by the traditional media, also risks spilling over from the internet back into the physical world and actual violence. This was the case with #HEWILLNOTDIVIDEUS , an unmoderated live stream participatory performance, set up by Nastja Säde Rönkkö, Luke Turner, and Shia LaBeouf on the occasion of Trump’s inauguration on January 20, 2017. Apart from traveling from New York to Albuquerque, Liverpool and Nantes, this installation and its reception provide a more disconcerting, inflammable hybridized “theater of the everyday” unlike those with which I started this introduction, in a space where physical and digital identity formations merge to end up forming what Gillooly-Kress calls a “hypermediated haunted stage” with all too dangerous consequences. By way of conclusion, I want to thank Cheryl Black and Dorothy Chansky, the former and current ATDS Presidents, for offering another forum next to the 2016 VUB conference platform; the ATDS members who submitted their work to this Spring issue of the JADT ; and last but not least, the ATDS members who acted as anonymous peer-reviewers. All generously contributed to the scholarship here presented, offering what I hope is an exciting and thought-provoking sample of American postdramatic mediaturgies in which authorship is variously modulated along different spectra, operating between the human and the non-human, the analogue and the digital, the individual and the collective, the distributed and the delegated. References [1] For a brief presentation of the overall project see Jan Baetens, Johan Callens, Michel Delville, Heidi Peeters, Myriam Watthee-Delmotte, Robyn Warhol, and Bertrand Gervais, “Literature and Media Innovation: A Brief Research Update on a Genre/Medium Project,” Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift 64, no. 4 (2014): 485-492. [2] Jacob Gallagher-Ross, Theaters of the Everyday: Aesthetic Democracy on the American Stage (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2018), 152, original emphasis. [3] The VUB theatre conference program can be found online at http://www.vub.ac.be/en/events/2016/mediations-of-authorship-in-postdramatic-mediaturgies-conference . The March 17 event was matched the following day by a second series of talks, presented at Leuven University (UCL) under the title, “Intermediality, or, the Delicate Art of World-Layering” dealing with non-dramatic genres. See http://research.vub.ac.be/sites/default/files/uploads/clic-cri_confer_flyer_final.pdf . [4] Johan Callens,”Rosas: Reappropriation as Afterlife,” in Routledge Companion to Adaptation Studies , eds. Dennis Cutchins, Katja Krebs, and Eckart Voigts (London: Routledge, 2018), 117-127. [5] The Chomsky-Foucault debate was moderated by Fons Elders and broadcast in 1971 by Dutch television as part of a series. Elders first included the transcript in a collection of three interviews he edited, Reflexive Water: The Basic Concerns of Mankind (London: Souvenir Press, 1974). He reprinted it separately as Human Nature: Justice vs Power. The Chomsky-Foucault Debate (London: Souvenir Press, 2011), though by then A.I. Davidson had already released the text in Foucault and His Interlocutors (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1997), 107-145. Elders’s 2011 edition consists of an introduction, followed by the two-part transcript. The first part tackles the question of human nature, knowledge, and science, the second deals more with politics. [6] See Gerda Poschmann, Der nicht mehr dramatische Theatertext. Aktuelle Bühnenstücke und ihre dramaturgische Analyse (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1997) and Hans-Thies Lehmann, Postdramatic Theatre , trans. and introd. Karen Jürs-Munby (London: Routledge, 2006). [7] Marvin Carlson, “Postdramatic Theatre and Postdramatic Performance,” Brazilian Review of Presence Studies / Revista Brasileira de Etudos da Prescença 5, No. 3 (Sept.- Dec. 2015), 579. [8] Carlson, “Postdramatic Theatre and Postdramatic Performance,” 582. [9] Lehmann, Postdramatic Theater , 22. [10] The gap between European idealism and Emerson’s Transcendentalism is somewhat diminished in his theory of visuality, holding that sight, like language, is a way of inhabiting a visual field and integrating its objects, at the cost of distorting both by the idealizing operations of language and perspective, the visual distortions of the one and the other’s fixations by figures of speech and generic conventions, and we might add medium specificities. See Branka Arsić, On Leaving: A Reading in Emerson (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010), 55, 68, as discussed by Gallagher-Ross, Theaters of the Everyday , 50-51, 68. [11] See Johan Callens, “Auto/Biography in American Performance,” in Auto/Biography and Mediation , ed. Alfred Hornung (Heidelberg: Winter Universitätsverlag, 2010), 287-303. [12] Lehmann, Postdramatic Theatre , 2006: 43; rptd by Gallagher-Ross, Theaters of the Everyday , 18. [13] Lehmann, Postdramatic Theatre , 128. [14] Bonnie Marranca, “Performance as Design: The Mediaturgy of John Jesurun’s Firefall ,” PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 96 (2010), 16. [15] See also chapter 5, “Tech Support: Labor in the Global Theatres of The Builders Association and Rimini Protokoll,” of Jackson’s Social Works: Performing Art, Supporting Publics (London: Routledge, 2011), 144-181. [16] In fact, Weems has always combined creative with critical work, whether as a founding member of the V-Girls and Builders Association or as dramaturg for the Wooster Group, also co-directing Art Matters and lecturing at different universities. [17] Shannon Jackson and Marianne Weems, The Builders Association: Performance and Media in Contemporary Theater (Cambridge: M.I.T. Press, 2015), 3. [18] Jackson and Weems, The Builders Association , xiii, 384-385. [19] Jackson and Weems, The Builders Association , 17. [20] Jackson and Weems, The Builders Association , 8, 393. [21] Faust/How I Rose , which The Builders Association used for Imperial Motel (Faust) (1996) and JUMP CUT (Faust) (1997-1998), received major runs at the National Theater of Mexico, while his Philoktetes , after featuring in Philoktetes Variations , as directed by Jan Ritsema in 1994, was revived in October 2007 by Jesurun himself at the SoHo Rep with a cast featuring Will Badgett (Odysseus), Louis Cancelmi (Philoktetes), and Jason Lew (Neoptolemus). See Johan Callens, “The Builders Association: S/he Do the Police in Different Voices,” in The Wooster Group and Its Traditions , ed. and introd. Johan Callens, Dramaturgies Series: Texts, Cultures, and Performances vol. 13 (Brussels & Bern: Presses Interuniversitaires Européennes-Peter Lang, 2004), 247-261; Johan Callens, “The Volatile Value of Suffering: Jan Ritsema’s PhiloktetesVariations,” in The Trojan Wars and the Making of the Modern World , ed. and introd. Adam J. Goldwyn, Studia Graeca Upsaliensia vol. 22 (Uppsala: Uppsala University Press, 2015), 223-244. 2015; and Christophe Collard, “Processual Passing: Ron Vawter Performs Philoktetes,” Somatechnics 3, No.1 (2013), 119-132. [22] See also Claire Swyzen, “‘The world as a list of items’: Database Dramaturgy in Low-Tech Theatre by Tim Etchells and De Tijd, Using Textual Data by Etchells, Handke and Shakespeare.” etum: E-Journal for Theatre and Media 2, No. 2 (2015), 59–84, accessed May 15, 2018, https://cris.vub.be/en/searchall.html?searchall=swyzen , for an interpretation of one British and two Flemish low-tech postdramatic mediaturgical productions: Broadcast/Looping Pieces (2014), Peter Handke en de wolf (2005) and Elk wat wils. Iets van Shakespeare (2007). [23] Roland Barthes, “Le mythe, aujourd’hui,”Mythologies (Paris: Seuil, 1957), 191-247; “Myth Today,” Mythologies , ed. and trans. Annette Lavers, Noonday Press (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1972), 109-164. Footnotes About The Author(s) Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Stages of Struggle and Celebration: A Production History of Black Theatre in Texas Immersions in Cultural Difference: Tourism, War, Performance Stage for Action: U.S. Social Activist Theatre in the 1940s Samuel Beckett’s Theatre in America: The Legacy of Alan Schneider as Beckett’s American Director The Contemporary American Monologue: Performance and Politics Black Performance on the Outskirts of the Left Introduction: Mediations of Authorship in American Postdramatic Mediaturgies Kaldor and Dorsen's "desktop performances" and the (Live) Coauthorship Paradox Ecologies of Media, Ecologies of Mind: Embodying Authorship Through Mediaturgy Dropping the Needle on the Record: Intermedial Contingency and Spalding Gray's Early Talk Performances #HEWILLNOTDIVIDEUS: Weaponizing Performance of Identity from the Digital to the Physical Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Trevor Boffone Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 31 1 Visit Journal Homepage Latinx Theater in the Times of Neoliberalism. Patricia A. Ybarra. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2018; Pp. 247. Trevor Boffone By Published on November 8, 2018 Download Article as PDF Latinx Theater in the Times of Neoliberalism . Patricia A. Ybarra. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2018; Pp. 247. Patricia Ybarra’s Latinx Theater in the Times of Neoliberalism rightly notes that the emergence of Latinx theatre in the 1960s and 70s paralleled the rise of neoliberalism in the Americas. From the beginnings of El Teatro Campesino’s and the Puerto Rican Traveling Theatre’s agit-prop theatremaking to the contemporary advocacy work of the Latinx Theatre Commons, neoliberal practices have been a staple of the United States’ domestic and foreign policies. Rather than primarily being in conversation with scholarship, Ybarra instead engages with Latinx playwrights themselves, thus viewing them as theorists. In this way, Cherríe Moraga’s The Hungry Woman serves as the point of departure from which Ybarra meditates on the effects of neoliberalism in the United States. With this in mind, Latinx Theater offers an exciting example of the possibilities of critical theatre scholarship that, put simply, takes the field to new heights. Ybarra situates Latinx theatre in the times of neoliberalism as a “transnational, post-nationalist, and (mostly) post-cultural nationalist perspective aware of its own historicity” (4). Rather than concentrate on the origins of neoliberalism, the book focuses on Latinx plays written from 1992 to the present in which the playwrights react to a world where neoliberal economic practices are the norm and have seemingly always been around. Post-1992, Latinx playwrights speak about economic transnational capitalism in a less optimistic and post-revolutionary way. Nevertheless, they still use methods that harken back to the early days of Chicanx and Latinx theatre. As Latinx theatre artists responded to the political moment in the 1960s and 70s, their strategies were decidedly anti-capitalist and anti-assimilationist as they used theatre performance to protest against marginalization of the Latinx community in the United States. The playwrights in Latinx Theater build upon this legacy by critiquing neoliberal capitalism as a system of violence. Neoliberalism was not as legible then as it is now, giving contemporary playwrights space to theorize their economic, political, and social relationships to the Americas. As such, these playwrights tackle the agents and fallouts of neoliberalism such as NAFTA, forced migrations, starvation in post-Soviet Cuba, feminicide, and narcotrafficking. These challenging human conditions encourage Latinx theatre artists to criticize the US’s socio-political climate by rendering the effects of economic violence visible. The introduction offers a tight yet comprehensive overview of neoliberalism that will be of use to any scholar doing work in contemporary cultural studies. Ybarra defines neoliberalism as “a political and economic philosophy whose proponents espouse free markets and privatization of state enterprises as the mode by which prosperity and democracy are best reached” (x). In light of the history of neoliberal economic practices, Ybarra demonstrates how Latinx theatre and performance form an ideal site from which to engage in political critique. From here, the book is organized into four well-balanced chapters that each examines a unique historical and sociopolitical circumstance resultant from neoliberalism in the Americas. Chapter one explores how Latinx playwrights such as Cherríe Moraga, Michael John Garcés, and Luis Valdez utilize indigeneity, cosmology, and identity to comment on NAFTA. Considering plays including Moraga’s Giving Up the Ghost , Garcés’s points of departure , and Valdez’s Mummified Deer , Ybarra complicates the intersections of theatre practices and indigenous practices in the Americas by examining the exoticization of indigeneity in Latinx theatre. In chapter two, Ybarra investigates the 1994 Balseros Crisis—when thousands of Cubans left the island on rafts due to the country’s poor economic conditions—through Eduardo Machado’s Kissing Fidel , Caridad Svich’s Prodigal Kiss , and Nilo Cruz’s A Bicycle Country . These plays shed light on the ways in which national narratives of progress are rendered inept by the lived realities of Cuba’s Special Period after the fall of the Soviet Union. Drawing from exile and migrant narratives, the works of Machado, Svich, and Cruz model new travelogues that are in constant motion and reveal new approaches to waiting that are not necessarily about outlasting Fidel Castro. Chapter three analyzes plays that represent feminicide in the Americas, primarily in Juárez, Mexico, from 1993 to the present. Contrary to other chapters’ focus on U.S.-based playwriting, this chapter focuses on Latinx plays (ex. Coco Fusco’s The Incredible Disappearing Woman and Marisela Treviño Orta’s Braided Sorrow ) in conversation with Mexican plays presented in the United States (ex. Humberto López’s Mujeres de Arena and Cristina Michaus’s Women of Ciudad Juárez ). Ybarra examines the limits of dramaturgical strategies to understand feminicides as crimes that can be solved. Instead, the frequent dramatization of these violent crimes only reiterates that these crimes are continual under neoliberalism. The final chapter stays in the same geographic zone but shifts the focus to narcotrafficking and the subsequent physical and economic violence that it produces. As opposed to filmic representation of narco-realism, Latinx performance uses heightened theatricality to demonstrate effectively the intersections of economics, masculinity, and violence. Plays in this chapter include Tanya Saracho’s El Nogalar , Octavio Solis’s Santos y Santos , and Matthew Paul Olmos’s so go the ghosts of méxico, part 1 . Since many of the Chicanx and Mexican-American plays in this chapter were written in response to Mexico’s narco period under President Felipe Calderón (2006-2012), they speak to how the Mexican state inflicted violence in Mexico. Ybarra then concludes by shedding light on the stakes of using theatre and performance as a framework to understand neoliberalism in the Hemispheric Americas. By exploring how Latinx playwrights have theorized neoliberalism since 1992, Ybarra offers a much-needed study that truly explains why theatre matters. As opposed to the predominant mode of scholarship that looks at Latinx theatre as a branch of social change, Ybarra illuminates how Latinx playwrights are the theorists themselves. Although neoliberal capitalism seems like an unavoidable systemic condition, Latinx theatremakers have cultivated productive dramatizations that illuminate its practices and help redress its violent acts. References Footnotes About The Author(s) TREVOR BOFFONE University of Houston Editorial Board: Co-Editors: Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson Advisory Editor: David Savran Founding Editors: Vera Mowry Roberts and Walter Meserve Editorial Staff: Managing Editor: Kiera Bono Editorial Assistant: Ruijiao Dong Advisory Board: Michael Y. Bennett Kevin Byrne Tracey Elaine Chessum Bill Demastes Stuart Hecht Jorge Huerta Amy E. Hughes David Krasner Esther Kim Lee Kim Marra Ariel Nereson Beth Osborne Jordan Schildcrout Robert Vorlicky Maurya Wickstrom Stacy Wolf Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Are We “Citizens”? Tony Kushner’s Deweyan Democratic Vision in Angels in America Pageants and Patriots: Jewish Spectacles as Performances of Belonging “Anyway, the Whole Point of This Was to Make You Feel Something”: Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and the Reconstruction of Melodrama Edward Albee’s Sadomasochistic Ludonarratology in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Disability Theatre and Modern Drama: Recasting Modernism. Kirsty Johnston. London: Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2016; Pp. 240. Building Character: The Art and Science of Casting. Amy Cook. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press; Pp. 198. The Late Work of Sam Shepard. Shannon Blake Skelton. New York: Bloomsbury, 2016; Pp. 256. Latinx Theater in the Times of Neoliberalism. Patricia A. Ybarra. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2018; Pp. 247. Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Jasmeene Francois Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 33 2 Visit Journal Homepage The Theatre of August Wilson. Alan Nadel. Metuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2018; Pp. 224. Jasmeene Francois By Published on April 8, 2021 Download Article as PDF The Theatre of August Wilson . Alan Nadel. Metuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2018; Pp. 224 . In The Theatre of August Wilson , Alan Nadel critically analyzes the dramatic texts of August Wilson’s cycle of ten plays about African American life in the 20th century in relation to the concept of property rights and the law. In this first comprehensive companion to Wilson’s full cycle, Nadel continues his sustained scholarship and editorial contributions demonstrated in May All Your Fences Have Gates: Essays on the Drama of August Wilson (1994) and August Wilson: Completing the Twentieth Century Cycle (2010). The chapters in his latest study ground Nadel’s argument that “America has always suffered from a profound confusion of human rights and property rights” (2). Beyond presenting an accessible, nuanced study of Wilson’s drama, this volume serves to “underscore… the dimensions of privilege that have transparently enveloped America during what has been called the ‘The American Century’” (2). Nadel argues that throughout American history, law has been an instrument of privilege rather than justice and that the injustices suffered led African Americans to create artistic sites of innovation such as the blues—and Wilson’s theatre. The blues, Nadel claims, provided Wilson an “entry to this history” and serves a “psychic tableau of disrupted dreams and displaced passions…” (2). Nadel begins his valuable analysis with a brief biography of August Wilson (1945-2005), illuminating aspects of Wilson’s life as key to his multifaceted drama. Chapter one, “Becoming August Wilson,” highlights Wilson’s childhood as Fredrick Kittel and his transformation to working playwright; here, Nadel weaves in Wilson’s own words from personal interviews. Interestingly, he focuses on the playwright’s relationships with his parents, his Pittsburgh neighborhood, and his education, connecting these relationships with Wilson’s early career as a writer. Especially notable to Wilson’s artistry is his introduction to and love for the blues. The second part of the biography focuses on Wilson’s career in Minneapolis, his work at the O’Neill Theater Center (with Lloyd Richards) and then on Broadway. In chapter two, “History and/as Performance: The Drama of African American History,” Nadel argues that history is performative and that “History” creates rather than “describes events.” The production of narratives gets deemed factual through the method of performing them. Writing without jargon, he uses the example of a witness to an accident to explain his argument: the witness’s viewpoint is told and recorded and thus becomes part of the historical record. He connects this argument with Wilson’s work with characters such as Troy from Fences who “articulates his own version of history” in Nadel’s reading (19). In a sense, Wilson’s work “engages with history” through characters and by dramatizing the blues (19). The chapters are structured thematically using one or two plays as case study. Chapters three through nine each open with a different play’s production history and plot summary before developing analysis. This structure orients readers who may be curious about the development of specific plays in Wilson’s cycle, as well as those seeking to contextualize the plots. Chapter Three, for example, examines how history and elements of the blues are captured through dramatic structure and characters, using Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom . This chapter in particular considers the entirety of the cycle and its relationship to music. In thinking about the blues, Nadel sees the ten plays as “ten cuts on an album surveying the twentieth century African American blues” (38). Shifting back to Ma Rainy , set in the 1920s, Nadel argues that the play provides an introduction to American history and a decade when blues were central to Black life. Nadel emphasizes that Wilson’s work could be read as musical compositions and orchestrations: thus, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom becomes a “paradigmatic play in Wilson’s canon” (42). Chapter 4 provides a critical analysis of law and property in Gem of the Ocean and Jitney . The chapter considers how Gem of the Ocean , set in the 1910s, begins the Wilson cycle and introduces how capitalism creates the world of Wilson’s plays. Connecting it to Jitney , Wilson’s first piece written for the cycle (set in the 1970s in a black-owned unlicensed taxi service), Nadel examines how characters navigate in that very system where black communities are disenfranchised. Chapter Five examines property in Fences , set in the 1950s, and Joe Turner’s Come and Gone , set in 1911. Nadel focuses on the fence as the “idea of property” (68). He argues that the “act of naming” in Fences enacts “fence building”, connecting with the idea of property within the United States (68). Later chapters continue to consider property and the law as they provide critical companions to specific Wilson plays, including: Two Trains Running , Seven Guitars , King Hedley II and Radio Golf . This compelling volume also includes contributions from scholars Donald E. Pease and Harry Elam Jr. who further critical analysis of Seven Guitars and King Hedley II . An Americanist, Pease’s chapter extends focus on the significance of the blues, giving a brief historical context of the genre, as well as interview material on Wilson’s approach to music. While Nadel examines the dramatic texts, Elam Jr’s chapter considers performance of these texts as theatre. Elam’s chapter analyzes director Bartlett Sher’s production of Joe Turner’s Come and Gone in its 2009 revival on Broadway and Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s staging of Jitney for Broadway premiere in 2017. Elam’s chapter aims to situate these signal performances within the cultural and political context of their times of production, decades after Wilson wrote the plays. These valuable and insightful additions deepen our understanding of Wilson’s contributions to theatre and American history. In The Theatre of August Wilson , Nadel masterfully weaves theory and history with a thorough analysis of Wilson’s dramatic texts. Fittingly, he provides ample analysis of the blues as a storytelling device while the book’s unique lens considers the plays in relation to how law and property are portrayed. The monograph is useful for scholars from varying disciplines and theater practitioners seeking critical analysis of August Wilson’s cycle plays. Beyond connecting plays across the cycle, Nadel also gives specific evidence of how the plays speak to law and property rights, slavery and the forces of capitalism in America, and the incorporation of the blues by Wilson to illuminate the African American experience and creativity through the 20th century. References Footnotes About The Author(s) JASMEENE FRANCOIS Graduate Center, CUNY Editorial Board: Guest Editors: Nicole Hodges Persley and Heather S. Nathans Guest Editorial Team for this issue: Mark Cosdon, Stephanie Engel, La Donna Forsgren, Javier Hurtado, Mia Levenson, Khalid Long, Derek Miller, Monica White Ndounou, Scot Reese Co-Editors: Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson Advisory Editor: David Savran Founding Editors: Vera Mowry Roberts and Walter Meserve Editorial Staff: Co-Managing Editor: Casey Berner Co-Managing Editor: Hui Peng Advisory Board: Michael Y. Bennett Kevin Byrne Tracey Elaine Chessum Bill Demastes Stuart Hecht Jorge Huerta Amy E. Hughes David Krasner Esther Kim Lee Kim Marra Ariel Nereson Beth Osborne Jordan Schildcrout Robert Vorlicky Maurya Wickstrom Stacy Wolf Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction to "Milestones in Black Theatre" Prologue to the Issue and a Thank-you to Errol Hill Earle Hyman and Frederick O’Neal: Ideals for the Embodiment of Artistic Truth Newly Discovered Biographical Sources on Ira Aldridge Subversive Inclusion: Ernie McClintock’s 127th Street Repertory Ensemble 1991: Original Broadway Production of Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston's Antimusical Mule Bone Is Presented A Documentary Milestone: Revisiting Black Theatre: The Making of a Movement A Return to 1987: Glenda Dickerson’s Black Feminist Intervention Dancing on the Slash: Choreographing a Life as a Black Feminist Artist/Scholar Playing the Dozens: Towards a Black Feminist Dramaturgy in the Work of Zora Neale Hurston Guadalís Del Carmen: Strategies for Hemispheric Liberation “Ògún Yè Mo Yè!” Pathways for institutionalizing Black Theater pedagogy and production at historically white universities Interviews and Afterviews on “Milestones in Black Theatre” Talking About a Revolutionary Praxis: A Conversation with Black Women Artist-Scholars in the Wake of COVID-19 and Black Lives Matter Tarell Alvin McCraney: Theater, Performance, and Collaboration. Sharrell D. Luckett, David Román, and Isaiah Matthew Wooden, eds. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2020; Pp. 252. Casting A Movement: The Welcome Table Initiative. Claire Syler and Daniel Banks, eds. New York: Routledge, 2019; Pp. 266. The Theatre of August Wilson. Alan Nadel. Metuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2018; Pp. 224. Shakespeare in a Divided America: What His Plays Tell Us About Our Past and Future. James Shapiro. New York: Penguin Press, 2020. Pp. 221. The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage. Kurt Eisen. Methuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2017; Pp 242 + xiv. Errol Hill Award Winners 1997-2020 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

European Stages serves as an inclusive English-language journal, providing a detailed perspective on the unfolding narrative of contemporary European theatre since 1969. Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back European Stages 18, Fall, 2023 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Report from London (December 2022) Published: November 26, 2023 Download Article as PDF By Dan Venning Image Credits: Article My last theatre-going trips to London were in 2018 and 2019, before the COVID pandemic swept across the globe, shuttered theatres, and transformed theatre-going after the world began to reopen. In the reports I wrote for European Stages after those trips, I identified several major trends that ran through many of the productions I saw. In 2018, numerous productions engaged, in one way or another, with the global #MeToo movement, acknowledging the assaults and microaggressions faced by women and AFAB (assigned-female-at-birth) people. At the end of 2019, only a few months before the pandemic struck, Britain was gearing up for a national snap election that was, in some respects, a sort of second referendum on Brexit. In this particular moment, many of the productions I saw dealt with Britain’s place (often as a former imperial power) in global politics, or the marginalized people within British society. In December 2022, I once again spent nearly a month in London, taking twenty students from Union College in Schenectady, NY to see shows across the city. As in my previous trip, I selected shows eclectically to show my students just some of the many sorts of theatrical productions available in London: West End musicals ( Cabaret ), works at the National ( Hex and Othello ), shows in Shakespeare’s Globe’s indoor candlelit Sam Wanamaker Playhouse ( Hakawatis and Henry V ), new works ( My Neighbour Totoro at the Barbican, Baghdaddy at the Royal Court, The Doctor and Orlando on the West End), and long-running mainstays ( The Woman in Black and Heathers ). In addition to the productions I saw with my students, I separately attended As You Like It at the new @sohoplace theatre; my first West End panto, Mother Goose ; the long-running & Juliet on the West End in advance of its Broadway transfer; and A Streetcar Named Desire at the Almeida, which had sold tickets so quickly that I could not book for my large student group. While my previous London reports consisted of similarly diverse shows, in this iteration, I found few thematic links running through the content or staging of these works. If there was a link between these shows, it was the truism that artists and audiences are rediscovering how to engage with theatre in the post-COVID landscape. Indeed, COVID continued (and continues) to affect how theatre is made and seen. About half of the audience members were masked at every performance (I was always masked). Several members of my term abroad contracted COVID while in London and had to quarantine for five days and miss performances. I had booked tickets to Tammy Faye at the Almeida, a new musical (with music by Elton John, lyrics by Jake Shears, and book by James Graham, featuring superstar Andrew Rannels among others, based on the life of evangelist Tammy Faye Messner), but several performances, including ours, were cancelled due to illnesses in the cast. I booked another show to make up for the cancellation: the solo piece One Night Stand with E.V. Crowe and friends at the Royal Court… and then that was also cancelled due to illness (thankfully Orlando , which I booked at that point, was not cancelled!). And yet throughout the theatres, there was palpable joy—even in the grimmest productions—that artists and audiences were once again able to come together in the same space. Because I found few concrete links beyond the ways COVID continues to inflect theatre-going, I discuss the productions irrespective of the order in which I saw them, but in ways that allow me to draw links between particular shows. Both the first ( Cabaret , 1 December 2022) and final ( A Streetcar Named Desire , 23 December 2022) productions I saw were directed by Rebecca Frecknall, Associate Director for the Almeida Theatre. Frecknall is an unabashedly feminist director who reimagines classic dramatic works—often American—for the contemporary stage and her work desperately needs to be seen on major stages in the United States. Her Summer and Smoke in 2018 was haunting in its simplicity and Patsy Ferran justifiably won the Olivier for her luminous performance; unfortunately Frecknall’s 2019 The Duchess of Malfi featuring Lydia Wilson was less so, sapping the play of its disturbing power in a bland, ultramodern staging that seemed to focus more on the men than the titular Dutchess. I’m glad to say that both of her productions I saw in 2022 were stellar. Cabaret was staged at the Playhouse Theatre on the West End, which was rechristened The Kit Kat Club. Audience members entered through the stage door and wound their way through the basement halls of the theatre, as if we were entering the venue depicted in the show. Stickers were placed over our cell phone lenses to prevent photographs and everyone was given a shot of vodka. Cast members of various genders dressed in vaguely BDSM sexual garb made eyes with us and danced provocatively. Three separate bars were set up in each lobby level and a half hour before curtain an elaborately staged dance number by the “boys and girls” of the Kit Kat Club was executed on the bar of the main lobby (Julia Cheng’s choreography was impressive throughout the show, but particularly here). The show had swept the 2022 Olivier Awards but by the time I saw it all the stars who had won acting awards had rotated out. The Emcee was played by understudy Matthew Gent at this performance and Sally Bowles by swing/alternate Emily Benjamin (both of whom would take over the roles as main cast in 2023), yet this cast was spectacular. Of particular note were Michelle Bishop as Frӓulein Kost (and the Kit Kat girl Fritzie), Vivien Parry as Frӓulein Schneider, and Benjamin as Sally Bowles. Parry seemed to channel the spirit of Lotte Lenya with her rendition of “So What” and Bishop, under Frecknall’s direction, brought genuine pathos to the role of Kost. As a prostitute at the bottom of the social hierarchy, we could understand how Kost would embrace Naziism to find anyone she could denigrate in response to the way society had rejected her. At the end of the show, Benjamin’s rendition of “Cabaret” was among the strongest musical numbers I’ve seen live, surpassing, to my mind, recordings of Liza Minelli: the upbeat lyrics paired with her personal despair had much of the audience in tears. Sid Sagar as Cliff Bradshaw was less successful, but this may be because he seemed to have been directed to be emotionless throughout, preventing any sort of audience empathy with the character who was the analogue of Christopher Isherwood, the queer author of the stories on which the musical is based. Tom Scutt’s stage was almost in the round and his costumes implicated the audience in the rise of fascism that Kander, Ebb, and Masteroff’s show depicts. The Emcee rose from the stage gleefully with a tiny party hat for “Wilkommen” as everyone reveled together in the celebration we were attending; by “Money” he was dressed in a neo-fascist demonic outfit, and at the end of the show he and the boys and girls of the Kit Kat Club wore simple, sexless brown outfits, evoking Hitler’s brownshirts a century ago in the 1920s. Yet in the final moments as they marched in a circle carrying suitcases, Isabella Byrd’s lighting turned the set to a stark gray, making them look like photos of men and women with suitcases on their way to trains to concentration camps. Collaboration would save no one. Thankfully, Frecknall’s production (with original star Eddie Redmayne as the Emcee) is transferring to Broadway in 2024, when the August Wilson Theatre will temporarily become the Kit Kat Club. Cabaret . Photo: Marc Brenner. Of all the shows I saw in London, Frecknall’s version of A Streetcar Named Desire was the strongest—easily the best Tennessee Williams I have ever seen—despite the fact that it was in previews with the actor playing Blanche holding her script throughout. The production sold out within hours of tickets going on sale, but Lydia Wilson, who had been cast as Blanche, dropped out of the production for health reasons two weeks before performances began. The first week of performances were cancelled and Wilson was replaced by Patsy Ferran, who had been such a revelation as Alma in Summer and Smoke four years earlier. On the preview I attended, after barely two weeks of rehearsal, Ferran carried her script, occasionally glancing quickly at it at the beginning of each scene, but never looking at it again. Also at the performance I attended on 23 December, Frecknall herself stepped into the role of Eunice (without a script). Seeing her onstage in her own production was a marvelous experience. Madeleine Girling’s set was a nearly bare square with a few scattered props (and periodic rain effects) and Frecknall’s production raced through the words at the beginning of Williams’s script at lightning pace so that the action could effectively open with Blanche’s arrival in New Orleans. Yet this production was less about the conflict between Blanche and Stanley than about toxic masculinity and patriarchal abuse. Blanche was certainly traumatized, but never for a moment portrayed as “crazy,” and Stanley’s violence towards her throughout the play had little to do with any hatred for her per se. Instead, Stanley wanted complete control over his victimized wife Stella—and his clearest path to getting this, as for any abuser, was to isolate Stella from anyone with whom she could find mutual love or care, particularly her sister. The actor who played Stanley, Paul Mescal, was not a hulking brute but appeared to be an attractive, soulful, young husband with a somewhat silly mullet. Yet in spite of this physical attractiveness, Mescal played Stanley as a profoundly ugly man on the inside: consumed with jealousy, self-pity, and white male rage, taking out his anger most clearly on his abused wife, her sister, and his supposed “friend” Mitch. In this color-conscious production, Stella was played by the British-Indian-Singaporean actor Anjana Vasan (so she and Blanche were clearly not full biological siblings, but loved one another no less) and Mitch by Black actor Dwane Walcott. Walcott’s scenes with Blanche and Stanley took on particular resonances—as Stanley viciously notes that Mitch will never achieve his own career successes, or when Blanche asks Mitch if he has been on the titular streetcar and Mitch does not respond. One of many revelations was that Frecknall’s production made it seem as if Mitch must have always been written for a Black actor. Her feminist version of A Streetcar Named Desire (which won an Olivier for Best Revival, and for which Vasan and Mescal