Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back Arab Stages 14 Spring 2023 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Performance Review: LITTLE SYRIA By Sami Ismat Published: November 26, 2023 Download Article as PDF Publicity poster for Little Syria by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. LITTLE SYRIA. By Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Old Town School of Folk Music, Chicago. May 12, 2023. Reviewed by Sami Ismat, Columbia College Chicago As soon as you walk into the Old Town School of Folk Music you are hit with a whiff of nostalgia from the bazaar-style tables selling specialty items. In Syrian dialect, these street vendor tables are known as basta , and the one that attracts the most attention is placed strategically next to the hallway entrance leading into the theatre; it offers specialty Syrian soap from Aleppo and basboosa , a semolina-based dessert common in the SWANA region. After passing along the tables, audience members enter a proscenium-style theatre with a traditional Syrian furniture set, including an ornate mirror, inlaid with mother of pearl. The show begins with the three musicians entering the stage. Omar Offendum greets the audience, specifically calling on the “Shami people,” meaning the people from Damascus, and then the Palestinians in the house. He begins to recount to the audience a story, in the style of a hakawati , a hired storyteller common in Syrian coffee houses, dressed typically in a fez and a traditional robe. Offendum embodies the hakawati spirit—not surprising from an artist who identifies himself as a poet & lyricist—but adds his own contemporary touch to this persona with his love for Hip-Hop and his experience growing up in the diaspora. He is also not shy about wearing the imperialist Ottoman fez, or tarboosh —a questionable choice by today’s standards that strive towards historic justice and decolonization, but admittedly inseparable from Syrian identity and collective nostalgia. Omar Offendum, publicity photo from the NYC performance of Little Syria by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. Omar Offendum in the NYC performance of Little Syria by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. Smoothly and in a timely manner, musician Ronny Malley, DJ Thanks Joey, and Offendum turn the words of the story Offendum is reciting into a song. Malley plays multiple instruments including oud and piano, while Thanks Joey lays down beats, and occasionally, they sing backup or harmonize with Offendum. The focus of this show is Syrian-American identity and history, starting from the neighborhood of Little Syria, which existed in Lower Manhattan from the late 1880s to the 1940s. The show proceeds from singing about Syrian soap, to celebrating Syrian food, to boasting about the savvy entrepreneurial mindset that Syrians are known for. The lyrics include bilingual plays on words, and the musicians encourage the audience to participate by clapping along, repeating phrases, or doing a call and response with Offendum. The performance is full of messages about Syrian representation, Syrian excellence, and diasporic culture, incorporating carefully researched stories from Syrian-American archival history. Unfortunately, and not surprisingly, this history is male dominated; this, however, does not diminish the years of effort that Offendum, Malley and Joey invested in anthropological and ethnographic research as they traveled around the US, with the support of residencies, to collect and document the materials needed to create this show. The NYC performance of Little Syria by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. (RTL) Thanks Joey, Omar Offendum, and Ronnie Malley in Little Syria. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. The three performers do not hold back as they disparage white cultural ignorance and privilege as well as capitalism, and they use humor to belittle the powers of America’s imperialism in the face of diasporic Arab cultural identity. Yet grief is subtly present throughout the show—grief at the fact that Little Syria no longer exists, since it was razed to create the Brooklyn-Battery tunnel; grief in the songs about Offendum’s late father and our ancestors; and grief in the knowledge we hold in our bodies of what has become of Syria in the last decade. This grief is also visually evident from the black fez Offendum begins the show with, later changing to the more traditional red one. Regardless of political affiliations, ethnicity, or religious sect, it is no secret that Syrians hold tons of grief, including the second and third generation children of immigrants who inherit it or are surrounded by it. Grief and nostalgia have become almost an integral core of what it means to be Syrian, yet at the same time Syrians take great pride in their ability to persist, endure and make something out of nothing. This is truly celebrated and signified in Little Syria . One song even directly acknowledges that our region has historically witnessed countless wars and invasions—and as Offendum says, those have shaped us but will never break us. Aesthetically the production is overwhelmingly rich, with interdisciplinary elements from stories, bilingual rap lyrics, historical references, a traditional furniture set, multiple instruments, and Thanks Joey’s beats. Perhaps the strongest visual elements are the projections that complement every song. These projections contain a collage of videos and historical photos, often overlaid with cartoons and graphics, which change quickly and rhythmically, coherent with the fast-paced lyricism of most of the show’s songs. At times they reference a research document or relevant historical figures; at other times they emphasize the meaning of a song through symbols, words, or the text of certain verses from Arabic literary poems. Through this aesthetic combination, Little Syria creates a complex web of diasporic references expressed in a contemporary style. Its expressive power lies in its complexity because it provides countless threads of connections that every single audience member, regardless of their background or generation, can cling to. Props from Little Syria by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. Omar Offendum in the NYC performance of Little Syria, directed by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. Little Syria is by no means little; on the contrary, it is big, diverse, and most importantly, it does not shy away from performing stories and songs that represent the mosaic of Bilad Al-Sham , the Levant region. The topics are broad, culminating in a lengthy event that leaves you with much to appreciate. From songs that represent Muslim faith to songs about money, from a song about arak (a strong alcoholic drink common in the Levant) to the story-song of an infamous immigrant named Big Mike whom everyone in Little Syria feared, every part gives us a new glimpse into diasporic history. Syrian identity has become an amalgamation of nostalgia and grief, and we Syrians most embody these emotions when speaking Arabic during our most vulnerable and celebratory moments. The acknowledgment of this, and the emphasis on shared blood and spirit throughout the piece, is presented with a royal Basha (“kingly”) swagger. Overall, the performance experience is empowering and inspires belief in oneself, a familiar concept to the Arab and Sufi poets who are a constant source of inspiration for Omar Offendum’s work. The poem Conference of the Birds by Farid ud-Din Attar specifically resonates here, with the mythical Simorgh bird being the symbolic representation of the divine beauty within oneself—the “I” that is one with the divine. Perhaps the best conclusion that can be drawn from Little Syria is that no matter how far away we go in search of a better life, there is a divine spirit reminiscent of the divine Simorgh bird within us, inseparable from the mythical place we come from, Bilad Al-Sham . Omar Offendum in the NYC performance of Little Syria, directed by Omar Offendum, with Ronnie Malley and Thanks Joey. Photo Credit: Ridwan Adhami. Courtesy of Omar Offendum, Ronnie Malley, and Thanks Joey. Article Bibliography, References & Endnotes References About The Author(s) Sami Ismat is a Research Practitioner in Theatre & Performance, from Damascus, Syria. He serves as an adjunct professor at several universities in Chicago. As a practicing artist he has directed, written, performed, produced, and consulted on numerous projects at various cultural institutions in the US. His work & research explores how the intersectionality of performance can present/represent memory, trauma, and the collective cultural consciousness of diasporic identities. He draws on practices stemming from contemporary performance art, devised & physical theatre, documentary practices, ethnographic research, and choreography. Sami’s latest publication was a chapter in Deconstructing the Myths of Islamic Art titled “Deconstructing Myths via Performance Strategies.” 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 Review: Mother Courage adapted and directed by Alison Shan Price Review of Theaters of Citizenship: Aesthetics and Politics of Avant-Garde Performance in Egypt written by Sonali Pahwa Review: Decolonizing Sarah: A Hurricane Play written and directed by Samer Al-Saber “Indigenous Avant-Gardes”: The Shiraz Arts Festival and Ritual Performance Theory in 1970s Iran Review: Baba written by Denmo Ibrahim, directed by Hamid Dehghani Review of MUKHRIJĀT AL-MASRAḤ AL-MIṢRĪ (1990-2010): DIRĀSA SĪMIYŪṬĪQĪYAH [Female Egyptian Directors (1990-2010): A Semiotic Study], written by Hadia Abd El-Fattah Review of Syrian Refugees, Applied Theater, Workshop Facilitation, and Stories: While They Were Waiting written by Fadi Skeiker Review: Layalina written by Martin Yousif Zebari, directed by Sivan Battat Up There by Wael Kadour, Introduction Review: Playwright Showcase, New Arab American Theater Works Two Giants of Egyptian Theatre: Conversations with Mohamed Abul-ʿEla El-Salamouny and Lenin El-Ramly Crossing Borders: A Theatre Practitioner’s Odyssey, An Interview with Hassan El Geretly On Writing Egypt from the Diaspora: An Interview with Adam Ashraf Elsayigh Performance Review: A FAMILY THAT HAS BEEN BLOCKED Performance Review: BETHLEHEM SITE-SPECIFIC THEATER FESTIVAL Performance Review: HOOTA. By Amer Hlehel Performance Review: LITTLE SYRIA Book Review: ACTING EGYPTIAN Book Review: MANSOUR, MONA. THE VAGRANT TRILOGY Previous Next Attribution: Entries under this journal are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Christophe Collard 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 Ecologies of Media, Ecologies of Mind: Embodying Authorship Through Mediaturgy Christophe Collard By Published on May 30, 2018 Download Article as PDF Weary of endlessly scavenging for funding, would-be independent filmmaker John Jesurun decided one day in the early 1980s to make films without using a camera and “Let the audience be the camera” instead. [1] Pragmatic par excellence , this new approach effectively launched the career of one of multimedia theatre’s most inventive innovators while generating a body of work characteristically concerned with reconciling the apparently irreconcilable. With his main theme of exploring the rampant technologization of contemporary culture and its effects on consciousness and communication alike, Jesurun’s artistic practice challenges one-dimensional interpretations while simultaneously underscoring the processes that constitute our perception. The artist’s incessant interplay with media of all kinds thereby strikes as the most obvious strategy, with his texts’ pervasive multilingualism a close second. And yet, as Hans-Thies Lehmann once observed, scenography and dramaturgy can only meaningfully meet via the performer’s body . [2] If we borrow Duke Ellington’s favourite phrase describing his music as “beyond categories,” [3] John Jesurun’s theatre aesthetic could accordingly be situated as conceived along a paradigm encompassing transgression, fluidity, and blending to move, indeed, ‘beyond’ conceptions of ‘categories’ and towards what anthropologists Gregory Bateson and Bradd Shore have called an intrinsically ecological inclination. [4] When, moreover, taking into account the insight yielded by intermedia studies that borders between communicative modes are the product of a similar kind of irreducible flux, plurimedial dramaturgies staging such organic inter-relatedness can help us recalibrate the quality of our thinking. For if we focus on the ‘live’ body in a heavily mediatized theatrical space, it becomes clear that the former functions at once as an enabling device and a site of refusal. Operating along a logic of connecting dispersed content, Jesurun’s emphasis on the performer’s presence in the here-and-now as a semiological nexus generates a sense of mediatised imbrication of all of the performative event’s constituents. Or as his long-time compagnon de route Bonnie Marranca has argued in her Ecologies of Theater (1996), an organicist conception of contemporary theatre that “inquire[s] into the relationship of mind and spirit” under the aegis of the performers’ biological ‘liveness.’ [5] Bonnie Marranca is similarly to be credited for coining the concept of ‘mediaturgy’ along a reasoning not so dissimilar from her ecological argument. [6] Indeed, to her, the term allows us to shift our focus on methods of composition in “a new form of dramaturgy,” [7] and so suggests new critical modes of comprehending and writing about it. Thus re-routing connotations from a text-based linear progression of sorts to a media-induced sense of organic simultaneity as organizing principle, one could accordingly argue that “mediaturgy” permits one to highlight tensions between received conceptions of “meaning” and an increasing awareness of the processes that bring them about by foregrounding the media that mediate the ‘content’ we process cognitively. An early illustration of this reasoning is of course found in the work of Jesurun’s illustrious predecessor Richard Foreman (b. 1937), whose Ontological-Hysteric Theater, beginning in 1968, presented audiences with productions lacking a “regular” storyline, but which instead communicated via an idiosyncratic “idiom” best compared to the image of the “mind bath” – a completely multivalent experience. Situated in the grey area between live performance and “live” media, the concept of mediaturgy in effect seeks not a dissolution from drama and its textual overtones, but simply signals a shift from “linguistic language” to “media language” more attuned to our contemporary context of cross-medial communication in networked societies. This article will pick up the ecological lead to present John Jesurun’s mediaturgical and thoroughly inter-relational theatre aesthetic as an impetus to what Bateson calls “an ecology of mind” [8] – i.e. an alternative way of thinking and creating that eschews distinctions in favour of convergence and all the emancipatory potential this implies, both for an updated understanding of the authorship principle as well as for individual signification in today’s cultural context. Then again, already in 1986, Smith, one of the characters in Jesurun’s so-called “Media Trilogy” warned us, spectators, that we all “have to realize that [we are] chained into that machine,” [9] imbricated as it were into what Jesurun himself calls “an ongoing process of detours, pitfalls, and discoveries in interpretation and perception [of] a mediated world.” [10] Five years later, in Blue Heat (1991) he physically separates players from spectators by leaving the stage empty and relocating the action to the venue’s back rooms as displayed by various screens in “real time,” thereby forcing his audience to confront theatre’s fundamental role as signifying interface . After all, if performance no longer takes place in the here and now “live” before an audience, can it still be considered “theatre” in the strictest sense? It is a question that immediately prompts a second one related to the mediation of said “live” content – a query arguably still harder to answer. Which recalls Jesurun’s presumed ecological aesthetic: his is not an approach aiming for answers, but rather for shifting perspectives and re-evaluating possibilities for both artistic creation as for critical thinking from within “the machine.” After all, as the same character Smith from Deep Sleep explains, “Those are the machines and you are coming out of the machines.” [11] Thus there is no outside to our mediated world – a Jesurunian appropriation, if you like, of Derrida’s famous quip that “Il n’y a pas de hors-texte.” [12] On this, mind you, he emits no value judgment, fully aware of the pointlessness in speaking about “purity” or “essential,” unmediated meaning. Technology, as it can hardly be denied these days, forms part and parcel of our cultural landscape and, as confirmed by mediatheorists Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner in Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (1993), “technological change ” is nothing if not, indeed “ecological.” [13] Addressing the “ecological” dimension of technological innovation from the prism prompted by Jesurun of perennial inter-medial interplay brings us neatly to this artist’s privileged artistic platform: the theatre, once described by Peter M. Boenisch as a semiotic practice , which incorporates, spatializes and disseminates in sensorial terms (thus: performs ) the contents and cognitive strategies of other media by creating multiple channels, and a multi-media semiotic and sensorial environment. [14] Key to the latter argument is the almost organic multiplication of signifiers and signifying systems that takes place precisely via their interplay in real time. If we additionally take into account its relatively stable – yet not, as we have already seen, entirely unproblematic – basic requirements of an audience and a set duration, we could argue that the theatrical medium represents a heuristic platform to study the associations and reciprocities produced by an interface that facilitates co-presence and reflexivity across physical, technical, and referential boundaries. Via the continuous interplay in a Jesurun-production of multiple media, “live” theatrical presence here effectively incarnates an “overdetermined” hybrid permanently in flux. Twenty five years ago, Patrice Pavis already argued that the live actor creates a sense of clarity, an ontological foothold of sorts, within the semiotic complexity of multi-media theatre productions. [15] A decade later, Philip Auslander placed the performer’s live body on a par with technological media in contemporary theatre’s process of “mediatization,” whereby old and new media come to operate in the mediatic system that is the production. [16] For live “presence” on a multimedia theatre stage remains inextricably interwoven with the relation between “live” and “mediated,” and thus also with what performance scholars Gabriella Giannachi and Nick Kaye have called “processes that expose and utilize the gaps, caesura, and absences inherent to acts of representation.” [17] Their use of “inherent” thereby echoes Jesurun’s ecologically-inspired artistic practice whereby the live actor’s performance is embedded into layered and responsive soundscapes, architectonic designs, as well as mediated sets that draw underscore the actual passages between live, mediated, and recorded channels of address. No oversimplified answers to a complex reality, but a stimulated sense of intimacy with the environment in which we find ourselves immersed. Figure 1. John Jesurun Firefall – Phase 2 (2009). Photo: Paula Court. As Baz Kershaw similarly reminds us in his Theatre Ecology (2007), the term “ecology” references the interrelationships of all the organic and non-organic factors of ecosystems, ranging from the smallest and/or simplest to the greatest and/or most complex. It is also defined as the interrelationships between organisms and their environments, especially when that is understood to imply interdependence between organisms and environments. [18] In White Water (1986), the second installment of his “Media Trilogy” after Deep Sleep (1986), Jesurun sought to connect cutting-edge technology with the primal fear that the same technology today is destroying our sense of spirituality. Precisely by instilling an “ecological” sense of interdependence between film, video, and live actors, his personal brand of authorship foregrounds the reverse perspective that technology, in fact, reflects human attempts at spirituality, a certain longing for the intangible expressed through the tension between humans and machinery – a tension grounded in the ever-present potential of manipulation : I include [physicality] as a natural element. Because film and video can be manipulated and manipulate at the same time I have to treat them with some respect. Film and video have their own physical presence beyond the visual images they may represent. There is a tension there between a live and mediated performer but this is also natural. I want that tension to also exist in a real way in the presentation. When live and mediated images communicate verbally a third reality comes into place as a result. [19] Said “Third Reality” was made more palpable still in Jesurun’s 1990-production Everything That Rises Must Converge where both actors and audience were divided into two groups and separated by a wall nine-feet high and forty-feet wide, which occasionally rotated on its central vertical axis while characters communicated their ostensibly nonsensical multilingual dialogues across the divide through live videos and wireless microphones. For, when no direct physical connection can be established, we trust technology to make meaningful our attempts at meaning-making. [20] However, the reason why in certain circumstances we may decide (consciously or unconsciously) to “trust” technology in a performative setting is squarely attributable to its embodied presence on stage. After all, embodied modes of reception and perception are those that do not require strictly logical analysis for their verification. As the theatre presents tangible living bodies on stage to living bodies in the audience, performers’ and audiences’ embodied receptiveness is thereby stimulated to facilitate affective interpretation. When we moreover take into account the stage’s hypermedial capacity to integrate a sheer endless number of technologies, the embodied dimension stretches towards “ecological” coalitions of mind, body, and technology. It is a perspective which prompted Philip Auslander to conclude that in the theatre there simply can be “no clear-cut ontological distinctions between live forms and mediatized ones.” [21] Today, due to the ever-broadening trend of technologizing the theatre stage, critical discourses tend to consider the “live” body in performance as a cultural and biological biotope – a construction site, as it were, for the assemblage of identity and consisting of multiple foundational layers of what Wolf-Dieter Ernst has called “anthropological ballast.” [22] Via the continuous interplay of multiple media on stage, theatrical presence today has become a sort of semiological hybrid permanently in flux. From this angle, then, John Jesurun’s playing with our perception via a multi-media bombardment of our senses strikes, paradoxically enough given the overabundance of technology, as primarily actor -oriented – especially so given this director’s categorical rejection of improvisation and constant admonitions to “deliver words faster and flatter, faster and flatter.” [23] Indeed, by turning his actors into “de-psychologised talking heads,” [24] he forces his spectators to fill in the blanks. For, with the actor’s body as interface between the spectator and the cybernetic machine of that is the multimedia stage, the very notion of embodiment itself becomes unstable. Once again, to Jesurun, this is something intrinsically positive: As a director, I find that the performers are willing to go as far as the language and technology will take them. And as a writer, I am willing to go as far as the performers and technology will take the language. Regardless of the creative outcome, this is a true sharing of intentions and possibilities . [25] Following Jesurun’s “ecological” authorship, embodied presence on a multimedia stage represents a type of “meaning potential” that can only be accessed via the energy exuded from affecting sender and receiver simultaneously. By means of filmic jump-cuts in the narrative progression, the pulsating pace of a video-clip aesthetic, “super real”/un-theatrical conversation tones, soap-opera cliffhangers, or the generalized presence of pop-cultural references, a Jesurun-piece creates a feeling of familiarity in a thoroughly unsettling environment. The extensive reliance on cutting-edge technology, for one, markedly clashes with a recurrent thematic focus on biological decay and linguistic elusiveness. His, then, is a self-professed logic of “engag[ing] rather than seduc[ing]” audiences. [26] Human perception is a process of constantly decentering and re-centering referential frameworks due to the unflagging stream of new impulses we encounter in everything we undertake. The theatre can thereby play a heuristic role as a self-reflexive platform of signification due to the invitation it extends from performer to spectator to connect via conscious participation in a “live” event. For, if accepted, the cognitive communion that ensues will remind all participants for the event’s entire duration of its disruptive constructedness. [27] In Jesurun’s relatively recent internet-inspired Firefall (2006/2010), old-school metatheatrical devices like self-reference and metalepsis abound, but coupled with reflexive statements on the potentiality evoked by design and the essentialism exuded by philosophy, [28] all aside from a scenography itself hell-bent on dramatizing the merging of media into one, uncannily concordant whole. Or, as the character F. – billed as “try[ing] to find a common ground between the introduction of chaos and the status quo” [29] – puts it, they, the characters in Jesurun’s production, are all constantly being “Re-morphed, re-transmuted into positive, useful objects.” [30] Much earlier in his career, Jesurun implemented the recognisability of television-dramaturgy in Red House (1984) and his “living film serial” Chang in a Void Moon (1982 – ongoing) to help engage his audiences into otherwise formalistically forbidding theatre experiments. In his adaptation Faust/How I Rose (1996) we find another token of this artist’s constant play with recognition and estrangement, mixing catch phrases from well-known advertising slogans, snippets of poetry, and pop song lyrics with aporetic debates on the nature of the universe within a set made up of oversized canvases