also took home Oliviers), even in previews and with Ferran holding her book-in-hand, will make it hard for me to read or see Williams’s play in the same light again. A Streetcar Named Desire . Photo: Marc Brenner. Nearly as successful were two new adaptations of older works: Robert Icke’s The Doctor and the Royal Shakespeare Company’s My Neighbour Totoro . Icke, the former Associate Director for the Almeida (the position Frecknall now holds) created this production at that theatre before it transferred to the West End where I saw it on 8 December 2022. Like his earlier revelatory adaptations Oresteia and Hamlet , The Doctor has since been presented at the Park Avenue Armory in New York City. The Doctor is Icke’s loose adaptation of Arthur Schnitzler’s play Professor Bernhardi , a work about anti-Semitism in early twentieth-century Europe. While holding fast to most of the events in Schnitzler’s plot—which hinges on a leading doctor’s refusal to admit a priest to deliver last rights to a young girl dying of a botched abortion and the ways in which that Jewish doctor is punished by society—Icke’s adaptation is strikingly contemporary, engaging with identity and perception in today’s world. His script notes that “Actors’ identities should be carefully considered in the casting of the play. In all sections except for [an onstage debate], each actor’s identity should be directly dissonant with their character’s in at least one way […] the acting should hold the mystery until the play reveals it. The idea is that the audience are made to re-consider characters (and events) as they learn more about who the characters are” (viii). For example, when a priest (who we later learn is Black) enters in Act I, the stage direction reads “ The FATHER is played by a white actor .” Hardiman, a particularly chauvinistic white male doctor, was played by the female Afro-Jamaican actor Naomi Wirthner. The central character, Dr. Ruth Wolff, was played by Juliet Stevenson, an actress who does not “look Jewish” at all. Wolff claims to see only talent and facts, never race or sex, and the audience is forced to engage with what actually not seeing these palpable facts about identity would feel like. In one particularly affecting moment, Ruth’s neighbor Sami, played by cis woman actor Matilda Tucker, is revealed to be a trans girl who appears masculine to most people who can see her within the world of the play. We periodically see flashbacks to Ruth’s conversations with her deceased partner Charlie, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, the disease Ruth seeks to cure. Charlie was played by the Black woman actor Juliet Garricks, but Icke never lets us learn Charlie's “actual” gender or race within the world of the play. Hildegard Bechtler’s simple and evocative set and costumes (the set was simply a slowly rotating white room) contributed to all these effects. Icke’s challenging production forced audiences to engage with what they can, cannot, or will not see. The Doctor . Photo: Manuel Harlan. The RSC’s My Neighbour Totoro (7 December 2022) was another stellar adaptation. It won Olivier awards for Best Entertainment or Comedy Play as well as for Phelim McDermott’s direction, Joe Hisaishi’s music as orchestrated and arranged by Will Stuart, Jessica Hung and Han Yun’s lighting design, Tony Gayle’s sound design, Tom Pye’s set design, and Kimie Nakano’s costume design. Also certainly deserving of an award—although an Olivier category does not exist—were Bail Twist’s puppet designs, which were created by the Jim Henson Creature Shop, Significant Object, and Twist’s own Tandem Otter Productions. The production was a faithful adaptation by Tom Morton-Smith of Hayao Miyazaki’s 1988 Studio Ghibli animated film My Neighbor Totoro , about two sisters who move with their father to the rural Japanese countryside in 1955 so that they can be closer to their mother who is in a specialized hospital. In the countryside, the sisters—Mei, aged four, and Satsuki, aged ten—discover mythical creatures from Japanese folklore, including soot spirits, “Totoros” (kind and intelligent furry forest creatures varying in size from tiny to immense), and a giant cat that is also a bus in which the creatures ride. The sisters see tiny sprouts grow into giant trees overnight. Miyazaki’s masterful animated film is a paean to childhood, Japanese folk culture, and imagination, made even more powerful through Hisaishi’s unforgettable score. A cartoon, with all its impossible magic and music, was brought to life onstage through astounding performances by an entirely Asian cast, including twenty puppeteers in Bunraku-style black outfits, singer Ai Ninomiya, and the award-winning designers. Adult actors Mei Mac (Mei), Ami Okumura Jones (Satsuki), and Nino Furuhata (Kanta, a young neighbor boy) empathetically played young children in a way that contributed to the affective power of the production. During the curtain call, the puppeteers swiftly demonstrated how they had manipulated some of the puppets, from the hand-and-rod chickens to the immense King Totoro and Cat-Bus. Notably, production press photos never show the Totoros; they have to be seen to be believed (the production is being revived in 2023 in London and I have no doubt it will tour worldwide considering its success there). My Neighbour Totoro . Photo: Manuel Harlan. Coincidentally, another production I attended was also an adaptation of a film released in 1988: Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe’s Heathers , based on the cult film written by Daniel Waters and directed by Michael Lehmann (13 December 2022). The musical adaptation of Heathers has similarly achieved cult status with young musical theatre aficionados, despite never having been staged on Broadway. It opened off-Broadway in 2014 at New World Stages, then premiered in the UK (with a few rewritten songs) at the off-West End venue The Other Palace in 2018, transferred to the West End later that year, transferred back to The Other Palace after the pandemic in 2021, and closed in 2023. All of these productions were directed by Andy Fickman. Heathers is set in Westerberg High School in the 1980s and centers on Veronica, a girl who manages to gain acceptance from the popular clique of Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, and Heather Duke, at the cost of her friendship with the unpopular Martha Dunnstock. Veronica begins a relationship with a new boy at school, the soulful outsider J.D., who reveals himself as a full-fledged sociopath, poisoning the lead Heather and murdering two jocks who try to sexually assault Veronica. Veronica goes along at first—penning a fake suicide note from Heather Chandler that takes the school by storm and later helping to stage the killings of Ram and Kurt as a murder-suicide as if the two were closeted gay lovers. But when J.D. decides to blow up the entire school, Veronica finally takes the initiative and stops his murderous rampage. At the off-West End Other Palace, Fickman’s production as designed by David Shields lacked any technical spectacle but the energetic performances by young actors Erin Caldwell (Veronica), Nathanael Landskroner (J.D.) and Maddison Firth (Heather Chandler) brought the mostly young audience to their feet. O’Keefe and Murphy’s songs from the show are superb, particularly Veronica’s joyously sexual “Dead Girl Walking,” Kurt and Ram’s Dads’ “My Dead Gay Son,” J.D.’s “Our Love is God,” the Heathers’ show stopping poppy “Candy Store,” and the eleven o’clock number “Seventeen,” an ode to high school life. While Heathers had a significant run on- and off- the West End, it pales in comparison to The Woman in Black , which opened in London in 1989 (only one year after the original films of Heathers and My Neighbor Totoro were released), closing in March 2023 after running thirty-three years on the West End. Scores of actors have played the roles of Arthur Kipps and the young unnamed Actor who endeavors to bring Kipps to life (as well as the uncredited ghost role) and playwright Stephen Mallatratt died in 2004 less than halfway through the show’s immensely long run (Dame Susan Hill, from whose 1983 novel Mallatratt adapted the play, is still alive and still writing). I was especially glad to see the show on 6 December 2022 only months before it ended its historic run. It has made its way into numerous British school curriculums and part of the audience was filled with teenagers in school uniforms who had been bussed in to see the show on the West End. Robin Herford’s production, simply designed by Michael Holt, takes place “in this Theatre in the early 1950s” and begins when Arthur Kipps (Julian Forsyth, when I saw it) attempts, poorly, to tell his haunted ghost story for the stage. With a few simple props, the young Actor (Matthew Spencer) takes on the role of the young Kipps, while Kipps himself plays every other character (save the ghost) from his past. Through the power of the imagination, affecting performances, one uncredited woman actor, and a few carefully placed jump scares facilitated by Kevin Sleep’s lighting design and Sebastian Frost’s sound design, the audience is transported from a bare stage into a small seaside town and its haunted house on the moors. Rumors abound of ghosts in London’s theatres—including the murdered actor William Terriss at the Adelphi and the 18 th Century “Man in Gray” at Drury Lane—and if such ghosts do exist, I expect the Fortune Theatre will be a stage haunted by The Woman in Black for some time to come. The Woman in Black . Photo: Mark Douet. In contrast to the simplistic power of imagination celebrated in that show, Hex at the National Theatre (5 December 2022) demonstrated the ways in which spectacle—and powerful performances—cannot save a thoroughly misconceived production. Staged in the National’s massive Olivier Theatre, with its marvelous gigantic drum revolve stage, Hex , a musical adaptation of the Perrault’s Sleeping Beauty fairy tale, is obviously a pet project for Rufus Norris, the artistic director and chief executive of the National. Norris, who directed the production, also wrote the lyrics and developed the concept along with Katrina Lindsay. The convoluted book for Hex is by Tanya Ronder and music is by Jim Fortune. Lindsay’s set and costume designs are spectacular, including a castle that descends from the upstage wall, three flying fairies who deliver their performances while suspended midair, and numerous other delightfully staged creations, including bumblingly misogynistic princes who wish to wake the sleeping beauty, a chorus of poisonous thorns, and many more fantastical effects. The plot centers on the “low” Fairy (the marvelous singer Lisa Lambe), who loses her powers after accidentally “hexing” the young princess Rose (Rosie Graham) and putting her into a sleep until she can find a true love’s kiss. Fairy wants to regain her powers and join the effervescent “High Fairies” (Kate Parr, Olivia Saunders, and Rumi Sutton), so seeks a prince to undo the curse; she finds him in Bert (Michael Elcock), the half-human son of Queenie (another superb singer, Victoria Hamilton-Barritt), an ogress who has turned vegetarian in order to resist her urges to consume human flesh. After a convoluted plot that also involves generations of stewards named Smith and Smith-Smith (Michael Matus), Fairy sneakily preventing Queenie from eating her grandchildren (Rose and Bert’s children Duncan and Dyllis), and much more, Fairy succeeds and is elevated to “high fairy” status—renouncing her lifelong goal only seconds later to rejoin her earthbound friends. Tone shifts abound—the show was billed for ages eight and up, but in addition to fairy-tale hijinks it includes a baby-eating ogress, graphic descriptions of animal slaughter, and a “comic” song from the princes about sexual coercion. Even worse is the music: Fortune’s tunes and Norris’s lyrics are sometimes earworms precisely because of their banality (Bert cannot stop singing about his name in “Prince Bert,” impressively and athletically choreographed by Jade Hackett; Rose and Bert’s romantic duet “Hello” consists mainly of the words “Hi, Hi, Hello”). Of the twenty-eight songs, eight are reprises (with one song reprised twice). Hex aspired to be a creative retelling of fairy tales along the lines of Sondheim’s Into the Woods , instead it demonstrated what happens when an artistic director of a major theatre is too enamored of his own project. Hex . Photo: Johan Persson. The other production I saw at the National, Clint Dyer’s staging of Othello (16 December 2022), was far more successful. Othello is a deeply troubling play, written by a white man over four hundred years ago but engaging with the charged issues of racism and spousal abuse and murder. Probably my favorite analyses of this play come from the Black British actor Hugh Quarshie (see “Is Othello a Racist Play on YouTube).and Ayanna Thompson’s new intersectional feminist introduction to Arden revised edition (2016)both of which acknowledge the ways in which the play remains strikingly painful today, especially for Black or woman/AFAB readers and audiences. Dyer’s production, in the National’s smaller proscenium Lyttelton Theatre, with a set designed by Chloe Lamford that looked like some sort of public forum, began with a stagehand sweeping the stage as images were projected on the upstage wall showing the long and troubling production history of this play. In Dyer’s production, almost every character, from ensemble members to Cassio (Rory Fleck Byrne), Bianca (Kirsty J Curtis), Montano (Garteth Kennerley), or the Duke of Venice (Martin Marquez) was also credited as “System”—in other words, these people were part of a system of oppression that would lead to Othello and Desdemona’s deaths. Only three characters were not also listed as “System”: Othello (Giles Terera), the Black man oppressed by systemic racism, Desdemona (Rosy McEwen), his white wife who rejects the system to love a Black man, and Iago (Paul Hilton, who was as superb in this as he had been in the benevolent roles of Walter and Morgan in The Inheritance ), who manipulated the system to destroy Othello and Desdemona. Notably, during the trial in Act I, Iago sat to the side alongside Roderigo/System (Jack Bardoe), making a noose out of a long rope. Iago and Roderigo assumed that the trial would be perfunctory and Othello would be executed—and they might have been right, had the Turkish invasion of Cyprus not required Othello’s military leadership. But perhaps the most noteworthy aspect of the production was how Dyer conceived of the role of Emilia/System (Tanya Franks): throughout the production, one of her arms was in a cast and she had a massive black eye. She was obviously being abused by her husband Iago, yet no one commented or even subtly acknowledged this fact. Dyer effectively communicated that systems encourage horrific cruelties (towards women by men, towards Black people by white society) and react violently not to abuse but instead to those who dare to oppose these oppressions. Othello . Photo: Myah Jeffers. Another successful and contemporary staging of a Shakespearean play was Josie Rourke’s gorgeous intersectional production of As You Like It (15 December 2022), the second play to be staged at the new @sohoplace theatre, an ultramodern complex that is London’s first purpose-built West End theatre to open in fifty years. Staged in the round, Robert Jones’s set consisted mainly of a large piano center stage where Michael Bruce played underscoring for the action and accompaniment to the songs (Bruce also composed all the music) throughout the show. When the characters entered Arden, leaves fell from above, covering the stage in an autumnal tapestry. At that point, Jones and Poppy Hall’s Elizabethan-style costumes gave way to more contemporary, rustic attire. Particularly noteworthy was the casting: Leah Harvey (a Black nonbinary female-presenting actor who uses they/them pronouns) played Rosalind—and Harvey was not the only nonbinary actor in the cast: Cal Watson (they/them) played Le Beau and the second de Bois brother. Several of the actors and their characters were deaf, including Rose Ayling-Ellis, who played Celia, and Gabriella Leon, who played Audrey. These identities mattered in the play: Celia and Audrey communicated using a mixture of British Sign Language (BSL) and sign-mime, and most of the characters communicated with them in this way. But the vicious Duke Frederick (Tom Edden) refused to communicate with his daughter in sign, forcing her to lip read and to speak orally to him. Duke Frederick also used his daughter’s disability against her: turning his back to her as he spoke in anger, so that she could not read his lips and understand what he was saying. The play’s scenes of reconciliation and love at the end were particularly moving because of these intersectional identities. Instead of returning in “women’s weeds,” Harvey’s Rosalind simply walked offstage and back on, and then Alfred Enoch’s Orlando recognized them. Ben Wiggins’s Oliver demonstrated his reformation by struggling to learn BSL so that he could communicate with Celia, with whom he had fallen in love. In fact, the American actor Martha Plimpton, always excellent in Shakespeare, despite a solid performance as a female Jacques, with the famous “All the world’s a stage” speech, was one of the least compelling parts of the production. Rourke’s staging demonstrated that Shakespeare’s fictionalized Forest of Arden can allow us to imagine and visualize a world where everyone can be celebrated, no matter their race, gender identity or expression, or disabilities. As You Like It . Photo: Manuel Harlan. The same day I saw Othello at the National in the evening (16 December 2022), I had also attended a matinee of Henry V at the nearby Shakespeare’s Globe, meaning that I saw three Shakespearean productions in London within two days. Unfortunately, Holly Race Roughan’s staging of Henry V was the least inspiring of any of the productions I saw during my time in London, including the misconceived Hex . Roughan had a clear concept: that war and power could corrupt even the most well-intentioned leader and that brutally violent men can come to be revered as heroes. Over the course of the play, her Henry (Oliver Johnstone) transformed from an optimistic, well-intentioned ruler to a dangerous psychopath, raging at his people, ordering executions without a second thought, and killing the Dauphin at Agincourt in retribution for the insult that helped spark his war. Henry’s scene with Katherine had not a single spark of romance, but was the culmination of his violence as he demanded her hand in an overtly political marriage, and then the play ended with the scene (usually much earlier in the play; Act 3, scene 4) between Katherine and Alice (Eleanor Henderson) as Katherine began to learn English in preparation for her forced marriage. Perplexingly, this was followed by an epilogue where the actress who had played Katherine, Joséphine Callies, transformed into a modern immigrant, responding to a British naturalization exam; perhaps a comment, albeit unrelated to the earlier action of this production, on the fact that England, which had once had imperialist dreams of conquering foreign lands, after Brexit now places major barriers against Europeans who wish to become British citizens. While Roughan’s concept was clear, everyone spoke Shakespeare’s verse excellently, and the production was one of the best lit I’ve seen in the indoor Wanamaker Playhouse (designer Moi Tran’s metallic upstage wall reflected the candlelight that serves to light productions at this indoor recreation of Shakespeare’s Blackfriars playhouse), little else made sense. Except for Johnstone as Henry, the nine remaining cast members played all the other roles in the play, often with only the smallest costume or accent change meant to indicate a change in character. However, sometimes this convention wasn’t followed: an actor removing a coat might mean a change in character, or simply that character removing their coat. Even for a Shakespeare scholar, it was often unclear to whom Henry was speaking; I could tell that my fellow audience members were totally befuddled. This is the sort of misconceived production that sadly leads modern audiences to feel that they “just don’t understand” (or like) Shakespeare. Henry V . Photo: Johan Persson. Hakawatis: Women of the Arabian Nights , a new play by Shakespeare’s Globe writer-in-residence Hannah Khalil, which I had seen two days earlier at the Wanamaker (14 December 2022) was far more successful. A testament to women’s empowerment, storytelling, and collaborative creation, the play follows five women (Wahida the Dancer, played by Houda Echouafini; Fatah the Young, played by Alaa Habib; Zuya the Warrior, played by Laura Hanna; Akila the Writer, played by Nadi Kemp-Sayfi; and Naha the Wise, played by Roann Hassani McCloskey) who are imprisoned and awaiting their marriage to, sexual assault by, and subsequent execution at the orders of the unseen King, who is currently married to (the also unseen) Scheherazade. In contrast to the original version of the tale, it is not Scheherazade but these women who come up with the stories that Scheherazade will tell her husband, saving all their lives. The play includes riffs on classic stories from the 1001 Nights along with new tales, as if they are stories from these women’s lives, or ones told to them by their mothers, sisters, cousins, or female friends. At one point, they argue about a story that Zuya tells, which metaphorically depicts male violence and women cleverly overcoming it: Akila realizes that it will enrage the King and might lead to everyone’s death, and that this is not the moment to share that particular tale. The women argue about self-censoring, but ultimately agree with Akila that “there is a power in words. Stories. They must be told in the right way and at the right time” (61). The five very different women, placed in the same dire situation, forge close relationships, and earn their freedom, but, as they leave after 1001 nights, they vow to find some way to free Scheherazade (who had shared their stories) from her vicious husband. The moving play, presented with an Arab cast, was aided by the material conditions of the Wanamaker playhouse, where the candlelight (actors had to hold light sources at the same time as playing their roles) enhanced the sense that Rosa Maggiora’s set was indeed a dank prison room, one of the many sorts of cages (metaphorical or literal) throughout history from which women have had to escape. Hakawatis . Photo: Ellie Kurttz. Like Hakawatis, Baghdaddy at the Royal Court (8 December 2022) was a new feminist Arab play—but in every other respect the works could not have been more different. Written by Jasmine Naziha Jones, who also performed the central character, Darlee, a second-generation British-Iraqi girl from age eight to twenty, the play, which is dedicated to Jones’s father, delves into the relationship between Darlee and her Iraqi Dad as the girl comes of age during wars between the West and Iraq. The expressionist play was staged by Milli Bhatia on a set of stairs designed by Moi Tran—similar in some respects to Chloe Lamford’s set for Othello —and also featured a chorus of “Quareens”—“spiritual companions from another dimension,” two female and one male, helping Darlee “reconcile her childhood memories with Dad’s story” as an immigrant (2). Part clown show and part fictionalized reconstruction of a traumatic childhood, the show built up to two monologues: Darlee’s railing against a so-called democratic Western society that has never fully accepted her and Dad’s lament for his family who died in the Iraq war after he came to the UK. The play—and Jones’s performance as a fictionalized version of her younger self—was deeply painful but felt only half-formed, perhaps as do any of our half-remembered recollections of childhood. Baghdaddy . Photo: Helen Murray. Orlando (17 December 2022), as adapted by Neil Bartlett from Virginia Woolf’s novel and staged by Michael Grandage at the Garrick Theatre on the West End, featuring the nonbinary actor Emma Corrin as its titular immortal gender-defying character, was another sort of coming-of-age story. Of course, Orlando comes into his/her/their own over the course of centuries (and also it’s no coincidence that Orlando shares the same name as one of the romantic leads in the gender-bending As You Like It ). Excepting Corrin and Deborah Findlay, who played Mrs Grimditch, a very long-serving confidant to Orlando and the audience, the remaining cast (consisting of one man and eight women or nonbinary performers) all played both a chorus of Virginia Woolfs and Orlando’s many, many loves. When Orlando appears, the audience briefly sees him frontally naked (Corrin wore a prosthetic penis for this moment) and when Orlando transforms into a woman, she is once again naked (although this time only seen from the waist up). The play was a celebration of transformation and potentiality, ending by acknowledging that Orlando might thrive in the world today (or an approaching future, signified by an intensely bright door at the top of Peter McKintosh’s set that Orlando passed through at the end of the play) in a more accepting world that Woolf herself, who committed suicide in 1941, could only dimly imagine. The play was especially moving to my students on the mini-term, several of whom are trans and/or nonbinary; one said she was going to get a tattoo of that bright door that signified the possibilities of the future if we are willing to “try courage” (78). Orlando . Photo: Marc Brenner. Less successful in its feminism but still a delightful spectacle onstage was the jukebox musical & Juliet (20 December 2022), directed by Luke Sheppard with a book by David West Read and featuring over two decades of pop songs written by Max Martin. It’s hard to believe that Martin wrote so many of the best-known hits for artists including Bon Jovi, The Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Britney Spears, Robyn, Kelly Clarkson, Kesha, Justin Timberlake, Demi Lovato, Katy Perry, The Weeknd, and more. The show bills itself as a feminist revision of Romeo and Juliet , in which Anne Hathaway, in a frame story, accuses Shakespeare of not giving his doomed heroine enough of a voice or agency and imagines a new ending in which Juliet doesn’t kill herself after awakening to find Romeo poisoned. Taking off from that premise, Juliet (still played, when I saw it years after it opened on the West End, by Olivier-winning Miriam-Teak Lee) goes on an adventure across Europe, along with her friends including the trans character May (now played by nonbinary actor Joe Foster). The show is raucously self-aware (a jukebox sat visibly near the center of Soutra Gilmour’s set and the spectacularly lit titles that descended from the flyspace at the opening, interval, and close resembled nothing more than a West End/Broadway marquee) and builds to Juliet’s rendition of Katy Perry’s “Roar,” which indeed stopped the show for at least a minute of applause after Lee’s performance of the song. The show has since transferred to Broadway, where Justin David Sullivan, the nonbinary actor who played May, declined to be considered for Tonys since the awards continue to require actors be nominated in binary gender categories for men and women. Thankfully, the production has fixed its original gaffe of casting a cis man as a trans character (Arun Blair-Mangat originated the role of May on the West End), but the supposed feminism continues to ring a bit hollow even as Anne, Juliet, and her friends sing about women’s empowerment. Perhaps this is because all of the authors and the director of the show were men: as noted in Hamilton (another musical created almost entirely by men that was intended to reimagine the past more inclusively), “who tells your story” matters and it’s too bad that the producers of & Juliet didn’t find a woman to write the book or direct. Just as much frothy fun, but with a lot less pretense, were two holiday shows I saw towards the end of my trip. Who’s Holiday! at the tiny Southwark Playhouse (19 December 2022) was a solo holiday drag show which was the final work to which I brought my students. Written in 2017 by Matthew Lombardo in the comic verse of Dr. Seuss, the play imagines Cindy Lou Who from How the Grinch Stole Christmas! all grown up, bleached blonde, hard drinking, foul mouthed in rhyme, having escaped a relationship with the Grinch, and planning a Christmas celebration despite constant cancellations from her friends. The play is thoroughly dirty and definitely not for the young children who might still read Dr. Seuss. But, as directed by Kirk Jameson, it is perfect for camp as performed by Miz Cracker, an American drag queen who gained fame on the television show Ru Paul’s Drag Race , and in the end Who’s Holiday! still celebrates the joy and spirit of Christmas every bit as much as its less transgressive source material. Who’s Holiday!. Photo: Mark Senior. My first West End panto was equally delightful, if far more spectacular. Jonathan Harvey’s Mother Goose , directed by Cal McCrystal at the Duke of York’s Theatre (20 December 2022), the same theatre where I had seen The Doctor a few weeks earlier, featured stand-up comedian John Bishop as Vic Goose and the legendary Sir Ian McKellen in drag as Mother Goose (the panto Dame), using wit and constant references to contemporary British politics to facing down holiday financial struggles from exorbitant energy bills. Their struggles are abated by the arrival of a goose (Anna-Jane Casey) who starts laying golden eggs and gives Mother Goose the chance to achieve her dreams of stardom. The songs, dances, and audience participation were all delightful—when one nearby audience member heard that Mother Goose was my first panto, she let me know she had been to hundreds and that this was among the very best she’d ever seen. Yet no one was enjoying themselves more than Sir Ian, obviously gleeful at the chance to ham it up in the sort of work he had adored in his youth. As he delivered key lines from Gandalf in Lord of the Rings or Portia’s “The quality of mercy” speech in the tenor of Mother Goose, his wry smile was infectious and had the audience grinning just as much as he was. On our feet at the end, we were all celebrating the holiday spirit together again, in the theatre. Mother Goose . Photo: Manuel Harlan. The holiday spirit that suffused Mother Goose and Who’s Holiday! in some ways ran through all these productions, even the darkest like Othello, Henry V, The Doctor , and A Streetcar Named Desire , since we were, once again, able to be in London’s excellent theatres together. COVID will remain part of our world for some time to come: many audience members remain masked, theatres have to cancel performances and hire more understudies (or even have the director go on for a role in a pinch!), and more. This is probably a good thing: it has led to conversations about how the arts can be safer and more equitable for everyone. I expect to return to London at the end of 2025 and I am excited to discover what will suffuse the city’s theatrical scene then, when it will have been half a decade since the height of the pandemic. References References About the author(s) Dan Venning is an associate professor in the department of Theatre & Dance at Union College (Schenectady, NY), where he also teaches in the English department and the interdisciplinary programs in American Studies and Gender, Sexuality, & Women's Studies. He has published numerous chapters in scholarly edited collections, book reviews, and performance reviews in a broad range of scholarly journals, including several overviews of theatre in London for European Stages . He is currently working on a book about Shakespearean performance and nation-building. European Stages European Stages, born from the merger of Western European Stages and Slavic and East European Performance in 2013, is a premier English-language resource offering a comprehensive view of contemporary theatre across the European continent. With roots dating back to 1969, the journal has chronicled the dynamic evolution of Western and Eastern European theatrical spheres. It features in-depth analyses, interviews with leading artists, and detailed reports on major European theatre festivals, capturing the essence of a transformative era marked by influential directors, actors, and innovative changes in theatre design and technology. European Stages is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents Report from London (December 2022) Confessions, storytelling and worlds in which the impossible becomes possible. The 77th Avignon Festival, July 5-25, 2023 “Regietheater:” two cases The Grec Festival 2023 The Festival of the Youth Theatre of Piatra Neamt, Romania: A Festival for “Youth without Age” (notes on the occasion of the 34th edition) Report from Germany Poetry on Stage: Games, Words, Crickets..., Directed by Silviu Purcărete Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 35 2 Visit Journal Homepage The Front Porch Plays: Socially-Distanced, Covid-Safe, Micro-Theatre Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder By Published on May 6, 2023 Download Article as PDF On a mild day in June 2020, four actors, each in their own car, paraded through the small, rural college town of Sewanee, Tennessee. Similar to the pageant wagons of medieval times, the goal was to bring theatre to the people all while offering entertainment, enlightenment, and an opportunity for fellowship. The production: The Front Porch Plays , an evening of socially-distanced, Covid-safe, micro-theatre. Actor Virginia Craighill performs for community members. Made popular in Spain, micro-theatre aims to create intimate theatrical experiences by performing short-form theatre to small audiences. Developed in response to the financial crisis in Spain, micro-theatre became a way to produce new theatre at a time when the arts were underfunded. Productions are produced quickly, with minimal financial investment, making them affordable for artists who want to create theatre that is accessible. The Front Porch Plays was also created in response to a crisis: the Covid pandemic. Theatre has always been a communal event: it is both created and consumed together. As it became clear that the country’s three-week social experiment in isolation in the spring of 2020 was going to extend through the summer I began to explore ways to tell stories which allowed for human interaction while also maintaining social distancing. Inspired by the innovative work being done by arts organizations forced to pivot away from their traditional programming, The Front Porch Plays was born. My interest in site-specific theatre makes me look at my surroundings through a different lens. I see possibility in unlikely places. I’ve hosted new work in kitchens, art galleries, and even a freight elevator. However, because of the pandemic indoor spaces were off-limits. Social distancing would require more space. Luckily, our town, which sits on the Cumberland Plateau provided the perfect setting. Like so many theatre artists, I found myself feeling an enormous sense of loss as our new reality became apparent. A world-premiere production of a new play, two years in the making, was shut down eight days into rehearsal while other projects I had planned were put on hold. In the early days of the pandemic, I wrote monologues for two theatre companies that were pivoting to online programming. These events offered me the opportunity to write while contributing to the theatre community that had been decimated. With those two pieces as my foundation, I began writing additional monologues. My hope was to create a short collection of monologues that worked in conversation with one another. Monologues can be deceptive in their simplicity; however, a well-written monologue not only tells a story, but it has a clear objective and is active. Each character I created wanted something very specific: a mother who wanted to pass down her cast iron skillet; a teenager who wanted the freedom to watch a comet she would only see once in her lifetime; a man who wanted to connect with his neighbor. While none of the monologues explicitly mentioned the pandemic, the subtext of each piece informed the audience that these were people unable to move freely in the world, who were trying to make connections with others despite barriers. Once I had several monologues to choose from, I settled on four that I knew I could cast from within my community. The goal was to make the event long enough to feel fulfilling while keeping it short enough to perform multiple times a night for multiple groups of people. We began by rehearsing over Zoom and then gathered outdoors to run the show. To help with transitions we added a guitar player. The monologues, when presented together, ran approximately 12 minutes in total. Because we are a small town, I was able to create a route each night that required only a three to five-minute drive between each stop. We limited ourselves to five performances each night which meant that with performance and travel time, I was only asking for 90 minutes of commitment from the actors. The show was billed as “socially distanced micro-theatre from the safety of your front porch.” Hosts were asked to limit guests to ten. This made it easier to social distance, but in the spirit of micro-theatre, it also created a more intimate experience. Word spread quickly as community members, eager for something to look forward to, signed up. Guests waited; some gathered on their front porches, others in lawn chairs in their yards, and they cheered when we arrived. The project was so popular that we added a second weekend of performances. Community members waiting for the arrival of the Front Porch Plays . The audience was asked to social-distance and limit their group to 10 people. The response from the community was overwhelming. One audience member wrote, “We would like to thank you so much for your efforts in providing a really special experience this past weekend! It was such fun, and really perfection! We continue to marvel at how the community comes together and shares their many gifts with others!” Another responded by saying, “This was such a gift. It was a reminder of the outside world, a way to enter another world, and a way to be (safely) in community.” Once I knew the project was possible, I created a “how to” guide to walk people through the entire process and offered it to theatres royalty-free as long as their performances were free of charge. The project was quickly picked up by the Nomad Theatre, based in Indiana. Rather than charging admission, they chose to accept donations. On their first day of performances, they raised more than $1300 which was then split between organizations that support Black and LGBTQ+ communities. According to producer Connie Blick, “Each and every one of us felt alive again, being able to be creative and share our talents in front of an audience.” Theatre artists have always responded in times of crisis. It is the way we make sense of the world around us. At a time when we were otherwise isolated from one another, theatre once again offered a way to examine the human condition while creating connection and community. Actor Jim Crawford performs his monologue for community members in Sewanee, TN. References Footnotes About The Author(s) ELYZABETH GREGORY WILDER is currently the Tennessee Williams Playwright-in-Residence at Sewanee: The University of the South. Her work has been produced, developed, and commissioned by the Royal Court, Alabama Shakespeare Festival, Denver Center Theatre, New Conservatory Theatre, Arden Theatre, Cleveland Play House, Geva Theatre, Sloan Foundation, and Pioneer Theatre, among others. Elyzabeth is a graduate of NYU and an alum of Youngblood. www.wilderwriting.net Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Chevruta Partnership and the Playwright/Dramaturg Relationship The Heart/Roots Project and a Pandemic Pivot From Safe to Brave—Developing A Model for Interrogating Race, Racism and the Black Lives Matter Movement Using Devised Theater The Front Porch Plays: Socially-Distanced, Covid-Safe, Micro-Theatre Making Up for Lost Time: New Play Development in Academia Post COVID 19 Meet Me Where I Am: New Play Dispatches from the DC Area México (Expropriated): Reappropriation and Rechoreography of Ballet Folklórico Effing Robots Online: The Digital Dramaturgy of Translating In-Person Theatre to Online Streaming Emergent Strategy Abolitionist Pedagogy in Pandemic Time How to Make a Site-Specific Theatrical Homage to a Film Icon Without Drowning in Your Ocean of Consciousness; or, The Saga of Red Lodge, Montana Playing Global (re)Entry: Migration, Surveillance, and Digital Artmaking Reviving Feminist Archives: An Interview with Leigh Fondakowski Sarah Gancher and Jared Mezzocchi : How Collaboration is Dramaturgy Between Playwright and Multimedia Creator (Re)Generation: Creating Situational Urban Theatre During COVID and Beyond Starting with the Space: An Interview with Patrick Gabridge Pandemic Performance: Resilience, Liveness, and Protest in Quarantine Times: Edited by Kendra Capece, Patrick Scorese. New York: Routledge, 2023; Pp. 188 The Cambridge Companion to American Theatre Since 1945: Edited by Julia Listengarten and Stephen Di Benedetto. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021; Pp. 273. Democracy Moving: Bill T. Jones, Contemporary American Performance, and the Racial Past. Ariel Nereson. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 2022; Pp. 290. Borderlands Children’s Theatre: Historical Developments and Emergence of Chicana/o/Mexican-American Youth Theatre. Cecilia Josephine Aragόn. New York: Routledge, 2022; Pp. 158. Aural/Oral Dramaturgies: Theatre in the Digital Age. Duška Radosavljević. New York, NY: Routledge, 2022; Pp. 224. Feeling the Future at Christian End-Time Performances. Jill Stevenson. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2022; Pp. 243. Previous Next Attribution:

Caitlin A.Kane Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 35 2 Visit Journal Homepage Reviving Feminist Archives: An Interview with Leigh Fondakowski Caitlin A.Kane By Published on May 17, 2023 Download Article as PDF Leigh Fondakowski (they/she) has dedicated nearly 25 years to creating theatre from narrative interviews and archival research. In works including The Laramie Project, The People’s Temple, I Think I Like Girls, and Spill, Fondakowski uses the words of real people to create nuanced portraits of communities in crisis and to illuminate difficult moments in U.S. history. In 2018, they were commissioned to craft a podcast about women’s liberation in honor of the 19th Amendment centennial. That commission led to Feminist Files , [i] an audio theatre series about the “nerdy revolutionaries” (including Dr. Bernice “Bunny” Sandler, Pauli Murray, Edith Green, and Representative Patsy Takemoto Mink) who started the “academic sex revolution” by clandestinely passing the legislation that we now know as Title IX. Although the commission for that work came before the pandemic began, Fondakowski’s research and creative process were undeniably affected and constrained by pandemic-era shutdowns and by rising awareness of the need for more accessible approaches to producing and presenting theatre. In this conversation, conducted via Zoom in November 2022, Fondakowski and I discuss how these forces shaped their development of a hybrid podcast-theatre form that blends Fondakowski’s first-person narrative, recorded interviews with relatives of those who led the fight for gender equity in academia, and performances of edited archival materials. Podcasts and other audio forms, we both agree, have great potential for theatre artists interested in exploring experimental and unconventional dramatic forms and for creating more accessible theatrical works. Caitlin Kane: Can you describe Feminist Files for those who have not yet heard it? Leigh Fondakowski: Feminist Files is a ten-part narrative audio series that tells the secret origin story of Title IX. It covers the years of 1969-1976, tracing how this group of women in Washington went behind the scenes to create legislation that has had an amazing impact. CK: In the series, you describe those women as “nerdy revolutionaries,” and it is such an apt descriptor. LF: Right, there are a lot of cliches about women’s libbers from that period: bra-burning, protests in the streets, all that kind of stuff. That did happen. The radical lesbians were really at the forefront, but the women [whose stories we tell in the series] were not doing that. These were women who were focused on legislative change. The thing that I love about the [timing of this project] – it’s tragic in a way – but Feminist Files was released on the 50th anniversary of Title IX in June [2022], and the day after that, Roe was overturned. So, in 1972, the Equal Rights Amendment and Title IX pass, and in 1973, Roe is instated. Half a century later, Title IX is the last one standing. It is incredible in terms of the arc of history. CK: It makes the series even more urgent at this moment. There is a lot that we can learn about the legislative side of activism from the women whose stories you tell. LF: Right. I think my biggest discovery was realizing the intricacies and the convergence of different people’s work that went into [passing Title IX]. I never really thought about how the sausage gets made. CK: How did you become interested in the stories of this group of feminist activists and the history of Title IX? LF: The project has a bit of a history. I was approached by this media company called Frequency Machine – a young startup co-founded by two women. They wanted to do something for the centennial of the 19th Amendment, so they approached me with this outline they had created for a women’s series, right? I wish I could show you this document. Each episode was an epic chunk of women’s liberation from 1910 to the present. So, I was like, I’ll take this, and I’ll see what I can find. I knew Title IX could be one of the episodes, so I sat down to talk with Rora [Brodwin, another playwright who had previously written a solo show about her Great-Aunt Bunny Sandler, the “godmother of Title IX”], and I realized the series could tell Rora’s story and the story of Title IX. Then, I went to the Schlesinger Library and was convinced that it could be the whole series because I found all this material there. There was so much material, and there were so many parts to the story that I was discovering. So, I went back to [Frequency Machine], and I pitched it. The producers had a background in reality television, so we had to learn how to talk to one another, how to find a common language. I had to learn to speak in TV dramatic logic, which I’m still learning. It took a lot to convince them that there would be enough drama in it because this is not true crime, you know. I told them, “We’re gonna use oral history, but we’re gonna have an actor perform it.” And they were like, “Why are we gonna have an actor perform it? Can’t we just use the real audio of it?” But Bunny Sandler isn’t an actor, so the real audio doesn’t quite have that dramatic energy. I said, “I’m gonna adapt it to my style.” It was a long process of me convincing them this could be dramatic enough, which it turns out it absolutely is. In the end, I think maybe [the producers] were beaten down by my endlessly returning to this pitch! They also gave me the freedom to create something they didn’t entirely understand at first, which is a rare opportunity as an artist, to be trusted in that way. So, the origin story of it was that it was supposed to be this gigantic women’s history. From a hundred years of women’s history, I homed in on Title IX. CK: The audio theatre form that you developed for this project blends the dramatic forms that you use in your interview- and archival-based plays with a more conventional podcast structure. Can you describe how this developmental process built on the processes that you’ve used in the theatre? LF: What’s interesting about it for me as a writer is I really hear text musically when I’m playwriting, both when there’s pre-existing text and when I’m making the text up. In a way, it was like a long rehearsal process. I could live with these recordings and edit from these recordings. Instead of saying to the actor, “Cut that line” or “change this around,” I could just do that with their voice. It did give me the thought that, in the future, when I’m playwriting from big source material again, I’ll have actors record the read-throughs of the whole play so that I have that audio and can play with that audio as I’m playwriting. This form also frees you from having to worry about bodies and space. You create an image world for each episode –you can really focus on voices and story. CK: What do you see as the possibilities for this form looking forward? LF: I think that it’s an underexplored form. I mean, it’s interesting to see what’s happening in the theatre, right? Audible is putting plays on tape… LA Theater Works has been doing it forever, but I think people are more open to audio now, and Hollywood has jumped on the bandwagon because it’s a proof of concept, right? They don’t have to invest in developing a TV series. It can be a podcast first, and then, they can decide they want to make it into a TV series. But there are also people who – instead of selling their intellectual property to someone in Hollywood – they are making an audio version where they have more control and can play with form. It has been called the Wild West because it doesn’t have a lot of rules. SAG and Equity don’t know what to do with it. It’s not governed by any of that stuff, so people are still just exploring. I think it’s a truly experimental landscape right now. It’s also just a different form, right? When [the producers] were giving me notes, they were saying that I needed to imagine someone doing their laundry, being on the treadmill, or cleaning their house. So, we’ve lowered the artistic bar, but it’s also universal. Everybody can access it. It’s not expensive, so in terms of what you were saying earlier– CK: In terms of what the COVID-19 pandemic has illuminated for us as theatre-makers– LF: Right, we still have an issue in the theatre of affordability and accessibility: how much money is spent to make the thing, who gets to watch it, and who are the gatekeepers. In this podcast world, you still have some constraints, but anybody can make a podcast, and most people can access it. CK: You are somewhat present in your theatrical work as an interviewer or narrator figure, but in Feminist Files, you play a much more substantive role. What was it like to be that present as the host and narrator of this series? How did it feel to put yourself into the work in that way? LF: I’ve always resisted that, but in this form, it felt like an inevitability because I’m the one finding this stuff, and I’m trying to recreate this experience for the listener of going on this journey [as a researcher]. Before I found the oral history transcript [in Bunny Sandler’s files at the Schlesinger Library], Rora [Brodwin] had already told me most of Bunny’s history and her own story of sexual assault, including her going into the Title IX office that her great-aunt had created and not being able to tell her great-aunt about that experience. So, that was a narrative arc, right? Then, some of the most moving experiences for me were finding Pauli [Murray’s] journal, realizing that I was working beneath her portrait [in the archive], and Rora introducing me to her as a figure in history. I thought Rora was going to be able to thread all those other elements in. I spent an unbelievable number of hours putting [Rora and Bunny’s] voices together, so they were telling the story together. I thought it was just gonna be the two of them talking to each other because they couldn’t talk to each other in real life anymore, but there was too much that needed to be filled in. I needed to talk people through and give context. I would also say that Sarah Lambert [my co-producer] had a lot to do with it because she is the standard bearer for artistic integrity. So, when Sarah was encouraging me to put myself forward, I knew I had to pay attention. She had never said that in any other process. And, of course, Sarah fact-checked everything to within an inch of its life, so I always felt confident in everything we were saying, you know? And then I had to learn how to direct myself narrating, which was a process. CK: Right – I can imagine how different that felt from working in a theatre with actors, particularly amidst the pandemic. Can you describe your directorial process? How did you do the recordings? Was the whole process done via Zoom? LF: Yeah, [the actors] would set up recording studios, most of the time in their closets, and then they would record, and I would direct via Zoom, but I didn’t have a live feed to the recording because they were sent these kits with SIM cards, so it was nerve-wracking. I could hear how they were sounding over Zoom, and I could hear when they messed up a line, but I couldn’t hear the quality of the recording until they sent us the files, so some of the editing was based on the takes and how they sounded. It was a very different process than when you’re building work in a room with actors. CK: Did you do all the editing yourself, or did you do a rough edit and then have audio engineers who cleaned things up? LF: I did all the editing. I’m trying to think of how many passes on average, but we did a pass, and then, [the producers] would give notes, and then, we’d do another pass, and they would give notes. As it came more into form, they had more and more to say about it. In the beginning, they didn’t know what it was going to be, so they didn’t have much to say, but as it began to take shape, they wanted to weigh in more and more. Then it went to the sound person, Gary [Grundei], and he would edit based on sound, which was such an important element. So, there were probably three to five editing passes for each episode. CK: You mentioned that the process of creating this felt like being in twelve straight weeks of tech. LF: It really did. After I would make the final layout of the words, it would go to an engineer who does a pause pass, which is like a pacing pass. Then, it went to Gary for sound design again, and it came back to me, and I would usually edit out large swaths of the text based on Gary’s work. CK: He does beautiful work, recreating the sounds of the archive for instance, which is both such a quiet space and a space that really comes alive in this podcast. Given how effective this form was in activating this period of feminist history and the capaciousness of the title, Feminist Files, I wonder if there is any plan for additional seasons or episodes? LF: I wanted to call it The Consequential Feminist. CK: What happened to that title? LF: That title never made it out of committee! CK: That’s too bad! LF: I know. I wanted it to be called The Consequential Feminist. I really fought for that title. I think that’s why you hear the term so often in the series. The producers were a bit wary of Feminist Files, too. They wanted to shorten it to be F Files. Because feminism is a “bad” word – people recoil and don’t want to pay attention to feminism. The producers were feminists themselves but having worked in Hollywood for as long as they had, and experienced the sexism and misogyny of the industry, they felt people would be afraid of the word. CK: That’s disheartening. Do you know what the response has been to the project, given the title you chose? LF: It has a steady following but not gigantic because they are a young startup without a big marketing budget. We’re hoping that we’ll be nominated for a GLAAD Award so it can gain some traction. It’s had a steady following, but I only know that from hearing from people that they’re listening to it and enjoying it. CK: If it gets a more robust response, do you think there will be other iterations of the project? LF: That was the idea. The idea was that it could be anthologized, that we’d go back to the archives. I don’t think they’re gonna let me do it, but the story that I want to do next is one I came across accidentally in my research. Somebody left in the scanner a membership card for women in the KKK. It was just sitting there, and Teddy [one of the archivists] said, “Oh, they’ve left this in here.” We were both looking at it and looking at each other, and she said, “Yep, that archive is here.” I mean, that’s a whole different story. We tend to think of the history of mobilization on the left, but I don’t think we think of the history of mobilization on the right. CK: It would be a hard story to sit with for a long time, and you’d have to find an entry point for yourself and audiences, to help them find their way into that story and recognize it as part of our history that we need to grapple with. This project centers on a more uplifting narrative, but it was crafted at a difficult time. You began researching Feminist Files before the COVID-19 pandemic, but the recording and editing of the project was completed in 2020. What was it like to be working on it in the early months of the pandemic? LF: Well, as you know, it was a very scary and isolating time. Once we figured out the mechanics of how to send people the [recording] kits, and I started directing those recordings, though, it was like, “Oh, I’m back in my world.” Being able to spend those hours with Mercedes [Hererro], who is a longtime collaborator of mine, getting to be in the room with Ronald Peet, having conversations with Margo Hall about Black Lives Matter and her life – it was like air in a world without air, you know? And in the end, the producers and I did find a common language and we became strong collaborators, we trusted each other. They were able to get Jodie Foster on board to play Bunny, which shows how much they believed in this project. Getting to work with Jodie [Foster], with that high calibre of an actor… I got off that Zoom call, and I was dancing around the living room. It was lifesaving to have something big to focus on and to be able to connect artistically with people to create it. As a director, working with actors is the whole game, right? Without having that contact, you can think about the projects you want to make and read plays and do other things, but that engagement is where the creative flow really happens. [At the beginning of the pandemic], it felt like that was gone, and it would never be back. But then, it was right there. I could connect with these actors. It was amazing. The decision to have them break character from time to time to have conversations with me was me trying to capture that feeling of creating something together. We’re discovering something together. We’re in community, which is how the women in the story were also in community. I was trying to mirror that. It was a gift. References [i] Fondakowski, Leigh. Feminist Files. Accessed November 10, 2022. https://feminist-files.sounder.fm . Footnotes About The Author(s) CAITLIN KANE (she/they) is an Assistant Professor of Theatre History and Dramatic Criticism at Kent State University and a freelance dramaturg, director, and intimacy director. Their research and creative practice sit at the intersection of theatre and social change and feminist, gender, and sexuality studies and center on queer and feminist approaches to staging history. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Chevruta Partnership and the Playwright/Dramaturg Relationship The Heart/Roots Project and a Pandemic Pivot From Safe to Brave—Developing A Model for Interrogating Race, Racism and the Black Lives Matter Movement Using Devised Theater The Front Porch Plays: Socially-Distanced, Covid-Safe, Micro-Theatre Making Up for Lost Time: New Play Development in Academia Post COVID 19 Meet Me Where I Am: New Play Dispatches from the DC Area México (Expropriated): Reappropriation and Rechoreography of Ballet Folklórico Effing Robots Online: The Digital Dramaturgy of Translating In-Person Theatre to Online Streaming Emergent Strategy Abolitionist Pedagogy in Pandemic Time How to Make a Site-Specific Theatrical Homage to a Film Icon Without Drowning in Your Ocean of Consciousness; or, The Saga of Red Lodge, Montana Playing Global (re)Entry: Migration, Surveillance, and Digital Artmaking Reviving Feminist Archives: An Interview with Leigh Fondakowski Sarah Gancher and Jared Mezzocchi : How Collaboration is Dramaturgy Between Playwright and Multimedia Creator (Re)Generation: Creating Situational Urban Theatre During COVID and Beyond Starting with the Space: An Interview with Patrick Gabridge Pandemic Performance: Resilience, Liveness, and Protest in Quarantine Times: Edited by Kendra Capece, Patrick Scorese. New York: Routledge, 2023; Pp. 188 The Cambridge Companion to American Theatre Since 1945: Edited by Julia Listengarten and Stephen Di Benedetto. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2021; Pp. 273. Democracy Moving: Bill T. Jones, Contemporary American Performance, and the Racial Past. Ariel Nereson. Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 2022; Pp. 290. Borderlands Children’s Theatre: Historical Developments and Emergence of Chicana/o/Mexican-American Youth Theatre. Cecilia Josephine Aragόn. New York: Routledge, 2022; Pp. 158. Aural/Oral Dramaturgies: Theatre in the Digital Age. Duška Radosavljević. New York, NY: Routledge, 2022; Pp. 224. Feeling the Future at Christian End-Time Performances. Jill Stevenson. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2022; Pp. 243. Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch The Books of Jacob by Krzysztof Garbaczewski at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2024. La MaMa and CultureHub in association with the Polish Cultural Institute New York present The Books of Jacob by Dream Adoption Society, a digital laboratory led by Krzysztof Garbaczewski. The Books of Jacob is inspired by Olga Tokarczuk's Nobel prize-winning novel of the same name which explores the historical events surrounding Jacob Frank, a man who claimed to be the reincarnation of Sabbatai Zevi. In front of a live audience, Garbaczewski creates a hybrid theatre and virtual reality experience that delves into the ideas and relevance of Jacob's transformative religious movement in 18th Century Europe. The Books of Jacob is produced within CultureHub and La MaMa’s Experiments in Digital Storytelling program, which incubates story-driven artworks that push the boundaries of artistic forms. Experiments in Digital Storytelling is made possible by generous support from the National Endowment for the Arts and Radio Drama Network. Additional support for Krzysztof Garbaczewski’s fellowship in Experiments in Digital Storytelling is provided by TMU and Polish Cultural Institute New York. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents The Books of Jacob At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2024 A film by Krzysztof Garbaczewski Theater, Film, Multimedia, Performance Art This film will be available to watch online on the festival website May 16th onwards for 3 weeks. About The Film Country United States Language English Running Time 54 minutes Year of Release 2023 La MaMa and CultureHub in association with the Polish Cultural Institute New York present The Books of Jacob by Dream Adoption Society, a digital laboratory led by Krzysztof Garbaczewski. The Books of Jacob is inspired by Olga Tokarczuk's Nobel prize-winning novel of the same name which explores the historical events surrounding Jacob Frank, a man who claimed to be the reincarnation of Sabbatai Zevi. In front of a live audience, Garbaczewski creates a hybrid theatre and virtual reality experience that delves into the ideas and relevance of Jacob's transformative religious movement in 18th Century Europe. The Books of Jacob is produced within CultureHub and La MaMa’s Experiments in Digital Storytelling program, which incubates story-driven artworks that push the boundaries of artistic forms. Experiments in Digital Storytelling is made possible by generous support from the National Endowment for the Arts and Radio Drama Network. Additional support for Krzysztof Garbaczewski’s fellowship in Experiments in Digital Storytelling is provided by TMU and Polish Cultural Institute New York. CREATIVE TEAM Performers – Danusia Trevino, Anna Podolak, Ola Rudnicka Adaptation – Rébecca Pierrot Costume Design – Monika Palikot, Sławomir Blaszewski Music: Jan Duszyński Avatars – Anastasiia Vorobiova Set Design – Bettina Katja Lange, Krzysztof Garbaczewski Set Coordinator – Piotr Gawelko Director, VR Design – Krzysztof Garbaczewski CULTUREHUB DeAndra Anthony – Technical Director Mattie Barber-Bockelman – Producing Director Sangmin Chae – Creative Technologist Billy Clark – Artistic Director Evan Anderson – Lighting Consultant Live Park NY – Audio About The Artist(s) Krzysztof Garbaczewski (born February 24, 1983 in Bialystok, Poland) is a Polish theatre director, stage designer and digital artist. He creates interdisciplinary performances, theatrical installations combining performance, visual arts and virtual reality. Get in touch with the artist(s) krzysztof.garbaczewski@gmail.com and follow them on social media https://www.culturehub.org/the-books-of-jacob dreamadoptionsociety.com Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2024 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here. "Nightshades" - Veronica Viper Ellen Callaghan Dancing Pina FLorian Heinzen-Ziob Genocide and Movements Andreia Beatriz, Hamilton Borges dos Santos, Luis Carlos de Alencar Living Objects in Black Jacqueline Wade ORESTEIA Carolin Mader Schlingensief – A Voice that Shook the Silence Bettina Böhler The Hamlet Syndrome Elwira Niewiera & Piotr Rosolowski Wo/我 Jiemin Yang "talk to us" Kirsten Burger Die Kinder der Toten Nature Theater of Oklahoma:Kelly Copper and Pavol Liska Hans-Thies Lehmann – Postdramatic Theater Christoph Rüter MUSE Pete O'Hare/Warehouse Films QUEENDOM Agniia Galdanova Snow White Dr.GoraParasit The Making of Pinocchio Cade & MacAskill Women of Theatre, New York Juney Smith BLOSSOMING - Des amandiers aux amandiers Karine Silla Perez & Stéphane Milon ELFRIEDE JELINEK - LANGUAGE UNLEASHED Claudia Müller I AM NOT OK Gabrielle Lansner Making of The Money Opera Amitesh Grover Red Day Besim Ugzmajli The Books of Jacob Krzysztof Garbaczewski The Roll Call:The Roots to Strange Fruit Jonathan McCrory / National Black Theatre/ All Arts/ Creative Doula next...II (Mali/Island) Janne Gregor Chinoiserie Redux Ping Chong Festival of the Body on the Road H! Newcomer “H” Sokerissa! Interstate Big Dance Theater / Bang on a Can Maria Klassenberg Magda Hueckel, Tomasz Śliwiński Revolution 21/ Rewolucja 21 Martyna Peszko and Teatr 21 The End Is Not What I Thought It Would Be Andrea Kleine The Utopians Michael Kliën and En Dynamei Conference of the Absent Rimini Protokoll (Haug / Kaegi / Wetzel) / Film By Expander Film (Lilli Kuschel and Stefan Korsinsky) GIANNI Budapesti Skizo, Theater Tri-Bühne Juggle & Hide (Seven Whatchamacallits in Search of a Director) Wichaya Artamat/ For What Theatre My virtual body and my double Simon Senn / Bruno Deville SWING AND SWAY Fernanda Pessoa and Chica Barbosa The Great Grand Greatness Awards Jo Hedegaard WHO IS EUGENIO BARBA Magdalene Remoundou

Ariel Nereson Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 2 Visit Journal Homepage Asian American Dramaturgies in the Classroom: A Reflection Ariel Nereson By Published on May 22, 2022 Download Article as PDF In fall 2021, after three semesters of Zoom instruction, I returned to the classroom to teach my Advanced Dramaturgy course for graduate and advanced undergraduate students at the University at Buffalo – SUNY (State University of New York). As a practicing choreographer and dramaturg, I teach across dance and theatre undergraduate and graduate curricula, and many of my courses focus on composition through both textual and kinesthetic modes. As I continue learning, developing, and implementing antiracist and culturally responsive teaching practices, I connect these principles to how I generally teach script and movement analysis via a method that emphasizes the imbrication of form, content, and means of production. [1] I offer here a reflection on teaching an Asian American dramaturgies unit within my Advanced Dramaturgy course in order to practice critical self-reflection; model the composition of this unit and acknowledge its limits and affordances; and advocate for the use of theoretical contributions like Dorinne Kondo’s “reparative creativity” as pedagogical tools. I am chagrined to admit that though I taught this course previously in 2015, it took the anti-Asian violence in the US during the COVID–19 pandemic for me to incorporate and name Asian American dramaturgies in the course. I shared this with my students as evidence of my complicity with racism and its impacts on my pedagogy (was it the prevalence of the model minority myth that led to the absence of Asian Americanist critique in my 2015 syllabus?) and to model solidarity and justice as pedagogical tactics in need of constant energy and commitment. I share it here to practice accountability as a white educator. Kondo’s reparative creativity, a theory of performance’s worldmaking capacities toward liberation, is developed through her own artistic practice as both a dramaturg and playwright. In Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity , Kondo includes a variety of writings, from reflections on her experiences as a spectator and artist, to scholarly analyses of racial capitalism, to her full-length play Seamless . Thinking across these modes allows students to integrate script analysis with sociocultural structural analysis, to understand stakes as not only present in a script as a matter of dramatic structure but also vital to our decisions about season selection, marketing and promotion, educational programming, and audience outreach—to the myriad ways that performance functions as worldmaking. Kondo’s work has inspired this special issue of JADT , the summer 2022 Association for Theater in Higher Education (ATHE) conference theme, and my own research on racialization and embodiment. I wanted to give students this concept as one of their theoretical tools to think and make with as dramaturgs. Part of my responsibility as an educator, as I have learned from Felicia Rose Chavez’s teachings on antiracism in the creative classroom, is to clarify and name explicitly for my students that we are tracing power dynamics and their impacts on the historical development of dramatic theatre as we move amongst units. [2] While in this reflection I single out our unit on Asian American dramaturgies, I want to clarify that my approach to structuring the syllabus names each unit out of a desire to counter what Kondo characterizes as “power-evasive liberalism” and its “cousins,” “humanist multiculturalism” and color blindness. [3] My approach may, at first glance, appear as cultural tourism, where we spend a couple of weeks on each identity category and leave whiteness unmarked. [4] Instead, our class analyzed racialization as a project of all production, for example how Lisa Kron, Jeanine Tesori, and Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home engages with whiteness. This structure intends to counter a traditional drama pedagogy in higher education wherein, as Kondo writes, “the majority of plays are white but rarely marked as such.” [5] My goals for our collective thinking through this unit were threefold: to introduce more contemporary Asian American playwrights to myself and my students, to model some kinds of research that a dramaturg working on a production of a particular text might need to do, and to locate theatrical production in a vibrant practice of Asian Americanist critique. Our contemporary Asian American dramaturgies unit comprised four sessions addressing the following materials: Lauren Yee’s 2008 play Ching Chong Chinaman ; Kat Chow’s journalism on the history of “Ching Chong” as a racial slur; Faedra Chatard Carpenter’s chapter “Reading and (re)directing racial scripts” in our textbook, The Routledge Companion to Dramaturgy ; selections from Cathy Park Hong’s 2020 memoir Minor Feelings ; Kondo’s play Seamless and her chapter “Racial Affect and Affective Violence”; and Donatella Galella’s essay “Feeling Yellow: Responding to Contemporary Yellowface in Musical Performance.” [6] As a way of establishing the experiential knowledge in the room, I asked students to reflect individually, by writing, on two sets of questions: What do you “know” about Asian Americans? How do you know it? What stereotypes have you encountered? How have you participated in stereotyping? [7] Can you name an Asian American playwright? Have you seen an Asian American playwright’s work produced? If so, who, where, and when? Have you encountered Asian American characters onstage? If so, who, where, and when? Students were given the choice regarding the first cluster of questions as to how much of their individual reflection they wanted to share in the group discussion. I also participated in the reflection and sharing. No students in this course self-identified as Asian American. Had this been otherwise, I would rethink this exercise – not eliminate it, but consider possible harms to Asian American folks in the room and reconsider the format given my own whiteness and its impacts. I did instruct students that if they wanted to share with the group, they needed to share through “I” statements. I emphasized that while in their personal reflections racial slurs may be part of their experience of Asian American stereotyping, we would not voice those slurs in our group discussion, a continuation of a class policy we had used all semester based on Koritha Mitchell’s teachings about discursive violence. [8] I found that the first set of questions produced predictable responses in the sense that racialized minoritarian identities are perpetuated through resilient stereotypes, here of Asian Americans as the “model minority,” as non-conforming to white US American ideals of masculinity and femininity, as linguistically “other,” and as pursuing academic achievement no matter the cost. Students had quite a bit to say in response to this first set of questions, which made the relatively short discussion of the second set of questions stand out. In our brief discussion of the second set of questions, two concerns for me as the instructor emerged: the first was a general conflation of Asian with Asian American. [9] Given the paucity of Asian American representation on US stages, I wasn’t exactly surprised that my students listed any Asian character they had encountered in a US production. The vast majority of characters on this list were defined through the violence of colonial encounter and compulsory heterosexuality, such as King Mongkut from The King and I and Kim from Miss Saigon . My second concern resulted from the dominance of male playwrights on the students’ lists: David Henry Hwang and Qui Nguyen were the two most frequently cited playwrights. One student mentioned Young Jean Lee, but otherwise female Asian American playwrights were not represented. Through this discussion, I realized that I had organized our Asian American dramaturgies unit without consciously attending to gender dynamics, so my selections provided a serendipitous, but nonetheless necessary, corrective that, in the future, I would be more intentional about framing. Rather than giving a sequential account of how these four sessions went, I want to emphasize some unexpected, rich, and welcome connections that emerged through the confluence of these readings. I firstly note that these authors, while all identifying as female, represent a range of Asian American identities (with the exception of Carpenter) that are taken up in their respective texts, including Chinese American, Japanese American, and Korean American communities. This turned out to be a particularly needed intervention into the generalization of “Asians” that students had experienced. The pairing of the two dramas—Yee’s Ching Chong Chinaman and Kondo’s Seamless —demonstrated the breadth of dramatic possibility that Asian American dramaturgies explore, and both plays read wonderfully on the page. Yee’s play is a laugh-out-loud comedy, filled with linguistic and physical humor, that moves at a rapid clip through the Wong family’s expert assimilation into US American tropes of “Chineseness.” Kondo’s play, a family drama, proceeds at a steady, more meditative pace, and takes up painful histories of Japanese American incarceration, as it stages the lead character’s confrontations with familial and national pasts. While Yee’s play is more realistic, both texts incorporate stylistic tactics of realism and non-realism and allowed for comparison with other texts throughout the syllabus. I felt it was important to begin this unit with a comedy in order to continue our discussions of the importance of affirming the right of minoritarian actors to have fun onstage, to appear and labor without the necessity of staging trauma. Both of these plays open with the staging of a family portrait (another connection to previous texts in our course like Fun Home ). In Yee’s comedy, the Wongs are attempting their annual Christmas card portrait as they deliver rapid-fire dialogue satirizing the US cultural hegemony of Christmas. The characters freely stereotype Chinese Americans, white Americans, and Christians in hyperbolic prose; the scene ends with a camera flash, directly preceded by patriarch Ed Wong’s line, a cue to racial alienation: “Everyone open their eyes nice and wide now.” [10] Kondo’s play likewise stages a family portrait that ends with a camera flash. Unlike Yee, Kondo opens with direct address to the audience, as the characters introduce themselves and provide a running commentary on each other’s characterizations. Characters occasionally share sentences, each speaking a fragment, in contrast to Yee’s realistic dialogue. The scene ends: KEN: Because you see. MASAKO: We’re a very. BEN: Happy. DIANE: Family. [11] Paying attention to the opening beat of a script is standard script analysis training for the dramaturg. Comparing Kondo and Yee countered the collapsing of distinct Asian American identities into a homogenous group as we traced how these playwrights depart in their dramatic structures following their shared set-up in order to articulate differential experiences of US racial projects. Another serendipitous cluster of inquiry emerged around critical race theory and affect theory as tools the dramaturg might bring to bear on structures of composition and representation. Our initial discussions about Asian American stereotypes on- and offstage were paired with discussion of Faedra Chatard Carpenter’s chapter “Reading and (re)directing racial scripts.” In this essay, Carpenter introduces the term “racial scripts” to indicate the interconnectedness of racial projects, i.e., plays ostensibly “about” race, with racial projects , i.e., the systemic distribution of resources according to racialized hierarchies of identity as defined by critical race theorists Michael Omi and Howard Winant. [12] Carpenter’s work affirms Kondo’s dramaturgical approach wherein “Instead of asking what race is , I ask what work it is doing, when, for whom?” [13] Carpenter’s account of dramaturging Kwame Kwei-Armah’s 2012 production of Matthew Lopez’s The Whipping Man at Center Stage in Baltimore compellingly models how the dramaturg navigates both kinds of racial projects. This reading became critically important to how our Asian American dramaturgies unit unfolded because Carpenter’s terminology of racial scripts allowed our class to reflect back on our initial discussions about stereotypes and characterization, to see how systemic critique is often pushed aside in favor of psychological critique (particularly in the US American theatre and its obsession with psychological realism), and to acknowledge how an incessant focus on individualized racial identity avoids recognizing the structural workings of racial projects. A second cluster of ideas around feeling was another example of an effective, though accidental, compositional choice for our unit. I included, respectively, Donatella Galella’s essay “Feeling Yellow” in order to tie back to our previous unit on musical theatre, Dorinne Kondo’s “Racial Affect and Affective Violence” because of its readability and complexity, and selections from Cathy Park Hong’s memoir Minor Feelings to engage with contemporary Asian Americanist critique written for a general audience. These readings shared an investment in feeling, or affect, as evidence of racial projects and formed a primer in affect theory for our class that was sited in the seats of the theatre. They also share a grounded, first-person address that is integrated with textual analysis and cultural critique. Our discussion of these texts emphasized another of the course’s through-lines: that artists are not geniuses whose creative production is somehow above or below the political and the social. We are responsible for our content and to our audiences. I’d like to offer a teaching tool related to sharing dense scholarly texts. For Galella’s essay, I asked students to prepare a 3-2-1 assignment: identify 3 main points, choose 2 significant quotations, and propose 1 question to the class based on the insights of the reading. [14] Shared with permission, here are a few of their insights: There is a lot of hidden emotional labor that we ask of people…amplified through the work of marginalized groups—white folk need to take on educating themselves, rather than asking those within the group to explain. Why has it taken this long for creators, designers, and writers to notice the problem in this industry? It seems like all of a sudden every regional theatre developed a “new plan of action” for equal opportunity and diversity on stage, which is fantastic, but it seems like they are only doing it because everyone else is. Commonly selected quotes included: “A theory of feeling yellow makes visible how white supremacy preserves pleasure for the privileged in order to preserve hierarchy” and “While quiet dissent may not move the majority, loud laughter moves the minoritized. Racialized representation can make the spectator of color painfully conscious of racism even in anticipation of a performance.” [15] When I reviewed the students’ 3-2-1s, I observed that moving from Carpenter to Galella, as we moved through the plays, helped students identify connecting personal responses to dramatic material to structural critiques of US culture as dramaturgical work. We turned this theoretical discussion toward the concrete realities of season selection at our institution. Season selection was happening concurrently with our course and discussing a hypothetical season proposal that included both Kondo’s and Yee’s plays made space for students to be self-reflective, in terms of considering their roles and investments in our department, and also to engage in institutional critique, particularly of the commonplace, incorrect, and violent excuse of not selecting particular texts because “we don’t have the actors for that.” [16] Students noted the reappearance of this logic in our discussions, as we had previously analyzed texts that called for primarily Black and African diasporic casts and primarily Indigenous casts, in relation to the demands placed on minoritarian playwrights if they wish to see their plays regularly produced. Rather than lumping together racialized “others” through our course units, we used our tools from this unit’s authors, particularly those of systemic critique, to understand these plays as being in a relation of solidarity within racial projects that structure performance-making in North America. In this way Drew Hayden Taylor’s Berlin Blues and Yee’s Ching Chong Chinamen are similar not because they are comedies centered on people belonging to particular minoritarian identities written by playwrights belonging to these communities (and thus checking a set of diversity boxes) but because they are composed, produced, and received in a white supremacist theatrical environment that seeks to constrain their meanings. As I prepared this reflection for publication in early 2022, the Public Theater in New York produced Out of Time , a monologue project “written by five Asian American playwrights for Asian American actors over age 60.” [17] Days later, an Asian American performer who was headed to the Public to perform as part of a Lion Dance program before the first preview of Lloyd Suh’s drama The Chinese Lady was assaulted in a public act of anti-Asian violence. [18] This assault was a material consequence of anti-Asian racism experienced simultaneously with increased visibility for Asian American theatrical production within white cultural hegemony. This concurrence, as both a contemporary outcome of white supremacy and as related to long histories of violence against racialized “others” in the US, reflects the urgent stakes of the classic dramaturgical question “why this play now?” Asking this question of each play on our syllabus and in our season points to the necessity of centering minoritarian artistic production as an ethical pedagogical and dramaturgical practice. How does this play serve our students, our audience, and our worldmaking, be they harms or reparations? Kondo’s reparative creativity, as well as its intersection with other theoretical tools like critical race theory and affect theory, gives students language with which to answer these questions. I hope that readers who do not already engage with Asian Americanist dramaturgies will incorporate these readings into not only their own courses (and they certainly resonate beyond the dramaturgy classroom) but also the systems we teach with and inside of, like auditions, admissions, casting, season selection, internship placement, hiring, and guest artist residencies, among others. References [1] This tripartite focus (form, content, means of production) is inspired by the “grid of politicality” theorized by Ana Vujanovi´c, after Randy Martin, as the multidimensional space where we might register the politics of performance. For this theorization, see Vujanovi´c, “Notes on the Politicality of Contemporary Dance,” in Dance, Politics & Co-Immunity: Current Perspectives on Politics and Communities in the Arts, Vol. 1 , ed. Stefan Hölscher and Gerald Siegmund (Zurich: Diaphenes, 2013), 181-191. [2] In her book The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop: How to Decolonize the Creative Classroom (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2021), Chavez writes, “It’s our responsibility as workshop leaders to verbalize our anti-racist agenda for them [students], in clear, unapologetic language, language that opens doors instead of closes them” (24). [3] Dorinne Kondo, Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2018), 131. [4] I am grateful to the anonymous peer reviewer who encouraged me to better clarify the structure of the course and the possible reading of cultural tourism. [5] Kondo, Worldmaking , 169. [6] Faedra Chatard Carpenter, “Reading and (Re)directing Racial Scripts On and Beyond the Stage” in The Routledge Companion to Dramaturgy , ed. Magda Romanska (London: Routledge, 2015), 145-150; Kat Chow, “How ‘Ching Chong’ Became the Go-To Slur for Mocking East Asians,” Code Switch , New York Public Radio, NPR, New York, NY: WNYC, 14 July 2014, https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/07/14/330769890/how-ching-chong-became-the-go-to-slur-for-mocking-east-asians (accessed 18 August 2021); Cathy Park Hong, Minor Feelings (New York: One World, 2020); Donatella Galella, “Feeling Yellow: Responding to Contemporary Yellowface in Musical Performance,” The Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism 32, no. 2 (2018): 67-77; Dorinne Kondo, Worldmaking: Race, Performance, and the Work of Creativity ; Lauren Yee, Ching Chong Chinaman (New York: Samuel French Acting Edition, 2011). [7] The emphasis on stereotyping in this set of questions relates to a broader throughline in the course about how identity-based stereotyping impacts dramaturgy as both composition and representation, and builds on prior discussion in the course about gender stereotypes in musical theatre and colonial stereotypes about Indigenous peoples in a previous unit on Indigenous dramaturgies and comedy. [8] Mitchell’s ideas and policies about discursive violence in the classroom are also available as a podcast at http://www.korithamitchell.com/teaching-and-the-n-word/. [9] I thank Donatella Galella for drawing my attention to Lisa Lowe’s formulation of “forever foreigners” to characterize this common racist experience ( Immigrant Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics [Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1996]). [10] Ching Chong Chinaman , 8. [11] Worldmaking , 242. [12] Carpenter, “Reading and (Re)directing,” 145-146. [13] Kondo, 169. [14] This tactic revises a popular K-12 teaching strategy wherein at the end of a class, students complete an exit ticket and identify 3 things they learned, select 2 things they want to learn more about, and formulate 1 question. [15] Galella, “Feeling Yellow,” 71, 73. [16] In future iterations of this course, I plan to include additional reading around the casting conversation, including the work of Brian Eugenio Herrera in his essay “‘But Do We Have the Actors for That?’: Some Principles of Practice for Staging Latinx Plays in a University Theatre Context,” Theatre Topics 27, no. 1 (2017): 23-35. [17] Matt Stevens, “Shared Stories in Asian American Voices,” New York Times , 20 February 2022, AR9. [18] Leah Putnam, “Asian American Artist Attacked During Commute to Perform at The Public,” Playbill , 25 February 2022, https://www.playbill.com/article/asian-american-artist-attacked-during-commute-to-perform-at-the-public. Readers can find ways to take action against anti-Asian violence at www.StopAAPIHate.org. Footnotes About The Author(s) Ariel Nereson is Assistant Professor of Dance Studies and Director of Graduate Dance at the University at Buffalo – SUNY. She is the author of Democracy Moving: Bill T. Jones, Contemporary American Performance, and the Racial Past (University of Michigan Press, 2022). A recent Dance Research Fellow at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, she researches racialization, embodiment, and movement-based performance. She is also a choreographer and dramaturg. I thank Donatella Galella and the anonymous peer reviewers for their generous challenges and affirmations provided in their feedback. I thank my students for being in conversation with me and for understanding our classroom as a space of worldmaking. Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Embodied Reckonings: “Comfort Women,” Performance and Transpacific Redress The Interdisciplinary Theatre of Ping Chong: Exploring Curiosity and Otherness Love Dances: Loss and Mourning in Intercultural Collaboration Introduction to Asian American Dramaturgies Behind the Scenes of Asian American Theatre and Performance Studies On Young Jean Lee in Young Jean Lee's We're Gonna Die by Christine Mok Representation from Cambodia to America: Musical Dramaturgies in Lauren Yee’s Cambodian Rock Band The Dramaturgical Sensibility of Lauren Yee’s The Great Leap and Cambodian Rock Band Holding up a Lens to the Consortium of Asian American Theaters and Artists: A Photo Essay Theatre in Hawaiʻi: An “Illumination of the Fault Lines” of Asian American Theatre Randall Duk Kim: A Sojourn in the Embodiment of Words Reappropriation, Reparative Creativity, and Feeling Yellow in Generic Ensemble Company’s The Mikado: Reclaimed Dance Planets Dramaturgy of Deprivation (없다): An Invitation to Re-Imagine Ways We Depict Asian American and Adopted Narratives of Trauma Clubhouse: Stories of Empowered Uncanny Anomalies Off-Yellow Time vs Off-White Space: Activist Asian American Dramaturgy in Higher Education Asian American Dramaturgies in the Classroom: A Reflection Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch Funambulism, Hanging by a Thread by Jean-Baptiste Mathieu at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2025. Constantly pushing the limits of the body and the laws of physics, tightrope walking is about navigating between acrobatic elegance and the earth's gravitational pull. The artist must master the skillful technique that enables them to move forward as if dancing, without losing their balance. It's a fascinating circus art, both for the performer and the audience.. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Funambulism, Hanging by a Thread At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2025 A film by Jean-Baptiste Mathieu Screening Information This film will be screened in-person at The Segal Centre on Friday May 16th at 7:10pm and also be available to watch online on the festival website till June 8th 2025. RSVP Please note there is limited seating available for in-person screenings at The Segal Centre, which are offered on a first-come first-serve basis. You may RSVP above to get a reminder about the Segal Film Festival in your inbox. Country Germany Language French Running Time 52 minutes Year of Release 2025 About The Film Constantly pushing the limits of the body and the laws of physics, tightrope walking is about navigating between acrobatic elegance and the earth's gravitational pull. The artist must master the skillful technique that enables them to move forward as if dancing, without losing their balance. It's a fascinating circus art, both for the performer and the audience. About The Artist(s) Tatiana-Mosio Bongonga was seven years old when she witnessed a tightrope walker crossing between two buildings — a moment of pure fascination that sparked a true calling. Now a star in her field, she is one of the rare women to perform more than 30 meters above the ground on a 300-meter-long wire. Tatiana lives with her three-year-old daughter and the artists from her company in a village nestled at the foot of the Cévennes mountains. The film follows their preparations for a spectacular challenge: crossing the Saint-Denis Canal toward the Stade de France. The feat Tatiana is about to accomplish is a technical, artistic, and human endeavor. Around her, an entire team is mobilized. In Saint-Denis, her partner and technical director Jan Naets is assisted by five riggers. For three days, he oversees the setup of a complex installation and trains those who will ensure the wire’s stability from the ground. Balancing grace and calculated risk, Tatiana captures everyone's attention. Each performance is an aerial and choreographic adventure, accompanied live by musicians playing melodies and rhythms that strike the perfect chord. It’s an undertaking that couldn’t happen without the help of many volunteers who take part in stabilizing the wire — a delicate operation requiring constant adaptability. Get in touch with the artist(s) cie@ciebasinga.com and follow them on social media https://www.jeanbaptistemathieu.fr/films-documentaires/decouverte-passions/tatiana-funambule-des-cevennes-au-stade-de-france https://www.facebook.com/CieBasinga/ Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2025 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here His Head was a Sledgehammer Richard Foreman in Retrospect Moi-même Mojo Lorwin/Lee Breuer Benjamim de Oliveira's Open Paths Catappum! Collective Peak Hour in the House Blue Ka Wing Transindigenous Assembly Joulia Strauss Bila Burba Duiren Wagua JJ Pauline L. Boulba, Aminata Labor, Lucie Brux Acting Sophie Fiennes; Cheek by Jowl; Lone Star; Amoeba Film PACI JULIETTE ROUDET Radical Move ANIELA GABRYEL Funambulism, Hanging by a Thread Jean-Baptiste Mathieu This is Ballroom Juru and Vitã Reas Lola Arias The Jacket Mathijs Poppe Pidikwe Caroline Monnet Resilience Juan David Padilla Vega The Brink of Dreams Nada Riyadh, Ayman El Amir Jesus and The Sea Ricarda Alvarenga Grand Theft Hamlet Sam Crane & Pinny Grylls Theater of War Oleh Halaidych Skywalk Above Prague Václav Flegl, Jakub Voves Somber Tides Chantal Caron / Fleuve Espace Danse

Amy B. Huang Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 32 2 Visit Journal Homepage A Player and a Gentleman: The Diary of Harry Watkins, Nineteenth-Century US American Actor Amy B. Huang By Published on June 12, 2020 Download Article as PDF A Player and a Gentleman: The Diary of Harry Watkins, Nineteenth-Century US American Actor. Edited by Amy E. Hughes and Naomi J. Stubbs. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2018; Pp. 353. What did it mean to strive after a life in the theatre in the United States in the antebellum period? Recent works by scholars such as Elizabeth Maddock Dillon and Lisa Freeman have moved beyond a focus on a public sphere shaped by print culture and rational debate, showing how theatre and performance were also crucial sites of communion and forming a body politic. The diary of Harry Watkins (1825-1894), edited and published for the first time by Amy Hughes and Naomi Stubbs, continues to reveal the cultural importance of the theatre through a focus on the life of an actor, theatre manager, playwright, and prolific diarist. Watkins’s diary provides invaluable information about the quotidian life of a theatre professional over a fifteen-year period. In their introduction, Hughes and Stubbs make a strong case for their volume’s unique value to American cultural studies and theatre scholarship: “From 1845 to 1860, Watkins kept a diary in which he detailed the roles he performed, the plays he saw, the people he met, the books he read, and his impressions of current events. Now housed in the Harvard Theatre Collection, it is the only known diary of substantial length and density (nearly twelve hundred pages in thirteen volumes) written by a US actor during the decade leading up to the Civil War” (2). A Player and a Gentleman: The Diary of Harry Watkins offers a behind-the-scenes glimpse into nineteenth-century theatre and politics. Among other topics, it considers the following: salaries and contracts; problems with the star system; theatrical rivalries and tensions; American plays and the difficulties of adaptation; copyright laws; and encounters with famous actors and writers. In their compendium, the editors provide readers with a clear, helpful background of Watkins’s family, his time in the army before becoming an actor, and his political views. Watkins’s deep patriotism is evident across his diary and contributes to his tempered stances toward issues such as abolition, which he criticized for threatening the preservation of the Union. In their introduction and throughout footnotes, Hughes and Stubbs delineate Watkins’s specific political views while placing them in a larger cultural context; for instance, they note that “Watkins’s insouciant racism, fervent nativism, and casual misogyny were not exceptional . . . . His views mirrored those held by many white, US-born, working-and middle-class New Yorkers living during the antebellum era” (7). The editors further explain the sweeping scope of Watkins’s diary as well as their choices in the presentation. With rigorous care, they mark when Watkins’s entries become less consistent and gesture to when parts of the diary may have become lost, destroyed, or emended. Hughes and Stubbs also unpack their own editorial policies, including choices to preserve Watkins’s voice and diction, the selection of diary entries with attention to their cultural significance, and presentation of the diary in chapters grouped by the events of a theatrical season. (Their transcription of the entire diary is available via the University of Michigan Press website, as a companion to the book). Astutely, the editors strike a balance between directly presenting Watkins’s entries and providing useful, contextualizing annotations. More distinctively, the co-editors provide a map at the beginning of each chapter so that readers can easily track Watkins’s movements when traveling, often for the purposes of theatrical engagements. Such editorial contextualization greatly contributes to making Watkins’s voice, often immersed in theatrical allusions and financial and travel details, broadly accessible to a wide range of readers. Hughes and Stubbs’s chapters move chronologically, according to theatre seasons, and track Watkins’s increasing roles and growing importance in the theatre world. The entries in Chapter One, 1845-46, for example, allow readers to follow the touring actor as he plays minor roles in Corpus Christi, New Orleans, Cincinnati, and Louisville. The working-class Watkins describes financial struggles (including difficulty affording lodging and attire) at the start of his professional acting career. Later chapters such as Chapter Six: 1850-51 trace Watkins’s emerging role as a playwright, carefully attuned to play structure, dramatic effect, the abilities of actors, and the tastes of the audience. Thus, his prize-winning Nature’s Nobleman, set during the US-Mexican War and fiercely expressive of patriotic sentiment, served to connect with an audience in New York reacting to tensions and threats of disunion in the wake of policies related to slavery (such as Henry Clay’s Compromise of 1850). Chapter Seven:1851-52 continues to track Watkins’s efforts at stage managing and establishing a theatrical company, highlighting the difficulties of wrangling performers. Finally, this edition of the diary ends with Watkins’s account of the theatrical seasons from 1858-60, where English audiences applauded his rendition of the blackface character, Jocko, in his play, The Pioneer Patriot, and his portrayal of a demeaning Yankee role in Tom Taylor’s The Brigand and the Banker . As this edition of the diary closes, it thus reiterates Watkins’s central emphases on American patriotism and nativism and his consistently careful consideration of his paying audiences and their tastes within widespread circuits of performance. A Player and a Gentleman offers a rare glance into the minutiae and everyday struggles of a U.S. American theatre professional in a period marked by tumult and potentiality, when theatre powerfully drew together audiences to face issues such as racial oppression and slavery, war and women’s rights. Although the diary’s ability to reflect the theatre and the antebellum period is limited in that it centers the perspective of a white, male nativist, the survival of a work of such breadth and detail is remarkable. Guided by the co-editors’ contextualization, readers can glean rich information from Watkins’s meticulous observations. For example, Watkins’s commitment to recording house size and audience appeal (as when a production of Othello fails spectacularly in the South) offers important clues to the shared political and aesthetic values in the specific communities he travels across the United States and England. The diary also vividly evokes the collaborative intimacies and unseen labor involved in creating theatre, as when managers and performers demand that Watkins cut portions of his plays, or when he arduously seeks to persuade actresses to perform in his productions. Watkins’s frank discussion of anxieties regarding finances and casting, and his hopeful expectations for and regrets over engagements also provide readers with a sense of the rich, affective undertones of life as a theatre professional in the antebellum period. As scholars increasingly attend to the wide reach of theatre and performance in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Hughes and Stubbs remind us of the powerful potential in using archival resources such as diaries to simultaneously focus on the landscape of a period and a singular life. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Amy B. Huang Brown University Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Theatre, Performance and Cognition: Languages, Bodies and Ecologies The Drama and Theatre of Sarah Ruhl A Player and a Gentleman: The Diary of Harry Watkins, Nineteenth-Century US American Actor The History and Theory of Environmental Scenography Introduction: Local Acts: Performing Communities, Performing Americas The Architecture of Local Performance: Stages of the Taliesin Fellowship “La conjura de Xinum” and Language Revitalization: Understanding Maya Agency through Theatre Exploring the History and Implications of Toxicity through St. Louis: Performance Artist Allana Ross and the “Toxic Mound Tours” Finding Home in the World Stage: Critical Creative Citizenship and the 13th South Asian Theatre Festival 2018 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Watch Respoken by Sidney Ken / Thai Phirun Hul at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2026. A visionary actor and his team working to revive Cambodia’s Lakhon Niyeay (Spoken Theatre) facing personal and professional challenges as he prepares for a show that hasn’t been staged in six years, amidst an uncertain future. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Respoken Sidney Ken / Thai Phirun Hul At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2026 Screening Information This film will be screened on May 30, at 1:40 PM, at The Segal Theatre Center RSVP Please note there is limited seating available for in-person screenings at The Segal Centre, which are offered on a first-come first-serve basis. Country Cambodia Language Khmer Running Time 26 minutes Year of Release 2024 About The Film A visionary actor and his team working to revive Cambodia’s Lakhon Niyeay (Spoken Theatre) facing personal and professional challenges as he prepares for a show that hasn’t been staged in six years, amidst an uncertain future. Producer KIMKAHAPTEI TANN Co-Directors SIDNEY KEN THAI PHIRUN HUL Extra Camera Work CHANDARA KOAM Assistant Camera KIMSRUN SOK Interviewees PHEARITH NEN SOPHEAK SOUNG PONRONG SENG SREYLEAK CHAN SINA CHHON Editors SIDNEY KEN CHANDARA KOAM Colorist CHANDARA KOAM Special Thanks to EsaiVoler's Media Team Department of Media & Communication CHHEANGMENG THAY CHANTHIDA HEM About The Artist(s) Sidney Ken is a Cambodian director and colorist working at the intersection of documentary and commercial filmmaking. His work blends cinematic storytelling with real-world narratives, often focusing on identity, youth, and cultural shifts. Sidney is the founder of Limelight, a vintage lens rental house based in Phnom Penh, Cambodia. He is best known as the director of Respoken (2024), an award-winning documentary on Cambodia’s spoken theater scene, and Cool Like Us: La Cima Series (2026), a 6-part branded documentary series spotlighting emerging hip-hop artists. Sidney has directed multiple digital commercials for Samsung’s Galaxy S25 Ultra launch in Cambodia. Sidney has also directed and color graded campaigns for international brands and organizations, including Starbucks, Prudential, Oppo, UNDP, and the European Union. Hul Thai Phirun is an award-winning Cambodian filmmaker working across documentary and cinematic storytelling. His practice centers on people-driven narratives, grounded in trust, observation, and emotional authenticity. As a cinematographer, his work includes Sbek Touch (2024) and A Taste of Tradition (2024), recognized at regional festivals. As an alumnus of Cambodia Film Lab, he has collaborated with NGOs and international organizations on socially driven projects, contributing to stories focused on reconciliation, culture, and community. Chandara Koam is a Phnom Penh–based filmmaker and photographer working across directing, editing, and visual storytelling. Since beginning his practice in 2017, he has developed his craft through independent projects and professional productions, with a focus on music videos and narrative-driven visuals, and recently graduated from Cambodia Film Lab training. Tann Kim Kahaptei (Kris) is a Cambodian filmmaker and producer with a background in Media and Communication. His work focuses on creating films that balance entertainment with cultural preservation, often aiming to spark meaningful conversation. Through his projects, Kris explores ways to connect contemporary storytelling with tradition, positioning his work within Cambodia’s evolving film landscape. Get in touch with the artist(s) sidneyken.dp@gmail.com and follow them on social media https://www.sidneyken.com/, https://www.imdb.com/name/nm13891739/, https://www.instagram.com/ken.sidney/, https://www.facebook.com/sidney.r3d/, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Respoken, Find out all that’s happening at Segal Center Film Festival on Theatre and Performance (FTP) 2026 by following us on Facebook , Twitter , Instagram and YouTube See the full festival schedule here