continually projecting lush and dazzling imagescapes – the sequential fluidity of which moreover contrasts with the abruptness of both the dialogue and the scene switches. All examples, indeed, of an ecological inclination to engage rather than seduce : A lot of things bother some people with my work. “You can’t have this conversation, it means so much and it only lasts two seconds.” But slowly, as you get into the movement of the whole, it’s like watching a plant grow . When you listen to the conversation and the actors are standing there, fine, but once you start switching and add all kinds of conflicting angles, lights – it even focuses more on the words. It sets up conflicting things and makes the audience think, also, about what is actually happening on stage. [31] The very fact that Jesurun addresses the element of scenography as catalyst of meta-reflexive thinking squarely aligns him with Philip Auslander, when he argues that the experience of liveness is not limited to performer-audience interactions but refers to a sense of always being connected to other people, of continuous technologically mediated temporal co-presence with others known and unknown. [32] “Meaning,” it so transpires, is not the result of uncovered content, but of a technologically mediated relational engagement prompted, indeed, by the “co-presence of human bodies.” After all, the tension between technology’s power of affect and the physical presence of actors on stage co-opts the audience’s “motor-equivalence” – i.e. performing a similar act under differing circumstances — to generate a sense of reflexivity that is nothing if not “ecologically” dialectical . [33] Figure 2. John Jesurun Firefall – Phase 2 (2009). Photo: Paula Court. Said “ecologically” dialectical reflexivity, according to Gregory Bateson, bridges fundamental philosophy, technology and bodily presence by the bias of the energy exuded from their interplay, [34] and viscerally experienced as the “temporary” [35] product of an embodied cognitive negotiation between competing/conflicting signals and impulses. John Jesurun himself made a telling statement in this regard, “shocked” as he was to learn that his work at one point was described as ‘interdisciplinary:’ I don’t really see the boundaries between one and the other. It seems natural to me that they should work together. They seem to be part of one another. Creatively they are all interconnected. [36] Key tenets from embodied cognition postulate that consciousness itself is produced through the body-mind interface fuelled by our actions and perceptions, but also by nature, culture, and environmental interactions, rather than by a top-down strategy whereby the mind is directing the body. [37] Furthermore, as recently demonstrated by N. Katherine Hayles in her book How We Think: Digital Media and Contemporary Technogenesis (2012), the kind of embodied cognition activated by “live” performers in an inter-medial setting – including attentive focus, unconscious perceptions, and nonconscious cognitions – “provides the basis for dynamic interactions with the tools it helps bring into being.” [38] Since such reasoning effectively implies that all “Meaning” is necessarily embodied, it no longer makes any sense to separate man and machine, or to think along such rigid distinctions – which, all things considered, might not be such a bad thing. Contemporary technogenesis, like evolution in general, is not about progress. That is, it offers no guarantees that the dynamic transformations taking place between humans and technics are moving in a positive direction. Rather, contemporary technogenesis is about adaptation , the fit between organisms and their environments, recognizing that both sides of the engagement (humans and technologies) are undergoing coordinated transformations. [39] To Chris Salter, such a reasoning effectively confirms Jesurun’s claim that distinctions are but functional delusions, as the “supposedly modern tension between the humanistic body and the dehumanized machine that has so occupied us [is], in reality, a fiction.” [40] As this brief introduction to Jesurun’s “ecological” aesthetic hopefully has shown, man and machine alike are in a continuous state of becoming, and their interplay on an intermedial theatre stage establishes the latter, with its “ecology of media,” as a generative platform for a new “ecology of mind.” This begs the question whether adopting an ecological perspective to assess our plurimedial cultural context implies that a notion like “authorship” has become redundant. Personally I would argue the exact opposite – provided we follow Jesurun and Marranca’s lead by shifting our focus from clearly demarcated entities to processes of signification. As leading semiotician and media theorist Gunther Kress reminds us in his Literacy in the New Media Age (2003), authorship traditionally depended on “a regulated relation between knowledge and canonical modes of representation” whereas today their power and authority have become relative to a tilt. The answer, to him, therefore “is to insist on the teaching of principles [whereby] the processes and environments of representation are crucial.” [41] In ecologies of media and ecologies of mind like Jesurun’s mediaturgies where man and machine organically interact, authorship is embodied as design. References [1] John Jesurun qtd. in RoseLee Goldberg, “You Are A Camera,” Artforum International January 1989, 74. [2] Hans-Thies Lehmann, Postdramatisches Theater (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag der Autoren, 2001 [1999]), 423. [3] Duke Ellington qtd. in Michael Cerveris, “Intersection, Crossover and Convergence: Fluidity in Contemporary Arts (A Perspective From the US),” in Trans-Global Readings: Crossing Theatrical Boundaries , ed. Caridad Svich (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), 15. [4] See Gregory Bateson, Steps to an Ecology of Mind: Collected Essays in Anthropology, Psychiatry, Evolution, and Epistemology (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1987); Bradd Shore, Culture in Mind: Cognition, Culture, and the Problem of Meaning (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996). [5] Bonnie Marranca, Ecologies of Theater ( Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), xiii. [6] See Marranca, “Mediaturgy: A Conversation with Marianne Weems.” Performance Histories , ed. Bonnie Marranca (New York: PAJ, 2008), 189-206 and “Performance as Design: The Mediaturgy of John Jesurun’s Firefall ,” PAJ 96 (2010): 16-24. [7] Marranca, “Performance as Design,” 19. [8] Bateson 1. [9] John Jesurun, Deep Sleep (1986), in A Media Trilogy: Deep Sleep, White Water, Black Maria (New York: NoPassport Press, 2009), 64, my emphasis. [10] John Jesurun qtd. in Juliette Mapp et. al., “Writing and Performance,” PAJ 34, no.1 (2012): 122. [11] Jesurun, Deep Sleep , 67, my emphasis. [12] Jacques Derrida, De la grammatologie (Paris: Minuit, 1967), 158. [13] Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (New York: Vintage, 1993), 18. [14] Peter M. Boenisch,“Aesthetic Art to Aisthetic Act: Theatre, Media, Intermedial Performance,” Intermediality in Theatre and Performance , eds. Freda Chapple and Chiel Kattenbelt (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2006), 113. [15] Patrice Pavis, “Theatre and the Media: Specificity and Interference,” Approaching Theatre , eds. André Helbo, J. Dines Johansen, Patrice Pavis, and Anne Ubersfeld (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), 22. [16] Phillip Auslander, “Liveness, Mediatization, and Intermedial Performance,” Degrés 101 (2000): e8. [17] Gabriella Giannachi and Nick Kaye, Performing Presence: Between the Live and the Simulated . Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2011), 26, my emphasis. [18] Baz Kershaw, Theatre Ecology: Environments and Performance Events (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 15. [19] John Jesurun qtd. in Caridad Svich,“A Natural Force: John Jesurun in Conversation with Caridad Svich,” Trans-Global Readings: Crossing Theatrical Boundaries , ed. Caridad Svich (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), 45-6. [20] See also Birgit Walkenhorst, Intermedialität und Wahrnehmung: Untersuchungen zur Regiearbeit von John Jesurun und Robert Lepage (Marburg: Tectum, 2005), 84. [21] Phillip Auslander, Liveness: Performance in a Mediatized Culture (New York: Routledge, 1999), 7. [22] Wolf-Dieter Ernst, Der affective Schauspieler: Die Energetik des postdramatischen Theaters (Berlin: Theater der Zeit, 2012), 15. [23] John Jesurun qtd. in Donn Russell, Avant-Guardian, 1965-1990: A Theatre Foundation Director’s 25 Years Off-Broadway (Pittsburgh: Dorrance, 1996), 410. [24] Lehmann, Postdramatische Theater , 208. [25] Jesurun qtd. in Mapp et. al. 122, my emphasis. [26] John Jesurun qtd. in Catherine Bush, “Views From the Top: John Jesurun’s Cinematic Theater,” Theatre Crafts 7, no.19 (1985): 48. [27] See also Alice Rayner, “Rude Mechanicals and the Spectres of Marx,” Theatre Journal 54, no.4 (2002): 548. [28] John Jesurun, Firefall , in Shatterhand Massacree and Other Media Texts (New York: PAJ Publications, 2009), 178. [29] Jesurun, Firefall , 167. [30] Jesurun, Firefall , 194. [31] John Jesurun, qtd. in Martin Rentdorff, “I’ll Make Film Without Filming It,” Theater: Ex 1, no.2 (1985): 8, my emphasis. [32] Phillip Auslander, “Digital Liveness: A Historico-Philosophical Perspective,” PAJ 34, no. 3 (2012): 6. [33] See also Mona Sarkis, Blick, Stimme und (k)ein Körper: Der Einsatz elektronischer Medien im Theater und in interaktiven Installationen (Stuttgart: M & P, 1997), 29. [34] Bateson, 11. [35] Giannachi and Kaye, Performing Presence , 236. [36] Jesurun qtd. in Svich, “A Natural Force,” 46. [37] See Nagoya Hirose, “An Ecological Approach to Embodiment and Cognition.” Cognitive Systems Research 3.3 (2002): 289-299. [38] N. Katherine Hayles, How We Think: Digital Media and Contemporary Technogenesis (Chicago: Chicago UP, 2012), 87, my emphasis. [39] Hayles, How We Think , 87, my emphasis. [40] Chris Salter, Entangled: Technology and the Transformation of Performance (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2010), 276. [41] Gunther Kress, Literacy in the New Media Age (New York: Routledge, 2003), 173, my emphasis. Footnotes About The Author(s) Christophe Collard teaches contemporary performing arts, literature, and critical theory at the Free University of Brussels, Belgium. He is currently working on a book-length study of John Jesurun. 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.

Christine Mok 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 Chinese Looks Christine Mok By Published on December 11, 2017 Download Article as PDF Chinese Looks: Fashion, Performance, Race . Sean Metzger. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2014; Pp. 300. The 2015 theme for the Metropolitan Museum Costume Institute exhibition and gala in New York was supposed to be “Chinese Whispers: Tales of the East in Art, Film, and Fashion.” Curator Andrew Bolton explained the construct in Women’s Wear Daily as an homage to the “influence of Chinese aesthetics on designers,” acknowledging that, “what often is created is a virtual China, a mixing of…anachronistic styles, which results in [this] pastiche.” With its evocation of seduction in susurration, fairy and folk “Tales,” and the Far East, the announcement met with enough consternation that the exhibit was rebranded “China: Through the Looking Glass.” The curatorial team cites Edward Said in exhibition copy but makes clear that it “neither discount[s] nor discredit[s]” Orientalism, instead proposing “a less politicized and more positivistic examination of Orientalism as a site of infinite and unbridled creativity.” With unabashed commitment to a “virtual China” in the shadow of an economically ascendant China, the exhibition and gala reveal Western style as the anachronistic one. To unravel this pastiche of power, fantasy, race, and fashion, Sean Metzger offers us an erudite guide in Chinese Looks: Fashion, Performance, Race. Chinese Looks provides both the historical underpinnings and theoretical framework to understand the ways that global power and cultural meaning shift along what he calls the “Sino/American interface.” By examining a transnational history of theatre and film through the circulation and consumption of four “looks,” the monograph examines the queue, qipao (or cheongsam), Mao suit, and tuxedo, as racialized and gendered fashions that have come to constitute “Chineseness.” Beginning in the 1870s with yellowface performance and moving through the early 2000s, Metzger mobilizes adornment and attire to index shifting attitudes and policies that have structured US-China relations. His use of the solidus in “Sino/American interface” marks the complex terrain that is both “a boundary and a connection between the world’s current superpowers, a field that enables an articulation of difference as well as a linkage through…mechanisms of global capitalist production” (5). That difference is articulated through race, gender, and sexuality, and in attending to such differences, Metzger offers the book’s greatest theoretical contribution. Rather than focus on skin as the primary analytic of difference, he considers the “skein of race.” Metzger’s mode of critique builds off of Frantz Fanon’s work on dress and evokes Ian Haney Lopez’s racial fabrication to highlight fashion as an embodied practice that complicates both archive and repertoire. Much work on race oscillates between depth and surface, phenotype or blood and biology, asking us to look (only) skin deep or, to follow Joseph Roach, at the deep skin of racialization. To think through the “skein of race,” then, is to reorient racial surface and surface aesthetics toward a methodology that, according to Metzger, provides “a malleable apparatus for thinking about processes of racialization,” and “emphasizes bodily forms and surfaces but without immediate recourse to residual biologisms that have anchored much racial discourse” (12-13). And, “while a garment, like skin, orients the eye toward the body, clothing involves layers of intertwined and overlapping meanings produced through the psychic and material investments that enable everyday activities” (14). Vestments and the wardrobe present both an archive and repertoire that allows us to “think anew about epistemology and ontology of bodily performance, on both stage and screen” (6), such that the creativity that the Met Costume Institute assumes is the province of Western fashion designers, for Metzger, is actually the provenance of agency for Chinese/Americans on stage, screen, and in everyday life. In three sections focusing on the queue, qipao, and Mao suit, with the epigraph on the tuxedo, Metzger provides a cultural history of attire, chronicling skeins of race, gender, and sexuality. Each of the sections is made up of two to three chapters that mark the shifting histories and politics around these Chinese looks. Metzger moves adroitly across time and media, primarily film and theatre, but also photography, law, and literature. Like a good (under)garment, the book is well-structured and the case studies hold their own as single chapters. However, there is immense pleasure in seeing both the warp and weft of a look. The section on qipao, in particular, bares the multilayered skein of race, gender and agency, moving from the political possibilities of a pro-capitalist Chinese/American consciousness in Anna May Wong’s qipao, to the commodification of femininity and coloniality in Suzie Wong’s qipao, to the diasporic nostalgia on display in the panoply of qipao in Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love , indexing life after empire that is stuck in the ice storm of the Cold War . In terms of singular chapters, his analysis of yellowface performance in nineteenth-century American melodrama, based on archival research and deft analysis of plays, is a significant piece of theatre history, a necessary addition to the legacy of racial impersonation on the American stage. It broadens existing work on yellowface by Krysten R. Moon and Robert G. Lee, by focusing on embodiment through the queue in the evolution of Charles Parsloe’s Chinaman. Metzger’s illumination of yellowface’s skein of race is indispensable given the recalcitrance today of this racist performance practice. A welcome addition to theatre and performance studies, film studies, Asian American studies, fashion theory, and gender and sexuality studies, Chinese Looks is poised to provide entrée into future conversations about China’s continued rise in geopolitics, the next chapter in the Sino/American interface. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Christine Mok University of Rhode Island 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.

Watch Acting by Sophie Fiennes; Cheek by Jowl; Lone Star; Amoeba Film at the Segal Film Festival on Theatre and Performance 2025. Sophie Fiennes' richly detailed and immersive film offers privileged access to the vital experience of making theatre with pioneering practitioners Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod of the ground breaking international theatre company Cheek By Jowl. In a derelict Gothic mansion on the outskirts of London, we join eight actors - four Macbeths and four Lady Macbeths - for 11 days with Cheek By Jowl. Working in pairs, they investigate key scenes and soliloquies from Shakespeare’s Scottish tragedy. But this film is not about the play. It’s about being offered a different position from which to view acting and theatre - of seeing text newly animated in ways more subtle, surprising, revelatory and various than even the most dedicated theatregoers might have considered possible. Within the labyrinthine remains of the building, we watch with increasing fascination as actors and spaces combine to give Shakespeare’s words seemingly infinite new lives.. The Martin E. Segal Theater Center presents Acting At the Segal Theatre Film and Performance Festival 2025 A film by Sophie Fiennes; Cheek by Jowl; Lone Star; Amoeba Film Screening Information This film will be screened in-person at The Segal Centre on Friday May 16th at 1:20pm. 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 United Kingdom Language English Running Time 144 minutes Year of Release 2024 About The Film Sophie Fiennes' richly detailed and immersive film offers privileged access to the vital experience of making theatre with pioneering practitioners Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod of the ground breaking international theatre company Cheek By Jowl. In a derelict Gothic mansion on the outskirts of London, we join eight actors - four Macbeths and four Lady Macbeths - for 11 days with Cheek By Jowl. Working in pairs, they investigate key scenes and soliloquies from Shakespeare’s Scottish tragedy. But this film is not about the play. It’s about being offered a different position from which to view acting and theatre - of seeing text newly animated in ways more subtle, surprising, revelatory and various than even the most dedicated theatregoers might have considered possible. Within the labyrinthine remains of the building, we watch with increasing fascination as actors and spaces combine to give Shakespeare’s words seemingly infinite new lives. About The Artist(s) Cheek by Jowl is the international theatre company of Declan Donnellan and Nick Ormerod. Its landmark productions, performed in more than 50 countries in the 44 years since the company was founded, have influenced the creation of theatre and the experience of audiences the world over. Actors including Adrian Lester, Tom Hiddleston, Ralph Fiennes, Tom Hollander, Olivia Williams, David Morrissey, Gwendoline Christie and Matthew Macfadyen all developed their talent working with Cheek by Jowl in their early careers. Get in touch with the artist(s) martin@lonestarproductions.co.uk ; shanihinton@me.com and follow them on social media https://www.cheekbyjowl.com/, https://www.instagram.com/wearecheekbyjowl/, http://www.lonestarproductions.co.uk/, https://www.instagram.com/sophiefiennesofficial/ 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

Eero Laine 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 Immersions in Cultural Difference: Tourism, War, Performance Eero Laine By Published on May 28, 2018 Download Article as PDF Immersions in Cultural Difference: Tourism, War, Performance . Natalie Alvarez. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2018; Pp. 214. Reading Natalie Alvarez’s Immersions in Cultural Difference: Tourism, War, Performance is a fantastic reminder of what theatre and performance studies have to offer during a cultural moment in which “reality” programming is often difficult to discern from other media and performance. Using the term “immersion” to capture a range of performances and situations, Alvarez takes readers to sites in North America and the UK through four chapters that examine a military camp, counterinsurgency training, an activist tour, and a museum. The analysis is run through with deep description and sometimes chilling impressions as Alvarez brings the reader into the immersions under investigation. Present throughout the study are Alvarez’s key inquiries: “how are immersions used as a means of deepening understanding across cultural difference?” and “whether the first-person experiential encounters afforded by the immersion could lead to meaningful cross-cultural encounters” (1). Through Alvarez’s considered explorations, the book’s case studies expand current discussions and arguments in the field beyond immersive theatre or gallery installations. Rather, Alvarez is most interested in examining “immersions that stage cultural encounters within the contexts of military training and tourism,” and that “function as performative sites of negotiation between cultures” (2). Alvarez’s emphasis on the relations and exchanges between people and cultures in sometimes extreme performances works very well in part because the book maintains a radically clear focus on immersion and simulation and, indeed, the ways that the researcher might be implicated in observing/participating in these situations. Such issues are raised early in the book, as in the subsection entitled “Ethical Quandaries” in the introduction, which rehearses many of the important problems related to ethnographic and performance research. Taking immersive experiences as “overcoded in advance by [their] ideological and pedagogical imperatives,” (13) Alvarez deftly negotiates the edges of simulations and their potential effects for future actions by participants. Alvarez thus makes clear the important connections between when and where immersions begin and end, stating: “What remains most urgent for my concerns here is the reproductive side of simulation—the narrative overlays on the event of the simulation that get replayed in order for it to become regularized and reproductive in the supposed postsimulation ‘realities’” (15). The simulation (as well as the very knowledge that one is participating in a simulation) provides a way out that unsimulated events do not allow. Through this framing, which is present and considered throughout the study, Alvarez moves the work beyond formal analyses of immersive performances, hyperreality, liveness, and other such matters. That is, the immersions themselves, while central, are only one part of the larger cultural analysis that Alvarez unfolds and unpacks. One of the real strengths of the book lies in Alvarez’s ability to bridge larger political issues with the very personal and embodied experiences of the immersions under consideration. For instance, in the first chapter, which begins with wary hands on ready guns and ends with a handshake, Alvarez neatly works through the many affective and politically charged engagements at play in a simulated Afghan village used to train Canadian military forces. Alvarez describes her own shaking hands as she attempts to take notes amidst explosions, screaming, and gunfire and considers carefully the bodies of the performers in relation to each other and the power of such performances both in the moment of enactment and in the memories and afterlives of the events. The stakes are high in each of the examples, and those in chapter two and three are necessary reading for performance researchers looking to undertake such ethnographic and politically important work in the future. Alvarez’s narrative and analysis of the process of taking part in counterinsurgency training in chapter two brings home the very realness of the immersions. Marking the trajectory from packing bags to training exercises, Alvarez makes a significant contribution to performance studies both in content and methodology. We need more performance theorists critiquing and studying how military and corporate programs deploy many similar tactics and practices found in what might be considered more artistic settings. That such work leads neatly into the following chapter on touristic, simulated border crossings is a testament to the focused throughline of the study. This is especially evident in how Alvarez sets out to examine “an embodied epistemology of otherness that leads precariously and almost inevitably toward a presumptive intimacy with an imagined ‘other’” and, commenting on the subject of the third chapter, she notes that “there is, arguably, no other exercise that does so more dramatically than one that invites the tourist to play the role of a migrant attempting to cross the Mexico-US border in the dead of night” (106). The work of these two chapters anchor the book through Alvarez’s commitment to participate in such immersions as well as through writing that easily interconnects field notes and theoretical analysis. Chapter four and the conclusion offer mediations on the processes of simulation and the limits of performance. In the fourth chapter, Alvarez examines the Shoal Lake 40’s Museum of Canadian Human Rights Violations as an “immersion that actively interrupts sympathy and empathy, [and] serves as a useful counterpoint to immersions that orient themselves toward embodied epistemologies of otherness” (164). Such reflections, along with the direct engagement with core considerations of performance studies in the conclusion, make clear that Alvarez has provided the field with an important document while furthering the methodologies of performance researchers. As with many exciting books based in a set number of case studies, one may be left wanting more, and the book opens the door for further research. The book will certainly be of use in graduate and undergraduate classrooms, and those students would do well in taking up Alvarez’s critical attention to culturally and politically significant immersions. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Eero Laine University at Buffalo, State University of New York 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.

Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back Arab Stages 19 Spring 2026 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Book Review: Samer Al-Saber. A Movement’s Promise: The Making of Contemporary Palestinian Theatre (Stanford University Press, 2025). Pp. 328. Hardcover, Paperback, E-book. By Hadia Mousa Published: May 11, 2026 Download Article as PDF Arab Stages ISSN: 2376-1148 Vol. 19 (Spring 2026), pp. 66-68 To preserve a certain memory and keep it alive, it's important to tell its story. This is what Samer Al-Saber accomplishes in his significant book, A Movement's Promise . He begins in a humorous tone to define the word "movement," aiming to avoid misunderstandings associated with its usual violent political connotations. After establishing this concept, Al-Saber provides justification for his selection of theatrical groups by detailing their histories. Focusing his research on Jerusalem and Ramallah, Al-Saber encountered difficulties in finding sufficient information about older groups. The challenges stem from the Nakba (the disaster) of Israel’s occupation and its consequences from 1948 to 1967. As a result, the author chooses to start his meticulous archival and ethnographic research from the year 1967, since the Palestinian theatrical movement was largely absent before this time. In the first two chapters, Al-Saber uses anecdotes and stories from artists to historicize the cultural Palestinian landscape and the political context from which the theatrical movement emerged after 1948. The early groups, which were short-lived, primarily targeted a Christian audience. One example is the Jerusalem Players Group, whose productions were mainly in English, although there was one performance of Eugene O'Neill in Arabic. In chapter 3, covering the years from 1970 to 1973, Al-Saber notes George Ibrahim’s background as an actor in Israeli radio and television. Ibrahim also started his own group, The Theatrical Artistic Group, in the early 1970s, later operating it under ensemble names such as Masrah Al-Shoke (Thorns Theatre, 1984), Masrah Al-Warsheh Al-Faniyyeh (the Arts Workshop Theatre, 1986), and eventually Al-Kasaba Theatre (the Market Place Theatre, 1989 – present), primarily targeting children and young audiences. Balalin (The Balloons) emerged at this time as well, under the leadership of François Abu Salem. Balalin became one of the most popular theatre organizations. Due to the occupation, artists faced significant challenges in securing venues for theatrical and cultural events. Ibrahim and Abu Salem obtained the necessary permissions to perform in locations such as Al-Omariyyeh School but, unfortunately, many of these new groups eventually disbanded because they could not establish a stable financial position from which to produce plays. Additionally, the expanding control of Israeli military forces led to the dissolution of many Palestinian groups that had emerged during the 1970s and 1980s. Chapter 4 treats the following five years, 1973 to 1977, when several new theatre ensembles were formed, including Dababis, known for its theatre of resistance; the Palestinian Theatre Troupe (1973–1996); The Palestinian People’s Theatre (1979–1983); and Sanabel People’s Theatre (1983 to present). Each of these groups had its own unique style and attributes, but most presented realistic plays, whether comedic or tragic. They also incorporated al-dabkah, an indigenous Palestinian folkloric dance, into their productions. In 1973, several of these groups collaborated to organize the first theatrical festival in Ramallah. In addition, they established an artists' equity organization, the Association for Work and Development for the Arts, which served as an alternative to the absent Palestinian Ministry of Culture. They also published a theatrical magazine called Al-Masrah (The Theatre), which helped document their movement and fostered a critical discourse in the 1970s. However, the situation for these groups worsened, as noted by Al-Saber, who documents artists getting arrested and expelled from Palestine. One such artist, Al-Kurd, was arrested twice before being forced into exile. Reaching a pivotal moment in this tragic narrative, chapter 5 focuses on El-Hakawati ensemble, one of the most renowned groups in the history of contemporary Palestinian theatre. Al-Saber details El-Hakawati’s prolific history from 1977 to 1987 under the leadership of François Abu Salem, discussing the historical context, the restrictions and obstacles they faced, as well as examples of their productions and themes based on interviews with the group's artists, including their critiques of the ensemble. This methodology is applied to many other groups as well. A crucial issue that arose alongside the external challenges faced by Palestinian artists was the deep divisions among them, which led to the disappearance of most ensembles formed in the 1970s, compounded by a lack of permanent theatrical spaces. Al-Saber addresses this issue in chapter 6, covering the years from 1981 to 1984. During this period, El-Hakawati experienced its golden era, successfully transforming a burnt cinema into a stable theatre space. With financial support from Europe and the United States, this building became a national cultural center, allowing Palestinian artists to take leadership of the venue and rename it the Palestinian National Theatre. One of El-Hakawati’s most significant achievements during this time was touring their productions in European countries and the United States. However, they faced new challenges, including biased reviews of their productions through an orientalist lens and the difficulties of performing in front of diverse audiences from various nationalities and backgrounds. Al-Saber returns to George Ibrahim in chapter 7, which focuses on the years from 1984 to 1986, and documents the various groups Ibrahim founded, including Masrah Al-Shoke, Firqat Al-Funoun El-Masrahiyyah, and, finally, Al-Kasaba Troupe. Unfortunately, during the Intifada from 1987 to 1990, the events unfolding in the streets had a profound impact on all theatrical groups. El-Hakawati, in particular, experienced significant internal conflict. It's noteworthy to mention two other groups as well: Sanabel and El-Warsheh El-Fanniyeh, whose further development is chronicled in chapter 8. Besides the well-known companies, there were also smaller groups that struggled consistently to achieve financial stability and to secure rehearsal and performance space. Finally, in chapter 9, Al-Saber compares the declining prominence of El-Hakawati Theatre with the rising success of Al-Kasaba Theatre, which Ibrahim founded in Jerusalem during the Intifada period. Al-Kasaba featured a co-production between Palestinian and Israeli artists of Romeo and Juliet , presented as a reflection of the Oslo Peace Accords. The challenges faced by the production led Ibrahim to remark, "Peace was just on paper and doesn’t exist in our reality," a sentiment supported by the events that followed in the years after the early 1990s up to the present day. In its conclusion, this book briefly mentions the emergent groups and theatre directors of the last twenty-five years. A comprehensive discussion about them would require another book. Al-Saber’s primary objective is to present information about the founding generations of Palestinian theatre, which is particularly significant given the limited number of publications on Palestinian theatre, in English or Arabic. He has succeeded in documenting and analyzing the productions of this earlier movement within its economic and political context, which is an ambitious goal given the considerable task of translating excerpts from journal reviews and conducting ethnographic research. Indeed, Al-Saber situates the Palestinian theatrical movement as authentic and impactful in this important work. Revised 20 August 2026. Article Bibliography, References & Endnotes References About The Author(s) Hadia Mousa is an Egyptian Associate Professor of Performance Studies in the Faculty of Arts, Theatre Department, Acting and Directing Branch, at Capital University, Cairo, Egypt. She was a visiting scholar at NYU and CUNY from 2012 to 2013. In 2019, Mousa published her first book, Egyptian Women Directors from 1990 to 2010 (The Arab Theatre Institute). She has contributed to numerous publications including the Arab Stages online journal (United States); International Centre for Performance Studies Publications (Morocco); Sharjah, Arabic and Egyptian theatre magazines; and with the publisher Routledge. 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 Reframing the Past: Situating Mesopotamian Theatrical Traditions Within a Cross‑Cultural Performance Continuum Gen Z Theatre from Turkey Taps into Repertoires of Millennial Resistance: A Comparison of the Short Festival Plays 'Helezoni' and 'Orange' Performance Review: THE CLOWN, by Mariam Basha. Directed by Kamal El Basha. El Hakawati Theatre, Jerusalem. August 28, 2025 in person, September 11, 2025 via WhatsApp video. Performance Review: DODI AND DIANA, by Kareem Fahmy. Directed by Reginald L. Douglas. Mosaic Theater, DC. September 23, 2025. Performance Review: ALMONDS BLOSSOM IN DEIR YASSIN, by Hanna Eady. Directed by Hanna Eady. Cherry Street Village, Seattle. October 25, 2025. Book Review: Samer Al-Saber. A Movement’s Promise: The Making of Contemporary Palestinian Theatre (Stanford University Press, 2025). Pp. 328. Hardcover, Paperback, E-book. Previous Next Attribution: Entries under this journal are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Patrick McKelvey Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 31 2 Visit Journal Homepage Unfinished Business: Michael Jackson, Detroit, & the Figural Economy of American Deindustrialization. Judith Hamera. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017; Pp. 286 + xvii. Patrick McKelvey By Published on January 28, 2019 Download Article as PDF Unfinished Business: Michael Jackson, Detroit, & the Figural Economy of American Deindustrialization . Judith Hamera. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017; Pp. 286 + xvii. Scholarship on the subject of performance labor has proliferated with renewed intensity over the past decade. This development is, in part, a response to the way that scholars across the humanities and social sciences have diagnosed transformations in the organization and practice of work in the past half century as a problem of “performance.” With Unfinished Business: Michael Jackson, Detroit, & the Figural Economy of American Deindustrialization , Judith Hamera offers a contribution to these conversations that is both methodologically innovative and politically ferocious. Hamera argues that a performance studies analysis can register, recognize, and reimagine the racialized structures of feeling that attend deindustrialization in the U.S. She does so by attending to the overabundant and hypervisible representations of two deindustrial icons: Michael Jackson and Detroit. Three interrelated questions drive Hamera’s inquiry: 1) How does structural economic change feel? 2) What is the role of performance in these transformations? 3) And how have racist hierarchies shaped the performances, including the “promises and perils,” of deindustrial life (xiv)? She pursues these questions through both archival and ethnographic methods, engaging a sprawling performance archive that includes music videos, plays, documentary films, and art installations. Hamera wrests authority from economists as the experts best equipped to explain such structural transformations, modeling a performance theorization of political economy through the analysis of what she calls “figural economies.” Figural economies concern “material and historical entities” as well as the formal, representational, affective, and rhetorical currents through which those entities circulate (13). Performance theorists working across a broad range of contexts will find this notion of “figural economies” useful, even as I suspect most will be hard pressed to mine the “rhetorical, exemplary, and metaphorical potential” of “representations with uncanny persistence” that matches that of Jackson and Detroit (xii, 3). Following an introduction that orients readers to interdisciplinary scholarship on political economy, the racialized history of industrial nostalgia, and the notion of figural economies, Hamera has organized the book in two sections: Part 1, “Michael Jackson’s Spectacular Deindustriality” and Part 2: “Detroit’s Deindustrial Homeplaces.” Two chapters comprise each part. As Hamera herself would attest, this organizational logic is premised on something of a false distinction: Jackson and Detroit are part of a shared figural economy “of race and work within an arc that took them both from epic productivity through equally epic debt and contraction to efforts at fiscal and reputational recovery” (3). Chapter one exemplifies Hamera’s commitment to challenging the presumptive whiteness of the deindustrial imagination (think: Bruce Springsteen) by examining the trope of the human motor in Jackson’s dance repertoire. In her analysis, Jackson’s virtuosity – the intersection of the “musicality” and the “sharpness of attack” (37) – characterized his expanding repertoire of steps in the mid 1980s and produced industrial nostalgia by “offer[ing] a fantasy of unalienated labor in an industrial modernity that was and never was” (51). These moves, enacted when Jackson was at the apex of his career, mediated between “a vanishing US industrial moment” and the “cruel optimism” to come (24). For example, Hamera sees in Jackson’s Thriller music video (and its choreographic afterlife), a highly mechanized reproduction of late capitalism’s zombifying effects as well as the possibility that deindustrialization might be “outdance[d]” (48). The next chapter, “Consuming Passions, Wasted Efforts,” concerns the early 2000s when Jackson no longer owed his renown to his virtuosity and work ethic but to his status as a “prodigious spender and spectacular debtor” (54). Hamera moves across representations of Jackson’s “aberrant consumption” in the Life with Michael documentary, the trials for child molestation that linked Jackon’s debt to a broader set of moral economies, and his planned comeback in the 2009 This is It tour. Hamera draws upon the work of film theorist Linda Williams to read Jackson as a star in a racial melodrama in which he comes to embody austerity politics. In so doing, Hamera demonstrates how “both spectacular and banal” performances can render visible the otherwise invisible processes of financialization (59). In chapter three, “Combustible Hopes on the National Stage,” Hamera examines figurations of Detroit in three works of theatre and features Hamera’s delightful excoriation of Lisa D’Amour’s Detroit. Through a heuristic of “re-sitting/re-citing,” which redirects performance studies’ preoccupations with the substitution of bodies to a concern with the substitution of places , Hamera analyzes the entanglement of race, home, and work in order to assess these plays’ understandings of “Detroit-ness” (109). Ultimately, the chapter demonstrates how Detroit’s figural economy, including not only D’Amour’s play but Motown, The Musical and Dominique Morisseau’s Detroit ’67 , has presented the city as “synecdoche not only for deindustrialization but also for the multisystem failures of late capitalism” (106). The fourth and final chapter, “Up from the Ashes,” considers the roles of the arts in a contemporary Detroit, refigured as being on the precipice of a comeback. Hamera shows how the “kunst washing” (“art washing”) practices of Detroit encourage entrepreneurs to invest in the city as an untamed avenue in need of creativity. Such practices, she argues, frame Detroit’s black population as impoverished with regards to creativity and risk management, blaming the city’s residents for the economic damages wrought by economic elites. In effect, these art-centered efforts have exacerbated the city’s racial and economic stratification implemented through other austerity programs that have privileged private capital over state investment. But she also locates ambivalent promise in specific collaborations, like The Heidelberg Project , that counter Detroit’s “phoenix narrative” while also “refusing melancholic resignation” (163). I suspect that chapter one, an exceptional chapter in a consistently outstanding work, might be the most likely to be excerpted for undergraduate syllabi. In addition to its modeling of figural economies, this chapter is further notable because of how Hamera enriches theorizations of virtuosity by putting theorists like Paulo Virno in conversation with the history of concert dance and music. This is also the chapter in which Hamera introduces Jackson as a “defiant compliant,” so-defined because of his simultaneous embrace of global capitalism and the challenge he posed to racist modes of production (15). Hamera joins the ranks of Margaret Werry and Elizabeth Povinelli in offering some of the most compelling accounts of agency under contemporary capitalism, accounts that are irreducible to tired rehearsals of complicity and resistance. Indeed, Unfinished Business is an urgent read for scholars already steeped in literature concerning performance and political economy, as well as for those who might be newly alerted to the work that remains to be done. References Footnotes About The Author(s) PATRICK MCKELVEY University of Pittsburgh Editorial Board: Guest Editors: Johanna Hartmann and Julia Rössler 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 Introduction: Reflections on the Tragic in Contemporary American Drama and Theatre "Take Caroline Away”: Catastrophe, Change, and the Tragic Agency of Nonperformance in Tony Kushner’s Caroline, or Change The Poetics of the Tragic in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America Rewriting Greek Tragedy / Confronting History in Contemporary American Drama: David Rabe’s The Orphan (1973) and Ellen McLaughlin’s The Persians (2003) Branding Bechdel’s Fun Home: Activism and the Advertising of a "Lesbian Suicide Musical" Haunting Echoes: Tragedy in Quiara Alegría Hudes’s Elliot Trilogy Black Acting Methods: Critical Approaches. Edited by Sharrell D. Luckett with Tia M. Shaffer. New York, NY: Routledge, 2017; Pp. 233. Palabras del Cielo: An Exploration of Latina/o Theatre for Young Audiences. Compiled by José Casas with Christina Marín, ed. Woodstock, IL: Dramatic Publishing, 2018; Pp. 581. The American Negro Theatre and the Long Civil Rights Era. Jonathan Shandell. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2018; Pp. 213 + xii. Unfinished Business: Michael Jackson, Detroit, & the Figural Economy of American Deindustrialization. Judith Hamera. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017; Pp. 286 + xvii. A Student Handbook to the Plays of Tennessee Williams. Katherine Weiss, ed. London: Bloomsbury, 2014; Pp. 290. 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 21, 2025 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Radu Afrim and his House Between the Blocks Published: December 1, 2025 Download Article as PDF by Călin Ciobotari Image Credits: Article House Between the Blocks (Târgu Mureș National Theatre Romania, Tompa Miklós Company) The adventure of Romanian director Radu Afrim's travels in the not-so-distant past, an adventure frequently equivalent to a self-referential discourse, has already been employed in a set of performances, of which, of course, the top of the list remains The Retro Bird… , created, yes, also in Târgu Mureș, a city that seems to offer the director the type of mental state necessary to return to subjects that are never definitively closed. Very intimate, personal, and signed with a special tenderness, such performances obviously occupy top places in Afrim's creation due to the intense way in which they contain their creator. The House Between the Blocks is one of these works written not only for the audience, but also for himself... The house between the blocks, a kind of island with volatile temporal relevance (it is no longer in the calendars, but in history, so its existence is assured forever, as one of the characters demonstrates), resembles a "coffin" at the bottom of a grave whose walls are the blocks that surround it. Through the window covered and uncovered, successively, by curtains, as through an incision into the Real made from inside the Unreal, we see a fragment of the concrete grandeur of socialism and we hear the children of the workers playing in the yard that once belonged to the house. Interestingly, communism always remains on an outside; everyone who enters the family Both's house seems to "take off" their shoes when they get here. Tender-ridiculous, a decrepit aristocracy seems to want to symbolically oppose the great mutations of the real. The interior is vast, ironically imperial, a "palace" room in which Mother Both, the "friend" of Empress Sisi, lives her century. The green Viennese terracotta stove, the stained glass in the window openings on the back door, the 1875 ceramic service, furniture whose shapes evoke a submerged world, all of this clearly defies the 1980s, but coexists, willingly or by necessity, with the radio, the bottle, the worn Persian carpets, the poverty, and the cold. The result is a dizzying mix of illusionary luxury and crude modesty, but also a strong air of retro-(un)reality. This is where the Both women live (Mother Karola and her two daughters, the old ladies, Ida and Etelka), together with the child brought by the waters, the orphan Misi. They live from "art", as the sisters have made a profession out of painting works reproduced on post stamps. Their art does not imitate the real, but imitates imitations of imitations of the real, as if the real reaches them at third or fourth hand. Individually, the paintings are true definitions of kitsch, but together, in the high paneling inside the house between the blocks, they have the air of distant, enigmatic, misunderstood aesthetics... The connection with the present is made especially through two characters: Misi, the orphan from the 1980s, who today arrived for a few hours in the town of the Both sisters, suddenly remembering all this thanks to the muffin-like smell of the paint colors from the cemetery shop. The second connection is through the character Pythia, the neighbor who sees the future; her predictions (the unbearable heat of a future December 1989 – the Romanian Revolution, the time when democracy will be threatened, paradoxically, by the fact that everyone has the right to vote, the Americans, the Russians and their wars etc.) are also a refuge in the future for a woman traumatized by the past. As usual, Afrim composes picturesque, but problematic, vulnerable characters, capable of provoking laughter, but also of making us think: besides Misi, two other children, Rocco, the boy conceived on August 23, and Adam, the gossipy child, then the forester Cornel, the small entrepreneur Csongor, organizer of the not very profitable film club in the Both sisters' house, the gynecologist's daughter, who came here to prepare for admission to Art School, in Cluj etc. They all seem attracted by something indefinable, something rare and very precious that the dinosaur mouth of the bulldozer threatens with definitive destruction. The relationship with reality of all the characters is so ambiguous that more than once you have the feeling that the stage is invaded by children who are playing art, life, communism, history. The tone is set by the fascinating character of the mother, a doll-like being cut out of Marquez's century of solitude, hyperlucid, and cynically observing, as if from inside a trance, the world and its transformations. The old woman mixes temporalities, mixes truths with fictions, becoming a spokesperson for the imaginary, but also for values that seem to belong only to the past: love, beauty, poetics. From her imperial bed, herself a museum of her own uniqueness, she revisits her erotic correspondence through her personal biographer, Misi, who will write a book about the love in the blank spaces between the words. The mother is also responsible for the entry of the ghostly into the scene: the soldier Kázmér, her first and great love, breaks away from the old woman's dreams and becomes concrete. Afrim keeps him in sight, integrating him into several memorable images such as the one in which, perched at the head of the sleeping old woman, he melancholy caresses strands of her long hair. In the end, he will lead her to the cemetery of heroes, accompanied by the echoes of dogs barking in the darkness of the golden age. But the ghostly also comes from the future, or rather, from the debates about the future of some characters who, from this point of view, feel Chekhovian. More than once, the sisters make you think of Three Sisters , especially in sequences like the one in which Ida, Etelka, and Pythia (who will turn out to be born of the same father as Etelka), together with a "Vershinin" from the Forest Department, talk about “what will be someday”. They do it in a way that berates the eternal reduction of people queueing in communism, and valorizes, instead, what these people think, what they dream, what they idealize. The video sometimes emphasizes escapes into the realm of the ideal, as when the block across the street is