Franklin J. Lasik Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 30 1 Visit Journal Homepage May Irwin Franklin J. Lasik By Published on December 12, 2017 Download Article as PDF May Irwin: Singing, Shouting, and the Shadow of Minstrelsy . Sharon Ammen. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2017; Pp. 296. In 1981, popular culture scholar Anthony Slide wrote, “if May Irwin is remembered at all…it is as a plump, somewhat unattractive actress, bestowing an amorous kiss in a flickering film from the cinema’s infancy” (2). This film was the famous Edison short The Kiss , an 18-second film featuring Irwin and actor John Rice re-enacting a scene from the musical The Widow Jones . Although the film is historically important, it represents a very minor part of Irwin’s resume. In May Irwin: Singing, Shouting, and the Shadow of Minstrelsy , Sharon Ammen goes beyond this brief moment to examine the entirety of Irwin’s career, which stretched from the 1870s to the 1920s. Ammen argues that Irwin deployed a wide variety of strategies both on and off stage from her early days in Tony Pastor’s variety shows to her run of successful comic performances to create and maintain a space for herself on the American stage for nearly 50 years. Ammen’s text is a critical biography of Irwin’s career, organized chronologically over the course of seven chapters. Chapter one traces Irwin from her first stage appearance in upstate New York to her breakout role in The Widow Jones (1895). Ammen connects Irwin’s growth as a performer to her work with figures like Tony Pastor, Augustin Daly, and Charles Frohman. Irwin’s relationship with her sister Flo also figures significantly, as Flo’s sometimes bitter struggle with her sister’s success would vex May until Flo’s death in 1930. Irwin’s performances in comic farces from 1895 to 1914 serve as the focal point of chapter two. Ammen examines the various strategies that Irwin employed throughout her career to connect with audiences. Noting that Irwin frequently succeeded “in spite of the quality of the material” (41), the author describes how Irwin’s personality dominated her performances, and how this charismatic connection between audience and performer forged a bond that transcended lackluster star vehicles. The author also touches on Irwin’s self-deprecation, particularly regarding her weight, a tactic she was certainly not alone in deploying. Chapters three and four both focus on Irwin’s complicated relationship to the most successful aspect of her performances, her coon songs. Ammen begins by connecting the emergence of coon songs, with their blatantly racist characters and imagery, to the perceived incursions African Americans were making into the dominant white culture. The author emphasizes the pivotal role Irwin, who was white but never used blackface, played in popularizing these songs. Delving into the specifics of Irwin’s coon songs, Ammen identifies seven distinct groups of songs from Irwin’s repertoire based on the stereotypes presented, such as the “Greedy Gal” or the “Pathetic Coon.” This analysis spills over into chapter four, which examines Irwin’s performance style, as well as her problematic relationships with African Americans offstage. Ammen’s careful exploration of how coon songs reinforced the burgeoning image of the “urban Negro, ready with a razor to cut anyone who dares encroach on his territory” (108) is well-integrated with her explication of Irwin’s performance style, especially in light of the racist paternalism she displayed toward African Americans in interviews. Indeed, Irwin’s offstage persona is the subject for chapters five and six. In the fifth chapter, Ammen looks at how Irwin turned the private activities of homemaking into a central aspect of her public image. The heart of this chapter is her analysis of Irwin’s cookbook, which included not only recipes but also jokes, anecdotes, and cartoons. Again, Ammen is careful to point out that while Irwin was certainly not the first (nor the last) celebrity to use her fame to sell books, it was the depth of her commitment to connect her domesticity to her professional career that set her apart. Chapter six, on the other hand, examines Irwin’s activities in the public sphere, particularly in politics. The bulk of this chapter is dedicated to Irwin’s support for women’s suffrage, and her related distaste for the temperance movement. Ammen ascribes Irwin’s freedom to espouse her more Progressive opinions without suffering the same backlash that other performers experienced to her facility with women’s sense of humor, “and the connection of this humor to self-awareness rather than feelings of superiority” (149). The final chapter focuses primarily on life after her retirement from the stage, which wound down during the 1920s. Financially sound thanks to her prudent investing, Irwin turned her attentions to upstate New York where she actively tended to her farm until suffering a stroke in 1937 and passing the following year. Ammen concludes the chapter with a brief summary of Irwin’s strategies “that enabled her to establish and sustain her popularity” (170), which she once again connects to Irwin’s association with coon songs, highlighting the casual racism that pervaded these performances. The body of the text is well-written and thoroughly researched, and the author is clearly devoted to her subject; however, there is an epilogue that does not seem to fit with the rest of the study. In this section, Ammen describes two performances she created and performed using Irwin’s material in a contemporary setting. While the premise of reading audience reaction to Irwin’s performance is interesting, the author’s choice to present this as a slimmed-down qualitative study is unsatisfying. This section of the text deserves more attention from the author, but in a different venue, and with more depth. This text, which arrives alongside new biographies of women in American theatre like Ellen Stewart and Ruth Malaczech, offers an historical counterpoint to these more contemporary figures. In exploring the means by which Irwin maintained her place in American popular entertainment, Ammen also connects to continuing research into the history of minstrelsy in popular culture. There are many deserving figures from this era who are just waiting to be (re)discovered, and one can only hope that the scholars who do so treat their subject with the care that Ammen gives May Irwin. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Franklin J. Lasik Independent Scholar Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue May Irwin American Musical Theater Musical Theatre Books New York's Yiddish Theater Chinese Looks Reclaiming Four Child Actors through Seven Plays in US Theatre, 1794-1800 The Illusion of Work: The Con Artist Plays of the Federal Theatre Project On Bow and Exit Music Legitimate: Jerry Douglas's Tubstrip and the Erotic Theatre of Gay Liberation Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back Arab Stages 17 Spring 2025 Volume Visit Journal Homepage SHAHADAT (THE TESTIMONIES) Adapted by Fouad Teymour By Suzi Elnaggar Published: May 12, 2025 Download Article as PDF SHAHADAT (THE TESTIMONIES) . Adapted by Fouad Teymour from Women Resisting Sexual Violence and the Egyptian Revolution: Arab Feminist Testimonies (2020) by Manal Hamzeh . Directed by Tina El Gamal . Silk Road Cultural Center in partnership with the International Voices Project and New Mexico State University, Chicago . 4 November 2024 . A (Re)view From The Inside: Silk Road’s Shahadat Shahadat (The Testimonies) was adapted by Egyptian playwright Fouad Teymour from Resisting Sexual Violence and the Egyptian Revolution: Arab Feminist Testimonies (2020) by Manal Hamzeh. Hamzeh’s scholarship aims to “provides unique insight into women’s experiences during the Egyptian Revolution, and into the methods of resistance these women developed in response to sexual violence.” [1] Her book centers the verbatim accounts of three Egyptian women—the shaaheda [2] (“women who give testimonios”) Ola S., Samira I., and Yasmine E., who experienced sexual violence during the 2011 Egyptian Revolution ( suwret yanayer ) and shared their stories publicly, from social media posts to television interviews, seeking justice on their own terms. Through her ongoing work, Hamzeh aims to preserve and represent the shahadat (testimonies) while documenting her conversations and relationship with the three women over the past decade. Egyptian playwright Teymour’s adaptation marks the first time Hamzeh’s work on the shahadat has been adapted for the stage. Previously, she collaborated on a graphic art representation of the testimonies, which, like the play, was developed with the women’s knowledge and consent. [3] Teymour’s script highlights the women’s voices, amplifying their strength, resilience, and unwavering demand for justice. Co-produced by Silk Road Cultural Center and New Mexico State University, Shahadat was presented as a work-in-progress reading at the International Voices Project (IVP) in Chicago at the Instituto Cervantes. [4] Shahadat found its home with Silk Road as part of a long-time friendship and collaboration between Hamzeh and its founders, Jamil Khoury and Malik Gillani. In addition to Teymour’s involvement, this first developmental reading was shaped by Egyptian and Egyptian-American perspectives, with direction by Egyptian-American theatre artist Tina El Gamal and script dramaturgy by myself, Egyptian-American dramaturg Suzi Elnaggar. To bring Hamzeh’s work to the stage, Silk Road prioritized assembling a team of primarily SWANA (Southwest Asian and North African) and Egyptian artists, ensuring the adaptation honored the power of these testimonies while exploring how the reading could evolve into a fully realized production. Shahadat . Adapted by Fouad Teymour . Directed by Tina El Gamal . Left to Right: Samira played by Tina El Gamal, Yasmine played by Anelga Hajjar, Ola played by Marielle Issa, Manal/Hewar played by Annalise Raziq . Photo: IVP and Scott Dray , provided by Silk Road Cultural Center . From Book to Stage: The Text of Shahadat Teymour and Hamzeh worked through multiple drafts of the script, refining the adaptation to balance textual authenticity with theatrical cohesion. From the outset, Teymour aimed to maintain the fidelity of the women’s words while shaping a structured narrative that could sustain dramatic momentum onstage, a goal that director El Gamal supported in rehearsal through her actor-led process. Another notable aspect that reinforced the authenticity of the shahadat and honored the specificity of the women’s experiences in their own words was the extensive use of colloquially transliterated Arabic throughout the script. No elements were added to the testimonies, though some small translation adjustments were made for flow (Hamzeh originally translated the testimonies for her book from colloquial Egyptian Arabic into English). Additionally, Teymour’s script introduces two framing characters, where in the book Hamzeh’s scholarship frames the testimonies. These framing characters help add narrative cohesion and dramatic subtext: Hewar (Arabic for dialogue or conversation), a narrator and context-giver, and Rajul (Arabic for man), a composite character representing all the male voices. In this first reading, both were voiced by actors seated at the periphery—Rajul and the oud player stage right, and Hewar and the stage directions reader (separately) stage left—though they initially were written as off-stage voices. Hewar is doubled with the character of Manal (the dramatic representation of Hamzeh, played by an actor), creating an element of metanarrative when the ‘narrator’ comes on stage as Manal. Teymour has expressed interest in further developing these characters and their narrative and structural function in a future workshop, particularly by bringing Rajul onstage as a physical presence and exploring Hamzeh’s role as the character Manal. Apart from translation and framing the verbatim text, a key challenge for Teymour was weaving the three testimonies together—each woman’s experience was independent of the others, yet the script had to find a way to bring them into a shared space. With that challenge in mind, the first act unfolds as individual yet interwoven testimonies, capturing the fragmentation of their experiences, before transitioning to the second act that focuses on their collective relationship with Hamzeh, as an on-stage character Manal. This shift in structure mirrors the real-life process that led to the creation of Hamzeh’s book, the disparate testimonies of women drawn into conversation through Hamzeh’s work and scholarship, creating lasting relationships. Using Hewar as a narrator, Teymour provides necessary context for audience members who may not be familiar with the 2011 Egyptian Revolution while also moving back and forth through time to have the characters meet at the pivotal moment of the protests, the “day of rage” Friday, January 28th, 2011 (Teymour 1). Teymour continues to use this technique of hewar (conversation), so the narrative slips between the characters conversing with each other, the audience, and Hewar, who weaves throughout. The method of storytelling that Teymour uses builds on the methodological ideas in Hamzeh’s book, shahadat (public testimonies) , and haki , (the building of strong relationships and having conversations over time) (Hamzeh 13-18). Haki is rooted in the Arabic verb haka, meaning to weave or to tell, calling to a tradition of oral storytelling [5] . Teymour begins the narrative on Qasr al-Nil bridge, during January 28th, 2011, “the Friday of Indignation”(1). The ‘narrator,’ Hewar, sets the scene, situating the audience in a revolution in progress: The revolution was afoot. Three young women converged independently onto this historical event, seeking, alongside others, “freedom, bread, and Social Justice!” Unaware that their lives would be permanently upended in the process, and that they would end up teaching the world a lesson in courage, resistance, dignity, and [sic]self-respect. These are their stories told through their own Testimonies... Shahaddat! ( Shahadat , Teymour 1) Shahadat. Adapted by Fouad Teymour. Directed by Tina El Gamal. Yasmine played by Anelga Hajjar (foreground,) Ola played by Marielle Issa. Photo: IVP and Scott Dray, provided by Silk Road Cultural Center. Ola steps forward, recalling the protest in midan etahrir (Tahrir Square): “I was on the frontlines” (1). Hewar notes, at that same moment, Samira had been released from detention the day before and was amid the protesting crowds. Time shifts, and Samira recounts her decision to join the protests on January 24th: “I took the train from Sohag to Cairo knowing something was building up” (2). Hewar remarks that she is unsure of the location of the third protestor, Yasmine; Yasmine clarifies that she made the decision to join the protests, having only begun to be politically active: “I was living in the heart of Cairo when the revolution started. I began my political activism during the 18 days of essuwra ” (3). The three women continue their introductions, explaining what drew them to Tahrir Square, moving together to become the crowd of protestors chanting “3eish, Horreya, 3adalah egtema3eyeh!” [6] which Teymour translates as “Freedom, Bread, and Social Justice!” ending the first scene (4). This narrative interweaving of the testimonies, which exemplifies the idea of haki is a key part of the dramatization of the verbatim text. Hamzeh played a vital role in the development and reading, commenting on the process as it related to her methodology and sharing her first-hand knowledge of the three women. Because director El Gamal’s rehearsal process was collaborative, Hamzeh often shared her thoughts while also enjoying learning more about a developmental process as a non-theatre maker and academic. While Hamzeh provided insights, the creative team consciously decided not to attempt direct reconstruction of the women but to approach the script through an interpretive lens. The actors engaged with the text as it appeared on the page, informed by the contextual details in Hamzeh’s book, which were mediated through dramaturgical presentations, handouts, and exercises. El Gamal led the actors in crafting the characters through discussion and some devised work in the room. This process allowed the actors to discover the characters organically, balancing fidelity to the testimonies with the needs of the stage and the material’s emotional weight. Shahadat. Adapted by Fouad Teymour. Directed by Tina El Gamal. Left to Right: Rajul played by Faiz Siddique, Yasmine played by Anelga Hajjar, Samira played by Tina El Gamal, Ola played by Marielle Issa, Manal/Hewar played by Annalise Raziq. Photo: Gordon Chow, provided by Silk Road Cultural Center. Staging and Theatricality A staged reading has inherent limitations—minimal set, little movement, and a focus on the text—but El Gamal’s direction found ways to use these constraints to the production’s advantage. The actors began offstage before moving into a staggered formation at their music stands. Throughout the reading, the actors alternated positions, with different actors stepping forward to emphasize key moments, echoing the dynamic movement of a protest as it becomes a revolution. The fluidity reflected the activity of Tahrir Square on those January days, immersing the audience in the tumult and hope of a revolution as it unfolded. A particularly striking use of movement came during the testimony of Ola, an active political organizer during Mubarak’s presidency; she opens the play clashing with police over tear gas canisters. Recalling the clash, Ola moved forward downstage as if tossing a canister back, then fell in line again, embodying the rhythm of protest. On the other hand, Yasmine, recounting being surrounded and assaulted by a mob, retreated upstage, mirroring her sense of entrapment. Of the three women, her staged testimony was the most physically dynamic, emphasizing the fear and disorientation of her experience. Stillness, too, played a crucial role. At the end of act one, all three women raised their voices as they declared, “STOP!” (24). The shift from motion to stillness punctuated the act’s conclusion, reinforcing the strength of their testimonies. In act two, when Manal transitions from Hewar, the staging shifted from a triangular formation to a living room-like arrangement, which created an intimate and conversational setting that complemented the act’s reflective tone. For the play’s epilogue, the actors repositioned themselves into a straight line behind music stands, visually echoing the format of a Zoom call, reinforcing the theme of remote yet connected testimony. These staging shifts marked the passage of time, guiding the audience through the play’s evolving emotional landscape. Another element that added to the theatricality of the reading was live oud music. On the oud, Lucia Thomas underscored the reading by performing compositions by Yasmine. This addition, requested by Teymour, added emotional depth and texture to the piece. Throughout the staging, the music did not simply accompany the performance; it actively shaped the atmosphere. Swelling at moments of intensity and retreating to allow spoken words to resonate, the oud wove through the testimonies like an extension of their voices. In all, El Gamal’s use of clever yet minimal staging used the constraints of a staged reading to their best effect; at the end of the performance, multiple audience members commented on the effectiveness of those choices. Following the reading, Khoury led a talkback featuring Teymour, Hamzeh, El Gamal, myself, and most of the cast and creative team. The audience reported that the strength of the women’s testimonies deeply resonated with them and that they found connections to their own experiences. A significant Egyptian audience was present, and many expressed how the play captured the trauma and resilience of those who lived through the Revolution. However, the events of the shahadat themselves were difficult to hear, as some audience members expressed, though they relayed strong support for a full production to come to fruition. The script, which Teymour, Hamzeh, and Silk Road seek to develop further, hopefully with a local partner, was extremely well-received. Shahadat. Adapted by Fouad Teymour. Directed by Tina El Gamal. Stage Directions/ Samira stand-in played by Jamila Tyler, Yasmine played by Anelga Hajjar, Ola played by Marielle Issa. Photo: Gordon Chow, provided by Silk Road Cultural Cente Next Steps The developmental reading of Shahadat at IVP marked a critical step in developing this powerful piece, highlighting the resilience of women in the region through their testimonies and the importance in the contemporary American theatre of their being able to represent themselves and their experiences. Moving forward, the creative team is committed to refining the production, deepening its theatrical elements, and expanding its reach to broader audiences. As a work-in-progress reading, Shahadat demonstrated the power of these testimonies and the potential for a full production. With a more extensive workshop, there would be an opportunity to explore richer staging, sound design, and immersive projections to realize the play’s impact more fully. The ultimate goal is to transition Shahadat from a staged reading into a fully realized production that continues to amplify these voices and spark critical conversations, furthering the representation of SWANA, Arab, and Egyptian stories in the American theatre while honoring the voices of the shaaheda and their goal of promoting justice for women in Egypt and the region. Shahadat is not just a recounting of past events—it is an active engagement with memory, justice, and resistance. [1] Hamzeh, a scholar of gender and ethnicity and co-founder of the Department of Borderlands and Ethnic Studies, describes her research as “rooted in Arab feminist research methodologies.” Manal Hamzeh, “Manal Hamzeh Bio,” n.d., https://best.nmsu.edu/manal-hamzeh.html . Her book can be found here: “Women Resisting Sexual Violence and the Egyptian Revolution,” Bloomsbury, n.d., https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/women-resisting-sexual-violence-and-the-egyptian-revolution-9781350333321/ . [2] The translations and transliteration styles used in this review are pulled from Hamzeh’s text, except where drawn from the workshop playscript. She describes her approach as “Arabic terms and names transcribed into Latin alphabets with lay and popular spelling”; here, her use of shaaheda , a noun which does not usually have a feminine plural form in Arabic dictionaries, is an intervention through translation (145). [3] Hamzeh organized an initial reading of act one of Teymour’s script at NMSU, which myself and other creative team members attended virtually, called “Shahadat Theatrical Readings”; the page for the reading contains more of Hamzeh’s perspective on the work, as well as links to the graphic representations created with Ola and Yasmine: “Shahadat Theatrical Readings,” n.d., https://best.nmsu.edu/shahadat-theatrical-readings.html . [4] The International Voices Project serves as an incubator for international work, featuring commissions, translations, and new productions from playwrights representing countries from across the globe. This year, five playwrights were produced in partnership with local Chicago theatres and organizations, with each project championed by a group of artists who deemed the plays to be relevant to their communities; this method has led the International Voices Project to have an exceptional track record of their selected readings which go on to have full productions afterward. Over its 14 years, the International Voices Project has produced readings of multiple Arabic and Egyptian plays. To learn more about the project and past seasons visit the website: https://www.ivpchicago.org/ [5] For Hamzeh, haki , which has not been previously used as a research methodology, has been used by Palestinians “for decades” and is grounded in an “Arab methodology of oral storytelling.” Drawing on Palestinian scholar, Faiha Abdulhadi, who wrote, as quoted in Hamzeh’s book, “When we have our own narratives, with all details, then we can face the world with it. ” Manal Hamzeh, Women Resisting Sexual Violence and the Egyptian Revolution: Arab Feminist Testimonies (New York, NY: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 2020), 13,14, https://doi.org/10.5040/9781350224087 . [6] This transliteration reflects a colloquial Egyptian style and is pulled from a workshop version of Teymour’s text. Article Bibliography, References & Endnotes References About The Author(s) Suzi Elnaggar Northwestern University; Freelance Dramaturg Suzi Elnaggar is an Egyptian American performance scholar, freelance dramaturg, and theatremaker. Her work has been published in Asian Theatre Journal, Arab Stages, and Theatre Times. Her interests include recontextualizing tragedy, myths, and folklore, postcolonial theatre contexts, decoloniality in performance, theatre of social change, the intersection of trauma and performance, transnational and migrant stories, and work that centers SWANA (Southwest Asian and North African) experiences. Suzi’s scholarship and practice center community, collaboration, and context. As a dramaturg, she is experienced in both production and developmental work. She is the artistic director of Backstitch Story Project, and the founder and creative director of the Digital Development Project. She has read scripts for PlayPenn, Playwright’s Center, Rattlestick’s Van Lier New Voices Fellowship, SHELA, and Sparkfest, among many others. Selected dramaturgy credits (Production & Developmental Workshops): Silk Road’s Shahadat ; Backstitch Story Arts Off-White: The Arab House Party Play ; Clamour Theatre’s Lived Experience ; TACTICS Ottawa’s ANANSI V. GOD(S) ; Jubilee Theatre Waco’s Fairview (Texas Premiere); Wild Imaginings’ Jesus and Valium (World Premiere), The Way He Looks at You , Cardboard Castles Hung on Walls (World Premiere); Northwestern University Theatre’s The Great Sea Serpent . Arab Stages Arab Stages is devoted to broadening international awareness and understanding of the theatre and performance cultures of the Arab-Islamic world and of its diaspora. The journal appears twice yearly in digital form by the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center of New York and is a joint project of that Center and of the Arabic Theatre Working Group of the International Federation for Theatre Research. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents O Lord! By Ali Abdel-Nabi Al-Zaidi Mothers Challenging the Divine: Ali Al-Zaidi’s Ya Rab! The 31st Cairo International Festival for Experimental Theatre. September 1-11, 2024. ARTIFICIAL HEART. By Mohammad Basha and Firas Farrah. LEILI & MAJNUN. Written and directed by Torange Yeghiazarian SHAHADAT (THE TESTIMONIES) Adapted by Fouad Teymour Review: TO THE GOOD PEOPLE OF GAZA: THEATRE FOR YOUNG PEOPLE Staging Revolutions and the Many Faces of Modernism: Performing Politics in Irish and Egyptian Theatre Previous Next Attribution: Entries under this journal are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Vivian Appler Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 33 1 Visit Journal Homepage Encounters on Contested Lands: Indigenous Performances of Sovereignty and Nationhood in Québec; Provocative Eloquence: Theater, Violence, and Antislavery Speech in the Antebellum United States Vivian Appler By Published on January 12, 2021 Download Article as PDF Encounters on Contested Lands: Indigenous Performances of Sovereignty and Nationhood in Québec. Julie Burelle. Performance Works, Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2019; 232 pp. Provocative Eloquence: Theater, Violence, and Antislavery Speech in the Antebellum United States. Laura L. Mielke. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2019; 296 pp. Issues that surrounded Black and Indigenous sovereignty in the mid-nineteenth century are under scrutiny again as we enter the mid-twenty-first. The summer of 2020 makes this vividly apparent: A global health crisis has exposed disparities of income and access to health care across racial and ethnic lines. The #BlackLivesMatter movement is gaining momentum while an increasingly tyrannical government works to suppress the freedom of speech and right to assemble for those who would peacefully protest anti-Black racism and police brutality. The US Supreme Court has ruled that a 3-million-acre territory in Eastern Oklahoma is, after all, the rightful land of the Muskogee (Creek) people and is therefore exempt from Oklahoma state law. In this context, Julie Burelle’s Encounters on Contested Lands and Laura L. Mielke’s Provocative Eloquence , though different in critical approach and aesthetic content, invite reflection upon legacies of conquest and genocide in the United States and Canada that continue to impede the realization of social justice now. Encounters on Contested Lands: Indigenous Performances of Sovereignty and Nationhood in Québec is an important contribution to scholarship about performance in and of the Americas. Burelle’s performance studies method allows multiple embodied storytelling genres to be read as integral to the narrative clash between the French Québécois de souche (“the white descendants of early settlers from France, who still speak French and understand themselves… as settlers no more, colonized by the British first and, later, by the Anglo-Canadians, and rightfully belonging to the territory of Québec”) and the Indigenous peoples who reside in what is now the province of Québec (6). Burelle articulates her own positionality as French Québécois de souche throughout her criticism of Euro-Canada’s claims to nationhood and territory. Relying on Slavoj Žižek’s concept of “objective violence,” she interprets French Québec’s history of settler colonialism as it pertains to performances surrounding Canada’s Indian Act (1876), and as its damaging social contract persists into the present. Burelle claims, “[r]ace, with whiteness as its ultimate arbiter, is the unstable terrain on which settler-colonial anxieties are performed through a pas de deux between abjection and incorporation” (12). The performance examples she cites demonstrate that French Canadians’ minoritization claims rest upon acts of erasure, ignorance, or consumption of Indigenous presence, resistance, and ancestry. Burelle organizes the book’s intersectional histories around the “Oka Crisis” of 1990, in which the Mohawk people of Kanehsatà:ke defended the destruction of tribal lands by a predominantly white, francophone country club community. Burelle reads this conflict as key to understanding the fluidity of the Québécois de souche’s claims to cultural marginalization, conveniently invoked when contesting Anglo-Canada’s dominance over Québec but obscured when an alliance with Anglo-Canada would preserve French-Canadian claims over Indigenous lands. Burelle begins with an analysis of Alexis Martin’s Invention du chauffage central en Nouvelle-France ( The Invention of Central Heating in New France, 2012-2014), a play that poses paradoxical French Québécois de souche claims of abjection and what Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang refer to as “settler moves to innocence” (169). Burelle historiographically frames Martin’s epic as part of the white settler-colonial legacy of Marc Lescarbot’s 1606 Théâtre de Neptune en la Nouvelle- France. She surmises, “ Invention falls short of its reconciliatory endeavor and echoes in disturbing ways the willful offering of the land” once performed by white actors in redface for Lescarbot’s legendary conquest drama about ‘New France’ (27). Burelle further probes protestations of French-Canadian innocence in Chapter 2, “Les Racines Imaginaires/Mythical Métissages .” Through close readings of films by Euro-Canadians that examine indigeneity, Burelle charts the violence embedded French Québécois de souche affect to what she dubs a “felt Nativeness,” “never problematizing how this desire to possess Nativeness, to absorb it, is… inherently settler-colonial” (58). In this chapter, Burelle explores the many iterations of “ métis, métissé, and métissage ,” terms that broadly refer to racial and ethnic mixing, but each possessing a nuanced interpretation when it comes to various Canadian and Indigenous identities, rendering Métis and métis studies distinct foci of Canadian identities and politics (59). With the films discussed in Chapter 3 – Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance (1993, Alanis Obomsawin), Mesnak (2012, Yves Sioui Durand), and the Wapikoni Mobile project – Burelle gives voice to Indigenous filmmakers, at once revealing the objective violence implicit to the history of Canada’s Indian Act and affirming authentic representations of Indigenous culture. Chapter 4, “Endurance/Enduring Performance,” engages Indigenous women’s performances that articulate gender-based violence as an irrefutable component of Canada’s genocidal legacy. La Marche Amun (2010), conceived and organized by Michèle Taïna and Viviane Michel, was “led by a group of Innu women to demand an end to the gendered discrimination contained in the Indian Act” (21). This processional performance, situated along a “rural highway” in 2010, eerily reflected the concurrent murders of Indigenous women along Canada’s Highway 16, most of which remain under-investigated and unsolved (125). Burelle’s analysis of the endurance-beading performance, Indian Act (1999-2002), organized by Nadia Myre (Anishinaabe) for which she and 250 participants of European and Indigenous descent covered an annotated copy of the Indian Act with intricate beadwork. The final piece, many pages of which are unfinished , suggests that much work remains to be done in the ongoing processes of reconciliation and repatriation among the peoples who enact Canada’s “ colonial present tense and tense colonial present ” (4). North American genocidal legacies come into equally sharp focus in Laura Mielke’s Provocative Eloquence: Theater, Violence, and Antislavery Speech in the Antebellum United States , a timely book that reframes US oratory traditions as enmeshed with abolitionism and infused with violence. Mielke considers speech acts of all kinds as she interrogates the connection between embodied action and intentional utterance. She draws from a rich array of theatrical, dramatic, oratory, legislative, and print narratives to craft a meticulous case for the power of words to incite change. Theatre, theatricality and drama inform each portion of her argument that “the antislavery speech readily drew upon theatrical forms and provocations of antislavery speech made their way back to the stage” (24). Mielke’s method is “interperformative and intertextual” (21). She considers dramatic texts and performatic contexts for each oratorical figure as she disrupts popular understandings of familiar figures from the political, melodramatic, and Shakespearean stages of the mid-nineteenth century (21). This is perhaps most evident in Chapter 1, “Edwin Forrest and Heroic Oratory.” In her analysis of Forrest’s 1838 Independence Day Oration , Mielke illustrates Forrest’s political speech as having been understood not just for its political content and delivery style, but also for its Roachian “afterglow” caused by Forrest’s embodiment of his own ideas. For audiences, memories of the actor’s famous “heroic” stage roles such as the slave rebellion leader Spartacus (1831) may have blended with the words of the speech, perhaps lending Forrest a more abolitionist tone than words alone would have conveyed (53). Mielke’s notion of “dramatic suasion” is most clearly defined in a chapter dedicated to the dramatic readings of William Wells Brown and Mary Webb. She argues that “[d]ramatic suasion, as developed by Webb and Wells Brown…, transferred the rhetoric at the heart of Garrisonian abolitionism into a genre… associated with rebellious and retributive violence and into a performative mode” (82). As enacted by the free Black bodies of Webb and Wells Brown, abolitionist narratives shifted the national conversation in the mid-nineteenth century from the implicitly anti-abolitionist question of what the US would do with a population of free Black people, to “the real question… ‘what to do with the masters’” (82). While political histories pin Mielke’s argument in chronological sequence, the event that anchors her thesis most evocatively is the caning of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner on the US Congress floor by South Carolina Congressman Preston Brooks in 1856. In Chapter 3, Mielke compares the event with the tableau, “Southern Chivalry – Argument versus Club’s” by John L. Magee (1856) and then considers three theatrical adaptations of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Dred; A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp in light of increasingly brutal resistance to the abolitionist movement. As she teases out the violent undercurrents of melodramatic forms such as the sensation scene and blackface minstrelsy, attuned to the physical violence threatened and represented onstage in all three productions, Mielke infers, “[i]t was the fear of antislavery speech’s incitement of forcible resistance that led to a very different manifestation of provocative eloquence: the vicious suppression of eloquence by resistant auditors” (84). Mielke artfully unpacks Portia’s famous “Quality of Mercy” monologue for its rhetorical threat of violence, used to alternately suppress or incite violence that in turn either perpetuated the practice of slavery or resisted it. Mielke’s analysis of Portia’s speech, and its numerous deployments in the antebellum era, helps the reader to understand the US as it is currently embroiled in an unfinished history of racial violence that simmers in words and inevitably manifests as physical brutality. Re-reading this book amidst the context of the #BlackLivesMatter movement during the summer of 2020, I was brought to consider the ways that Mielke’s oratorical subjects have themselves become cultural and rhetorical touchpoints in our ongoing struggles towards social justice. By examining antislavery texts, Mielke reveals the violence that haunts even the most pacifist of entreaties. Her choice to conclude with abolitionist John Brown’s execution and the sway it held for actor John Wilkes Booth towards violently anti-abolitionist ends suggests that the question of whether or not violent action is necessary to dismantle systems of racism and oppression in the US is yet to be settled. Read together, these books deepen our grasp of the violence in which hegemonic North American concepts of citizenship, sovereignty, and suffrage are entrenched. Objective violence embedded in settler-colonial legislation compounded with the implied and enacted violence surrounding abolitionist speech echo across the continent while the struggle for social justice endures. References Footnotes About The Author(s) VIVIAN APPLER College of Charleston Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue "Ya Got Trouble, My Friend, Right Here": Romanticizing Grifters in American Musical Theatre Troubled Collaboration: Belasco, the Fiskes, and the Society Playwright, Mrs. Burton Harrison Unhappy is the Land that Needs a Hero: The Mark of the Marketplace in Suzan-Lori Parks's Father Comes Home from the Wars, Parts 1-3 Silence, Gesture, and Deaf Identity in Deaf West Theatre's Spring Awakening Contemporary Women Stage Directors: Conversations on Craft. Paulette Marty. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2019; Pp. 292 + viii. Ensemble-Made Chicago: A Guide To Devised Theater. Chloe Johnson and Coya Paz Brownrigg. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2019. Pp. 202. Twenty-First Century American Playwrights. Christopher Bigsby. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018; Pp. 228. Encounters on Contested Lands: Indigenous Performances of Sovereignty and Nationhood in Québec; Provocative Eloquence: Theater, Violence, and Antislavery Speech in the Antebellum United States Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