suddenly replaced by a plunge into a painting (a seascape à la Aivazovsky) and with a ship sweeping the scene. When you are ready to believe that the show is primarily about the life of the Hungarian community in Transylvania in the 1980s, in communism, Afrim imposes a dramatic turn, shifting the emphasis onto the concept of family and the nebulae behind the family. The importance of the biographer Misi grows exponentially, he himself getting caught in parallel biographies from which answers to identity questions are successively revealed. The blood family is doubled by a community family, then, symbolically, by a generally human one (with circumstantial references to Adam and Eve). Paradoxically, in this world of still life paintings from which human beings are missing, no one seems truly alone. Neither the ghosts that cross Eternity, nor the Hungarian Romanians in late-stage communism. The show is dedicated to the director's first graphics teacher, a detail that Afrim wants to emphasize at the end of the show, opening a new perspective on the House Between the Blocks : one related to art, regardless of its quality or scope, as a form of resistance not only to ideology, but also to the daily misfortunes of existence. For decades, the two sisters sacrifice their lives dedicating themselves to colors, discussions about how to draw bears or mountains too high to be the Carpathians. What they do is, in equal measure, small and grand, even if only through that sense of meaning that, at least for a while, their lives acquire. From their repetitive, mass-produced paintings, meant to beautify the canteen of the rolling mill or whatever other living space of working-class people, art, in its most minor definition, can hope to save the world. The remembrance that the sisters hope for is not just about remaining in someone's dreams, as they believe, but is also possible through traces of this kind left by colors (the 50 nuances of the gray color) on a canvas. Just as Afrim's first art teacher remains in memory through this show dedicated to her... The depth of the relationship between the director and the Hungarian troupe from Târgu Mureș has been written about repeatedly. It has materialized, over time, in collaborations that have led to landmark performances not only for Afrim, but for Romanian theater in general, like Tihna [The Composure] Castingul dracului [The Devil's Casting], Beție [Drunks], Pasărea retro… [The Retro Bird…], Grand Hotel... and so on. Diverse, versatile, playful, it's the kind of troupe that successfully fulfills the ambitions of characters that are as complicated as they are seductive. Where elsewhere could a Karola Both like the one from Târgu Mureș have been born, for example, in the amazing travesty of Csaba László's, an "Erendira" without anything caricatured, haloed by a very particular poetry of decrepitude, a bridge between multiple planes, generating humor and nostalgia, of egoism, but also of real superiority in relation to the world in which she lives her end. Erzsébet Fülöp, the performer of Ida, the older sister, confidently steers a woman's persona in whom she shows us resignation, hope, care, aging, but also dignity; she is supported by Katalin Berekméri, a strong element of the female-family triangle, then delightful in the character's transition to a new path, that of self-change, and overwhelming in her collapse in the last part of the show. László Rózsa skillfully alternates the many perspectives from which we see Misi, from the always available character from whom sensitivity emerges, to the narrator in whom deep emotions of encounters with the past reside, from the son upset by the parents' meeting, to the teenager who discovers love. László Zsolt Bartha presents us with Csongor, a mixture of harmless perversity and bankrupt entrepreneurship, but also an emissary of new times in which Bruce Lee films, Video, and a certain way of being will build careers. They are complemented by Gábor Viola (the virile and good-natured forester Cornel), Balázs Varga (the dead soldier, resurrected by the dreams of his youth's lover), Dorottya Nagy (the enigmatic and warm Pythia), Szabó Fruzsina (the gynecologist's daughter, the latter an amazing extratextual character, so well-defined that we almost look for him in the cast of the show), Nóra Szabadi (the red-haired Pentecostal woman), Botond Kóvacs (her husband with slow sperm), Bea Fülöp (Etelka's former classmate, the one who illicitly sells paint), Szabolcs Csíki (the aquatic child). You look at them all during the curtain call and feel grateful for the pure theater they offered you. On another note, perhaps the time has come to take Afrim seriously as a playwright. We have done so in the past, but always subordinating the playright to the director, refusing the absolute autonomy of the text and the status of "disposable play" that his scripts have assumed. I had access to the text a few hours before the performance. Afrim does this especially when he knows that for four hours we will depend on subtitles. Well, the reading was thrilling, the literary qualities of the dramaturgical material being, at least in my opinion, remarkable. A piece of dramatic literature of the highest quality, far above what, in general, contemporary Romanian playwriting produces. The situation is quite strange because it brings the theatrical ball back into the court of ... the director. What is certain, however, is that we can no longer talk about this dramaturgy without including in our debates, in our analyses and histories... the playwright Radu Afrim. Târgu Mureș National Theatre, "Tompa Miklós" Company - House between blocks , written and directed by Radu Afrim. Set designer: Anna Kupás. Costume designer: Orsolya Moldovan. Choreographer: Blanche Macaveiu. Stage manger: Lehel Rigmányi. Assistant director: Bea Fülöp. Video design: Samu Trucza. Prompter: Katalin Tóth. Translated by: László Sándor. Sound: Radu Afrim. Sound design: Vince Oláh. Lighting design: Radu Afrim, István Adám. Cast: László Rózsa, Erzsébet Fülöp, Katalin Berekméri, Balázs Varga, Csaba László, Lászlo Zsolt Bartha, Gábor Viola, Dorottya Nagy, Szabó Fruzsina, Nóra Szabadi, Botond Kóvacs, Bea Fülöp, Szabolcs Csíki. View date: 13th April, 2025 References References About the author(s) Călin Ciobotari is a theatre critic, Professor PhD and doctoral supervisor at the Faculty of Theatre of the “George Enescu” National Universtiy of Arts Iași, Romania. He is an associate professor at the Faculty of Philosophy and Social Political Sciences at the “Alexandru Ioan Cuza” University Iași, Romania. He is member of the Romanian Theatre Union and of the Romanian Writers' Union, he is the author of over twenty books and about a thousand articles (journalism, studies, theatre reviews etc.). He is the editor-in-chief of the literary magazine “Dacia literară”, producer and presenter of the tv broadcast “Scena” (Apollonia TV Iași). In 2019 and in 2022 he was awarded the UNITER Prize for Theatre Criticism. In 2020, 2022, 2023 and 2024 he was director/ curator of the National Theatre Festival. The widely circulated author's volumes include Chekhov's Marginals (2016), The Stage Director and the Text. Reading Practices (2017), Hamlet in the Cherry Orchard (2018), Reciting Gorky. A Theatre on the Edge (2021), A History of Kissing in Theatre (2022), Letters to Hamlet (2023), The Dramaturgies of the Alcoho . Landmarks from o Fluid History of Theatre. Within the Theatre Doctoral School, of which he has been director since 2020, he develops the research directions of Aesthetics, Drama Theory and Theory of Performance Arts. calinciobotari@yahoo.com 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 Theatre in Poland, Fall 2025 Editor's Statement - European Stages Volume 21 Robert Wilson’s Moby Dick at Schauspielhaus Düsseldorf, Summer 2025 Dramas of Separation at Festival d’Avignon 19th Edition Polyphonies of the Present: The Pulse of the Almada Festival Summer 2025 in London, England The Tragic Ideal of Eternal Youth: Folk Myth on the Modern Stage International Theatre Festival of Sibiu 32nd Edition Review of Samuel Barber’s Vanessa by Ópera do Castelo Radu Afrim and his House Between the Blocks Report from Berlin Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Leticia L. Ridley Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 34 1 Visit Journal Homepage “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells [Her] Story”: An Intersectional Analysis of the Women of Hamilton Leticia L. Ridley By Published on December 9, 2021 Download Article as PDF The availability of Lin Manuel-Miranda’s Hamilton (2015) on Disney+, the official streaming site of The Walt Disney Company, has offered musical theatre fans and other interested parties the ability to revisit the musical or experience it for the first time. Hamilton ’s rising popularity has influenced the increased concentration on the Black and Latino men at its center, and this is evident in mainstream publications such as Vox , The Undefeated , CNN , and The New York Times . [1] Even scholars’ and historians’ commentary on the musical, for the most part, has been solely focused on the men represented. [2] While these analyses create necessary discourse on the musical’s omission of slavery, erasure of Indigeneity, use of non-traditional casting, and impact in a post-Obama era, so much attention on Hamilton has been directed toward the men that it has eclipsed critical attention from the “werk” (to borrow a refrain from the show) that the women do within it. On the one hand, when the women performers of Hamilton have been examined in popular publications, they are celebrated because they acknowledge the presence of women in the historical record. [3] On the other hand, academic research has been much more critical of the musical’s inclusion of women, with many scholars interrogating what they see as its hollow feminist politics. [4] Both critics and scholars alike tend to overlook the way that race structures how these women’s bodies are read on stage and within the musical libretto, suggesting a universalization of gender that ignores the intersection of race . While I am encouraged by and appreciate the attention to the women of Hamilton , apparently the possibility that women of color spectators of the musical construct alternative meanings from the performances of Phillipa Soo, Renée Elise Goldsberry, and Jasmine Cephas-Jones is not considered viable. In this article I complicate previous studies of the musical’s treatment of race and gender, arguing that the actresses’ embodiment in Hamilton disrupts normative, white gender constructions while highlighting the labor of women of color in musical theatre. I contend that the intersections of race and gender are vital to reading and analyzing the women of color performers in the musical and that failing to account for this erases the interconnected, racialized, and gendered histories that the actresses’ bodies bear. Throughout the article, I read Hamilton ’s casting of these women of color by applying Brandi Wilkins Catanese’s theorization of “colorblind” theatre, and I adopt the concept of “transgression” to “expose the moral limitations of transcendence as a viable strategy for social change by acknowledging the histories of social location that people wear on their bodies and that inform all of our interpretive frameworks.” [5] I employ Catanese’s framework in this article as I refuse to read the women of color in the musical through a single-axis framework (i.e., race over gender and/or gender over race). I do so to avoid foreclosing the nuances of women of color’s embodiment in Hamilton as demonstrated in its original Broadway cast and production. [6] The various restagings of productions in Chicago, London, New York, Puerto Rico, and the multiple tours running concurrently in the United States illustrate that Hamilton ’s creative team is committed to continuously casting the show with non-white actresses. For example, I attended a production of the musical at Washington D.C.’s John F. Kennedy Center in which Asian American women portrayed all the principal roles, which facilitated a range of readings of the women characters that might be different from the original Broadway production. Any given theatre piece can be (re)shaped by varied performances; thus, conversations on embodiment remain central in how audiences receive messages in theatre. Despite the proliferation of global productions of the show, the availability of Hamilton via Disney+ has canonized the original Broadway cast as the standard to which all other future productions will be compared. As performance scholar Brian Herrera notes, casting is a term that “describes not only the process through which performers are assessed for and assigned to roles, but also the meanings, effects, and implications that are activated when the selected performers enact those roles.” [7] Keeping this in mind, one cannot and should not separate these women (and their racialized, gendered bodies) from their roles; to do so maintains a white supremacist paradigm that problematically centers white womanhood as a marker for women of color, thereby erasing the embodied realities produced by the actresses. I find it more pressing and productive to consider how the bodies on stage affect the musical’s ability to engage in feminist work; in the spirit of performance studies scholar Robin Bernstein, I am interested in the musical’s how , rather than its what . [8] By leaning into the nuances that the musical offers and recognizing how it actively engages with feminist principles (particularly from women of color feminisms), this article creates space for the existence and exploration for subtleties and contradictions of people of color. I do so, not to propose that Hamilton should not be critiqued, but rather to assert that analysis with women of color feminisms allows for new interpretations of the characters which contest the overwhelming whiteness in musical theatre scholarship. I use a Black feminist dramaturgical lens to search the gaps and margins of Lin Manuel Miranda’s award-winning Broadway musical Hamilton to locate the dormant meaning that is activated through the embodiment of the actresses of color. Black Feminist Dramaturgy Black theatre scholar and practitioner Michelle Cowin Gibbs argues that Black feminist dramaturgy “demands an audience to witness and affirm” the various modes of seeing that happen on stage. [9] In particular, Black feminist dramaturgy magnifies theatre’s interpretive possibilities which disclose the multiple layers of meaning that are activated not only by the bodies on stage, but also by the audience members who watch them. Crucial to Black feminist dramaturgy is the ability to offer analyses of theatre and performance that privilege the “outsider-within” position that Black women often occupy due to a prevalent focus on whiteness and/or maleness. [10] Black feminist dramaturgies invite us to search on and through the body of the actresses of color in Hamilton for the gap, the break, or the sites where other formations of knowing and being are happening. As many theatre scholars and practitioners are aware, dramaturgy encompasses many elements; however, it typically refers to the comprehensive study and understanding of a play’s historical, theatrical, and intellectual contexts. [11] My theorization of Black feminist dramaturgy is also significantly influenced by Black dramaturg and theatre scholar Faedra Chatard Carpenter’s dramaturgical orientation and practice. While “dramaturgical concerns” cover a range of different aims and interests when applied to the inner workings of a performance piece, among these concerns is the need and desire to design and guide the interpretative possibilities associated with a particular production. Accordingly, these considerations are also inclusive of the rationale behind specific casting choices. Carpenter proposes that one must acknowledge a play’s “time and context” and the site of production which informs how the play will be received by audiences. In addition, Carpenter notes that the awareness of “the embodied and enacted text, beyond its literary form” is vital to the dramaturgical process. In other words, the interpretative possibilities increase dramatically when performance is activated by bodies rather than remaining stagnant on the page. Further, Carpenter pays close attention to the audience, suggesting that the “consideration of audience reception and impact of artistic framing” is an important dramaturgical task; a dramaturg must predict how the audience will understand and read the bodies of the women on stage in tandem with the artistic elements, or else the framing could distract or create unintended interpretive themes. [12] To this point, Black feminist dramaturgy traces how the presence of racialized and gendered bodies on stage may reverberate beyond it. Furthermore, José Muñoz’s theory of disidentification expands the theoretical consideration of Black feminist dramaturgy. Muñoz’s theory of disidentification (a survival strategy he traces through the art, activism, and lives of queers of color) monitors “the ways in which identity is enacted by minority subjects who must work with/resist the conditions of (im)possibility that dominant culture generates.” [13] Disidentification attempts to rewrite the dominant script by maneuvering within dominant ideology and spaces in an effort to subvert it from the inside. [14] Muñoz’s insightful theorization also identifies a core component of how I situate Black feminist dramaturgy and how it challenges dominant ideological underpinnings. In the case of Hamilton , this means considering how the performances by women of color in the musical can (to a certain extent) disrupt racialized and gendered expectations. Therefore, Black feminist dramaturgy illuminates the way in which an actor’s embodied experience serves as a critical source of study, aids in disrupting historically stereotypical iconography, and promotes intersectionality as a concept that is vital to the entanglement of gender with whiteness and Americanness. Put another way, to apply a Black feminist dramaturgical lens to Lin Manuel-Miranda’s Hamilton is to magnify and complicate the analysis of the women of color in the musical. [15] Act One: Angelica Schuyler and Black Feminist Potential Angelica Schuyler, portrayed by Renée Elise Goldsberry in the original Broadway production of Hamilton , was the oldest child of Phillip Schuyler, a wealthy general in the Continental Army. [16] In Miranda’s musical, Angelica is depicted as a woman who is intellectually on par with (and even beyond) her male counterparts. Miranda describes her as the smartest character in the show, who demonstrates her intellectual prowess by reciting the most intricate raps. [17] In the musical, we first meet Angelica alongside her two sisters in the song “The Schuyler Sisters.” While it may be easy to classify Angelica as merely a source of inspiration for the men who actually do things in history, her character takes on additional significance when played by a Black woman. As a result, she is a character who is deemed equal in intelligence to men while overturning representations of Black women as innately promiscuous. In examining Goldsberry’s physical body within live theatre, it is important to also consider “flesh,” which Hortense Spillers, Black feminist scholar and cultural critic, differentiates from the body. Spillers asserts, “Before the ‘body’ there is the ‘flesh,’ that zero degree of social conceptualization that does not escape concealment under the brush of discourse, or the reflexes of iconography. . . . If we think of the ‘flesh’ as a primary narrative, then we mean its seared, divided, ripped-apartness, riveted to the ship’s hole, fallen, or ‘escaped overboard.’” [18] To this point, Goldsberry’s flesh serves as a witness to the wounds and scars experienced by Black people in American history. As she performs a show about the birth of America, her flesh carries the trauma of slavery that for hundreds of years this country maintained and from which it profited and built its economic foundation. Miranda makes visible her “flesh” within this story and in doing so, he signals the subversive potential that challenges spectators to consider how power and meaning function in the creation of gender for the Black body. This interpretation runs counter to scholars’ essays which have critiqued Hamilton for “whitewashing” the travails of Black Americans by failing to directly address the issue of American slavery in the show. While these critiques are necessary and should be addressed, I contend that the outright dismissal of Hamilton’s effort to disrupt and destabilize whiteness is overlooked. [19] The musical’s casting choice disrupts the notion of white normative gender constructions as the primary way to understand Goldsberry’s embodiment of this white historical figure. Theorizing the flesh (à la Spillers) in theatre and performance leads to conceptualizing Goldberry’s racial and gendered embodiment serves as an entryway to further engage with her actions in the musical that supersedes a white female subject position and/or gaze. The very first moment the audience encounters Angelica in the musical, she is standing by her sisters—not by a man. The character demonstrates her intellectual prowess in the song “The Schuyler Sisters.” She raps: I’ve been reading Common Sense by Thomas / Paine. / Some men say that I’m intense or I’m insane. / You want a revolution? I want a revelation / So listen to my declaration. / We hold these truths to be self-evident / That all men are created equal.’ / And when I meet Thomas Jefferson, / I’m ‘a compel him to include women in the / sequel! [20] As the only woman who raps in the musical, Angelica demonstrates and asserts a (Black) feminist position and shows she is intelligent and just as politically savvy as the men. In addition, she goes further to explain that she influences policy by manipulating men. Though this could be read as a promise of Angelica’s intellectual prowess—one that is never fulfilled—the use of hip hop provides a subversive inscription of the representation of Black women. As hip-hop feminists have argued, “Hip hop culture and rap music hold radical and liberating potential. . . hip hop provides a space for young black women to express their race and ethnic identities and to critique racism. Moreover, hip hop feminists contend that hip hop is a site where young Black women begin to build or further develop their own gender criticism and feminist identity.” [21] Therefore, hip hop serves as a practice of taking ownership of one’s underprivileged position. Furthermore, hip hop is a way Black women can own their stories and retell histories that have historically erased them. Angelica navigates her position, which she doesn’t let limit her ability to improve her status. Indeed, she disidentifies by “working on and against” her subservient role, to which she sometimes conforms, but also subverts by manipulating men into serving her own agenda. [22] Angelica’s relationship with Hamilton is influenced profoundly by that of circumstances, even as they both share equal affection for one another. As performed by Goldsberry, Angelica is “a headstrong society woman who loves Hamilton, but loves her sisters even more.” [23] In a similar vein, Angelica understands that she is limited by the demands placed on her as the eldest daughter, singing in “Satisfied,” “I’m a girl in a world in which / My only job is to marry rich. / My father has no sons so I’m the one / Who has to social-climb for one.” [24] Angelica is aware that if she wanted Hamilton, she could have him. However, her status in society requires her to “marry rich.” At the end of “Satisfied,” Angelica does not choose a sexual relationship with Hamilton, even though she desires him. Angelica explicitly performs and expresses sexual desire for Hamilton, but she does not pursue a physical relationship with him out of commitment to her sister Eliza. Angelica’s denial of her feelings for Hamilton takes on a new meaning in Goldsberry’s Black female body. This denial of romantic longing provides a counternarrative to the stereotype that Black women are overcome by their insatiable desire of sex. The expression of Angelica’s sexuality, embodied by Goldsberry, gestures towards historical embodiment of the Black female body, which Miranda subverts by reframing Angelica as simultaneously intelligent and sexually desirous. Notably, Miranda manages this subversive representation while avoiding oversexualizing or desexualizing Angelica, releasing the Black female body from “controlling images.” Thus, Goldsberry’s body serves as a host and traitor to American history and stage representations of Black femininity. Her character does not indulge in her desire for Hamilton nor is she relegated to the domestic sphere. Rather, Goldsberry embodies a character who is able to influence politics from her position yet is still seen as a woman who is sexually desirable. Notably, most critics have not weighed in on the alternative modes of labor inscribed by Angelica in the musical, the refusal of ontological categorization of Black women as asexual or hypersexual, and the recalibration of the Black woman as intelligent and desirable within a model of marriage. Additionally, Hamilton’s casting of Goldsberry and other women of color continues to challenge spectators of Hamilton to reconsider who can be a part of American history and what role they may play in it. [25] That the casting notice for Angelica Schuyler does not specify that the role be played specifically by a Black woman, but generally by a non-white actress, highlights the commitment of the Hamilton creative team to place dynamic and complex depictions of women of color on stage. Act Two: Maria Reynolds’s Deviant Possibility In “Say No to This,” Hamilton raps about his affair with Maria Reynolds, and the song is juxtaposed with Maria’s R&B influenced vocality as she provides her perspective of the events. As the affair progresses, her husband James extorts money from Hamilton; the men make a deal, ensuring that the affair is kept secret. Jasmine Cephas Jones, the mixed-race (Black and white) actress who originated the role of Maria, says, “On the page, her affair with Hamilton could be a mere scheme of extortion, a trap she sets because it’ll help her survive in her marriage. What makes ‘Say No to This’ interesting is the possibility that she’s also falling in love with him.” [26] Even though Jones’s claim that Maria is also falling in love is possible, Stacy Wolf observes that this position is not actually supported by the lyrics of the song. [27] Even though Jones’s interpretation of Maria’s feelings for Hamilton are not supported by the lyrics, Maria’s character is still more complex than she seems. Scholars such as Wolf may read Maria as falling into the jezebel trope (a controlling image derived from slavery that portrays African American women as having excessive sexual appetites), but this argument overlooks the ways that Jones’s embodiment of Maria subverts the trope. Put another way, categorizing Maria in this way obscures the power of Jones’s performance to upend audience assumptions about the sexuality of Black women as always already deviant. Maria, in Jones’s racialized body, utilizes the only capital she has—her body—to navigate her troubled life. Jones’s embodiment of Maria allows her to recalibrate and challenge the simplistic characterization of Maria, and Black women in general, as sexually deviant. Borrowing from Uri McMillian, the role of Maria reveals how performance allows “black women performers [to make] meaning within problematic representation structures.” [28] Performance, therefore, aids in addressing the construction and malleability of categories structured by race and gender. Rather than figuring Maria as depraved or framing her as simply a “whore,” Jones’s embodiment of Maria subverts expectations by illustrating how deviance can be a liberatory site, one where Maria harnesses a survival strategy, financial viability, and love. To gain insight into Maria Reynolds, I employ Black queer studies scholar Cathy Cohen’s politics of deviance as a means to examine “deviant practices and behaviors as productive…potential for resistance” for those who fall outside of the white heterosexual male, upper class position, particularly poor Black women. [29] Politics of deviance locates the agency of Black women who are deemed outside of normative sexual politics. Cohen proposes that poor Black women neither conform fully, nor wholly reject, the possibility of deviance as a strategy to improve their material conditions. Similarly, Maria may be seen as a “whore” and more complexly interpreted. Cohen’s politics of deviance is useful as it offers a theoretical lens to locate “the limited agency available” that Maria uses to “secure small levels of autonomy in [her] life.” [30] This is demonstrated in “Say No to This” when Maria, from the outset, informs the audience of her life, singing, “My husband’s doin me wrong / Beatin’ me, cheatin’ me, mistreatin’ me. / Suddenly he’s up and gone / I don’t have the means to go on.” [31] As the lyrics demonstrate, Maria is unfulfilled by her marriage and, as a married woman, she is unable to work to provide for herself; therefore, she must create an alternative way to survive. Maria reconfigures herself within her marriage, superseding the sexuality prescribed to white women of a certain class and position. Maria approaches Hamilton for her own financial and emotional needs with the means available to her as a woman in the eighteenth century. Classifying Maria as a sexual object, a body that is a tool used for sexual pleasure, inscribes the racialized female body as available solely for male consumption. However, Jones’s embodiment of Maria can be understood as a performance of disidentification, in which sexuality and desire are used as viable methods to shift power. Maria’s agency provides an alternative prescription for how Black women’s bodies can be read, especially in matters of sexuality. Racialization influences how sexuality is circulated and performed in Hamilton ; the musical counters this reading by positioning Maria as a figure in the historical record without faulting her for Hamilton’s downfall, and instead places the onus on Hamilton and her husband. Ultimately, Maria is not the reason for Hamilton’s eventual political downfall. Rather, Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison use Hamilton’s affair to undermine him. This begins when Burr, Jefferson, and Madison accuse Hamilton of committing treason, and in an effort to clear his name, Hamilton informs them of the affair and his extortion by James Reynolds. Hamilton’s downfall is not due to Maria and her seductive prowess; instead, Burr, Jefferson, and Madison’s goal to prevent Hamilton from becoming president leads Hamilton to implicate himself by revealing his affair. Maria, as a minor character, is merely a pawn used in the political machinations to facilitate Jefferson and Madison’s overthrowing of Hamilton. It is important to note that none of the characters in the musical blame Maria for the affair: Hamilton never places the blame on her; Angelica Schuyler, once she learns of the affair, blames Hamilton not Maria; and even Eliza Hamilton, when she sings of the affair in her ballad “Burn,” does not blame her for what happened, but, rather, focuses on Hamilton’s domestic betrayal and failure. Reading Maria as the culprit of Hamilton’s political misfortune overlooks the musical’s narrative as a reputable source that informs the spectator, and instead, chooses to lean on Reynolds’s categorization of his wife as a whore. Accepting Reynold’s words—“You can keep seeing my whore wife/ If the price is right”—is siding with her abuser and discrediting her in the process. [32] Adopting this categorization offered by Reynolds, a figure that the musical establishes as a disreputable character, in effect, prioritizes the sentiments and worldview of Reynolds over Maria’s own account which troubles easy and judgmental assumptions about her sexuality and choices. Act Three: Eliza Schuyler’s Re-telling Phillipa Soo, a Chinese American woman, originated the role of Eliza Schuyler, the second oldest of the Schuyler sisters. [33] As Eliza spends the majority of the play in a marriage with Hamilton, Stacy Wolf has criticized the musical for Eliza’s lack of agency in the show, describing her as “more passive than active at every turn,” rendering her only as a romantic and domestic partner of Hamilton. [34] Eliza may seem to be the most submissive character in the musical due to her confinement in the domestic sphere after her marriage to Hamilton. Some could read this confinement of Eliza as reflecting a lack of desire to move beyond the expectations of women during the eighteenth century. It is important to note that reading Eliza in this way makes an assumption that mothers and wives cannot engage in feminist praxis. By doing so, this overlooks the socio-political work and labor that is done in the domestic sphere. Instead, I propose that Eliza embraces her role as a mother and wife while simultaneously subverting her position within the home to negotiate, as Muñoz proposes in Disidentifications , a “phobic majoritarian public sphere that continuously elides or punishes the existence of subjects who do not conform.” [35] Eliza must navigate her position and status as a woman to elude consequences for more outward displays of non-conformity. For instance, when Eliza writes to George Washington that she is pregnant in order to prevent him from sending Hamilton into battle, she writes the narrative that then affects the rest of Hamilton’s political career. This moment is illustrative of how Eliza maneuvers the space given to her; rather than writing a letter to Hamilton, she writes to George Washington, the General of the Army. In doing so, Eliza sidesteps the patriarch of the family to achieve her own desires and needs. Including race in an analysis of Eliza’s agency shows how women of color feminisms, and specifically Asian American feminism, are uniquely different than those of white women and Black women. Soo’s race in the original Broadway cast serves as a means to grapple with Asian American women’s relationship to American citizenship and subvert stereotypical tropes of Asian American womanhood. [36] As literary scholar Traise Yamamoto explains, “The experiences of Asian American women have either been defined as identical to that of Asian American men or subsumed within the experiences of white women; both moves attest to the failure of representing Asian American women as sites of the complex intersections of race, gender, and national identity.” [37] Historically, Asian femininity has been portrayed as an idealized femininity. Since the politically insurgent feminist movement in the 1960s, images of Asian women circulated depicting them as hypersexual, de-vocalized, and subservient to white men. [38] At first glance, one might believe that the musical capitalizes on the stereotypical imagery of an Asian woman by pushing Soo’s character to the home and because of her performance of docility for Hamilton. [39] However, the musical counters potential readings of her body as hypersexual and submissive. When Eliza tells Hamilton that she wrote a letter to George Washington in the song “That Would Be Enough,” Hamilton immediately replies “No,” marking his disapproval with her action. [40] Nonetheless, Eliza is steadfast in her choice; in singing to Hamilton, “I’m not sorry,” she declares her own active participation in their life, even if she must go against societal norms. When Miranda speaks about this song, he gestures to a conversation with Hamilton director Tommy Kail during the workshop of Hamilton , where Kail challenged him to make “Eliza more active” in this moment instead of just having her express the sentiment to Hamilton. [41] Eliza literally and figuratively writes herself into history, not in an effort to resist her husband, but as a means to construct a narrative of legacy in which she is simultaneously an active participant and author. The recurring narrative-inscription motif woven throughout the musical further illustrates Eliza’s agency: she asks to be included in, removes herself from, and places herself in the narrative of Hamilton’s life. This motif is first represented in the song “That Would Be Enough,” in which Eliza announces to Hamilton that she is pregnant, singing, “Let me be a part of the narrative / In the story they will write someday.” [42] In Eliza’s second-act solo song “Burn,” [43] she learns of Hamilton’s affair with Maria Reyonlds and sings, “I’m erasing myself from the narrative / let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted.” [44] This moment in the musical, described by Stacy Wolf as the moment of agency for Eliza, is when she decides to leave Hamilton and obscure her own thoughts about the affair. [45] This moment signifies a rejection of the stereotype that Asian women are submissive. The musical motif comes full circle in the final song, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tell Your Story,” in which Eliza sings, “I put myself back in the narrative.” [46] In arguably the most powerful agentive moment in the entire show, Eliza reinserts herself back into the story, becoming an activist speaking against slavery, founding New York City’s first private orphanage, and raising funds to memorialize the men Hamilton fought beside. Alexander Hamilton may be the subject of Hamilton , but Eliza is the author. Eliza plays an active role in the construction of this narrative, a narrative that is as much hers as it is his. As the author, Eliza uses Hamilton’s legacy for her own political purpose; she makes the choices of what is deemed important or not. In the closing musical number, the lyric states that Eliza devotes the next fifty years of her life to sharing Hamilton’s legacy, but also to claiming her own place in it. Eliza, in tandem with Angelica, sings, “We tell your story,” referring to Hamilton’s history. [47] A few moments later, Eliza questions, “Will they tell our story?” [48] and the company queries, “Will they tell your story?” (emphasis mine). [49] In this moment, Eliza actively places herself in the narrative by making her retelling of this history a telling of her history, too. The ambiguity of the “your” sung by the company can be interpreted either as contemplating whether the world will tell Eliza’s story, or as a gesture toward a collective story that still needs to be told. Regardless of how one reads these lyrics, the ambiguity of who the company is singing about suggests that the individual story is indistinguishable or inseparable from the collective story. At the end of the musical, Hamilton and Eliza, along with the company, emphasize that Eliza’s story is just as important as Hamilton’s story. Eliza is not merely a teller of history, but a maker of history who was pushed to the margins because of her gender and race. As the musical questions if the audience will remember Eliza, Hamilton engages in a feminist mode of history writing and meaning making. This begs the bigger question of Hamilton : are the bodies that tell history just as important as what happens in history? Eliza’s story provides a resounding “yes.” The character of Eliza, who many claim has the least amount of agency, is the character who documents not only her husband’s story, but her own. This is particularly resonant because Soo’s Asian American body, as Karen Shimakawa theorizes, is marked by its constant oscillating relationship to American citizenship. [50] Placing Soo literally and figuratively within the nation-state, a site of tension for Asian American people, the musical encourages us to think about the limits of American citizenship. As Shimakawa reminds us, Americanness itself is defined by the “positioning of Asian Americans, as foreigners/outsiders/deviants/criminals or as domesticated/invisible/exemplary/honorary whites.” [51] Miranda recognizes the importance of Asian American women as central to America by positioning Eliza, embodied by Soo, a Chinese American actress, center stage to tell history from her perspective. Hamilton also challenges popular depictions of Asian American women on stage that only exist to serve the needs, desires, and journey of a white male character. Soo’s embodiment of Eliza is not merely an imitation of past stereotypical representations of Asian American women in theatre, such as in the musicals of Miss Saigon and The King and I. Instead, she is in control, wielding her own pen in her theatrical presentation, moving away from how musical theatre has scripted Asian American womanhood. Categorizing Eliza as merely a wife is limiting as it does not consider how the musical subverts and recalibrates Eliza’s role to incorporate the actress’s own embodiment. It also overlooks the importance of the wife’s role in male political figures’ lives and in politics in general. If one measures women of color to this standard of white womanhood, they will fall short every time. While women of color and white women may have some shared experiences of oppression, one must avoid generalizing in scholarly analysis to signal solidarity. Doing so erases the specific voices, experiences, and trauma of women of color. Hamilton combats this not only by positioning a woman as the final voice at the end of the musical, but a woman of color. Eliza’s act of writing history and telling Hamilton’s story—Hamilton and Eliza’s story—appeals to a feminist telling of history; as she tells her own story, she is simultaneously telling the story of the family, the nation, and, most importantly, of women of color. Even when Soo stands in the spotlight at the conclusion of Hamilton , she is not alone, nor is her presence divorced from the women who have shared the musical with her. It is noteworthy that in “The Schuyler Sisters,” when the three women are first introduced, they are identified as a collective. Also, of note: the actual song “The Schuyler Sisters” (which Miranda described as a “Destiny’s Child-esque” song) builds upon familiar “girl group” images, such as coordinated outfits and harmonies signaling a communal goal. Alongside the content of the song, “The Schuyler Sisters” illustrates how these three women, who bring different but equally important vocal styles, skills, and prowess to the musical number, are working together for the collective good. Our introduction to these women creates a purposeful contradistinction to the introduction of John Laurens, Marquis de Lafayette, and Hercules Mulligan. In “Aaron Burr, Sir,” the men are also introduced as a trio. But unlike the women, they all try to “one-up” each other during the hip-hop cypher. The hip-hop cypher, by definition, is simultaneously communal and competitive as rappers enter the space to illustrate their linguistic and performative prowess over one another, while also working to outlast the rest of the rappers in the circle. [52] In the musical, Hamilton is the one who is victorious in the cypher, which ultimately crowns him as the group’s leader. The format of the song, the staging of “Aaron Burr, Sir,” and the transition to “My Shot” demonstrate the deeply competitive nature of the men, who are overly concerned with individual legacy, and who almost exclusively work together to achieve their own personal goals. By contrast, the women ask us to consider the importance of sisterhood and investing in collective consciousness. Hamilton’ s grouping of the three principal actresses and their characters demonstrates a revolutionary call for women of color feminist collaboration. It asks that audiences consider how these women invest in modes of care for one another and challenges the role that patriarchy has in determining how they see each other. This is the major feminist work that the musical does. The collective investment in women of color’s coalition that the musical models, reiterates Chicana feminist Cherríe Moraga’s call for women of color to “create bridges of consciousness” by imagining women of color working together among, across, and in spite of difference. [53] It is these women of color’s embodiment on stage that signals women of color’s coalition building. Even if the musical does not always abide by this principle, the unified presence of Goldsberry, Soo, and Cephas-Jones and their laboring bodies on stage (as characters and as actors) urge us to consider the “work,” or “werk,” that women of color have done in the face of violence and erasure. Hamilton imagines and conceives white female historical figures as women of color, and while I have argued that Miranda’s casting subverts dominant racial and gendered expectations, I also recognize the limits of casting as a strategy in addressing the calls of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) in theatre. While Hamilton is not the first show to use casting to address dominant societal and cultural values, it arguably sparked a resurgence of Broadway producers and fans celebrating Broadway revivals that adopt non-traditional casting methods to signal a commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion. [54] This trend relies on casting to fix the systemic issues that displace marginalized theatre artists from the Broadway stage. Miranda’s (and his creative team’s) casting choices differ in critical ways; the musical from its inception intentionally cast non-white performers in the roles of white historical figures. [55] The meanings from these choices may be read differently, but the casting choices are anything but circumstantial. In fact, the identities and bodies of the actors are central to performance meanings. Beyond Hamilton, casting choices made in theatre should not simply function as ornamentation to obscure the racist and sexist meanings of a show. Instead, dramaturgs must explore how the corporeality of performers change characters and stories. When theatrical production and, arguably, theatre criticism, critically examine the corporeality of actors as a meaning-making practice, we can destabilize whiteness in our theatrical imagination. In the case of Hamilton , audiences may be better off noticing the impact of raced and gendered bodies in their perceptions of shows, instead of maintaining that race and gender is irrelevant to their experience of the musical. Hamilton’s representation of women of color attempts to embrace the complexity and the contradictions that cause the audience to repeatedly interrogate themselves, as well as the history of racial and gender oppression in the United States. References [1] See Aja Romano, “ Hamilton is Fanfic and, Its Historical Critics Are Totally Missing the Point,” Vox Media, https://www.vox.com/2016/4/14/11418672/hamilton-is-fanfic-not-historically-inaccurate; Ed Morales, “The Problem with the Hamilton Movie,” CNN Worldwide, https://www.cnn.com/2020/07/05/opinions/hamilton-movie-mixed-messages-black-lives-matter-morales/index.html; Stephanie Goodman, “Debating Hamilton as it Shifts From Stage to Screen,” The New York Times , 10 July 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/10/movies/hamilton-critics-lin-manuel-miranda.html; and Soroya Nadia McDonald, “Five Years Ago, Hamilton Turned a Revolution into a Revelation – what now?” ESPN Enterprises, https://theundefeated.com/features/five-years-ago-hamilton-turned-a-revolution-into-a-revelation-what-now. [2] See Renee C. Romano and Claire Bond Potter, eds., Historians on Hamilton : How a Blockbuster Musical Is Restaging America’s Past (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2018). This anthology weighs the pros and cons of the Hamilton ’s representation of history. Notably, out of the fifteen essays included in the anthology, only two give critical attention to the women of Hamilton : Allgor’s “‘Remember…I’m Your Man’: Masculinity, Marriage and Gender in Hamilton ” and Patricia Herrera’s “Reckoning with America’s Racial Past, Present, and Future in Hamilton .” [3] See Aly Semigran, “The Women of Hamilton , Making Herstory on Broadway,” Legendary Entertainment, 1 September 2016, https://amysmartgirls.com/the-women-of-hamilton-making-herstory-on-broadway-e507820a319. Semigran’s review provides a short exposé on the actresses in Hamilton and praises the musical. Semigran exclaims, “They aren’t the women behind the Founding Fathers in this critical chapter in American history, they are the ones standing at their side, all the while standing up for themselves and making history all their own.” See also Michael Schuman, “The Women of Hamilton ,” The New Yorker , 6 August 2015, https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/the-women-of-hamilton. Schulman also praises the show, stating: “Miranda has placed a pair of vividly imagined female characters” in the musical. However, Schulman, then questions if Hamilton is feminist, and ultimately answers himself: “Almost.” He contends that Hamilton reiterates “that men do history, and women just tell it.” However, Schulman later retreats somewhat, giving Miranda recognition for positioning women in the musical alongside the men and not behind them. [4] See James McMaster, “Why Hamilton Is Not the Revolution You Think It Is,” Emerson College, 23 February 2016, https://howlround.com/why-hamilton-not-revolution-you-think-it. James McMaster interrogates the absent feminism in an essay for HowlRound. McMaster argues that the female characters’ desires, fears, hopes, and plans within Hamilton exist only in relation to Hamilton. See also Stacy Wolf, “ Hamilton ,” The Feminist Spectator (blog), 24 February 2016, https://feministspectator.princeton.edu/2016/02/24/hamilton. Shortly after the publication of McMaster’s essay, Wolf penned a guest blog on The Feminist Spectator in which she argues that each main woman in the musical is an archetype, categorizing Angelica Schuyler (sister-in-law of Hamilton) as a muse, Eliza Schuyler (Hamilton’s wife) as a wife, and Maria Reynolds (the woman with whom Hamilton has an affair) as a whore. For a more developed version of this argument, see Wolf, “ Hamilton ’s Women,” Studies in Musical Theatre 12, no. 2 (June 2018). Here, Wolf contends that Hamilton epitomizes a paradox for the feminist spectator, one that is structured by a love/hate relationship, or what she calls “dissonant pleasure.” Throughout this article, Wolf examines the choreography, musical numbers, and narrative arc of the women characters, arguing that Hamilton illustrates the potential of the women as socially and political engaged citizens, but ultimately fails in fulfilling this promise. See Indebted to Wolf’s critical engagement