SHONNI ENELOW + DAVID LEVINE presents David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross: WTF at the PRELUDE 2024 Festival at the Martin E. Segal Theater Center CUNY. PRELUDE Festival 2024 David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross: WTF SHONNI ENELOW + DAVID LEVINE 6:30-7:20 pm Wednesday, October 16, 2024 Elebash Recital Hall RSVP An expression of pure 80s id, David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross geysers up craven capitalism, deranged method acting, and American maleness at its most revolting. But has its moment truly passed? Enelow and Levine preview the third of their performance dinners at the Invisible Dog, in which actors read, Lucien cooks, guests eat, and everyone discusses great plays with freaky politics. Performed with Eric Cotti and Noah Gold LOBSTER Nora loves Patti Smith. Nora is Patti Smith. Nora is stoned out of her mind in the Chelsea Hotel. Actually, the Chelsea Hotel is her mind. Actually, the Chelsea Hotel is an out-of-use portable classroom in the Pacific Northwest, and that classroom is a breeding ground for lobsters. LOBSTER by Kallan Dana directed by Hanna Yurfest produced by Emma Richmond with: Anna Aubry, Chris Erdman, Annie Fang, Coco McNeil, Haley Wong Needy Lover presents an excerpt of LOBSTER , a play about teenagers putting on a production of Patti Smith and Sam Shepard's Cowboy Mouth . THE ARTISTS Needy Lover makes performances that are funny, propulsive, weird, and gut-wrenching (ideally all at the same time). We create theatre out of seemingly diametrically opposed forces: our work is both entertaining and unusual, funny and tragic. Needylover.com Kallan Dana is a writer and performer originally from Portland, Oregon. She has developed and presented work with Clubbed Thumb, The Hearth, The Tank, Bramble Theater Company, Dixon Place, Northwestern University, and Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute. She is a New Georges affiliated artist and co-founder of the artist collaboration group TAG at The Tank. She received her MFA from Northwestern University. Upcoming: RACECAR RACECAR RACECAR with The Hearth/Connelly Theater Upstairs (dir. Sarah Blush), Dec 2024. LOBSTER with The Tank (dir. Hanna Yurfest), April/May 2025. Needylover.com and troveirl.com Hanna Yurfest is a director and producer from Richmond, MA. She co-founded and leads The Tank’s artist group TAG and creates work with her company, Needy Lover. Emma Richmond is a producer and director of performances and events. She has worked with/at HERE, The Tank, The Brick, and Audible, amongst others. She was The Tank’s 2022-23 Producing Fellow, and is a member of the artist group TAG. Her day job is Programs Manager at Clubbed Thumb, and she also makes work with her collective Trove, which she co-founded. www.emma-richmond.com Rooting for You The Barbarians It's the Season Six premiere of 'Sava Swerve's: The Model Detector' and Cameron is on it!!! June, Willa, and (by proximity) Sunny are hosting weekly viewing parties every week until Cameron gets cut, which, fingers crossed, is going to be the freakin' finale! A theatrical playground of a play that serves an entire season of 'so-bad-it's-good' reality TV embedded in the social lives of a friend group working through queerness, adolescence, judgment, and self-actualization. Presenting an excerpt from Rooting for You! with loose staging, experimenting with performance style, timing, and physicality. THE ARTISTS Ashil Lee (he/they) NYC-based actor, playwright, director, and sex educator. Korean-American, trans nonbinary, child of immigrants, bestie to iconic pup Huxley. Described as "a human rollercoaster" and "Pick a lane, buddy!" by that one AI Roast Bot. 2023 Lucille Lortel nominee (Outstanding Ensemble: The Nosebleed ) and Clubbed Thumb Early Career Writers Group Alum. NYU: Tisch. BFA in Acting, Minor in Youth Mental Health. Masters Candidate in Mental Health and Wellness (NYU Steinhardt: 20eventually), with intentions of incorporating mental health consciousness into the theatre industry. www.ashillee.com Phoebe Brooks is a gender non-conforming theater artist interested in establishing a Theatre of Joy for artists and audiences alike. A lifelong New Yorker, Phoebe makes art that spills out beyond theater-going conventions and forges unlikely communities. They love messing around with comedy, heightened text, and gender performance to uncover hidden histories. She's also kind of obsessed with interactivity; particularly about figuring out how to make audience participation less scary for audiences. Phoebe has a BA in Theatre from Northwestern University and an MFA in Theatre Directing from Columbia University's School of the Arts. The Barbarians is a word-drunk satirical play exploring political rhetoric and the power of words on the world. With cartoonish wit and rambunctious edge, it asks: what if the President tried to declare war, but the words didn't work? Written by Jerry Lieblich and directed by Paul Lazar, it will premiere in February 2025 at LaMama. The Barbarians is produced in association with Immediate Medium, and with support from the Venturous Theater Fund of the Tides Foundation. THE ARTISTS Jerry Lieblich (they/them) plays in the borderlands of theater, poetry, and music. Their work experiments with language as a way to explore unexpected textures of consciousness and attention. Plays include Mahinerator (The Tank), The Barbarians (La Mama - upcoming), D Deb Debbie Deborah (Critic’s Pick: NY Times), Ghost Stories (Critic’s Pick: TimeOut NY), and Everything for Dawn (Experiments in Opera). Their poetry has appeared in Foglifter, Second Factory, TAB, Grist, SOLAR, Pomona Valley Review, Cold Mountain Review, and Works and Days. Their poetry collection otherwise, without was a finalist for The National Poetry Series. Jerry has held residencies at MacDowell, MassMoCA, Blue Mountain Center, Millay Arts, and UCROSS, and Yiddishkayt. MFA: Brooklyn College. www.thirdear.nyc Paul Lazar is a founding member, along with Annie-B Parson, of Big Dance Theater. He has co-directed and acted in works for Big Dance since 1991, including commissions from the Brooklyn Academy of Music, The Old Vic (London), The Walker Art Center, Classic Stage Co., New York Live Arts, The Kitchen, and Japan Society. Paul directed Young Jean Lee’s We’re Gonna Die which was reprised in London featuring David Byrne. Other directing credits include Bodycast with Francis McDormand (BAM), Christina Masciotti’s Social Security (Bushwick Starr), and Major Bang (for The Foundry Theatre) at Saint Ann’s Warehouse. Awards include two Bessies (2010, 2002), the Jacob’s Pillow Creativity Award (2007), and the Prelude Festival’s Frankie Award (2014), as well an Obie Award for Big Dance in 2000. Steve Mellor has appeared on Broadway (Big River ), Off-Broadway (Nixon's Nixon ) and regionally at Arena Stage, Long Wharf Theater, La Jolla Playhouse, Portland Stage and Yale Rep. A longtime collaborator with Mac Wellman, Steve has appeared in Wellman's Harm’s Way, Energumen, Dracula, Cellophane, Terminal Hip (OBIE Award), Sincerity Forever, A Murder of Crows, The Hyacinth Macaw, 7 Blowjobs (Bessie Award), Strange Feet, Bad Penny, Fnu Lnu, Bitter Bierce (OBIE Award), and Muazzez . He also directed Mr. Wellman's 1965 UU. In New York City, he has appeared at the Public Theater, La Mama, Soho Rep, Primary Stages, PS 122, MCC Theater, The Chocolate Factory, and The Flea. His film and television credits include Sleepless in Seattle, Mickey Blue Eyes, Celebrity, NYPD Blue, Law and Order, NY Undercover, and Mozart in the Jungle. Chloe Claudel is an actor and director based in NYC and London. She co-founded the experimental company The Goat Exchange, with which she has developed over a dozen new works of theater and film, including Salome, or the Cult of the Clitoris: a Historical Phallusy in last year's Prelude Festival. She's thrilled to be working with Paul and Jerry on The Barbarians . Anne Gridley is a two time Obie award-winning actor, dramaturg, and artist. As a founding member of Nature Theater of Oklahoma, she has co-created and performed in critically acclaimed works including Life & Times, Poetics: A Ballet Brut, No Dice, Romeo & Juliet, and Burt Turrido . In addition to her work with Nature Theater, Gridley has performed with Jerôme Bel, Caborca, 7 Daughters of Eve, and Big Dance, served as a Dramaturg for the Wooster Group’s production Who’s Your Dada ?, and taught devised theater at Bard College. Her drawings have been shown at H.A.U. Berlin, and Mass Live Arts. B.A. Bard College; M.F.A. Columbia University. Naren Weiss is an actor/writer who has worked onstage (The Public Theater, Second Stage, Kennedy Center, Geffen Playhouse, international), in TV (ABC, NBC, CBS, Comedy Central), and has written plays that have been performed across the globe (India, Singapore, South Africa, U.S.). Upcoming: The Sketchy Eastern European Show at The Players Theatre (Mar. '24). Shonni Enelow is a critic and scholar who writes about film and theater. She is the author of Joanna Hogg (Contemporary Film Directors series, University of Illinois Press, 2024) and Method Acting and Its Discontents: On American Psycho-Drama (Northwestern University Press, 2015). She is the winner of the 2015-2016 George Jean Nathan Award for Dramatic Criticism. Her book with David Levine, A Discourse on Method , was published by 53rd State Press in 2020, and her book with Una Chaudhuri, The Ecocide Project , was published by Palgrave in 2013. She is Professor of English at Fordham University. David Levine is an artist whose work encompasses theater, performance, video, and photography. Recent exhibitions include Dissolution , at the Museum of the Moving Image and Some of the People, All of the Time at the Brooklyn Museum. His work been featured in Artforum, Theater, n+1, BOMB, and the New York Times. He is the author, with Shonni Enelow of A Discourse on Method (53rd State Press), and with Alix Rule, of International Art English (Triple Canopy). He is the recipient of a 2018 Guggenheim fellowship and a 2012 OBIE, and is Professor of the Practice of Performance, Theater, and Media at Harvard University. Explore more performances, talks and discussions at PRELUDE 2024 See What's on

European Stages serves as an inclusive English-language journal, providing a detailed perspective on the unfolding narrative of contemporary European theatre since 1969. Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back European Stages 22, 2026 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Editor's Statement - European Stages Volume 20 Published: July 15, 2026 Download Article as PDF By Steve Earnest Image Credits: Article The Summer 2026 edition features productions from Bulgaria, Macedonia, Germany, Portugal, Lithuania and Romania and considers a variety of approaches from both new and established directors. Numerous works from some of Europe’s most respected companies as well as several new and relatively unknown theatre producers are considered, and many great photographs help to tell the story of these fantastic productions. Julian Hetzel’s Three Times Left is Right made its way throughout Europe in Summer 2026 – appearing at Berlin’s Theatertreffen but also in Düsselldorf, Switzerland and the Netherlands. One of Robert Wilson’s final productions, Seven Solitudes , also gets an early review in this issue, and special thanks to Tomek Smoliarski for his assistance in the translation of the review. Of special note in this issue is the work of editorial board member Professor Kalina Stefanova who spearheaded five of the articles featured here. Having access to these Eastern European productions satisfies the mission of European Stages to the highest level, as western European productions are sometimes featured more prominently. Our goal is to continue to find a balance that includes as many European countries as possible. Many thanks to all of the authors from around the world who contributed these works during the summer months in order that we at European Stages can continue to investigate and provide content to the international scholarly community in the area of theatre and performance. Their dedication to the mission and support of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center is greatly appreciated. References References About the author(s) Steve Earnest is a Professor of Theatre at Coastal Carolina University . He was a Fulbright Scholar in Nanjing, China during the 2019 – 2020 academic year where he taught and directed works in Shakespeare and Musical Theatre. A member of SAG-AFTRA and AEA, he has worked professionally as an actor with Performance Riverside, The Burt Reynolds Theatre, The Jupiter Theatre, Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theatre, The Colorado Shakespeare Festival, Birmingham Summerfest and the Riverside Theatre of Vero Beach, among others. Film credits include Bloody Homecoming , Suicide Note and Miami Vice . His professional directing credits include Big River , Singin’ in the Rain and Meet Me in St. Louis at the Palm Canyon Theatre in Palm Springs, Musicale at Whitehall 06 at the Flagler Museum in Palm Beach and Much Ado About Nothing with the Mountain Brook Shakespeare Festival. Numer ous publications include a book, The State Acting Academy of East Berlin , published in 1999 by Mellen Press, a book chapter in Performer Training, published by Harwood Press, and a number of articles and reviews in academic journals and periodicals including Theatre Journal, New Theatre Quarterly, Western European Stages, The Journal of Beckett Studies and Backstage West . He has taught Acting, Movement, Dance, and Theatre History/Literature at California State University, San Bernardino, the University of West Georgia , the University of Montevallo and Palm Beach Atlantic University. He holds a Ph.D. in Theatre from the University of Colorado, Boulder and an M.F.A. in Musical Theatre from the University of Miami, FL. European Stages European Stages, born from the merger of Western European Stages and Slavic and East European Performance in 2013, is a premier English-language resource offering a comprehensive view of contemporary theatre across the European continent. With roots dating back to 1969, the journal has chronicled the dynamic evolution of Western and Eastern European theatrical spheres. It features in-depth analyses, interviews with leading artists, and detailed reports on major European theatre festivals, capturing the essence of a transformative era marked by influential directors, actors, and innovative changes in theatre design and technology. European Stages is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents Review of 'In The Heights' at the Teatro Variedades Editor's Statement - European Stages Volume 20 Spring in Europe – Beyond the Theatertreffen Power, Shame, Vanity and Opportunism – Productions of the 63rd Berliner Theatertreffen “The more I give to thee, the more I have…” 15th edition of the International Shakespeare Festival in Craiova Finding Lear’s Shadow: Compagnia de' Colombari's King Lear at the 2026 Craiova International Shakespeare Festival Robert Wilson Beneath a Cabbage Leaf: 7 Solitudes at the Nacionalinis Kauno Dramos Teatras NE:BITEF 2025: The Festival that Refused to Disappear Displacing the Orient: Postcolonial Negotiations in Purcărete's Adaptation of One Thousand and One Nights Staging Tradition, Testing Form: The Second Showcase of the National Theatre of Sofia Poetics of the Unfulfilled: The Seagull at the Jordan Hadji Konstantinov-Dzhinot Theatre, Veles, North Macedonia Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Teya Juarez Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 38 1 Visit Journal Homepage Fat Suits and Fat Futures: Ob*sity Drag in The Whale Teya Juarez By Published on January 26, 2026 Download Article as PDF In 2023, The Whale won the Academy Award for Best Makeup and Hairstyling: one of three films nominated for the category that year that featured performers wearing fat suits. (1) The 2022 film is an adaptation of Samuel D. Hunter’s 2012 play of the same name, both of which tell the story of Charlie, a 600-lb gay English professor, as he struggles to reconnect with his estranged teenage daughter, Ellie. The plot takes place over the course of one week from Monday through Friday. As the ending suggests, this is ultimately the last week of Charlie’s life. Considered his triumphant return to acting, Brendan Fraser starred as Charlie in the film adaptation, earning the 2023 Academy Award for Best Actor. (2) Since Fraser was not himself 600 pounds, the film utilized a fat suit, additional prosthetics, and computer-generated imagery (CGI) to build Charlie’s body, creating a fabricated representation of what most Americans would likely be conditioned to consider “morbid ob*sity.” (3) While the use of fat suits in lieu of casting fat actors can be theorized as “fat drag” (4) —slender bodies dressing up as fat ones for the sake of performance—I argue that The Whale is a unique case of “ob*sity drag,” a term introduced by Royce Best. (5) “Ob*se” (rather than “fat”) carries a specific pathologization and medicalization of fat bodies in U.S. society and has continually been the target of the so-called “War on Ob*sity.” (6) The Whale ’s story of fatness reveals how the theatre and film industries perpetuate the War on Ob*sity mentality that pursues the end of fat. With the future of fat in question, it is essential for the theatre and film industries to confront the fact that fat bodies are often not permitted to represent themselves in performance, especially in the production history of The Whale . In its journey from the stage to the screen, The Whale represents a doubling-down on the use of fat suits as a valid performance of fat embodiment, cruelly suggesting in its context and content that even as stories about fatness continue to be told, real fat bodies need not exist. For decades, the U.S. has been in an endless War on Ob*sity. Warning against the dangers of fatness, public health and government officials have declared an ongoing “ob*sity epidemic” in the U.S. (7) Through the lens of the War on Ob*sity, fatness is viewed as a disease that inherently comprises overall health, or a problem that needs to be cured. Paul Campos calls this the “ob*sity myth,” which relies on three primary assumptions: “that ‘excess’ weight causes illness and early death; that losing weight improves health and extends life; and that we know how to make fat people thin.” (8) Campos points out that the War on Ob*sity labels a significant portion of the U.S. population as targets, pathologizing their fatness as ob*sity. (9) Marilyn Wann describes that fat studies scholars and fat activists have denounced the use of “O-words” such as ob*se and “overweight” that “medicaliz[e] human diversity” and “inspir[e] a misplaced search for a ‘cure’ for naturally occurring difference.” (10) Because fatness has been repeatedly pathologized as an undesirable embodiment under the guise of ob*sity, U.S. society continually orients itself around slenderness as the ideal, obedient, and inherently healthy body type. Americans resort to fad diets, exercise trends, surgical interventions, and weight-loss medications in the pursuit of slenderness. Most recently, GLP-1 medications, such as Ozempic, have become an increasingly popular method of weight loss. The rapid adoption of GLP-1s, before extensive research on the long-term effects of using these medications for weight loss, suggests that the pursuit of slenderness is often about body size, not about lasting internal health. (11) The connotation of the word “war” implies that the end goal of the War on Ob*sity is the eradication of fatness, which inherently means the elimination of fat people . With this ongoing War on Ob*sity, what does the future of fat entail? As I will detail throughout the following essay, theatre and film industries subscribe to this War on Ob*sity mentality, particularly in the case of The Whale , which demonstrates the use of ob*sity drag described above. While theatre and film continue to depict stories about fatness, these industries have often deemed fat people unnecessary to include in doing so. In their introduction to the 2018 Fat Studies special issue on fatness and temporality, Tracy Tidgwell, May Friedman, Jen Rinaldi, Crystal Kotow, and Emily R.M. Lind explore the concept of “fat time.” (12) They describe fat time as “abundant and spacious,” identifying that it “moves bigger” and “resists containment.” (13) Notably, the authors suggest that the opposite of “fat time” is “no time,” which is “capitalist and lean in character.” (14) While no time “shrinks” and “compresses,” fat time “offers more” and “makes fatness more knowable.” (15) I suggest that this relationship between “fat time” and “no time” is significant for performances of fatness like The Whale and what these performances mean for the future of fat. Whereas fat time liberates fat bodies, allowing them to take up time and space, “no time” takes on the War on Ob*sity mentality that seeks the end of fat. No time is at the heart of The Whale . As a performance of fatness, and more specifically a performance of ob*sity, The Whale reinforces the societal belief that fat people are running out of time and that fatness must come to an end. The primary source of urgency that pushes the story forward appears to be Charlie’s inevitable death at the end of the play; Charlie is out of time. By pathologizing Charlie’s body as ob*se, rather than liberating it as fat, Charlie loses access to fat time and is instead given no time on stage or on screen. This distinction between the pathologizing nature of the word ob*se and the liberatory potentials of the word fat is critical to my argument that The Whale utilizes ob*sity drag rather than fat drag. Fat is one of many marginalized identities that has been fabricated and performed by normative bodies throughout the history of performance on stage and screen. (16) Royce Best’s term “ob*sity drag” is based on Tobin Siebers’ theory of “disability drag,” wherein able-bodied actors portray characters with disabilities in performance. Siebers explains that the “modern cinema often puts the stigma of disability on display,” but said disability is represented by those who are not themselves disabled, performing for an audience that is potentially unaware of this important distinction. (17) However, audiences that are privy to the performer’s underlying able-bodiedness are assured that the performer “will return to an able-bodied state as soon as the film ends.” (18) I suggest that ob*sity drag functions similarly in The Whale as the representation of another non-normative identity by normative bodies, with the added connotations of further pathologizing fatness as ob*sity for American audiences. For stage productions of The Whale , fat suits assure the audience that the actor playing Charlie will return to a slender (or otherwise smaller) body after the performance. Fatness is thus represented by a fabricated prosthetic that is removed when the performance is complete. Especially in the film adaptation, since Brendan Fraser is a well-known actor, audiences can rely on their knowledge that the fat body they are seeing is not Fraser’s actual body and that it will return to “normal” when the movie is over. Much like Siebers’ theory of disability drag, The Whale provides representation of a nonnormative embodiment, but it does so through a fabricated depiction of ob*sity. An actual fat body would not collapse into a normative state the moment the curtain drops or the credits roll. Perhaps putting a real fat person on stage/screen is to admit that the fat body will have more time, continuing to live in fat time past the context and confines of the performance. Fatness as Ob*sity & The Ob*sity Action Coalition Fat suits can refer to varying levels of prosthetics and makeup (and in the film version of The Whale , CGI) that have been used to make slender, normative bodies appear fat in performance. Amy Gullage states that fat suits are typically “full-body costumes” worn on their own or in combination with “latex pieces or full face masks and make-up in order to fatten up [performers’] faces, chins and necks.” (19) The use of fat suits to represent fat bodies in performance suggests that “fatness itself is merely a suit to be worn and changed at will,” as well as that “fatness can be represented removed from the realities and complexities of real life.” (20) Fat suits are used to tell stories about fatness without necessarily including actual fat people in the performance. The use of fat suits implies that even when fatness is part of a story being told on the stage or screen, these roles are not intended for fat performers. Instead, slender performers perform fat embodiment with the support of prosthetics. (21) Ryan Donovan explains in his 2023 book Broadway Bodies: A Critical History of Conformity that “[t]he fat suit itself reinforces stigma because it can be put on and taken off at will, an act unavailable to the fat person perceived as morally suspect for their inability to lose weight.” (22) In this way, fat suits can be used to tell fat stories without including socially transgressive fat bodies in the process. The Whale takes the fat suit to a new level, specifically depicting folks that, in the fat liberation community, might identify as “superfat” or “infinifat.” Some fat activists have identified a “fategories” spectrum of fat identity, ranging across “small fat,” “mid-fat,” “large fat,” and superfat/infinifat, reclaiming fat identity away from pathologizing terms like overweight, ob*se, or morbidly ob*se. (23) The fategories spectrum is used to acknowledge smaller fat bodies’ proximity to societal privilege, as well as to emphasize the increasing lack of access to clothing, healthcare, and fair treatment for fat folks at the higher end of the size spectrum. Fat activists who use these fategories typically use superfat/infinifat to refer to the largest members of the fat community; this category has no size cap. Bodies in this category might be considered ob*se or morbidly ob*se by those who medicalize fat identity. The difference in size between Charlie and the performers playing him is likely much greater than the usual discrepancy between a slender performer and their fat suit. (24) Charlie’s size, combined with the health conditions attributed to his weight, reflects the U.S.’s reductive and medicalized stereotype of what a morbidly ob*se body is. To my knowledge, every stage production of The Whale since its world premiere has included its own version of a fat suit, which suggests that the theatre industry has not seriously considered casting a superfat/infinifat person for this role. (25) A Google Image search for photos from past stage productions reveals a substantial collection of fabricated fat bodies. (26) The casting history of The Whale represents persistent ob*sity drag with bodies donning a fabricated fatness in order to perform conceptions of ob*sity. The Whale also perpetuates reductive and harmful understandings of fatness by adhering to this concept of ob*sity in its story. Overall, the plot relies on stereotypes that American society tout as intrinsic characteristics of fat people: the larger someone is, the closer they are to a premature death. Not only is Charlie fat, but he has compounding health issues that he refuses to seek medical treatment for, including difficulty breathing and a potential heart condition. Liz, Charlie’s only friend (and sister to his late partner Alan), is a nurse who uses her medical expertise and access to medical equipment to care for Charlie. Charlie is, of course, also represented as having a binge-eating disorder, playing into another stereotype that all fat people have become fat because of a lack of self-control with food. (27) Charlie’s ex-wife and Ellie’s mother, Mary, tells Charlie that he has “been eating [himself] to death for fifteen years,” reinforcing his troubled relationship with food, while also implying that his weight gain is akin to death by suicide. (28) The insinuation is that Charlie’s proximity to sickness and death is an inevitable part of his fatness, rather than a separate concern of other intersecting, compounding factors. As Campos identifies, the assumption that fatness is inherently linked to disease and death is a facet of the ob*sity myth, the driving force of the War on Ob*sity. These fears for Charlie’s proximity to death are confirmed when both the play and the film heavily imply that Charlie dies at the end. In her first scene with Charlie, Ellie cruelly demands that Charlie stand up and walk to her. When Charlie reaches for his walker to support himself, Ellie says, “Without that thing. Just stand up, and come over here.” Without his mobility aid, Charlie is unable to stand up. He lies back on the couch “ wincing from the pain ” and “ wheezing loudly .” (29) At the end of the story, Charlie stands up to walk across the room to Ellie, answering her request from before. He rips the oxygen tube out of his nose and “ with a huge amount of effort and pain, [ he ] manages to stand up. ” (30) The final stage directions of the playscript describe: “ Charlie looks up. The waves [sound effect of waves] cut off. A sharp intake of breath. The lights snap to black. ” (31) In the film’s depiction of this moment, the camera focuses on Charlie’s feet as they levitate off the floor. Charlie floats towards a white, heavenly light. After a brief flashback to Charlie and Ellie on the beach years earlier, long before Charlie gained the majority of his weight, the credits roll. (32) Both versions of the story imply that Charlie dies from ob*sity and its supposed inherently related health conditions. By refusing to seek medical treatment and refusing to pursue weight loss, Charlie’s story becomes a cautionary tale for what might happen if ob*sity goes untreated, supporting the American ob*sity myth. Another facet of the script that evokes a strong association with ob*sity rather than fat is Hunter’s specification that Charlie is “around six hundred pounds.” (33) First airing during the world premiere run of The Whale , the TLC (The Learning Channel) reality show My 600-lb Life has become a significant source for the medicalization and pathologization of superfat/infinifatness as morbid ob*sity. The show, now thirteen seasons strong, features people who weigh around 600 pounds as they pursue weight loss via bariatric weight-loss surgery. My 600-lb Life makes a spectacle of superfat/infinifat bodies. As fat studies scholar May Friedman describes, the show invites the audience to “gawk at super sized people, to see them as inherently abject and impossible.” (34) Prominent fat activist Aubrey Gordon explains that My 600-lb Life treats its subjects “as freakshows, displaying their bodies and medical struggles to fuel audiences’ disgust, revulsion, and sense of superiority,” reassuring those who are not superfat/infinifat: “ At least I’m not that fat .” (35) My 600-lb Life explicitly perpetuates the War on Ob*sity mentality. Melissa Zimdars says in her 2019 book Watching our Weights: Contradictions of Televising Fatness in the “Ob*sity Epidemic” that My 600-lb Life determines its subjects to be “medically ob*se” and “in need of help beyond the health and lifestyle recommendations of diet and exercise.” (36) Zimdars also points out that while many individuals featured on the show “do not yet have—and maybe never will have—most of the ‘ob*sity-related diseases’ discussed by doctors,” they are automatically depicted as “diseased” or “at risk for disease” simply for their size alone. (37) Weight loss and weight-loss surgery are deemed the only hope in the face of such a deadly disease. In her blog post titled “Our 600 Pound Lives,” Ash Nischuk of The Fat Lip recounts receiving an email from the My 600-lb Life casting office, despite being “vocally fat positive on the internet for over 15 years.” (38) The casting agent explains to Nischuk that the show “follows the lives of real people as they embark on a road to better health” and that, “[i]f approved by the show’s physician,” she could be one of the lucky “selected individuals” who also “receive Gastric Bypass Surgery.” (39) Nischuk asserts that the producers and doctors of My 600-lb Life insist to the fat subjects on the show that if they do not take this opportunity to change their lives, they will die: “Unequivocally. This is your only option to stay alive.” (40) In order for their lives to be saved, participants must “reveal [their] most vulnerable moments—[their] greatest emotional and physical struggles—to a national audience.” (41) This televised spectacle serves the War on Ob*sity mentality, “profit[ing] off of its audience’s fear of fatness and disability.” (42) Furthermore, as Zimdars puts it, the show “borrows more heavily from the documentary tradition and frames itself as more observational than reality shows.” (43) Gordon also comments on how the show “seems to consider itself an objective and tender documentary [emphasis added].” (44) In taking this documentary-style approach, My 600-lb Life tries to convince the viewer that the show provides an authentic and objective look at the lives of those in larger bodies rather than admit to manufacturing spectacle. This feigned objectivity normalizes and downplays the way the show treats its participants, implying that My 600-lb Life is simply reporting on the lives of real fat people (just as the casting agent who tried to recruit Nischuk posed it). Because the specific weight of 600 pounds is included in the title of the show, My 600-lb Life is often referenced, either intentionally or unintentionally, when discussing this category of size in other contexts or other media. By establishing Charlie as 600 pounds, The Whale inherently cites My 600-lb Life ’s depiction of this size as a fatal disease that needs extreme intervention, especially in more contemporary productions of The Whale . Any parallels between My 600-lb Life and The Whale act to legitimize Charlie’s representation of superfat/infinifatness as an extension of this “objective documentation” of the lives of real fat people. The Whale treats Charlie quite similarly to how My 600-lb Life treats its subjects, making a point to emphasize the parts of him that are supposedly disgusting and to show him eating large amounts of food throughout the play/film. Charlie is treated as a spectacle. Charlie taunts Elder Thomas (a Mormon missionary who visits Charlie throughout the story) with details about his body, including mentions of “mold,” “sores,” and “ulcers.” (45) One of the several times Liz brings him food, Charlie starts to choke while eating and Liz uses her entire body to dislodge the food and save him. The film also features a particularly upsetting scene of Charlie, in an emotional breakdown, forcing himself to eat most of the contents of his kitchen. (46) These scenes evoke the same voyeuristic dynamic as much of My 600-lb Life , treating these real bodies as spectacle in order to reinforce the notion that ob*sity is an undesirable and fatal condition. In fact, these moments are not essential to The Whale ’s core narrative but rather crucial to concocting what the playwright and creative team imagine real ob*sity to be. When The Whale ’s creative team considered their lack of personal knowledge of fat embodiment and expressed a desire to hear from lived experience, they established an exclusive relationship with the Ob*sity Action Coalition. The OAC is an ob*sity advocacy group that seeks to “create needed change for those who are living with and/or are affected by the disease of ob*sity.” (47) Brendan Fraser, director Darren Aronofsky, and playwright/screenwriter Hunter all “worked closely” with the OAC, speaking with people through the organization who were themselves “affected by ob*sity.” (48) A feature on the OAC’s website claims that the organization consulted with The Whale ’s team to ensure that the film achieved a “realistic and respectful” representation of “living with severe ob*sity,” rationalizing that these good intentions potentially justify the use of a fat suit instead of casting a fat actor. (49) Throughout the written feature and the two additional videos the OAC published on the collaboration, OAC members praise the film for its accurate portrayal of ob*sity and express their appreciation for the team’s willingness to learn from the organization. (50) For example, in the first of the OAC’s videos on The Whale , an OAC member describes how The Whale ’s team adopted people-first language for advertising the film, at the OAC’s recommendation. (51) Using people-first language means that fat people are referred to as “people living with ob*sity” rather than “ob*se people.” As the OAC explains, people-first language has been used in mental health and disability communities to avoid “labeling an individual with their disease.” (52) The OAC advocates for people-first language to support their goal of humanizing people affected by the disease of ob*sity. The OAC member in the video says: “[Brendan Fraser] is out there talking about people living with ob*sity. That we are not ‘ob*se people,’ that we are not ‘fat people,’ that we are actually ‘people living with the disease of ob*sity.’” (53) In celebrating the results of the collaboration between the OAC and The Whale , the OAC establishes that The Whale affirms the organization’s beliefs on fat. As Tigress Osborn, Executive Director of the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA), puts it in her essay on the film, “[t]he OAC legitimizes this movie while this movie legitimizes the OAC.” (54) NAAFA is “the world’s first documented fat acceptance organization” that is “dedicated to protecting the rights and improving the quality of life for fat people.” (55) NAAFA represents those who have become liberated and empowered by their fatness while the OAC’s advocacy is based on the premise of fatness as a disease. Osborn explains that the fat liberation community believes the concept of ob*sity “has created tremendous harm to fat people in the name of ‘helping’ [them].” (56) By choosing to conduct research solely through an organization that treats fatness as a disease, The Whale ’s team assured that their understanding of superfat/infinifat identity would only be known through the lens of ob*sity. Osborn observes that in the ten years that Aronofsky and Hunter worked on developing the stage play into a film, there has been “no mention of ever consulting with any fat people other than those at the OAC.” (57) Notably, she asserts that to ignore NAAFA and the work of the fat liberation community in those ten years is to selectively engage with fat people “who wouldn’t protest [the film’s] fat suit and who wouldn’t interrupt [the film’s] plan to make the kind of tragedy the [Oscar’s] Academy loves to award.” (58) Osborn’s essay criticizes The Whale ’s unwillingness to engage with fatness on the terms of the fat liberation community. While the film adaptation of The Whale did not exclude all fat bodies, the team made a deliberate choice in working with an organization that would support a narrative of ob*sity. And though (specific) fat bodies were deemed important enough to consult with, they were not ultimately put on the screen. Ob*sity Drag as Fat Embodiment Fat suits have traditionally been used for comedy, making The Whale unique in its use of fabricated fatness for a drama. Fat suits in television and cinema history have often been used for comedic effect, making fat people the target of endless ridicule, including: Courtney Cox as “Fat Monica” in the 90s sitcom Friends ; Gwyneth Paltrow in Shallow Hal (2001); and Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor (1996). (59) Hunter and the additional members of The Whale ’s creative team sought to create a representation of fatness that did not rely on anti-fat comedy, a primary reason for their collaboration with the OAC. Hunter recognizes the past use of fat suits in film wherein “thin actors are put into entirely unrealistic bodysuits in order to be the subject of derision or the butt of a joke.” (60) The OAC’s feature on The Whale acknowledges the history of fat prosthetics used to “demean or ridicule people with ob*sity,” indicating that the OAC “would not have participated” in The Whale if the film was using prosthetics for the sake of anti-fat comedy. (61) However, despite the dramatic nature of its story—and perhaps even because of the dramatic nature of its story— The Whale still plays into anti-fat societal norms about how fat people are to be treated according to the War on Ob*sity mentality. Susan Bordo describes in Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body (2003) that society does not permit fat people to inhabit a non-normative body size and be happy in their fat bodies. Only fat people “who are willing to present themselves as pitiable, in pain, and conscious of their own