with Hamilton ’s women, in her chapter from Historians on Hamilton , “‘Remember…I’m Your Man’: Masculinity, Marriage, and Gender in Hamilton ,” Catherine Allgor reiterates Wolf’s sentiment about the positioning of women on the periphery in Hamilton . Allgor examines how gender operates in the musical alongside the historical record, noting that Hamilton fails to illuminate how gender is a significant organizing principle. For Allgor, this oversight hides the subordinate legal status that women faced and perpetuates the belief that women only played minor roles in history. Allgor ends by noting that Hamilton’s revolution relies on its attempt to “decenter history” and that this can inspire others to build upon Miranda’s work. [5] Brandi Wilkins Catanese, The Problem of the Color(Blind) Racial Transgression and the Politics of Black Performance (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2011), 22. [6] It is important to note that this article focuses on the original principal actresses of Hamilton ’s Broadway production (performers that reprised their roles of Eliza, Angelica, and Mariah for the Disney+ version of the musical) and how the racial and gender identity of these performers influence potential readings of their respective characters. [7] Brian Eugenio Herrera, “Looking at Hamilton from Inside the Broadway Bubble,” in Historians on Hamilton: How a Blockbuster Musical Is Restaging America’s Past , eds. Renee C. Romano and Claire Bond Potter (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2018), 230. [8] Robin Bernstein, “Dances with Things: Material Culture and the Performance of Race,” Social Text 27, no. 4 (2009): 69. [9] Michelle Cowin Gibbs, “Playing the Dozens: Towards a Black Feminist Dramaturgy in the Work of Zora Neale Hurston,” The Journal of American Drama and Theatre 33, no. 2 (Spring 2021). [10] See Patricia Hill Collins, Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment (London: Unwin Hynan,1990). Collins explores the intellectual tradition fostered by Black women scholars, non-academics, and artists. Tracing ideas and concepts propelled by Black women, most notably the term “outsider-within” and “matrix of domination,” Collins argues that Black women will always fall outside of “feminist and black social thought” due to their focus on whiteness or maleness. Yet, according to Collins this “outsider within” position produces a knowledge source that is more nuanced than feminist and Black social thought. [11] Bert Cardullo, What Is Dramaturgy? (New York: Peter Lang, 1995), 3. [12] Faedra Chatard Carpenter, Coloring Whiteness: Acts of Critique in Black Performance (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 2014), 13. [13] José Esteban Muñoz, Disidentifications: Queers of Color and the Performance of Politics (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1999), 6. [14] Ibid, 23. [15] While my primary analysis is through Black feminism, I recognize that women of color feminisms are distinct and different. Utilizing other women of color feminisms will also magnify new interpretative possibilities for the musical. [16] The Hamilton casting call describes Angelica Schuyler as a mix of Desiree Armfeldt and Nicki Minaj. [17] Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter, Hamilton: The Revolution (New York: Grand Central Publishing, 2016), 79. [18] Hortense J. Spillers, “Mama’s Baby, Papa’s Maybe: An American Grammar Book,” Diacritics 17, no. 2 (1987): 67. [19] See Lyra D. Monteiro, “Race-Conscious Casting and the Erasure of the Black Past in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton ,” National Council on Public History, 10 June 2016, https://ncph.org/history-at-work/its-not-just-a-musical; Annette Gordon-Reed, “ Hamilton , the Musical: Blacks and the Founding Fathers, 6 April 2016, https://ncph.org/history-at-work/hamilton-the-musical-blacks-and-the-founding-fathers; and Ishmael Reed, “ Hamilton , the musical: Black Actor Dress Up like Slave Traders…and It’s Not Halloween,” CounterPunch, https://www.counterpunch.org/2015/08/21/hamilton-the-musical-black-actors-dress-up-like-slave-tradersand-its-not-halloween for their essential critiques of the musical’s erasure. [20] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 44. [21] Whitney Peoples, “‘Under Construction’: Identifying Foundations of Hip-Hop Feminism and Exploring Bridges between Black Second Wave and Hip-Hop Feminisms,” in No Permanent Waves Recasting Histories of U.S. Feminism (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 404. [22] Muñoz, Disidentifications , 6. [23] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 2. 4.y of Minnesota Press, 1997), 29.ect. istorical embodiment of the black female body, that I offer Miranda subverts through th [24] Ibid, 82. [25] In the essay, “On the Perfect Union of Actor and Role with Allusion to Renée Elise Goldsberry” in Hamilton: The Revolution , Miranda speaks about the first time that Goldsberry auditioned for the musical and how she was the perfect person for the role. Not only does this essay provide further insight into how character and actor are central to the musical, but it also highlights Miranda’s role in casting of the show. [26] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 175. [27] Stacy Wolf, “Hamilton’s Women,” Studies in Musical Theatre 12, no. 2 (June 1, 2018): 176. [28] Uri McMillan, Embodied Avatars: Genealogies of Black Feminist Art and Performance (New York: New York University Press, 2015), 24. [29] Mireille Miller-Young, “Preface: Confessions of A Black Feminist Academic Pornographer,” in A Taste for Brown Sugar: Black Women in Pornography (Durham, NC; Duke University Press, 2014), x. [30] Cathy J. Cohen, “Deviance as Resistance: A New Research Agenda for the Study of Black Politics,” Du Bois Review 1, no. 1 (2004): 27–45, 30. [31] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 176. [32] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 177. [33] Phillipa Soo’s racial ambiguity had led some historians to read her as white, specifically Annette Gordon-Reed who asserts that Phillipa Soo is read and coded as white. While the audience may have difficulty fitting her into a racial category, I do not read Phillipa Soo’s embodiment of Eliza Schuyler as white. [34] Wolf, “ Hamilton ’s Women,” 169. [35] Muñoz, Disidentifications , 4. [36] As a reminder, because the casting breakdown specifices that a “non-white” actress should play the role, Eliza has been played by other non-Asian women of color; therefore, the meaning of the performance can and has changed depending on who portrays her. I analyze Soo’s performance because it has undoubtedly influenced later productions and it allows me to highlight that a generic (i.e., white) analysis will not serve the various meanings conjured by the bodies of the women of color who will embody this role in the future. [37] Traise Yamamoto, Masking Selves, Making Subjects: Japanese American Women, Identity, and the Body (Berkeley CA: University of California Press, 1999), 67. [38] Yen Le Espiritu, Asian American Women and Men: Labor, Laws and Love (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 1997), 34. [39] For most spectators of the musical, Soo’s body signals a generic Asian-ness or mixedness, thus rendering her representative of all Asian Americans and denying her the particularities of her Chinese American identity. I refer to her as Asian American throughout the paper to point out how the United States’ systems of racial classification require Soo’s body to be easily consumable for the American public. In this way, Soo comes to stand in for the diverse population of Asian Americans, despite her desire or choice too. [40] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 110. [41] Ibid. [42] Ibid. [43] There is no historical record of Eliza Schuyler’s reaction to finding out about the affair; Miranda’s imagines what her reaction would be in this song. [44] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 238. [45] Wolf, “ Hamilton ’s Women,” 175. [46] Miranda and McCarter, Hamilton , 280. [47] Ibid. [48] Ibid, 281. [49] Ibid, 281. [50] Karen Shimakawa, National Abjection: The Asian American Body Onstage (Durham, NC: Duke University Press Books, 2002), 3. [51] Shimakawa, National Abjection , 3. [52] H. Samy Alim, Roc the Mic Right: The Language of Hip-Hop Culture , (New York: Routledge, 2006), 97. [53] Cherríe Moraga, This Bridge Called My Back, Fourth Edition: Writings by Radical Women of Color , ed. Gloria Anzaldúa (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1981, reprint 2015), 16. [54] For example, the recent Broadway revival of the Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! cast the female lead as a Black woman. [55] Michael Paulson, “ Hamilton Producers Will Change Job Posting, but Not Commitment to Diverse Casting,” The New York Times , 30 March 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/03/31/arts/union- criticizes-hamilton-casting-call-seeking-nonwhite-actors.html. 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 Performance and the Disney Theme Park Experience: The Tourist as Actor. Jennifer A. Kokai and Tom Robson, eds. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019; Pp. 292. The Risk Theatre Model of Tragedy: Gambling, Drama, and the Unexpected. Edwin Wong. Victoria, Canada: Friesen Press, 2019; Pp. 363. Susan Glaspell’s Poetics and Politics of Rebellion. Emeline Jouve. Iowa City, University of Iowa Press, 2017; Pp. 258. Radical Vision: A Biography of Lorraine Hansberry. Soyica Diggs Colbert. New Haven: Yale, 2021; Pp. 273. The Mysterious Murder of Mrs. Shakespeare: Transgressive Performance in Nineteenth-Century New York “What Will Be Changed?”: Maxwell Anderson and the Literary Legacy of Sacco and Vanzetti Theatre of Isolation “A Certain Man Had Two [Kids]”: Tragic Parables, “The Prodigal Son,” and Edward Albee's The Goat “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells [Her] Story”: An Intersectional Analysis of the Women of Hamilton Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Khalid Y. Long and Le’Mil Eiland Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 38 2 Visit Journal Homepage 100 Years of Du Bois: “Principles of a Real Negro Theatre” and “Criteria of Negro Art” Khalid Y. Long and Le’Mil Eiland By Published on May 26, 2026 Download Article as PDF William Edward Burghardt Du Bois is regarded for his astute sociological insights into black life, as reflected in his various publications. His philosophical interventions, through publications such as The Souls of Black Folks (1903), the theory of double consciousness, and the concept of the Talented Tenth—among many others—enrich the sociological, political, and intellectual histories worldwide. His community leadership with organizations like the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (N.A.A.C.P.) and circulation of N.A.A.C.P.’s The Crisis magazine wed his scholarly investments with the Black public intellectual tradition. Negro drama, as it was termed at the time Du Bois wrote, was a particular means of reframing the perception of Black people in America. In July 1926, Du Bois published his essay “Krigwa Players Little Negro Theatre: The Story of a Little Theatre Movement.” In it, he codified his vision for “four fundamental principles” of a “real Negro Theatre”: it must be about Black life, written by Black authors, performed for Black audiences, and situated within Black communities. These principles challenged prevailing theatrical norms and directly confronted the commercialization and racial gatekeeping of the broader American stage. According to Tejumola Olaniyan, Du Bois’s manifesto “challenged the reigning fashion of ‘Negro Theater’” written and packaged by whites, and also the idea of audience and related theatrical success defined merely commercially, within the asphyxiating parameters of Broadway” ( Scars of Conquest/Masks of Resistance 21). Later that year in October, Du Bois published a second critical article titled “Criteria of Negro Art” in which he insisted that “all Art [i.e., true art] is propaganda and ever must be, despite the wailing of the purists ... I do not care a damn for any art that is not used for propaganda.” 1 By establishing himself as a progenitor of a Black aesthetic centered on the social responsibility of Black art, especially during the height of the New Negro period, Du Bois would inspire theatre scholars, critics, educators, and playwrights to consider the role and function of theatre in the decades that followed.  Du Bois’s activism and scholarship offer an opportunity to center the conditions of Black life and the afterlives of the New Negro era. Although Du Bois died on August 27, 1963, his words continue to illuminate and resonate with artists, scholars, and activists today. For example, Clark Atlanta University and The Atlanta Journal-Constitution online newspaper recently reenvisioned Du Bois’s “Exhibit of American Negroes.” In 1900, at the World’s Fair in Paris, Du Bois, along with Daniel Murray and Thomas J. Calloway, compiled photographs of Black people and visual data in the wake of the Civil War. In 2026, the university’s exhibit and the Atlanta newspaper reproduced images from the exhibit alongside contemporary photographs of Black folks and current racial demographics. These photographs, alongside sociological data, visualize and collapse the boundaries between art and sociology. We’d argue that theatre, during the turn of the twentieth century and today, also stitches these two disciplines together as a continuation of Du Bois’s cultural investments.  Du Bois’s four principles on Negro theatre are arguably the most significant and often cited assertion that this theatre is “About us, By us, For us, and Near us.” Du Bois’s proposition repositions caricatures as subjects, passive spectators as playwrights and performers, displaced voyeurs as patrons, and distant destinations for neighborhood establishments. We’d be remiss to ignore the repetition of “us” as a rhetorical device. About us . Du Bois is situating himself in a relationship with the reader(s) to affirm community. By us . Du Bois challenges American individualism in favor of collective participation. For us . Du Bois hailed Black communities with his ideologies on race. Near us . Du Bois acknowledges the importance of shared space, proximity, and immediacy. About us . Du Bois reiterates his priority: the souls of black folks. As the Crisis magazine began the 1920s with a monthly circulation of over 100,000 copies, more than a citation for publication, Du Bois penned an edict on Black theatre. Du Bois offers us, as editors and contributors, and you, as readers, a moment to consider the space between 1926 and today. While some of Du Bois’s evocations are firmly rooted in the early twentieth century, much of his work redirects our attention to pressing concerns for Black theatre today. Although we focus on Du Bois, we also position his works as mediators alongside Alain Locke, Thomas Montgomery Gregory, and countless contributors and patrons of Black theatre and drama in the 1920s. Unlike several of his contemporaries, including Locke and Gregory, Du Bois held a more radical Black philosophy, recognizing the potential of theatre and drama to reshape perceptions of Black people in America. There have been many shifts since Du Bois wrote in 1926. Just as Negro has been refashioned in title and subjectivity to African American and Black, theatrical genres, sensibilities, and genealogies have shifted and multiplied as well. Race and propaganda drama propelled an urgent response to minstrelsy, as post-Black drama built on and pressed beyond the Black Arts Movement. In 1926, Du Bois advocated for a regional theatre movement, through the Krigwa Players’ Little Negro Theatre, to expand across the nation. After over five decades since the end of the Great Migration, when approximately six million people moved across multiple regional destinations to develop a national culture, we can investigate the profile of Black theatre across America. Returning 100 years later to this essential figure and these vital archival documents, this special issue of the Journal of American Drama and Theatre  marks the centenary publication of Du Bois’s “Principles of a Real Negro Theatre” and “Criteria of Negro Art.” Across a range of essays, the authors revisit Du Bois’s foundational works and recognize them as theoretical interventions that continue to shape our understanding of Black performance, aesthetics, and cultural politics. Contending with how Du Bois’s essays reverberate today, the articles in this special issue focus on the enduring insistence of his call for art as a bold cultural intervention against an entrenched supremacist order and its pervasive norms. Isaiah Matthew Wooden opens this special issue with his essay, “‘One Great and Fine Mode of Expression’: On W. E. B. Du Bois and the Exigencies of Black Drama and Theatre.” Focusing on Du Bois’s resignation from the Krigwa Players and his lifelong reflections on theatre, Wooden reconsiders Du Bois not only as a critic of Black representation but also as a devoted practitioner and theorist of Black drama. Through archival letters, manifestos, and essays, Wooden traces how Du Bois understood drama as a vital mode of collective expression grounded in shared memory and struggle. In her essay, “W.E.B. Du Bois’s Krigwa Little Negro Theatre Movement in Harlem and Beyond,” Kirsten Lee argues that Du Bois envisioned Black theatre not as a localized Harlem phenomenon but as a movement shaped by the demographic and cultural shifts of the Great Migration. Drawing on archival research, the essay shows how the Krigwa model fostered cross-regional collaboration and the development of Black artistic communities across the United States. Kellen Hoxworth’s “An Expansive ‘Us’: W.E.B. Du Bois’s ‘Pan-Negro’ Theatrical Vision” reexamines Du Bois’s theatrical philosophy by placing it within a broader pan-Africanist and internationalist framework. Through close readings of  The Star of Ethiopia  and of Du Bois’s intellectual influence on figures such as Lorraine Hansberry and Alice Childress, the essay shows how his work articulates a transnational conception of Black identity and performance, arguing that Du Bois’s theatre constructs an “expansive us” that bridges Black American experiences with global Black histories and political struggles. In “It Was All a Dream: Shifting Du Boisian Notions in Richard Wesley’s  The Talented Tenth, ” Kristyl D. Tift examines the evolution and limitations of Du Bois’s “Talented Tenth” theory through a reading of Richard Wesley’s play  The Talented Tenth . Tift highlights Wesley’s engagement with intra-racial class tensions and generational divides. In doing so, she traces Du Bois’s ideological shift from elite-driven racial uplift to a more collective, institutional vision of Black cultural production. Ultimately, Tift positions the play as both a dramatization and a revision of Du Boisian thought, revealing the enduring complexities of race, class, and aspiration. In Jonathan Shandell’s “Reflections on Fundamental Principles,” he revisits Du Bois’s foundational manifesto on Black theatre. Shandell argues that Du Bois’s formulation—“About us, By us, For us, Near us”—remains a vital analytic framework for understanding the historical and contemporary trajectories of Black theatre. The essay foregrounds the collaborative and communal dimensions of theatrical production, emphasizing the centrality of Black audiences and the spatial politics of performance. At the same time, Shandell interrogates the scholar’s positionality, especially his own, in relation to Du Bois’s conception of “us,” ultimately proposingan expanded, more inclusive revelatory perspective. Omiyẹmi (Artisia) Green closes this special edition with her article, “Teaching August Wilson in an Age of Democratic Decline: Du Boisian Imperatives and Black Pedagogy Across Campus and Community.” Drawing on Du Bois’s philosophies and August Wilson’s dramaturgy, Green examines the tensions of teaching Wilson’s American Century Cycle at a predominantly white institution. The essay traces how Du Bois’s principles inspired her to extend Wilson’s work beyond the university into a community-based Freedom School model rooted in mutual aid, intergenerational learning, and Black cultural inheritance. As we look back on the contents of this special issue, we must acknowledge the peculiar position of Black drama and theatre in 2026. Black theatre is currently sandwiched between national accomplishments—such as the recent recognition of numerous Black playwrights and artists with industry accolades like the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in America and The Antoinette Perry Award for Excellence in Broadway Theatre (Tony Awards)—and a conservative shift in which discussions of race, even in theatre spaces, are framed as culturally adversarial. As a continuation of Du Boisian thought in dialogue with August Wilson’s “The Ground on Which I Stand” and Suzan-Lori Parks’ “New Black Math,” we must contend with the current condition of Black theatre in America NOW . We need a cultural response to inequities in funding streams and institutional support for theatre artists, scholars, and Black brick-and-mortar theatre buildings. We need strategies to address labor precarity and the underrecognized, undercompensated racial labor within performance and educational spaces. We require, in addition to representation, that Black theatre cultural producers have autonomy across the various stages of production to advocate for Black artists and contributors as active participants and partners (not just witnesses and patrons). We desire and deserve sustained dialogue about how Black theatre is taken up, especially by predominantly white educational and industry institutions that, due to power imbalances, continue to shape theatrical training and production practices in ways that can inadvertently diminish the integrity and continuity of our vibrant theatrical traditions. The articles in this special issue take up that charge in distinct yet resonant and imaginative ways, tracing lineages, interrogating institutions, and imagining alternative modes of practice, critique, and sustainability. Together, the authors remind us that Black theatre has never been merely reflective but integral—actively shaping the conditions of its existence. As such, this special issue stands not only as a commemoration but also as a continuation of Du Bois’s call to think and build through the arts. References 1 “The Criteria of Negro Art” was originally presented as an address at the NAACP’s annual conference held in Chicago in June 1926. Footnotes About The Author(s) Khalid Y. Long is the Associate Dean of the Chadwick A. Boseman College of Fine Arts at Howard University. His books include Contemporary Black Theatre and Performance: Acts of Rebellion, Activism, and Solidarity (Methuen Drama) and August Wilson in Context (Cambridge University Press). He has published in several journals and edited scholarly collections, including  Continuum: The Journal of African Diaspora Drama, Theatre, and Performance; tBTR: the Black Theatre Review; The Journal of American Drama and Theatre (JADT);   Modern Drama ;  Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism; Theatre Topics; Theatre Journal; Theatre, and several edited collections. A freelance dramaturg, he has collaborated with numerous theaters nationwide, partnering with a wide array of theater artists.  Le’Mil L. Eiland is an Assistant Professor of Theatre History at Illinois State University. Eiland is the Director of Graduate Studies and Program Head for the Theatre Studies programs at Illinois State University. Eiland is currently working on his first manuscript, The Black Archives: Fugitive Historiographies . As an interdisciplinary scholar, he studies and researches at the intersections of black cultural production, theatre history, and performance theory. He has publications with the Black Theatre Review , with upcoming publications in the American Theatre magazine and Theatre History Studies . He is a director and movement-based theatre artist whose work centers poetic text, physical storytelling, and imaginative staging. Eiland’s assistant directing credits include the Illinois Shakespeare Festival and the American Players Theatre. As a director, his recent projects include Everybody by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins and Red by John Logan. 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 100 Years of Du Bois: “Principles of a Real Negro Theatre” and “Criteria of Negro Art” “One Great and Fine Mode of Expression”: On W. E. B. Du Bois and the Exigencies of Black Drama and Theatre Reflections on Fundamental Principles An Expansive “Us”: W. E. B. Du Bois’s “Pan-Negro” Theatrical Vision W. E. B. Du Bois’s Krigwa Little Negro Theatre Movement in Harlem and Beyond It Was All a Dream: Shifting Du Boisian Notions in Richard Wesley’s The Talented Tenth Teaching August Wilson in an Age of Democratic Decline: Du Boisian Imperatives and Black Pedagogy Across Campus and Community Debbie with a D Talks Theatre with a T The Wild Duck Picnic at Hanging Rock Last Call: A Play with Cocktails The Dinosaurs The Routledge Anthology of Women’s Theatre Theory and Dramatic Criticism. Catherine Burroughs and J. Ellen Gainor, editors. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 652. Black Patience: Performance, Civil Rights, and the Unfinished Project of Emancipation. Julius B. Fleming Jr. New York: New York University Press, 2022; Pp. 301. The Theatre of Paula Vogel: Practice, Pedagogy, and Influences. Lee Brewer Jones. New York: Methuen Drama, 2023; Pp. 194. Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Paul Gagliardi 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 The Illusion of Work: The Con Artist Plays of the Federal Theatre Project Paul Gagliardi By Published on December 11, 2017 Download Article as PDF In a chapter of her memoir on her tenure as leader of the Federal Theatre Project (FTP), Hallie Flanagan details the trials and tribulations of staging plays in New York City. While much of the chapter explores the controversies over certain plays and the successes of others, Flanagan dedicates a portion of that chapter to recalling some of the more outlandish plays produced by her unit in New York (and elsewhere). In between praise for the “insane moments” of a production of Dance of Death and for “the inspired lunacy” of Horse Eats Hat, Flanagan describes another play which she appears to consider outrageous: the confidence artist play Help Yourself by Paul Vulpius which “created comedy from its situation of the unemployed young man brightly hanging up his hat in a bank where he had no job and becoming the leading expert in a land deal that never existed in fact.” [1] The fact that the FTP staged a play featuring a man swindling a bank seems curious given that the con has historically been condemned by commentators and that, at least outwardly, the con does not seem to bear the hallmarks of work, especially given, as David Kennedy notes, the prevailing principle for Franklin Roosevelt’s programs “was work.” [2] While a play featuring a man swindling a bank may have contradicted the prevailing ideology of the New Deal, plays that featured confidence artists—defined as any person who defrauds or outwits another person or group by gaining their confidence—were hardly unusual in the FTP. [3] In addition to Help Yourself , the FTP staged John Murray and Allen Boertz’s Room Service , which was the basis for a Marx Brothers film of the same name, wherein a Broadway producer named Gordon Miller engages in a series of ruses to prevent his theatrical company from being thrown out of a hotel by management while he attempts to secure funding for their latest production. Similarly, in John Brownell’s The Nut Farm, an aspiring film director named Willie Barton outwits a shady film producer by taking control of the project and outwits the producer by selling the film to a Hollywood studio. [4] And, in Lynn Root and Harry Clork’s The Milky Way , a promoter fixes a series of boxing matches in which a scrawny milkman wins the middleweight championship. While Flanagan often promoted popular fare like the con artist plays (she frequently mentions various productions of Help Yourself in her memoir and was eager to praise similar plays during her tenure), popular plays like these have not garnered the attention of critics or scholars. For then-contemporary reviewers, the FTP con artist plays were often dismissed, in part, because they considered the plays farces, or cheap commercial fare, and they were often more inclined to write about the more controversial socially-minded theatre the FTP was producing. Meanwhile, scholars have rarely analyzed these plays; Help Yourself is dismissed as “a very mild comedy” by Malcolm Goldstein, [5] while Barry Witham employs the audience reports of the Seattle Unit’s Help Yourself as a way to gauge the socio-economic makeup of that theater’s audience. [6] Indeed scholars like Witham, Loren Kruger, and Rena Fraden have focused their efforts on the more radical and avant-garde plays performed by the agency—such as the Living Newspaper plays or Orson Welles’s productions—that were a small percentage of the overall number of productions. Recent studies such as Elizabeth Osborne’s Staging the People: Community and Identity in the Federal Theatre Project and Leslie Elaine Frost’s Dreaming America: Popular Front Ideals and Aesthetics in Children’s Plays of the Federal Theatre Project have contributed to FTP scholarship by examining how under-analyzed plays fit into the agency’s complicated history, but overall, comic plays are deemphasized in these works. Yet while discussions of these plays are rare, the con artist plays of the FTP were some of the agency’s most complex works and, as I hope to demonstrate in this essay, are worthy of continued study. To accomplish this, I will focus on two of the more popular con artist plays, The Milky Wa y and Help Yourself. While the plays do promote the importance of employment and hard work, they also invite their audiences to act as participants in the con of the stage, providing agency to Depression-era audiences. At the same time, these plays also reminded audiences of the problematic nature of both the American Dream in the 1930s and the dangers that tolerance of confidence artists by institutions like the banking industry still held for Americans. The Con Artist and the Federal Theatre Project: Yet despite the ideological problems presented by the con artist, one can also see the appeal of these plays for the FTP. First, Flanagan’s belief that the FTP should embrace the “geography, language origins, history, tradition, custom, occupations of the people” in its theatre aligns with regional, historical, and cultural ubiquity of the confidence artist narrative. [7] Tales of confidence men and women in American culture can be traced back to the founding of the Republic and writers, playwrights, and producers frequently centered their works on the exploits of swindlers of all types. The con artist plays were also primarily written by then-contemporary American playwrights (except for Help Yourself ) and helped fulfill Flanagan’s aim of promoting new voices in the theatre. Yet another reason why these plays likely appealed to the FTP was that they could be used to temper criticism of the agency. In one sense, producers could illustrate a collective sense of humor on the agency’s behalf by staging plays like Room Service and The Nut Farm with their less-than-flattering portrayals of actors. Additionally, given long standing connections between the confidence scheme and theatre in American culture, the theme embedded in these plays that actors and con artists were not that dissimilar may have resonated with audiences. [8] The con artist plays were also more conservative in nature than many of the radical plays the agency was known for producing. Throughout its run, the FTP was accused of promoting leftist productions by critics in the press and the Republican Party; while the agency did produce a relatively small number of Living Newspaper plays and other shows that did contain radical themes, Flanagan and her producers continually had to deal with accusations from their critics that they were promoting leftist or communist plays. As such, the agency could have staged con artist plays to deflect some of these criticisms because these works could be read by audiences and critics as promoting a safe version of the con. For starters, the plays often feature swindles that are, as Flanagan said, “outlandish”: from outfoxing a nation of boxing fans to declaring one just works at a bank, the plots of this plays border on the absurd and appear to lack any realism. Moreover, there are no real victims in the plays: in contrast to real-life swindles such as Ponzi schemes, the marks of the con artists benefit from the deception (the bankers and employees of the brick factory in Help Yourself , the hotel manager and the acting troupe in Room Service ), or are implicit in the con (boxing fans in The Milky Way ). But perhaps most importantly, the plays feature characters whose goal is employment; for them, the confidence game is a means to an end. For example, in both The Milky Way and Help Yourself , the plays conclude with the the swindler characters getting full-time work in a dairy and a bank respectively. In addition to promoting the importance of employment, the plays also feature characters who dedicate themselves fully to their labors, reinforcing work ethic norms. The connection between swindling and traditional work is not unusual, as both scholars and confidence artists have understood the con as another form of work. As Joseph Maurer asserts, many confidence artists find they must dedicate themselves fully to their con, such as being versed in “business and financial matters, have a glib knowledge of society gossip, and enough of an acquaintance with art, literature, and music to give an illusion of culture.” [9] Similarly, the con artists in these plays have to dedicate an often impressive amount of effort to maintain their illusions, from toiling to complete a film ( The Nut Farm ), to studying the performances of a banker ( Help Yourself ). While the appeal of con artist plays to the FTP may have been in their outward approval of more conservative ideals, members of agency also likely understood the more subversive nature of the plays. In one sense, it seems that FTP workers sought to restore the character of the con artist to its more heroic status, similar to how Flanagan aimed to restore theatre to its cultural status of the late nineteenth century. Indeed, there existed an interesting parallel between the character of the confidence artist and theatre during the 1930s, as modernity had changed how Americans viewed both. Whereas the rise of cinema and radio as popular entertainments had helped diminish the importance of theatre in the minds of Americans, the lingering effects of the First World War and the Great Depression altered how the American public viewed confidence artists. While the con artists in nineteenth-century culture were emblematic of an optimistic country, the confidence artists that appear in American culture after 1920, like Jay Gatsby, Miss Lonelyhearts, and Elmer Gantry, are “painful victims betrayed by a vision of the new country that retains only the power to delude rather than to fulfill.” [10] And for the most part, the con artists in these plays swindle heroically, trying to protect their associates or families, or attempting to outwit institutions that were unpopular during the Depression. These plays provided the FTP the opportunity to give a measure of agency to its audiences. As Elizabeth Osborne notes, Flanagan believed that her agency should provide “economic, physical, and psychological relief” to both actors and audiences. [11] And the confidence plays could have afforded audiences the opportunity to have their spirits “uplifted,” as Flanagan often noted. This effect partially came from the confidence tales themselves, as historically Americans have long admired the confidence artist’s daring and risk—especially through the reading of literature and in the retelling of tall tales or other stories—while celebrating the plodding determination of the self-made man in ceremony. [12] However, the confidence artist plays of the FTP seem to have reversed that dynamic, as the plays invited their audiences to participate in the art of deception by enjoying their complicity as “shills” who are enjoying seeing richer, less unaware marks being deceived on-stage. In his essay on the production history of Room Service , Sebastian Trainor draws on the work of Raymond Williams and Mark Fearnow to assert that the play’s long term success (it was frequently staged through the 1950s and saw revivals in the 1990s) may have resulted “from an audience’s failure to realize that the tale portrayed the artful manipulation of the American capitalist system by the agents of an emergent ideology.” Yet Depression audiences “likely derived considerable ‘Freudian pleasure’ from witnessing the abuse of authority figures on stage” and the farcical con artist plays gave audiences the agency to engage in such fantasies. [13] Yet perhaps the most significant reason why the FTP staged so many con artist plays was because they provided the FTP another opportunity to comment upon the socio-economic issues of the Depression. In part, this is because the character has long afforded artists and writers to note, as Gary Lindberg argues, that “the boundaries [of the social structure] are already fluid, [and] that there is ample space between society’s official rules and its actual tolerances.” [14] In particular, Help Yourself and The Milky Way illustrate the long standing intersection between the con and capitalism, investigating economic themes similar to those of the Living Newspaper plays like One Third a Nation , Power , or Triple-A Plowed Under . Scholars have often noted that there is often little to no difference between the labor of the con artist and the work of “the self-made man” that is praised in American rhetoric. For example, Stephen Mihm asserts that conning and finance are “to a certain extent,” interlocked, as “the story of one is the story of the other.” [15] He argues that it is a testament to the mythology of the work ethic that it has persisted in society when dishonest swindling has been favored by Americans rather than the “plodding, methodical, gradual pursuit of wealth.” [16] Instead, Mihm argues that the true American financial ethos “captures the get-rich-quick scheme, the confidence game, and the mania for speculation” that obsessed not just antebellum America, but that continues to grip American society into this day. [17] With their representation of socio-economic issues, the con, and the intersections between them, plays like Help Yourself and The Milky Way afforded the FTP another opportunity to challenge audiences; while not as overt in addressing the audience as the Living Newspaper plays, The Milky Way and Help Yourself still offered their audiences complex themes that also implicated all levels of society and forced audience members to reevaluate the myths they believed in and their complicity in the dangerous cons. [18] The Milky Way While its popularity has fluctuated since its inception in the late nineteenth-century, professional wrestling in the United States (and elsewhere) remains one of the most popular confidence games. As Susan Maurer explains in her analysis of wrestling, professional wrestlers relish their participation as members of an elaborate confidence game, selling audiences their roles, personas, and the narratives in an environment that generally preaches the concept of “kaybabe” (the illusion that the performances and actions in and around the ring are real). [19] As Roland Barthes writes in his seminal essay on professional wrestling, the spectator of a wrestling match must attach meaning to the outcome of a match not based on the science of who won or lost, but on the match’s moment within a grander narrative. Barthes writes, “The public is completely uninterested in knowing whether the contest is rigged or not, and rightly so; it abandons itself to the primary virtue of the spectacle, this is to abolish all motives and all consequences: what matters is not what it thinks but what it sees.” [20] The observations of Mazar and Barthes on professional wrestling help explain the significance of the FTP productions of The Milky Way . Like other plays of its type, the play centers on an outrageous swindle (in this case in the world of boxing), but the believability of the con is not an issue here. Like the professional wrestling audience, the fictional and real audiences in and of the play are shills of the confidence artists of The Milky Way and enjoy taking part in the con. This provided Great Depression audiences a form of agency in times when many Americans questioned their own power. And while the play appears to reinforce traditional norms of work and success, The Milky Way subtly challenges the continued validity of myths like the American Dream. The Milky Way centers on a seemingly ludicrous con in the boxing world. At the beginning of the play, a middleweight boxer, Speed McFarland, is accidently knocked out by his drunken trainer during an argument. However, newspapers report that a meek and mild-mannered milkman named Burleigh Sullivan who happened to be near McFarland and his trainer knocked out McFarland. To protect his boxer’s reputation, McFarland’s manager, Gabby Sloan, decides to send Sullivan on a whirlwind tour of the United States where the milkman will appear in a series of staged fights (even Sullivan is unaware the fights are fake) in which he “knocks out” his opponents in the first round. With each succeeding fight, Sullivan’s fame grows, and Sloan decides to have McFarland and Sullivan fight in a staged bout in which Sloan and his cronies can bet heavily in favor of McFarland. However, Sullivan accidently knocks-out McFarland with an elbow to the head during the match. Having bet their life savings on the fight, the manager and his cohorts believe they will end up destitute, until Sullivan announces that he bet on himself and will buy a milk dairy with his winnings and happily give his friends jobs. Originally staged on Broadway in 1936, Root and Clork’s play was performed nine times by the FTP in 1938: Holyoke and Salem, Massachusetts; New York City; Los Angeles; Portland, Oregon; San Diego; Denver; and two productions in Manchester, New Hampshire. While the FTP staged the play rather frequently, press coverage of these productions is limited. [21] In many respects, the FTP productions of The Milky Way appear to have suffered from the competition of a major Hollywood adaptation, as The Milky Way was adapted for the screen by Paramount in 1936. Directed by Leo McCarey, the film starred the famous silent comedian Harold Lloyd, and many reviewers of the FTP production appear to have preferred Lloyd’s version. According to a review from the Los Angeles Evening News , the film was far superior to any stage production. The reviewer writes, “At best, the Lynn Root and Harry Clork comedy, which made a choice film vehicle for Harold Lloyd, would seem pretty flat in any stage production.” [22] In places like Manchester and Salem, productions garnered little attention from the press while reviewers of other productions found the play to be not worthy of serious attention. A member of the audience for the Portland production found the play to be trivial. The unnamed reviewer believed that “regular audiences, accustomed to serious theatre, were apathetic to this show” and some “individuals were critical of our doing a ‘trivial’ show, contrasted the bill unfavorably with Prologue to Glory, One Third a Nation , etc.” [23] Meanwhile, an unnamed reviewer for the San Diego Union noted in his or her 1938 review that the play’s authors had written a text that, while humorous and representative of the boxing world was simply entertainment. The reviewer notes, “We are ready to believe the funniest possible stories about the fighting ring promoters, champions and their trainers, but Lynn Root and Harry Clork have written a three act play that . . . is merely something to be enjoyed.” [24] One of the interesting elements of this “trivial” show was how problematic the con scheme is in The Milky Way . Boxing has long fostered the con as fixed matches have long dogged the sport. However, Sloan’s con is complicated by the fact that the key member of his scheme, Burleigh Sullivan is a terrible shill for the majority of the play, especially in terms of his performances. In his autobiography, the boxer Jake LaMotta, the inspiration for the film Raging Bull , explains that the most important aspect of throwing a fight was selling it in the ring. Recounting his infamous thrown fight with Billy Fox in 1947, LaMotta explains a successful fixed fight must, like other cons, be predicated on a near-flawless performance: I’ll also tell you something else about throwing a fight. The guy you’re throwing to has to be at least moderately good. . . . I thought the air from my punches was affecting him, but we made it to the fourth round. By then if there was anybody in the Garden who didn’t know what was happening he must have been dead drunk. There were yells and boos all over the place. Dan Parker, the Mirror guy, said the next day that my performance was so bad he was surprised the actors Equity didn’t picket the joint. [25] While Sloan is an experienced con man who is skilled at flattering boxers, promoters, and fans, Sullivan is depicted as too naïve and honest to be fully in on the con. Not only does Sullivan consistently bemoan the dishonesty of the scheme, but also he is woefully underprepared for his role. When a reporter asks Sullivan about his possible connection to the famous boxer John L. Sullivan, Sullivan responds that he has never heard of the man, which makes Sloan claim that the milkman is just joking. He exclaims, “That’s a good one! Quote that—‘The contender, with a sardonic smile and a twinkle in his eye.’ . . . He’ll clown like that with you all day.” [26] Additionally, the playwrights portray Sullivan as someone who does not even resemble a professional boxer in either appearance or performance. In his character description in the play and in FTP performance stills, Sullivan is a wiry, un-toned, and bespectacled figure who does not look like a professional athlete. In particular, the Los Angeles production of the play frequently dressed the actor in Sullivan’s role in loose sleeveless t-shirts that emphasized the character’s lack of muscle mass. Moreover, Sullivan’s in-ring performances are even weaker. During his first fight, Sullivan begins the bout with his bathrobe on. Later, in his fight with McFarland, Sullivan needs to be “boosted into the ring” like a child because he has trouble with the ropes and becomes entangled in them and his boxing style consists of incredibly awkward jabs and ducking of punches. [27] Yet while both fans and the press covering his bout condemned LaMotta’s fight, the obviously staged fights in The Milky Way do not garner such criticism from fans or media within the play, a fact made all that more complicated given Sullivan’s lack of strength and ability. In particular, the media covering Sullivan’s fights seem to be fully deceived by the bouts. One newspaper article declares that the milkman was born for the role: “Sullivan’s a natural. A born fighter. Cheered as he left the stadium.” [28] Nor is it just the press that is taken by the act: boxing patrons are completely taken with Sullivan’s performance. Audiences seem especially enamored with Sullivan’s ability to hop and duck around the ring and his knockout punch, which is a “right you can see comin’ from the dollar seats.” [29] Even during Sullivan’s title bout with McFarland (which ends in roughly sixteen seconds after McFarland knocks himself out by falling into Sullivan’s elbow) the radio announcers describe a crowd that does not boo or jeer the sudden outcome. Such a reaction seems muted in contrast to typical reactions to real boxing dives from journalists and fans. As noted earlier in this section, many of the fans, reporters, referees, and officials in attendance at some of boxing’s most infamous thrown fights were aware that they were seeing a fix, including Jake La Motta’s fight, during which calls of “fix” and “scam” rained down from the angry crowd at Madison Square Garden. However, there is a broader implication of Sullivan’s performances and of the audience’s acceptance of them. In particular, The Milky Way shows a con perpetrated on institutions. The con artists of the play symbolically subvert the power structures of the era. Not only does the complicit audience of Sullivan’s fights read his bouts as a triumph over adversity, but also as counter-con of the boxing establishment. After having been treated to a litany of fixed matches, the audiences (and perhaps even the press) within the play are celebrating their own complicity in a con that literally subverts the boxing industry and the media and metaphorically outwits other social institutions. While the believability of the play might be suspect, the theme of a fictional audience performing and participating in a confidence scheme against an institution likely would have resonated with Depression audiences. For workers and audience members used to the swindles of capitalism, the staged narrative of workers flaunting their own cons to industries and institutions that had been swindling them for ages must have been a pleasurable experience. Yet if the reactions of the boxing fans in The Milky Way are read in terms of the performances of professional wrestling, the fans’ embrace of Sullivan speaks to their need to find meaning in his bouts. The fans’ embrace of the obvious swindling in front of them signals that they read these performances not as an athletic competition, but as a staged narrative like professional wrestling that holds mythological implications. And the myth that The Milky Way is wrestling with is the American Dream. Like other con artist plays as well as many plays produced by the Children’s Theatre Unit of the FTP that Leslie Elaine Frost argues balanced ideals of model citizenry with an increasing apprehension over declining American fortunes, The Milky Way illustrates both the idealized and problematic American Dream through its portrayal of Sullivan. [30] In one sense, his story is a near-perfect representation of the American