unattractiveness” are able to earn “sympathy and concern.” (62) Bordo adds that fat people’s pain is often demonstrated by sharing details about “intimate physical difficulties, orgies of self-hate, or descriptions of gross consumption of food.” (63) The Whale serves this function. In their dramatic tone, both the play and film establish the conditions in which audiences can pity Charlie and feel sympathy for his circumstances as a fat person. They include scenarios of Charlie struggling to move around his home on his own, expressing deep self-hatred, and multiple instances of eating large amounts of food, enacting each facet of Bordo’s argument. In this way, The Whale still affirms anti-fat societal beliefs even though it is not using a fat suit for comedic effect. Charlie is in great physical and emotional pain throughout the entire narrative, just how the American audience needs him to be to earn their attention and sympathy. Even though Charlie is not made the butt of fat jokes, his tragic narrative ensures that he is an acceptable, appropriately pitiable fat subject. This dynamic of sympathy is made more disturbing with the use of a fat suit to represent fatness; Charlie is a fabricated construction of the perfect fat subject for audiences to practice sympathy on. The way individuals from the film and theatre industries speak about these prosthetics in The Whale reveal further anti-fat sentiments, particularly from The Whale ’s playwright and performers. Throughout several interviews on the film, as well as his guest column for The Hollywood Reporter , playwright/screenwriter Samuel D. Hunter touches on his own relationship to fatness (and to Charlie). Hunter recalls growing up as an “ob*se child” and “self-medicat[ing]” his depression with food as an adult. (64) He describes that his “weight range is in a more acceptable place now”; he wears a size “Large Tal[l]” whereas he used to wear a size “XXL.” (65) Hunter explains that when he first began writing The Whale , he “didn’t think [he] was writing a story about a man who was, among other things, living with ob*sity.” (66) But, Hunter says, “somehow making the main character hugely ob*se allowed [him] to drop in emotionally as [he] wrote [Charlie],” calling Charlie “sort of the fun-house mirror version of [himself].” (67) Hunter implies that the larger Charlie’s character became, the more he was able to feel an emotional connection to him. While Hunter has probably dealt with anti-fat stigma in his life, referring to the fategories spectrum reveals that his own experience is undoubtedly different in many ways from someone in a superfat/infinifat body. Furthermore, Hunter’s experience adheres to the anti-fat dynamic that Bordo details. Hunter’s sense of empathy grew when he decided that Charlie was ob*se and the tragedy of Charlie’s life became attributed to his fatness. Hunter established a dynamic in which he could feel empathy and concern for his character through the picture of ob*sity he was creating. Hunter’s joke that Charlie’s body is a fun-house mirror version of his own, a comical distortion because of its size, does not reflect an empathy for larger bodies. Hunter uses Charlie’s superfat/infinifat body as a vessel for exploring his own emotions connected to fatness. He created a narrative of fat that has likely never been performed by a superfat/infinifat person and that conforms to harmful conceptions of fatness as ob*sity. In an interview, Hunter states that “this is not a story about everybody who grapples with ob*sity” and that it represents “how it presented in [himself].” (68) But for some, especially for the OAC members who consulted on the film, The Whale quickly became a representation of more than Hunter’s relationship to fatness. By gaining authority from the OAC, the film became responsible for representing the supposed lives of many fat people. From the beginning of The Whale ’s production history, fat suits were used to perform this story. The fat suit created for the 2012 Playwrights Horizons production of The Whale was built with “foam, padding, weighted beads and spandex” and weighed around fifty pounds. (69) In his New York Times review, Charles Isherwood called the suit “one of the biggest fat suits ever constructed for the theater.” (70) Shuler Hensley, who played Charlie in this production, describes thinking about how “unbelievably gross” he felt he looked in the fat suit. (71) He adds that in order to better connect with his character, he then had to ask himself, “What if I was in that situation? How much guilt would I have that I’m putting not only myself through this, but my family?” (72) In other words, Hensley admitted to his own internalized anti-fatness while playing this fat character and was able to connect with Charlie through pitying him and imagining him in pain, just as Bordo explains. He was disgusted by seeing his body as larger than it really is, even though the additional weight was not real flesh. Hensley also claims that because it was so labor-intensive to wear the fat suit for the role he “lost a good 15 pounds” playing Charlie, jokingly recommending wearing a fat suit as a “weight-loss strategy.” (73) While the statement was meant to be humorous, Hensley indicates that his normative body actually became more slender through portraying fatness, paradoxically describing how his body better conformed to societal body norms through performing a fabricated fatness. The production was well-regarded and was nominated for several awards, winning the 2013 Drama Desk Special Award for Significant Contribution to Theatre and the 2013 Lortel for Outstanding Play, among others. Hensley in particular was recognized for his portrayal of Charlie, winning the 2013 Lortel Award for Outstanding Lead Actor and the 2013 Obie Award in Performance. The production was also awarded the 2013 Lortel for Outstanding Costume design: another award for a fat suit in The Whale ’s production history. (74) The film went through even greater lengths to turn Brendan Fraser into Charlie, aiming to be as real as possible without actually putting a superfat/infinifat person on the big screen. It took upwards of seven hours to get Fraser into full costume, makeup, and prosthetics, complete with skin airbrushing and hand-punched hair. (75) Due to the extremity of this transformation, an air conditioning system within the costume had to be fashioned to keep Fraser cool enough to perform through long days on the film set. (76) Fraser describes the fat suit as feeling like a “straight jacket” while also claiming that the suit was so “beautiful” and “arresting” that it belonged in a museum. 77 In addition to these extensive efforts, the film also relied on CGI, expanding the limits of how ob*sity drag can operate. Fraser explains that the final ensemble was meant to “obey the laws of physics and gravity, because we don’t see that in films.” 78 Fraser both admits that the film industry has been unwilling to put real fat bodies in movies and suggests that digitally enhanced representations of ob*sity are a valid answer to that lack of representation. The fat suits used over the course of the production history of The Whale , and especially in the film adaptation, have been treated by The Whale ’s creators and the OAC as a legitimate substitute for fat bodies. The actors who wear the fat suits appear to feel as though they have achieved some level of genuine understanding about what it is like to be superfat/infinifat, and, in the case of both the film adaption and the 2012 Off-Broadway production, are celebrated with awards for their innovation and dedication. While Fraser is not superfat/infinifat, much attention has been paid to his body throughout his career. In the 1990s, Fraser was considered a “heartthrob,” starring in films such as George of the Jungle (1997) where he showed off his hyperfit physique. (79) On an episode of the Variety talk show Actors on Actors , Fraser discusses his career with fellow actor Adam Sandler. Having worked together on the 1994 film Airheads , Sandler recounts watching Fraser go on to “get very jacked for George of the Jungle .” (80) “I was disappointed how good you looked in that,” Sandler jests, “You made us feel bad about ourselves.” (81) Here, Sandler expresses (though in a humorous tone) that he felt betrayed by Fraser’s body transformation and new heartthrob status. Fraser was celebrated for achieving a particularly conventionally attractive and muscular body, entering a new realm of celebrity. Though, this achievement did not come without sacrifice. Fraser describes being “starved of carbohydrates” to the point of experiencing memory loss while working on George of the Jungle in order to maintain his physique. (82) Fraser would eventually undergo several surgeries to address injuries he sustained while performing stunts for films such as The Mummy (1999) and The Mummy Returns (2001), pushing his body beyond its limits for the sake of his acting career. Fraser’s heartthrob status ultimately came at the cost of overworking and harming his body, negatively impacting his well-being for years after the fact. Despite continuing to act in film and television consistently through the 2000s and 2010s, Fraser seemed to fall into the periphery of the public eye. A 2018 GQ feature by Zach Baron titled “What Ever Happened to Brendan Fraser?” acknowledged Fraser’s retreat from mainstream fame and reignited public interest in Fraser and his career. (83) Guy Webster, in a 2021 Kill Your Darlings article, notes that the new attention Fraser was receiving also reignited a “weird, though wholly unsurprising, preoccupation with [Fraser’s] body.” (84) In the GQ feature, Baron describes Fraser’s appearance, detailing the stubble on his “once mighty chin” and how his shirt “draped indifferently over the once mighty body.” (85) Webster was struck by Baron’s word choice, claiming Baron “focus[ed] this shared memory on Fraser’s body in a way that emphasises what has been lost.” (86) Fraser’s failure to conform to the Hollywood body ideals he once exemplified inevitably became a talking point around his “comeback.” Webster reports social media posts comparing images of Fraser’s current body with images from George of the Jungle “with unoriginal captions like ‘oh god, what happened?’” (87) Fraser’s body has inevitably and understandably changed since the 90s, due to (among other factors) his injuries, aging, and no longer starving himself to maintain his hyperfit figure. And this change—much like his first transformation—could not go without comment from the media. Moreover, Fraser intentionally gained weight in preparation for The Whale , a further bodily transgression as he entered proximity to Charlie’s fatness. While Fraser explains that his “weight has been all over the map,” he is still significantly smaller than Charlie is intended to be, even after gaining weight for the role. (88) In her essay on the film, Tigress Osborn calls Fraser “Hollywood fat,” recognizing that while he is “larger now than he was in his 1990s heartthrob heyday,” he is still “several hundred pounds smaller” than Charlie. (89) Fraser admitted that his weight gain did not result in him becoming Charlie’s size and, thus, he wore a fat suit; his body and the fat suit “worked together” to become Charlie, Fraser describes. (90) Fraser has faced anti-fatness for his “Hollywood fat” body, but he does not have the embodied experience of the anti-fatness that superfat/infinifat people face. If Fraser’s weight gain was part of his attempt to gain a better understanding of fat embodiment, earning some sense of authority to represent fat people, this blatantly disregards the nuance of experiences across different sizes that the fategories spectrum signifies. This conflation mirrors Hunter’s failure to acknowledge important differences along the fategories spectrum. Yet, Fraser’s performance as Charlie has been treated as a genuine and respectful representation of superfat/infinifat lives, and Fraser has been rewarded for his dedication. (91) While Osborn admits that Frazer “ooze[d] good intention” throughout his press tour, conveying that he “felt totally committed to getting this right,” his performance as Charlie did not challenge harmful, normative ideas about fatness. (92) This was still a performance of ob*sity drag. Queer/ed Fat Timelines In the article “Tempo-rarily Fat: A Queer Exploration of Fat Time,” authors Jami McFarland, Vanessa Slothouber, and Allison Taylor consider how fat bodies are “queer/ed” by their failure to conform to heteronormative timelines. (93) Fat bodies are rendered queer in their relationship to heteronormative time. The authors focus on the heteronormative milestones of “marriage, reproduction/childrearing, and death” to determine how fat bodies are “‘out of time’ in societies governed by heteronormative temporal arrangements.” (94) The authors also explore the “productive potential of positing fat subjects as chrononormative failures.” (95) In The Whale , Charlie’s queer sexual orientation intersects with the queerness of his fat body, specifically as it relates to achievements of successful heteronormativity. His relationship to heteronormative family is further complicated by his fatness. Thinking through fat as a chrononormative failure, Charlie’s fatness becomes the site of further transgressions of the heteronormative majoritarian sphere. The representation of Charlie’s transgressions through ob*sity drag demonstrates for U.S. audiences how queer/ed fatness fails to achieve a normatively successful family life, again adopting the War on Ob*sity mentality to further pathologize fatness. In the play/film, Charlie was initially married to Mary and together they had their daughter Ellie. But then Charlie met Alan, a student in one of Charlie’s classes (though he is described as “only a couple years younger” than Charlie). Alan was “the engaged son of a Mormon bishop” and Charlie “had a wife and kid at home,” but the two “couldn’t stand to be apart.” (96) Alan left his fiancé and Charlie left his family so they could pursue a relationship together. But Alan was unable to cope with his religious trauma while also being in a queer relationship and he ultimately committed suicide. Charlie indicates that his grief over Alan’s death caused him to gain weight. He tells Ellie, “Someone very close to me passed away, and it—had an effect on me.” (97) The last time Ellie saw Charlie was when she was two years old. Though Charlie claims that he “was always big,” Ellie’s response to seeing Charlie again emphasizes how much larger he is now. (98) In their second scene together, Charlie tries to learn more about Ellie’s current life, asking her, “Is your mother—with anyone now?” Ellie replies, “No. Why, you interested?” As Charlie stumbles over his words to respond (“Oh, no, I was just—”), Ellie says, “I’m kidding, Jesus. How could you be with anyone?” (99) While it was the queerness of Charlie’s sexuality that led to the end of his marriage with Mary, breaking up his heteronormative family unit, this exchange with Ellie demonstrates how Charlie’s queer/ed fatness has become a barrier to any potential romantic relationship on a heteronormative timeline. McFarland, Slothouber, and Taylor describe that in contemporary society “fatness and marriage are positioned” as “mutually exclusive”; they write, “In other words, fatties do not marry.” (100) Charlie is now fat, meaning that he does not have the proper slender embodiment required to successfully enter into a new relationship. Even if a potential partnership was not a queer one, it would still violate this societal belief that fat people are not meant to find long-term romantic partnerships. Society also dictates that obedient bodies are to “lose weight for each ‘straight’ time ‘achievement.’” (101) After said achievement, bodies are permitted to “indulge” but “not to the point of getting fat.” (102) The Whale ’s narrative adheres to these societal rules, punishing Charlie for leaving his heteronormative family life and determining that he is not worthy of another relationship in his current body. Furthermore, McFarland, Slothouber, and Taylor cite Francis Ray White to establish that fat people, specifically through the lens of ob*sity, are determined to be “sexual and reproductive failures, or ‘fucking failures.’” (103) In addition to a lack of romantic love, Charlie is not permitted to have a successful sexual life. Early in the plot, the stage directions indicate that Charlie is seen “ masturbating to gay porn .” (104) But he feels a pain in his chest and starts to hyperventilate, unable to continue. This scene insinuates that Charlie’s health conditions related to his fatness make him unable to fulfill his own sexual needs. Later, further establishing Charlie as a “fucking failure,” Ellie says to Elder Thomas, “What’s more surprising? That a gay guy has a daughter, or that someone found his penis?” (105) Charlie’s fatness is also implicated as a reason for his failure as a parent. First, the authors of “Tempo-rarily Fat” state that because ob*sity is “figured within a ‘personal responsibility frame’ as ‘a behavioral problem,’” fat parents are “understood as making the ‘wrong’ choices for both themselves and their children by being fat while parenting.” (106) Second, and of particular concern to the War on Ob*sity mentality, the authors explain that “fat parents are also charged with potentially (in the future) depriving their children of parents” because ob*sity is associated with “premature death.” (107) When Mary comes to Charlie’s apartment to confront him, Charlie expresses that he wants to know Ellie will have a good life after he is gone, especially because he has not been involved in most of her life. Charlie says that Mary “fought [him] pretty hard for full custody,” indicating that Mary (and the court) did not find Charlie to be a fit parent after breaking his heteronormative family unit. (108) Charlie pleads for Mary to not give up on Ellie, for her to be there for Ellie after he dies. Mary responds, “You’ve been eating yourself to death for fifteen years and you’re saying that I gave up on her?” (109) Mary explicitly addresses Charlie’s fatness as the reason he has failed as a father to Ellie. Mary also alludes to Charlie’s impending death which ultimately adheres to the prognosis that fat parents will leave their children in a premature death. The authors of “Tempo-rarily Fat” make clear that they offer this analysis of fat people as chrononormative failures not to “positio[n] these limitations as wholly oppressive” but in order to “conclude that queer/ed fat temporalities offer opportunities for reimagining ways of life and time.” (110) In other words, even as they point out how queer/ed fat bodies do not conform to “straight” temporalities, the authors desire to show the liberatory potentials of fat bodies existing and thriving in their own fat temporality/time. However, The Whale does not allow for Charlie to exist outside of the confines of heteronormative temporalities, or beyond the limits of “no time.” Charlie remains out of time : both out of sync with heteronormative temporality and with no time left in his life. The Whale denies the possibility of fat time by excluding fat bodies in performance and ensuring that Charlie’s character upholds the War on Ob*sity mentality. The Future of Fat From the first production of The Whale , superfat/infinifat performers have never been cast to play Charlie . For the Denver premiere, playwright Hunter expressed that it would not be possible to cast an actual person of Charlie’s size in the show. “Someone in that condition,” he said, “they were not doing eight shows a week.” (111) For the film adaptation, Aronofsky claims that the film’s team briefly considered casting a fat actor. However, Aronofsky also concluded that it would be “impossible” to cast a “real person dealing with [the] issues” that Charlie lives with. (112) Aronofsky was concerned that “an actor with severe ob*sity would struggle with the demands of a grueling production schedule.” (113) “From a health perspective,” he says, “it’s prohibitive.” (114) Aronofsky says both that most superfat/infinifat bodies will inevitably be plagued with fatal health concerns like Charlie and that they would not be able to endure or survive performing the role. Because of both Aronofsky’s and Hunter’s unwillingness to entertain the capabilities of fat performers, The Whale further cemented its legacy of ob*sity drag in the film adaptation. Though, the consideration of a fat performer in the role of Charlie presents an issue for further (and future) consideration: would the anti-fatness of The Whale be mitigated by casting a fat performer? In other words, even with a fat body in the leading role, does this story need to be told at all? In their 2020 HowlRound essay “Towards a Fat Theatre: Reimagining Bodies Onstage,” Jeff Bouthiette describes taking on the role of Charlie in a reading of The Whale on Zoom. Not knowing the play very well before the reading, Bouthiette recounts feeling “hopeful, since it contains one of the few theatrical depictions of someone living in a very large body.” (115) But when they engaged more deeply with the play they “became discouraged,” finding a fat character who was “a relentlessly sad individual in a relentlessly sad story.” (116) Bouthiette concludes: “The fact that this is one of the few examples of characters of this size is heartbreaking.” (117) Bouthiette’s experience with The Whale suggests that the theatre and film industries should be asking not if fat performers can survive the grueling conditions of playing Charlie but if fat performers can endure the conditions of a tragic script like The Whale . Asking fat people to tell this particular story of fatness is to ask fat bodies to perform a narrative of ob*sity. And the War on Ob*sity mentality consistently feeds on the premise of their fat bodies no longer existing at all. In order to support the future of fat in the face of a war against it, and to ensure the survival of fat bodies, both theatre and film industries must give more attention to the fat stories told by fat people. A fat future is one where fat bodies can exist on their own terms, abundantly expanding in fat time beyond the conceptions of no time. Fat futures are not to be determined entirely by bodies that are not fat or bodies that perform fabricated, dehumanizing fatness. The cycle of normalizing and celebrating slender bodies for their temporary proximity to fatness is what must ultimately come to an end. References The other two films nominated for the 2023 Oscar for Best Makeup and Hairstyling that used fat suits were Elvis (Tom Hanks) and The Batman (Colin Farrel). Kelsey Castanon, “The Problem With 3 Oscar-Nominated Films Using Fat Suits,” PopSugar , last modified 13 March 2023, https://www.popsugar.com/beauty/prosthetics-makeup-fat-suits-hollywood-49111321 . “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” posted 6 December 2022, by Variety, YouTube, 29 min., 23 sec., https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XpAb11hqy4&t=1092s . Following the lead of fat activists like Tigress Osborn, the current Executive Director of the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA), I use an asterisk in the word ob*se/ob*sity throughout to mark the word as an anti-fat slur that the fat liberation community and fat studies field generally denounce. All additions of asterisks are my own, save any reference to Tigress Osborn’s essay on The Whale . Ob*sity as a concept is antithetical to the efforts of all fat liberation activists and fat studies scholars. Fat is not a bad word. For more on this see: Marilyn Wann, “Foreword: Fat Studies: An Invitation to Revolution,” in The Fat Studies Reader , ed. Esther Rothblum and Sondra Solovay (New York University Press, 2009), ix-xxv. Paul Campos, The Obesity Myth: Why America’s Obsession with Weight is Hazardous to Your Health (Gotham Books, 2004), 83-86. Royce Best, “Making Obesity Fat: Crip Estrangement in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1 ,” Disability Studies Quarterly 39, no. 4 (2019), https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v39i4.7149 . Tracy Tidgwell, May Friedman, Jen Rinaldi, Crystal Kotow, and Emily R.M. Lind, “Introduction to the Special Issue: Fatness and Temporality,” Fat Studies 7, no. 2 (2018): 118, https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2017.1375262 . The previous use of “Amercians” and all future references to “America” throughout refer to the United States. Campos, The Obesity Myth , xv-xvi. Campos, xxv. Campos, xvii. Wann, “Foreword: Fat Studies,” xii, xiii. Emma Beckett, “Drugs Like Ozempic Won’t ‘Cure’ Obesity But They Might Make Us More Fatphobic,” The Conversation , last modified 9 April 2024, https://theconversation.com/drugs-like-ozempic-wont-cure-obesity-but-they-might-make-us-more-fat-phobic-219309#:~:text=The%20Ozempic%20buzz%20isn't,who%20live%20in%20larger%20bodies .; Elizabeth Daube, “Are the New Weight Loss Drugs Too Good to Be True?” UCSF Magazine 13, no. 1 (2024), https://magazine.ucsf.edu/weight-loss-drugs-too-good-to-be-true .; Flora Oswald, “Anti-fatness in the Ozempic Era: State of the Landscape and Considerations for Future Research,” Fat Studies 13, no. 2 (2024): 128-134, https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2024.2307674 . Tidgwell et al., “Fatness and Temporality,” 115. Tidgwell et al., 115. Tidgwell et al., 115. Tidgwell et al., 115-116. For more on the history of fat suits and prosthetics, as well as the portrayal of disability, in theatre history (in this case, on Broadway) see: Ryan Donovan, Broadway Bodies: A Critical History of Conformity (Oxford University Press, 2023). Tobin Siebers, “Disability as Masquerade,” Disability Theory (University of Michigan Press, 2008), 115. Siebers, “Disability as Masquerade,” 116. Amy Gullage, “Fat Monica, Fat Suits, and Friends : Exploring Narratives of Fatness,” Feminist Media Studies 14, no. 2 (2014): 179, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2012.724026 . Gullage, “Fat Monica, Fat Suits, and Friends ” 186. I want to note that even when the performer pre-fat suit would not be considered particularly slender, their own body is still smaller than their body in a fat suit. The fat suit is used to portray a fabricated fatness. Additionally, even small(er) fat people can express anti-fatness towards other fat bodies, especially towards those larger than their own. Donovan, Broadway Bodies , 81. I identify as small fat. Ash Nischuk is credited with the coining of the term “infinifat” and identifies as such. Ash Nischuk, “Beyond Superfat: Rethinking the Farthest End of the Fat Spectrum,” The Fat Lip , last modified 20 December 2016, http://thefatlip.com/2016/12/20/beyond-superfat-rethinking-the-farthest-end-of-the-fat-spectrum/ .; Linda Gerhardt, “Fategories: Understanding the Fat Spectrum,” Fluffy Kitten Party, last modified 1 June 2021, https://fluffykittenparty.com/2021/06/01/fategories-understanding-smallfat-fragility-the-fat-spectrum/ .; Cherry Midnight and Max Airborne, “Community Origins of the Term ‘Superfat,’” Medium , last modified 2 December 2020, https://cherrymax.medium.com/community-origins-of-the-term-superfat-9e98e1b0f201 . Though, it is important to note that weight is used to determine Charlie’s size, and the same weight can look extremely different from body to body. The world premiere production of The Whale was presented by the Denver Center Theatre Company at the Ricketson Theater in Denver, Colorado, in early 2012. Tom Alan Robbins played the role of Charlie and, though he was described as “a bit overweight” himself, he wore a fat suit. Michael Mulhern, “BWW Reviews: Denver Center’s The Whale—A Heavy, Superb Drama,” Broadway World , last modified 26 January 2012, https://www.broadwayworld.com/denver/article/BWW-Reviews-Denver-Centers-THE-WHALE-a-Heavy-Superb-Drama-20120126 .; Ray Mark Rinaldi, “Theater Review: ‘The Whale’ a Drama of Gigantic Proportions,” The Denver Post , last modified 3 May 2016, https://www.denverpost.com/2012/01/23/theater-review-the-whale-a-drama-of-gigantic-proportions-2/ .; Ray Mark Rinaldi, “‘Whale’ Promises to be a Whopper of a Family Drama,” The Denver Post , last modified 1 May 2016, https://www.denverpost.com/2012/01/05/whale-promises-to-be-a-whopper-of-a-family-drama/ . “The Whale Charlie Stage Play,” Google Image Search, accessed 26 October 2025, https://www.google.com/search?q=the+whale+charlie+stage+play&sca_esv=8e61a810906f0d86&rlz=1C1UEAD_enUS1113US1113&udm=2&biw=1440&bih=731&sxsrf=AE3TifN_h16QQMJ1UU9kzRTqtHZVJw1fpA%3A1761529337469&ei=-c3-aJavHMukiLMPu6jW-QE&ved=0ahUKEwjWj6-ToMOQAxVLEmIAHTuUNR8Q4dUDCBI&uact=5&oq=the+whale+charlie+stage+play&gs_lp=Egtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZyIcdGhlIHdoYWxlIGNoYXJsaWUgc3RhZ2UgcGxheUifI1AAWMUhcAV4AJABAZgBuAGgAYIZqgEFMjEuMTG4AQPIAQD4AQGYAhagAooQqAIKwgIKECMYJxjJAhjqAsICBxAjGCcYyQLCAgoQABiABBhDGIoFwgILEAAYgAQYsQMYgwHCAg4QABiABBixAxiDARiKBcICCBAAGIAEGLEDwgINEAAYgAQYsQMYQxiKBcICBRAAGIAEwgIEEAAYHsICBhAAGAgYHpgDCpIHBTExLjExoAftcrIHBDguMTG4B_APwgcIMC4xLjE3LjTIB4MB&sclient=gws-wiz-img . This is not intended to discount or invalidate the experience of those who are fat and do have a binge eating disorder, but the stereotype is often used as a way to discriminate against fat people rather than sympathize with their experience. Samuel D. Hunter, The Whale and A Bright New Boise (Theatre Communications Group, 2014), 85. All of the quotes from The Whale throughout are from the playscript; though, the playscript and film script are quite similar. Hunter, The Whale , 29. Hunter, The Whale , 99. Hunter, The Whale , 100. Darren Aronofsky, director, The Whale , A24, 2022, 1 hr., 57 min., https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/amzn1.dv.gti.fcfefde7-0072-43a7-90ca-6f14e50fcfd7?autoplay=0&ref_=atv_cf_strg_wb , 1:50:00. Hunter, The Whale , 6. May Friedman, Fat Studies: The Basics (Routledge, 2025), 89. “Super sized” is another term that can be used to describe superfat or infinifat bodies; though, Midnight and Airborne explain that those who created the term “superfat” were replacing the use of “supersized” for themselves. See: Midnight and Airborne, “Community Origins of the Term ‘Superfat.’” Aubrey Gordon, What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat (Beacon Press, 2020), 124. Melissa Zimdars, “Spectacle, Sympathy, and the Medicalized Disease of ‘Obesity,’” Watching Our Weights: Contradictions of Televising Fatness in the “Obesity Epidemic” (Rutgers University Press, 2019), 111. Zimdars, “Spectacle, Sympathy, and the Medicalized Disease of ‘Obesity,’” 115. Nischuk has both a blog and a podcast titled “The Fat Lip.” Ash Nischuk, “Our 600 Pound Lives,” The Fat Lip , last modified 21 March 2020, http://thefatlip.com/2020/03/21/our-600-pound-lives/ . Nischuk, “Our 600 Pound Lives.” Nischuk, “Our 600 Pound Lives.” Nischuk, “Our 600 Pound Lives.” Nischuk, “Our 600 Pound Lives.” Zimdars, 103-104. Gordon, What We Don’t Talk About , 123-124. Hunter, The Whale , 90. Aronofsky, The Whale , 1:32:53. “Why the OAC Exists,” Obesity Action Coalition, accessed 30 October 2025, https://www.obesityaction.org/about/purpose/who-we-are/ . Beatrice Verhoeven, “‘The Whale’ Producer on Criticism of the Film: ‘We Just Want to Be Honest and Truthful,’” The Hollywood Reporter , last modified 10 February 2023, https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/the-whale-producer-film-criticism-brendan-fraser-1235319749/ . “Obesity Action Coalition and ‘The Whale,’” Obesity Action Coalition, last modified 8 December 2022, https://www.obesityaction.org/the-whale/ . “An Honest Conversation About ‘The Whale’: Fresh Perspectives,” video, posted 11 January 2023, by Obesity Action Coalition, YouTube, 17 min., 43 sec., https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXcik2xfPOM .; “The Whale: Brendan Fraser Talks with OAC,” video, posted 17 February 2023, by Obesity Action Coalition, YouTube, 12 min., 16 sec., https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ka4jLFrWVc . Obesity Action Coalition,“An Honest Conversation,” 12:18. “People-First Language,” Obesity Action Coalition, last accessed 30 October 2025, https://www.obesityaction.org/action-through-advocacy/weight-bias/people-first-language/ . Obesity Action Coalition, “An Honest Conversation,” 12:28. It is worth acknowledging here that “fat” is not a comfortable word for all people with larger bodies; the word fat can still also be used to cause harm. Tigress Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness Extends Beyond The Whale,” NAAFA, last modified 20 March 2023, https://naafa.org/newsletter-articles/hollywoods-anti-fatness-extends-beyond-the-whale . “About Us,” NAAFA, accessed 30 October 2025, https://naafa.org/aboutus . Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness.” Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness.” Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness.” Gullage, “Fat Monica, Fat Suits, and Friends .”; Niall Richardson, “‘But It’s Only a Fat Suit!’: Representing ‘Fake’ Fat in Popular Culture,” Transgressive Bodies: Representations in Film and Popular Culture (Routledge, 2010).; Katharina R. Mendoza, “Seeing Through the Layers: Fat Suits and Thin Bodies in The Nutty Professor and Shallow Hal ,” in The Fat Studies Reader, ed. Esther Rothblum and Sondra Solovay (New York University Press, 2009). Samuel D. Hunter, “Guest Column: ‘The Whale’ Writer Samuel D. Hunter Says the Film is an Invitation to Experience Humanity,” The Hollywood Reporter , last modified 7 December 2022, https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/the-whale-writer-guest-column-samuel-d-hunter-1235276194/ . Obesity Action Coalition, “Obesity Action Coalition and ‘The Whale.’” Susan Bordo, “Reading the Slender Body,” Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body , 10th Anniversary Edition (University of California Press, 2003), 204. Bordo, “Reading the Slender Body,” 204. Scott Heller, “Characters Who Take Up More Than Their Share of Room in the Family,” New York Times , last modified 12 December 2012, https://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/13/books/obesity-with-jami-attenberg-and-samuel-d-hunter.html .; Hunter, “Guest Column.” Heller, “Characters Who Take Up.” Hunter, “Guest Column.” Note the use of people-first language here. Heller, “Characters Who Take Up.” Brent Lang, “Brendan Fraser’s Triumphant Comeback: How Playing a 600-Pound Gay Man in ‘The Whale’ Resurrected His Career,” Variety , last modified 12 October 2022, https://variety.com/2022/film/features/brendan-fraser-the-whale-career-1235399057/ . Barbara Hoffman, “Broadway Goes Big,” New York Post , last modified 4 November 2012, https://nypost.com/2012/11/04/broadway-goes-big/ . Charles Isherwood, “The Enormity of a Man’s Problems, and Vice Versa,” New York Times , last modified 5 November 2012, https://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/06/theater/reviews/shuler-hensley-in-the-whale-by-samuel-d-hunter.html . Rosalind Bentley, “Looking Past Heft, Finding Humanity: In ‘The Whale,’ Local Actor and Director Explore the Shrinking Orbit of a Large Man,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution , 24 November 2012, Gale General OneFile. Bentley, “Looking Past Heft.” Hoffman, “Broadway Goes Big.” American Theatre Editors, “20 Questions for Shuler Hensley,” American Theatre Magazine 30, no. 6 (2013): 88.; Gordon Cox, “Off Broadway’s Lortel Awards Like ‘Piano Lesson,’ ‘Whale,’” Variety , last modified 6 May 2013, https://variety.com/2013/legit/news/off-broadways-lortel-awards-like-piano-lesson-whale-1200464475/ .; “The Whale,” Concord Theatricals, accessed 28 October 2025, https://www.concordtheatricals.com/p/12562/the-whale .; Andrew Gans, “Nominees Announced for 79th Annual Drama League Awards,” Playbill , last modified 23 April 2013, https://playbill.com/article/nominees-announced-for-79th-annual-drama-league-awards-com-204687 . Liam Kelly, “Brendan Fraser’s Seven-Hour Transformation for The Whale,” The Times , last modified 5 March 2023, https://www.thetimes.com/culture/film/article/brendan-frasers-seven-hour-transformation-for-the-whale-7wtx7t20c . David Canfield, “Inside Brendan Fraser’s The Whale Transformation: ‘I Wanted to Disappear,’” Vanity Fair , last modified 31 August 2022, https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2022/08/awards-insider-the-whale-brendan-fraser-darren-aronofsky-exclusive . Kelly, “Brendan Fraser’s Seven-Hour Transformation.” Canfield, “Inside Brendan Fraser’s The Whale Transformation.” Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 16:07. Kelly, “Brendan Fraser’s Seven-Hour Transformation.” Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 7:15. Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 7:20, 7:37. Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 7:47. Zach Baron, “What Ever Happened to Brendan Fraser?” GQ , last modified 22 February 2018, https://www.gq.com/story/what-ever-happened-to-brendan-fraser . This feature was also the first time Fraser had spoken publicly about his sexual assault allegations against former Hollywood Foreign Press Association president Philip Berk, another factor of Fraser’s career that most likely impacted his relevancy in the industry between the 1990s and the 2020s. Guy Webster, “An Ode to Brendan Fraser and Body Neutrality,” Kill Your Darlings, last modified 8 November 2021, https://www.killyourdarlings.com.au/article/an-ode-to-brendan-fraser-and-body-neutrality/ . Baron, “What Ever Happened.” Webster, “An Ode to Brendan Fraser.” Webster, “An Ode to Brendan Fraser.” Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 17:13. Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness.” Variety, “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: Actors on Actors,” 17:26. It was predicted that Fraser was bound to win the Oscar for Best Actor after receiving a six-minute standing ovation at the world-premiere screening of The Whale . Ramin Setoodeh, Zack Sharf, and Elsa Keslassy, “Brendan Fraser Breaks Down in Tears as ‘The Whale’ Gets Huge 6-Minute Standing Ovation in Venice,” Variety , last modified 4 September 2022, https://variety.com/2022/film/news/brendan-fraser-cries-the-whale-venice-standing-ovation-1235337836/ . Osborn, “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness.” Jami McFarland, Vanessa Slothouber, and Allison Taylor, “Tempo-rarily Fat: A Queer Exploration of Fat Time,” Fat Studies 7, no. 2 (2017): 2, https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2017.1376275 . McFarland et al., 2, 3. McFarland et al., 9. Hunter, The Whale , 48-49. Hunter, The Whale , 40. Reality shows centered on weight loss (such as My 600-lb Life and The Biggest Loser ) often exploit this trope of fatness being connected to grief or past trauma, requiring participants to divulge their pain for the audience. See: Friedman, Fat Studies , 88. Hunter, The Whale , 25. Hunter, The Whale , 40. McFarland et al., 3. McFarland et al., 2. McFarland et al., 2. McFarland et al., 6. Hunter, The Whale , 11. Hunter, The Whale , 42. McFarland et al., 6-7. McFarland et al., 7. Hunter, The Whale , 80. Hunter, The Whale , 85. McFarland et al., 3. Rinaldi, “Whopper of a Family Drama.” Lang, “Brendan Fraser’s Triumphant Comeback.” Lang, “Brendan Fraser’s Triumphant Comeback.” Lang, “Brendan Fraser’s Triumphant Comeback.” Jeff Bouthiette, “Towards a Fat Theatre: Reimaging Bodies Onstage,” HowlRound Theatre Commons, last modified 26 October 2020, https://howlround.com/towards-fat-theatre . Bouthiette, “Towards a Fat Theatre.” Bouthiette, “Towards a Fat Theatre.” Works Cited “About Us.” NAAFA. Accessed 30 October 2025. https://naafa.org/aboutus . American Theatre Editors. “20 Questions for Shuler Hensley.” American Theatre Magazine 30, no. 6 (2013): 88. “An Honest Conversation About ‘The Whale’: Fresh Perspectives.” Video. Posted 11 January 2023, by Obesity Action Coalition. YouTube. 17 min., 43 sec. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXcik2xfPOM . Aronofsky, Darren, director. The Whale . A24. 2022. 1 hr., 57 min. https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/amzn1.dv.gti.fcfefde7-0072-43a7-90ca-6f14e50fcfd7?autoplay=0&ref_=atv_cf_strg_wb . Baron, Zach. “What Ever Happened to Brendan Fraser?” GQ . Last modified 22 February 2018. https://www.gq.com/story/what-ever-happened-to-brendan-fraser . Beckett, Emma. “Drugs Like Ozempic Won’t ‘Cure’ Obesity But They Might Make Us More Fatphobic.” The Conversation . Last modified 9 April 2024. https://theconversation.com/drugs-like-ozempic-wont-cure-obesity-but-they-might-make-us-more-fat-phobic-219309#:~:text=The%20Ozempic%20buzz%20isn't,who%20live%20in%20larger%20bodies . Bentley, Rosalind. “Looking Past Heft, Finding Humanity: In ‘The Whale,’ Local Actor and Director Explore the Shrinking Orbit of a Large Man.” Atlanta Journal-Constitution . 24 November 2012. Gale General OneFile. Best, Royce. “Making Obesity Fat: Crip Estrangement in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1 .” Disability Studies Quarterly 39, no. 4 (2019). https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v39i4.7149 . Bordo, Susan. “Reading the Slender Body.” Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body , 10th Anniversary Edition. University of California Press, 2003. Bouthiette, Jeff. “Towards a Fat Theatre: Reimaging Bodies Onstage.” HowlRound Theatre Commons. Last modified 26 October 2020. https://howlround.com/towards-fat-theatre . “Brendan Fraser & Adam Sandler: “Actors on Actors.” Posted 6 December 2022. By Variety, YouTube. 29 min., 23 sec. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XpAb11hqy4&t=1092s . Campos, Paul. The Obesity Myth: Why America’s Obsession with Weight is Hazardous to Your Health . Gotham Books, 2004. Canfield, David. “Inside Brendan Fraser’s The Whale Transformation: ‘I Wanted to Disappear.’” Vanity Fair . Last modified 31 August 2022. https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2022/08/awards-insider-the-whale-brendan-fraser-darren-aronofsky-exclusive . Castanon, Kelsey. “The Problem With 3 Oscar-Nominated Films Using Fat Suits.” PopSugar . Last modified 13 March 2023. https://www.popsugar.com/beauty/prosthetics-makeup-fat-suits-hollywood-49111321 . Cox, Gordon. “Off Broadway’s Lortel Awards Like ‘Piano Lesson,’ ‘Whale.’” Variety. Last modified 6 May 2013. https://variety.com/2013/legit/news/off-broadways-lortel-awards-like-piano-lesson-whale-1200464475/ . Daube, Elizabeth. “Are the New Weight Loss Drugs Too Good to Be True?” UCSF Magazine 13, no. 1 (2024). https://magazine.ucsf.edu/weight-loss-drugs-too-good-to-be-true . Donovan, Ryan. Broadway Bodies: A Critical History of Conformity . Oxford University Press, 2023. Friedman, May. Fat Studies: The Basics . Routledge, 2025. Gans, Andrew. “Nominees Announced for 79th Annual Drama League Awards.” Playbill . Last modified 23 April 2013. https://playbill.com/article/nominees-announced-for-79th-annual-drama-league-awards-com-204687 . Gerhardt, Linda. “Fategories: Understanding the Fat Spectrum.” Fluffy Kitten Party . Last modified 1 June 2021. https://fluffykittenparty.com/2021/06/01/fategories-understanding-smallfat-fragility-the-fat-spectrum/ . Gordon, Aubrey. What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat. Beacon Press, 2020. Gullage, Amy. “Fat Monica, Fat Suits, and Friends : Exploring Narratives of Fatness.” Feminist Media Studies 14, no. 2 (2014): 178-189. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2012.724026 . Heller, Scott. “Characters Who Take Up More Than Their Share of Room in the Family.” New York Times . Last modified 12 December 2012. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/13/books/obesity-with-jami-attenberg-and-samuel-d-hunter.html . Hoffman, Barbara. “Broadway Goes Big.” New York Post . Last modified 4 November 2012. https://nypost.com/2012/11/04/broadway-goes-big/ . Hunter, Samuel D. “Guest Column: ‘The Whale’ Writer Samuel D. Hunter Says the Film is an Invitation to Experience Humanity. The Hollywood Reporter . Last modified 7 December 2022. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/the-whale-writer-guest-column-samuel-d-hunter-1235276194/ . Hunter, Samuel D. The Whale and A Bright New Boise. Theatre Communications Group, 2014. Isherwood, Charles. “The Enormity of a Man’s Problems, and Vice Versa.” New York Times . Last modified 5 November 2012. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/06/theater/reviews/shuler-hensley-in-the-whale-by-samuel-d-hunter.html . Kelly, Liam. “Brendan Fraser’s Seven-Hour Transformation for The Whale.” The Times . Last modified 5 March 2023. https://www.thetimes.com/culture/film/article/brendan-frasers-seven-hour-transformation-for-the-whale-7wtx7t20c . Lang, Brent. “Brendan Fraser’s Triumphant Comeback: How Playing a 600-Pound Gay Man in ‘The Whale’ Resurrected His Career.” Variety . Last modified 12 October 2022. https://variety.com/2022/film/features/brendan-fraser-the-whale-career-1235399057/ . McFarland, Jami, Vanessa Slothouber, and Allison Taylor. “Tempo-rarily Fat: A Queer Exploration of Fat Time.” Fat Studies 7, no. 2 (2017): 135-146. https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2017.1376275 . Midnight, Cherry, and Max Airborne. “Community Origins of the Term ‘Superfat.’” Medium . Last modified 2 December 2020. http://thefatlip.com/2016/12/20/beyond-superfat-rethinking-the-farthest-end-of-the-fat-spectrum/ . Mendoza, Katharina R. “Seeing Through the Layers: Fat Suits and Thin Bodies in The Nutty Professor and Shallow Hal.” In The Fat Studies Reader , edited by Esther Rothblum and Sondra Solovay. New York University Press, 2009. Mulhern, Michael. “BWW Reviews: Denver Center’s The Whale —A Heavy, Superb Drama.” Broadway World. Last modified 26 January 2012. https://www.broadwayworld.com/denver/article/BWW-Reviews-Denver-Centers-THE-WHALE-a-Heavy-Superb-Drama-20120126 . Nischuk, Ash. “Beyond Superfat: Rethinking the Farthest End of the Fat Spectrum.” The Fat Lip . Last modified 20 December 2016. http://thefatlip.com/2016/12/20/beyond-superfat-rethinking-the-farthest-end-of-the-fat-spectrum/ . Nischuk, Ash. “Our 600 Pound Lives.” The Fat Lip . Last modified 21 March 2020. http://thefatlip.com/2020/03/21/our-600-pound-lives/ . Obesity Action Coalition. “Obesity Action Coalition and ‘The Whale.’” Last modified 8 December 2022. https://www.obesityaction.org/the-whale/ . Obesity Action Coalition. “People-First Language.” Accessed 30 October 2025. https://www.obesityaction.org/action-through-advocacy/weight-bias/people-first-language/ . Obesity Action Coalition. “Why the OAC Exists.” Accessed 30 October 2025. https://www.obesityaction.org/about/purpose/who-we-are/ . Osborn, Tigress. “Hollywood’s Anti-Fatness Extends Beyond The Whale.” NAAFA. Last modified 20 March 2023. https://naafa.org/newsletter-articles/hollywoods-anti-fatness-extends-beyond-the-whale . Oswald, Flora. “Anti-fatness in the Ozempic Era: State of the Landscape and Considerations for Future Research.” Fat Studies 13, no. 2 (2024): 128-134. https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2024.2307674 . Richardson, Niall. “‘But It’s Only a Fat Suit!’: Representing ‘Fake’ Fat in Popular Culture.” Transgressive Bodies: Representations in Film and Popular Culture. Routledge, 2010. Rinaldi, Ray Mark. “Theater Review: ‘The Whale’ a Drama of Gigantic Proportions.” The Denver Post . Last modified 3 May 2016. https://www.denverpost.com/2012/01/23/theater-review-the-whale-a-drama-of-gigantic-proportions-2/ . Rinaldi, Ray Mark. “‘Whale’ Promises to be a Whopper of a Family Drama.” The Denver Post . Last modified 1 May 2016. https://www.denverpost.com/2012/01/05/whale-promises-to-be-a-whopper-of-a-family-drama/ . Setoodeh, Ramin, Zack Sharf, and Elsa Keslassy. “Brendan Fraser Breaks Down in Tears as ‘The Whale’ Gets Huge 6-Minute Standing Ovation in Venice.” Variety Last modified 4 September 2022. https://variety.com/2022/film/news/brendan-fraser-cries-the-whale-venice-standing-ovation-1235337836/ . Siebers, Tobin. “Disability as Masquerade.” Disability Theory . University of Michigan Press, 2008. “The Whale.” Concord Theatricals. Accessed 28 October 2025. https://www.concordtheatricals.com/p/12562/the-whale . “The Whale: Brendan Fraser Talks with OAC.” Video. Posted 17 February 2023, by Obesity Action Coalition. YouTube. 12 min., 16 sec. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ka4jLFrWVc . “The Whale Charlie Stage Play.” Google Image Search. Accessed 26 October 2025. https://www.google.com/search?q=the+whale+charlie+stage+play&sca_esv=8e61a810906f0d86&rlz=1C1UEAD_enUS1113US1113&udm=2&biw=1440&bih=731&sxsrf=AE3TifN_h16QQMJ1UU9kzRTqtHZVJw1fpA%3A1761529337469&ei=-c3-aJavHMukiLMPu6jW-QE&ved=0ahUKEwjWj6-ToMOQAxVLEmIAHTuUNR8Q4dUDCBI&uact=5&oq=the+whale+charlie+stage+play&gs_lp=Egtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZyIcdGhlIHdoYWxlIGNoYXJsaWUgc3RhZ2UgcGxheUifI1AAWMUhcAV4AJABAZgBuAGgAYIZqgEFMjEuMTG4AQPIAQD4AQGYAhagAooQqAIKwgIKECMYJxjJAhjqAsICBxAjGCcYyQLCAgoQABiABBhDGIoFwgILEAAYgAQYsQMYgwHCAg4QABiABBixAxiDARiKBcICCBAAGIAEGLEDwgINEAAYgAQYsQMYQxiKBcICBRAAGIAEwgIEEAAYHsICBhAAGAgYHpgDCpIHBTExLjExoAftcrIHBDguMTG4B_APwgcIMC4xLjE3LjTIB4MB&sclient=gws-wiz-img . Tidgwell, Tracy, May Friedman, Jen Rinaldi, Crystal Kotow, and Emily R.M. Lind. “Introduction to the Special Issue: Fatness and Temporality.” Fat Studies 7, no. 2 (2018): 115-123. https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2017.1375262 . Verhoeven, Beatrice. “‘The Whale’ Producer on Criticism of the Film: ‘We Just Want to Be Honest and Truthful.” The Hollywood Reporter . Last modified 10 February 2023. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/the-whale-producer-film-criticism-brendan-fraser-1235319749/ . Wann, Marilyn. “Foreword: Fat Studies: An Invitation to Revolution.” In The Fat Studies Reader , edited by Esther Rothblum and Sondra Solovay. New York University Press, 2009. Webster, Guy. “An Ode to Brendan Fraser and Body Neutrality.” Kill Your Darlings Last modified 8 November 2021. https://www.killyourdarlings.com.au/article/an-ode-to-brendan-fraser-and-body-neutrality/ . Zimdars, Melissa. “Spectacle, Sympathy, and the Medicalized Disease of ‘Obesity.’” Watching Our Weights: Contradictions of Televising Fatness in the “Obesity Epidemic.” Rutgers University Press, 2019. Footnotes About The Author(s) TEYA JUAREZ (she/her) is a scholar, dramaturg, educator, and current student in the Theatre and Performance PhD program at the University at Buffalo (SUNY) where her research focuses on fat studies and fat embodiment. As a small fat person, she is dedicated to critiquing and dismantling anti-fatness in theatre for all fat bodies, as well as highlighting the liberatory potentials for fat bodies in performance. She was the recipient of the 2024 American Theatre and Drama Society Emerging Scholars Award for her paper “‘How Dare You Presume I’d Rather Be Thin’: Origins/Iterations of Fat Activism & Performances of Fatness” featured in the 2025 volume of Theatre Annual . Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction Fat Suits and Fat Futures: Ob*sity Drag in The Whale “The Star of the Aggregation”: Maggie Calloway’s Performances of Aggregation and Pleasure in Colonial Manila and British Malaya What’s at Stake? Sustaining DEIJ in U.S. Theatre "The Gift That Keeps on Giving": An Interview with Carmelita Tropicana Saying The F Word: A Conversation with Jordan Tannahill Staging Intimacy and Paradox through a Queer Lens: A Conversation with Jen Silverman Decentered Playwriting: Alternative Techniques for the Stage. Edited by Carolyn M. Dunn, Eric Micha Holmes, and Les Hunter. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 212. Race and the Forms of Knowledge: Technique, Identity, and Place in Artistic Research. Ben Spatz. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2024; Pp. 314. Bloody Tyrants & Little Pickles: Stage Roles of Anglo-American Girls in the Nineteenth Century. Marlis Schweitzer. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2020; Pp. 276. Redface: Race, Performance, and Indigeneity. Bethany Hughes. New York: New York University Press, 2024; Pp. 272. The Brothers Size Dead Outlaw 2025 Oregon Shakespeare Festival ZAZ Introduction: New England Theatre in Review 2.0 Greater Boston’s Independent Theatres, 2024-25 Politics Take Center Stage in the Berkshires, 2024-25 Long Wharf Theatre, 2024-25 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Khalid Y. Long Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 33 2 Visit Journal Homepage A Return to 1987: Glenda Dickerson’s Black Feminist Intervention Khalid Y. Long By Published on April 27, 2021 Download Article as PDF Glenda Dickerson (1945-2012) is often recognized as a pioneering Black woman theatre director. [1] A more expansive view of her career, however, would highlight Dickerson’s important role as a playwright, an adaptor/deviser, a teacher, and as this essay will illustrate, a progenitor of feminist theatre and performance theory. This essay offers a brief rumination on how Dickerson made a Black feminist intervention into feminist theatre and performance theory as she became one of the earliest voices to intercede and ensure that Black women had a seat at the table. [2] Glenda Dickerson’s intervention into feminist theatre and performance theory appears in her critical writings. Accordingly, these essays illustrate her engagement with Black feminist thought and elucidate how she modeled a feminist theatre theory through her creative works. Dickerson, along with other pioneering feminist theatre artists, “reshaped the modern dramatic/theatrical canon, and signaled its difference from mainstream (male) theatre.” [3] Dickerson’s select body of essays prompted white feminist theorists and practitioners to be cognizant of race and class as well as gender in their work and scholarship. [4] Moreover, Dickerson’s writings serve a dual function for readers: first, they offer an entryway into her life and creative process as a Black feminist artist. Secondly, they detail her subjective experiences as a Black woman within the professional worlds of theatre and academia. Feminist Theatre Theory: A Brief Overview of Inclusion and Exclusion Emerging as both an analytical tool as well as a methodology, feminism has been one of the foremost theoretical apparatuses to shape the field of theatre especially as it has called scholars’ attention to the dynamics of gender and sexuality. The scholars and critics, such as those mentioned below, who have contributed to founding and shaping a feminist theatre theory are diverse in their historical ideas, cultural approaches, and theoretical foregrounding. While there is no singular definition or description of feminist theatre theory to encapsulate such a wide-ranging array of positions, a brief overview of the legacies of some of the most significant contributors may help to situate Dickerson’s contribution to the field. Some of the foundational voices to assist in establishing feminism as an area of study within theatre/drama and English programs during the early part of the 1980s include Dinah Louise Leavitt, Helen Krich Chinoy, Linda Walsh Jenkins, and Helene Keyssar. As Elaine Aston notes, their texts had an impact on the field of theatre studies, however, they focused mainly on the playwrights and theatre practitioners who came to prominence during the 1970s. Aston maintains, “Studies of this kind were instrumental in making feminist and/or women’s theatre work visible but, to develop this, what was needed […] was a more fully rehearsed critical response critical frameworks appropriate for feminist analysis and ‘looking’.” [5] The scholars to heed Aston’s call were Sue-Ellen Case, Jill Dolan and Lynda Hart, among others. In Theatre & Feminism, Kim Solga provides a summary of the ground-breaking studies, including the works of Case, Dolan, and Hart, arguing that their scholarship indelibly changed the field of theatre studies and theatre practice by forging a relationship between feminist theory and theatre/performance. Solga singles out the year between 1988 and 1989 as “a watershed for feminist performance theory and criticism.” [6] The year witnessed the publication of some of feminist theatre’s major works: Sue-Ellen Case’s Feminism and Theatre , Jill Dolan’s The Feminist Spectator as Critic, and Lynda Hart’s edited collection, Making a Spectacle: Feminist Essays on Contemporary Women’s Theatre . As this quick survey suggests, scholars, critics, and practitioners sustained a commitment to deconstructing the landscape of male privilege that positioned women on the margins or, in many cases, excluded them entirely from the histories of theatre and performance. Even though feminist theatre theory advanced theatre studies and practice, most of the earlier scholars and critics to develop a feminist theatre theory were predominantly white women concerned with gender , rather than race as a determining factor. And even though theatre scholar Sandra L. Richards pressed the issue back in 1991, declaring that it was “time that white women and men began to participate in the project of bringing more black women’s writing and theatre work to critical attention,” [7] the concerted efforts of white feminists still marginalized the lived experiences of Black women and other women of color. Within early theoretical studies of feminist theatre, the inclusion of women of color seemed an afterthought. A Return to 1987 Dickerson’s first significant contribution to the burgeoning field of feminist theatre and performance theory appeared in 1987—predating Solga’s “watershed” moment for feminist scholars and artists. During the 1987 pre-conference of the Women and Theatre Program, a focus group of the Association for Theatre in Higher Education, Dickerson delivered her groundbreaking speech, “The Cult of True Womanhood: Toward a Womanist Attitude in African-American Theatre.” [8] With this speech, Dickerson infused a Black woman’s voice into the field of theatre and performance while simultaneously theorizing a Black woman’s subjectivity. Dickerson made her speech the same year that pioneering Black feminist scholar Barbara Christian wrote her pivotal essay, “The Race for Theory,” in which she suggests that we “read the works of our writers in our various ways and remain open to the intricacies of the intersection of language, class, race, and gender in the literature.” [9] Just as Christian called for a new way to nuance Black women’s cultural productions (i.e., fiction, poetry, novels, etc.), Dickerson led the charge in theatre to reverse what she identified as Black women being “triply locked out: by class, by race, and history.” [10] Dickerson’s and Christians’ declarations underscores their engagement with the theory of intersectionality (foreshadowing Kimberlé Crenshaw’s coining of the term in 1989). Dickerson’s concern with the “silenced voice of the woman of color” [11] fueled her mission to reclaim and re-center Black women’s voices and image through performance so that they no longer had to “depend on an often-distorted illustration.” [12] Throughout “The Cult of True Womanhood,” Dickerson also evokes the names of early “race women” [13] such as Sojourner Truth, Maria Stewart, Josephine St. Pierre Ruffin, and Zora Neale Hurston, as well as more contemporary writers, cultural critics, and activists such as Lucille Clifton, Mary Helen Washington, Eleanor Traylor, and Winnie Mandela. Dickerson’s essay draws on Black feminist theory and literary criticism. As Lisa Anderson notes in Black Feminism in Contemporary Drama (2008) and La Donna Forsgren discusses in In Search of Our Warrior Mothers: Women Dramatist of the Black Arts Movement (2018), Black feminist theory and literary criticism helped to propel a new critical language that, in turn, formulated a method to read and analyze Black feminist aesthetics within a plethora of literary and artistic mediums and genres. Dickerson’s “The Cult of True Womanhood” essay also invokes the concept of “womanism.” She writes, “I went searching with Alice Walker for ‘our mothers’ gardens.’ That’s when I became a womanist. So, naturally I had to incorporate her salty definition. . .” [14] Womanism encompasses the concept of being “Committed to survival and wholeness of entire people, male and female. […] Traditionally universalist…” [15] Theatre scholar Freda Scott Giles writes about Dickerson’s manifestation of womanism within her works: “Some feminists have given the impression that much of the feminist movement is fixated on the victimization of women; womanism resists that notion. The big picture is liberty and justice for all. The goal of freeing society from racism, classism, and sexism is mutually exclusive.” [16] A number of revolutionary Black feminist and womanist writers including Gloria I. Joseph and Audre Lorde have asserted that Black feminism, as well as womanism, offers a globally-inclusive framework. As early as 1979, Lorde called for feminist-activists (regardless of gender identity) to overthrow the ideologies that have contributed to racist, classist, and sexist attitudes and practices both in the United States and abroad. For example, in her essay, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House,” Lorde contends that feminist theory is not complete “without examining our many differences, and without a significant input from poor women, Black and Third World women, and lesbians.” [17] Lorde’s theoretical manifesto calls for a liberatory praxis unequivocally focused on the absence of Black women, poor women, queer women, and third world women’s experiences, among others, from larger feminist discourses. Like Lorde, Dickerson also takes a global perspective with her work. In “The Cult of True Womanhood” she writes: When you start reading ancient myths and womanist literature and traveling to countries where the people look like you, you gain a so-called global perspective. Not only is the language of oppression the same the world over; the anguish of women is echoed around the world and resonates from continent to continent. The torture of mothers who lose their daughters to rape, war, drugs, poverty; the suffering of women who are tortured and die in Latin American prisons; the untimely death of young women who are killed by drunk drivers or yuppie lovers in New York’s Central Park and then twice victimized by the courts and press: these women are sisters in suffering, fixed on the fangs of the two-headed serpent. Their silenced voices, their stilled tongues are symbolized for me in the illegal banning of South Africa’s Nomzamo Winnie Mandela, whom the people call “Mother of the Nation.”[18] Seen in this light, Dickerson’s artistic mantra mirrors Lorde’s manifesto as she strove to create a theatre that materializes what Lorde considers “differences” among women’s lived experiences. This appears most clearly in Dickerson’s final artistic work, The Kitchen Prayer Series, a trilogy of performances inspired by the tragic events of 9/11 and the subsequent War on Terror. Centered around the question, “What is it like for women all around the world to live with war and terror daily?” Dickerson’s triptych interrogates how women from across the globe, navigate a world where war and terror are quotidian experiences. Several white feminist scholars have recognized Dickerson’s contribution to the developing field of feminist theatre studies. [19] For example, in the introduction to Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre Sue-Ellen Case writes about Dickerson’s essay, “The Cult of True Womanhood”: Dickerson amplifies the audacity of that voice and its strength within a critique of the form of the drama – its predilection for heroes – particularly heroes of a certain gender and class. From the pleasures of those audacious roots, Dickerson creates a theatre, as a director, and a theory of the theatre, as a feminist theorist. Dickerson’s move illustrates one way in which the social movement and the feminist theorist/theatre practitioner traverse a common terrain – the pleasure of a historical moment, a material condition moving with the gestures of the stage and the dynamics of performative forms.[20] Interestingly, Case does not explicitly name race as a factor within Dickerson’s theoretical framework. Instead, she focuses on gender and class. However, by calling out the “historical moment, a material condition,” as a “common terrain” Dickerson negotiates, Case makes the point that Dickerson’s theory, as well as her theatre are formulated through materialist feminism which aims to critique the “conditions of class, race, and gender oppression, and demands the radical transformation of social structures.” [21] Additionally, Case makes an important observation by calling attention to Dickerson’s role as an innovative feminist performance maker. As Dickerson laments, “Gone was the pompous director’s gaze, absent the royal director’s chair.” [22] Renouncing a longing to sit among the “ranks of directors,” Glenda Dickerson declared herself a “PraiseSinger.” “A true PraiseSinger,” Dickerson explains, is a guardian of the archetypes of her culture’s collective unconscious. Her function is not to invent but to rediscover and to animate. From this day forth, I will be concerned not with acts, and scenes and curtains; but with redemption, retrieval, and reclamation. The chair in which I sit will no longer be called the director’s chair, but the blood-bought mercy seat. From that seat, my work will be a mission, my goal will be a miracle.[23] With Dickerson denouncing the patriarchal throne of the director in her pioneering essay, she emerges as one of the earliest women theatre artists to use a Black feminist lens to reconsider the position of the director and their function. Final Thoughts I hope that this essay will shed light on Dickerson’s role as an audacious critical theorist and excavate her from the hidden cracks of (theatre) history. A closer look at her other essays – written at various periods throughout her career – would further illustrate her deepening commitment to Black feminist theatre as well as Black feminist epistemology. As both her critical writings as well as her creative works demonstrate, Dickerson challenged conventional modes of theatre making while also using theatre as a platform to bring marginalized, silenced, and forgotten people center stage. Dickerson’s scholarly and artistic works offer a model for those looking to subvert the dominant paradigms. References [1] When Dickerson is referenced in studies that address African American theatre or Black women in theatre such as Errol Hill and James V. Hatch’s A History of African American Theatre (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003) or Anthony Hill and Douglas Q. Barnett’s Historical Dictionary of African American Theatre (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2009), it is usually a small survey of her work as a director. Anne Fliotsos and Wendy Vierow’s reference book, American Women Directors of the Twentieth Century (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2008) also provides a broad survey of Dickerson’s work in the theatre that is premised on interviews Fliotsos conducted with Dickerson. [2] My larger project in progress offers a richer exploration of Dickerson’s career, from her start as a student of the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s to her final creative project The Kitchen Prayer Series before her untimely death in 2012. [3] Elaine Aston, An Introduction to Feminism and Theatre (New York: Routledge, 1995), 57. [4] Dickerson’s essays include: “The Cult of True Womanhood: Toward a Womanist Attitude in African-American Theatre” which was first published in Theatre Journal (vol. 40, no. 2, 1988) and republished in Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre edited by Sue-Ellen Case (New York: Methuen, 1988); “Wearing Red: When a Rowdy Band of Charismatics Learned to Say ‘NO!’” in Upstaging Big Daddy: Directing Theater as if Gender and Race Matter , edited by Ellen Donkin and Susan Clement (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1993); “Rode a Railroad that Had No Track” in A Sourcebook of African-American Performances edited by Annemarie Bean (London and New York: Routledge, 1999); and “Festivities and Jubilations on the Graves of the Dead: Sanctifying Sullied Space” in Performance and Cultural Politics , edited by Elin Diamond (London and New York: Routledge, 1996). [5] Elaine Aston, “Foreword,” in Feminism and Theatre , ed. Sue-Ellen Case (New York: Methuen, 2014), ix -x. [6] Kim Solga, Theatre & Feminism (New York: Palgrave), 16. [7] Sandra L. Richards made this statement in a paper she delivered, “Women, Theatre, and Social Action,” at the ‘Breaking the Surface” conference/festival held in Calgary, November 13-17, 1991. I learned of Richards’ paper, and subsequently her quote, from Lizbeth Goodman’s book Contemporary Feminist Theatre: To Each Her Own (London and New York: Routledge, 1993) . [8] “The Cult of True Womanhood: Toward a Womanist Attitude in African-American Theatre” was later published in Theatre Journal in 1988 and in 1990 re-published in Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre , edited by Sue-Ellen Case. I am utilizing the published version of Dickerson’s speech and will therefore refer to it as a written essay. [9] Barbara Christian, “The Race for Theory,” Cultural Critique , no.6 (1987): 53. [10] Glenda Dickerson, “The Cult of True Womanhood: Toward a Womanist Attitude in African-American Theatre,” in Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre , ed. Sue-Ellen Case (Baltimore: John Hopkins Press, 1990), 110. [11] Dickerson, “Cult of True Womanhood” 110. [12] Khalid Y. Long, “The Black Feminist Theatre of Glenda Dickerson,” in The Routledge Companion to African American Theatre and Performance , ed. Kathy A. Perkins et al (New York: Routledge), 183. [13] In her book, Beyond Respectability: The Intellectual Thought of Race Women , Black feminist studies scholar Brittney C. Cooper defines the phrase “race women” as “the first Black women intellectuals [and activist]. As they entered into public racial leadership roles beyond the church in the decades after reconstruction, they explicitly fashioned for themselves a public duty to serve their people through the diligent and careful intellectual work and attention to proving the intellectual character of the race” (11). [14] Dickerson, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 115. [15] Alice Walker, In Search of Mother’s Garden: Womanist Prose , 1st ed. (San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1983), xi. [16] Freda Scott Giles, “Glenda Dickerson’s Nu Shu: Combining Feminist Discourse/Pedagogy/Theatre,” in Contemporary African American Women Playwrights: A Casebook , ed. Philip C. Kolin (New York: Routledge, 2007), 141. [17] Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press, 1984), 111. Lorde’s essay was first delivered as a speech at a conference in 1979 honoring Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex , and later published in This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color edited by Cherríe Moraga and Gloria E. Anzaldúa (page missing?). The essay was republished in Lorde’s collection Sister Outsider . [18] Dickerson, “Cult of True Womanhood” 115. [19] Similar to Case, Ellen Donkin and Susan Clement, the editors of Upstaging Big Daddy: Directing as if Gender and Race Matter, consider Dickerson a “godmother,” noting that her “intellectual and artistic courage and generosity have given us permission to think past the limits of our own cultural identification as white women and to begin investigating the way Big Daddy crosses into communities of color,” 5. [20] Sue-Ellen Case, “Introduction,” in Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre (Baltimore: John Hopkins Press, 1990), 4. [21] Aston, Feminism and Theatre , 9. [22] Dickerson, “The Cult of True Womanhood,” 118. [23] Ibid., 118. Footnotes About The Author(s) KHALID Y. LONG is an assistant professor of theatre and coordinator of theatre studies at Columbia College Chicago. Khalid has published essays in Continuum: The Journal of African Diaspora Drama, Theatre and Performance as well as the Routledge Companion to African American Theatre and Performance . His forthcoming scholarship includes essays in Theatre Design & Technology , TDR: The Drama Review , and Critical Essays on the Politics of Oscar Hammerstein II edited by Donald Gagnon. Khalid has also contributed essays to Black Masks , a long-established black theatre magazine. Khalid’s current book project is a critical study of Black feminist artist Glenda Dickerson. Editorial Board: Guest Editors: Nicole Hodges Persley and Heather S. Nathans Guest Editorial Team for this issue: Mark Cosdon, Stephanie Engel, La Donna Forsgren, Javier Hurtado, Mia Levenson, Khalid Long, Derek Miller, Monica White Ndounou, Scot Reese Co-Editors: Naomi J. Stubbs and James F. Wilson Advisory Editor: David Savran Founding Editors: Vera Mowry Roberts and Walter Meserve Editorial Staff: Co-Managing Editor: Casey Berner Co-Managing Editor: Hui Peng Advisory Board: Michael Y. Bennett Kevin Byrne Tracey Elaine Chessum Bill Demastes Stuart Hecht Jorge Huerta Amy E. Hughes David Krasner Esther Kim Lee Kim Marra Ariel Nereson Beth Osborne Jordan Schildcrout Robert Vorlicky Maurya Wickstrom Stacy Wolf ISNN 2376-4236 Journal of American Drama & Theatre JADT publishes thoughtful and innovative work by leading scholars on theatre, drama, and performance in the Americas – past and present. Provocative articles provide valuable insight and information on the heritage of American theatre, as well as its continuing contribution to world literature and the performing arts. Founded in 1989 and previously edited by Professors Vera Mowry Roberts, Jane Bowers, and David Savran, this widely acclaimed peer reviewed journal is now edited by Dr. Benjamin Gillespie and Dr. Bess Rowen. Journal of American Drama and Theatre is a publication of the Martin E. Segal Theatre Center. Visit Journal Homepage Table of Contents - Current Issue Introduction to "Milestones in Black Theatre" Prologue to the Issue and a Thank-you to Errol Hill Earle Hyman and Frederick O’Neal: Ideals for the Embodiment of Artistic Truth Newly Discovered Biographical Sources on Ira Aldridge Subversive Inclusion: Ernie McClintock’s 127th Street Repertory Ensemble 1991: Original Broadway Production of Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston's Antimusical Mule Bone Is Presented A Documentary Milestone: Revisiting Black Theatre: The Making of a Movement A Return to 1987: Glenda Dickerson’s Black Feminist Intervention Dancing on the Slash: Choreographing a Life as a Black Feminist Artist/Scholar Playing the Dozens: Towards a Black Feminist Dramaturgy in the Work of Zora Neale Hurston Guadalís Del Carmen: Strategies for Hemispheric Liberation “Ògún Yè Mo Yè!” Pathways for institutionalizing Black Theater pedagogy and production at historically white universities Interviews and Afterviews on “Milestones in Black Theatre” Talking About a Revolutionary Praxis: A Conversation with Black Women Artist-Scholars in the Wake of COVID-19 and Black Lives Matter Tarell Alvin McCraney: Theater, Performance, and Collaboration. Sharrell D. Luckett, David Román, and Isaiah Matthew Wooden, eds. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 2020; Pp. 252. Casting A Movement: The Welcome Table Initiative. Claire Syler and Daniel Banks, eds. New York: Routledge, 2019; Pp. 266. The Theatre of August Wilson. Alan Nadel. Metuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London; New York: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Collections, 2018; Pp. 224. Shakespeare in a Divided America: What His Plays Tell Us About Our Past and Future. James Shapiro. New York: Penguin Press, 2020. Pp. 221. The Theatre of Eugene O’Neill: American Modernism on the World Stage. Kurt Eisen. Methuen Drama Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2017; Pp 242 + xiv. Errol Hill Award Winners 1997-2020 Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.