Dream, as Sullivan achieves fame and fortune and uses his winnings to purchase a dairy and provide jobs to his former con artists. Yet the model actions of Sullivan, as well as his procurement of the American Dream, is undercut by the play. Despite his pluck and hard work as a milkman, the play provides us no sense that Sullivan would have been able to maintain his station in life by working for the dairy; indeed, given the nature of many other FTP plays that addressed economic issues, it is likely that audiences would have understood Sullivan’s hold on his employment as tenuous at best. Moreover, Sullivan is only able to achieve the American Dream through a confidence scheme that not only requires the assistance of trainers, boxers, media members, and complicit national audience, but also his willingness to gamble on a staged fight rather than working hard and saving his winnings. While the play outwardly showcases a model American who achieves the American Dream, The Milky Way also illustrates the public’s fear over “viability of the American . . . economic system” and the American Dream itself. [31] Help Yourself Intellectuals in the United States have long privileged the plodding, diligent worker. For example, in his autobiography, Ben Franklin celebrates the accumulation of his wealth and the ability of a man to retire from business. But as Gary Lindberg suggests, Franklin wanted work to be treated as pleasurable because while gaining wealth has its benefits, for Franklin, the greater joy is the game of business. Lindberg explains: The model self feels exhilarated less by final rewards than by the immediate sense of competition and play . . . living for and in the amusement of the present performance. . . . The skillful player can move easily from one game to another, say from business to politics, as he senses more invigorating play or more interesting or satisfying competition. [32] While Lindberg makes clear that Franklin does not openly advocate diddling or conning, he hypothesizes that Franklin would have understood the thrill of swindling. In particular, Lindberg argues that Franklin believes one should only adopt new roles in business or in life once “the game” has lost its appeal, just as many con artists felt the need to change their roles when their work was done. The play Help Yourself shows a kind of Franklin-esque hero who manages to play at work and business by adopting and playing the role of a banker. Yet this play is not simply about workers adopting a more playful approach to their labor. In the context of the 1930s, the play is both a satirical examination of the banking industry and the tendency of Americans in any number of fields to act as confidence artists. More significantly, the play demonstrates the prevalence of the confidence scheme in American society and warns its audience about their complicity in ignoring the more dangerous confidence schemes such as the games played by the bankers in the play and in real life. Help Yourself centers on an unemployed man named Chris Stringer who wanders into a bank where his college friend Frank is a clerk. Much to Fred’s chagrin, Stringer sits at a desk and begins to work without holding a position in the company. When Fred accurately asserts that Stringer has no business training, Stringer writes up a false business memo regarding a defunct brick factory project, which leads to a meeting between his bank and a competing bank. While no one can remember the specifics of the proposal, Stringer convinces the trustees of the banks to move ahead with the project. As the project progresses, Stringer endears himself to the other employees of the bank by telling jokes, going to lunches, and dating the boss’s daughter, even though they cannot remember working with him. As the new brick factory nears completion—with additional support from the federal government—Stringer panics when he realizes that he has no employment record and will be fired, but a last-minute forgery by Fred and his girlfriend permits Stringer to stay on at the bank. At the play’s conclusion, Stringer earns a promotion to the vice presidency of the bank. [33] Given that it was produced by the FTP twenty-one times, Help Yourself left an extensive record of audience reception. [34] In its report to the FTP, the Omaha production stated the audience reaction was “very favorable,” [35] while the Des Moines report notes that many audience members left the theater repeating Stringer’s refrain of “up she goes!” [36] Meanwhile, a writer for the Boston Herald declares Help Yourself to be a “featherweight variation of the fairy tale about the Emperor’s new clothes” and “that only the most reactionary of audiences would see the political element in a harmless farce.” [37] Similarly, audience members of the Los Angeles production found the play to have provided some relief from the economic climate of the Depression, but demonstrated the limitations of theatre. As one reviewer noted, “This is an amusing way of presenting a social problem. But I don’t see the trials of the new generation being solved in this way except in the theatre.” [38] Commenting on the production of the play of by FTP Seattle, a writer for the University of Washington newspaper finds the play to be highly enjoyable, but imbued with a very serious message. She writes, “The spirit of 1929 is on the way back. The catch line of the play is ‘up she goes.’ . . . The play was not produced in the same era was Waiting for Lefty and Awake and Sing . A new spirit is on the march.” [39] The varied responses to Help Yourself can be explained by the play’s complicated portrayal of work and banking. Like other con artist plays produced by the FTP, the play represents more conservative ideals about employment and working. For example, not only does the play reinforce the importance of employment by having its main character procure a job, the play undermines the normal labor contract with Stringer happily working for free. When his friend asks him why he’s working without compensation, Stringer retorts that if he is not on the payroll, then he cannot get fired. If they try to cut his job, he will “keep right on working.” [40] From the perspective of employers, Stringer is the perfect employee, given that he is willing to work for free. Additionally, Stringer espouses a hyper-individualistic attitude toward work throughout the play. Stringer declares that he “changed from the unemployed to the employed not because I asked for work, but because I took it.” [41] Taking work, he reasons, was preferable to sitting idly by and waiting for work to come to him. At such moments, Stringer embodies the mythology of the self-made man. Stringer echoes these traditional views of work when he implores the bankers to proceed with the Kublinski account. He says, “We must go on working, as life goes on working. Not figure and ponder, but work. You must pick up the first packing-case you see with a shout of up she goes! ” [42] Yet despite its promotion of more business-friendly ideals, Help Yourself is far more critical of the banking system. And for audiences who likely would have suffered as the result of real-life banking policies, seeing such a representation would have given them both enjoyment and a semblance of agency. One such moment is when the bankers are swayed by Stringer’s rhetoric about work, in which the play satirizes the promotion of traditional work norms by nineteenth and twentieth-century capitalists. In the meeting between banks to discuss his business proposal, the bankers struggle to comprehend (or remember) the details of Stringer’s plan. Since he is able to detail some vague references about the fictional proposal, Stringer wins over the bankers by urging them to approve the plan through a speech that arouses the interests of the assembled businessmen. He says: Yes, gentlemen, that’s how we must begin today—“Up she goes.” This happy cry of the simple workman should be our slogan. Workers and employers, bakers and carpenters—“Up she goes!” Statesmen and politicians—Europe and America—“Up she goes!” In the mountains where the coal lies buried, in the ground where the treasures are hidden—up she goes—Out there, machines lying cold—“Up she goes.” Rusty shovels lie in the engine rooms—“Up she goes!” Damn it gentlemen, bang on the table—Forget about your positions—put aside your official expressions. [43] Stringer first heard the phrase “up she goes” while watching movers attempting to hoist a piano through a window. Stringer felt a physical reaction to watching the movers, and he says that “with much spirit my muscles began to itch to work” and he decided to just pick up a suitcase and help them carry items upstairs in the townhouse. [44] While the sight and sound of the laborers inspires Stringer to work, his evoking of the phrase “up she goes” compels the bankers to do the same. As the scene ends, the bankers dance out of the conference room shouting “up she goes” in unison. There is an irony to the fact that the actions of manual laborers compel the bankers (as well as Stringer) to act, and the play satirizes how proponents of traditional work ethics promoted the idea that work could provide workers with upward mobility when, ultimately, many workers would never achieve such aims. As such, the bankers are convinced to work by Stringer’s usage of language that parodies traditional work ethic rhetoric. In addition, Help Yourself satirizes the nature of business performance, portraying the bankers of the play who are easily duped through vague language and action. Throughout the play, Stringer is able to convince his colleagues of his legitimacy as a banker through a series of superficial gestures. While the line between the business realm and the con realm were often vague, the publication of Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People in 1935 signaled a new emphasis on the performance of business. Karen Hatthunen argues that Carnegie’s manual, is a de facto guidebook to swindling one’s professional colleagues. According to Halttunen, “Carnegie’s purpose was to train men in a very special type of corporate salesmanship, ‘the salesmanship of the system selling itself to itself.’” [45] While Carnegie’s manual demonstrated how businessmen should perform to other businessmen, it also taught its readers how to convince themselves that they were performing their roles properly. In other words, Carnegie was also selling to his readers the spectacle of selling themselves to themselves, as if a reader were both the mark and the confidence man at the same time. This insincere performance is essential to Stringer’s con of the bank. By studying the “bank inside and out,” he has learned how to craft business proposals so ensconced in vague rhetoric that the bankers reading the proposal are inclined to accept it as is. In addition, Stringer manipulates his coworkers by evoking workplace rhetoric that persuades the other worker to react per the norms of the business world. [46] When someone asks Stringer if he is a new employee, Stringer replies that he has been at the bank for years, but had been working in another department. Stringer also provides vague details about himself, such as “I was the guy in the corner” or “I always ate ham and cheese sandwiches.” [47] Invariably, the other bank employees, after a brief pause, acknowledge that they remember Stringer. At points, Stringer is even able to tell “inside jokes” that his colleagues laugh at not because they understand, but because they are supposed to laugh at such jokes per the performance norms of the business world. While Help Yourself critiques banking culture, it also suggests that these performative elements in work extend beyond the banking industry. In stating part of his rationale for engaging in his con, Stringer claims that adopting a false persona is a game that everyone plays at. When his friend asks him why he is undertaking this scam, Stringer explains, “Just the illusion of working does something for you. Everyone plays at something—children play at being policemen—politicians at being statesmen. . . . Why shouldn’t I play at working?” [48] In one sense, Stringer’s statement echoes the Franklin’s belief that one must adopt new roles once their particular game has lost its appeal; Stringer also suggests through his words and actions that the solution to one’s working ills is to play your role and others will presume you are working. [49] Yet Stringer’s declaration that “everyone plays at something” seems to have be a signal for audiences to consider not only the importance of one’s sociological role, but also how prevalent false personas (and cons) such as politicians attempting to be statesmen are in society. And yet this play, like The Milky Way , offers readers a more complex and perhaps accusatory message in its conclusion. While the play seems to suggest that understanding a role gives you believability, Help Yourself also appears to assert that this form of conning is endemic in all institutions—not just banking or other businesses. Echoing the ideological stances of some of the Living Newspaper plays, Help Yourself suggests to audiences that they need to be aware of the dangers of the con Stringer pulled. While Stringer may have demonstrated daring in swindling the banks and procured jobs for other unemployed people, he nevertheless operated a far more dangerous confidence scheme than seen in The Milky Way : while Sullivan and his cohorts engage in a scheme in the entertainment world (although they do risk their own savings and the money of gamblers), Stringer’s swindle involves two separate banks and their respective investors as well as the government, and failure of this scheme would have likely endangered the money and jobs of other people. The danger of Stringer’s con is reinforced to the audience by how the play utilizes them. Whereas the real and fictional audiences of The Milky Way are (for the most part) in on the con, the bankers in Help Yourself are mainly unaware of how Stringer operates, while FTP audience members would have understood how little he knows about the banking industry and how his con succeeds through a considerable amount of chance. As such, when Stringer is promoted to vice president of the bank at the conclusion of the play, audiences are, on the one hand, encouraged to enjoy his success, but on another, unnerved by the bank’s inability to engage in due diligence with a powerful employee and the sense that Stringer will likely try another risky proposal in the future. Just as The Milky Way questioned the stability of the American Dream, Help Yourself presented to its working class and poor audiences a rather terrifying idea: that bankers—despite New Deal reforms—would engage in the same careless and risky practices that occurred in “the spirit of 1929.” Conclusion Hallie Flanagan believed that one of the aims of the FTP was to produce theatre that should be “socially and politically, aware of the new frontier in America, a frontier not narrowly political or sectional, but universal, a frontier along which tremendous battles are being fought against ignorance, disease, unemployment, poverty and injustice.” [50] Her ideal has often influenced critics and scholars to examine overtly radical plays like the Living Newspaper plays, the national production of It Can’t Happen Here , or the works of Orson Welles while downplaying farces, comedies, or other broad entertainments. And given that plays like The Milky Way and Help Yourself were in part farcical, outlandish tales that outwardly reinforced some traditional values, downplayed the appeal of the confidence scheme, or promoted the importance of employment, it is easy to see why researchers of the FTP have focused their efforts on other plays. However, plays like The Milky Way and Help Yourself were far more representative of the goals of the FTP than many critics have observed in the past. While the plays certainly featured more heroic con artists than other elements of American culture in the first half of the twentieth century, the performances of these plays permitted audiences to “get in on the con” as the characters on stage outwitted their foes. While granting their unemployed and lower-class audiences some necessary (if temporary) agency during the Depression, the plays also illustrated how endemic the confidence scheme was in American society, as actors, boxers, bankers, and most workers engaged in swindling of some form. But more importantly, these plays also addressed their audiences’ increasing anxiety over the decline of socio-economic status in the United States, as well as the dangers posed by unregulated institutions and workers. In this sense, the con artist plays of the FTP not only afforded audiences another opportunity to consider “the new frontier in America,” but did so under the guise of entertainment. Audiences may have been singing “up she goes!” as they left productions of con artist plays, but they were very likely also contemplating the meaning and their roles in the cons. References [1] Hallie Flanagan, Arena: The Story of the Federal Theatre (1940; New York: Limelight, 1985, 77. [2] David A. Kennedy, Freedom From Fear: The American People in Depression and War, 1929-1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999) 176. [3] I use the terms “swindler,” “con artist,” “confidence artist,” as well as “confidence scheme,” “con,” and “con game” interchangeably throughout this essay. Rather than “con man,” I mainly rely on the gender-neutral term confidence artist in these pages. [4] I provide an overview of the production history of The Milky Way and Help Yourself in their respective sections, but as an example of its popularity, despite competing with a major Hollywood film adaptation, Room Service was produced seven times in three years: Wilmington, North Carolina (1938), San Francisco (1938), San Diego (1938), New Orleans (1939), Denver (1936 & 1939), and Miami, Florida (1939). See George Mason University, The Federal Theatre Project: A Catalog-Calendar of Productions (New York: Greenwood Press, 1986), 135. The Nut Farm was less popular. On the FTP stage, the play was only performed twice in Manchester, New Hampshire, and Springfield, Illinois (neither of which appears to have attracted much, if any, press coverage). George Mason, The Federal Theatre Project , 113. [5] Malcolm Goldstein, The Political Stage: American Drama and Theatre of the Great Depressio n (New York: Oxford University Press, 1974), 268. [6] Barry Witham, The Federal Theatre Project: A Case Study (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 4. [7] Flanagan, Arena , 22-23. [8] For a discussion of the overlap between theatre and the con artists of medicine shows, see James Harvey Young, The Toadstool Millionaires: A Social History of Patent Medicines in America before Federal Regulation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961). [9] David Maurer, The Big Con: The Story of the Confidence Man (New York: Merril, 1940), 158. [10] William E. Lenz, Fast Talk & Flush Times: The Confidence Man as a Literary Convention (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1985), 199. [11] Elizabeth Osborne, Staging the People: Community and Identity in the Federal Theatre Project (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 6. [12] Jackson Lears, Something for Nothing: Luck in America (New York: Penguin, 2003), 100. [13] Sebastian Trainor, “It Sounds Too Much Like Comrade”: The Preservation of American Ideals in Room Service ,” Journal of American Drama and Theatre 20, no. 2 (Spring 2008): 29-49, 31. [14] Gary Lindberg, The Confidence Artist in American Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982), 9. [15] Stephen, Mihm, A Nation of Counterfeiters: Capitalists, Con Men, and the Making of the United States (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007), 13. [16] Ibid., 13. [17] Ibid. [18] I use Elizabeth Osborne’s reading of the Living Newspaper play Spirochete as a model to thinking about the effect of The Milky Way and Help Yourself on their respective audiences. Osborne, Staging the People , 47. [19] Sharon Mazar, Professional Wrestling: Sport and Spectacle (Oxford, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1998). [20] Roland Barthes, Mythologies. trans. Annette Lewis (1952; repr., New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 15. [21] George Mason University, The Federal Theatre Project: A Catalog-Calendar of Productions (New York: Greenwood Press, 1986), 103. [22] “Review of The Milky Way .” Los Angeles Evening News, August 5, 1938. Box 1040, Los Angeles The Milky Way Folder, Federal Theatre Project Collection, Library of Congress, Washington DC). Hereby referred to as FTP LC. [23] “Audience Survey.” Ibid., Portland The Milky Way Folder. [24] Review of The Milky Way . San Diego Union , August 26, 1938. Ibid.,San Diego The Milky Way Folder. [25] Jake LaMotta, Raging Bull (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1970), 162. [26] Lynn Root and Harry Clork, The Milky Way (New York: Samuel French, 1936), 84. [27] Ibid., 98. [28] Ibid., 60. [29] Ibid., 64. [30] Leslie Ann Frost, Dreaming America: Popular Front Ideals and Aesthetics in Children’s Plays of the Federal Theatre Project (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2013). See also Amy Brady, “Staging the Depression: The Federal Theatre Project’s Dramas of Poverty, 1935-1939” (PhD dissertation, University of Massachusetts-Amherst, 2013). Brady details how “poverty dramas” of the FTP also represented lingering anxieties over the stability of the American Dream. [31] Frost, Dreaming America , 5. [32] Lindberg, The Confidence Artist in American Literature , 88. [33] Help Yourself was originally written after the First World War by the Austrian playwright Paul Vulpius. Vulpius was a somewhat popular playwright in Germany and Austria during the inter-war period, and was responsible for a popular play entitled Hau-rack ( Heave Ho!). According to Anselm Heinrich, a theatre group sympathetic to the Nazi Party wrote the Prussian Theatre Council in 1933 and inquired as to whether Vulpius was Jewish. Initially, the Theatre Council informed the group that Vulpius’ lawyer had informed them that Vulpius was Aryan. However, in 1934, the Prussian Theatre Council declared Vulpius to be a “non-Aryan,” quoted in Anselm Henrich, Entertainment, Propaganda, Education: Regional Theatre in Germany and Britain Between 1918 and 1945 (Herefordshire: University of Herefordshire Press, 2007), 121-22.Vulpius appears to have relocated to England at some point during the 1930s where his play Youth at the Helm was adapted into a 1936 British film entitled Jack of All Trades which centers on a con man who fakes his way through a series of jobs in order to help his sick mother. Vulpius is credited as a writer on a 1950 BBC version of Youth at the Helm which, according to the BFI, is nearly identical to the plot of Help Yourself . [34] Help Yourself was performed twenty-one times by the FTP: New York City, Syracuse, and White Plains, New York (1936); San Bernardino, California (1936); Peoria, Illinois (1936); Los Angeles (1937); Springfield, Massachusetts (1937); Denver (1937); Omaha, Nebraska(1937); Cincinnati (1937); San Francisco (1937), Wilmington, Delaware (1937); Des Moines, Iowa (1937); New York City (1937); Salem, Massachusetts (1937); Boston (1937), Bridgeport, Connecticut (1937); Philadelphia (1937); Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania (1937); Seattle (1937), and Atlanta (1938), quoted George Mason University, The Federal Theatre Project: A Catalog-Calendar of Productions (New York: Greenwood Press, 1986), 71-72. [35] “Audience Reaction Report.” (Box 1016, Omaha Help Yourself Folder, FTP LC). [36] “Audience Reaction Report.” Ibid., Des Moines Help Yourself Folder . [37] Review of Help Yourself.” Boston Herald . 27 Jan.1937. Ibid., Boston Help Yourself Folder. [38] “Audience Reaction Report.” (Box 1015, Los Angeles Help Yourself Folder, FTP LC). [39] Mary Sayler, “ Help Yourself. ” University of Washington Daily , November 6, 1937 (Box 1016, Help Yourself Seattle Folder, FTP LC). [40] Paul Vulpius, Help Yourself . trans. John J. Coman (New York: Samuel French, 1936), 22. [41] Ibid., 18. [42] Ibid., 63, emphasis in original. [43] Ibid., 63. [44] Ibid., 12. [45] Karen Halttunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women: A Study of Middle-Class Culture In America, 1830-1870 (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1982), 185. [46] Ibid., 19. [47] Ibid., 16. [48] Ibid., 22-23. [49] In several respects, Help Yourself foreshadows How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and, as several colleagues have told me, many episodes of Seinfeld . [50] Flanagan, Arena , 372. Footnotes About The Author(s) Paul Gagliardi is currently a lecturer of American Literature at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He has written for the online journal Howlround, and will have another essay appearing in the journal LATCH this winter. His research centers on portrayals of work in American theatre and literature, and he is working on a manuscript on work-comedies of the Federal Theatre Project. He earned his PhD from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. 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.

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.

Benjamin Gillespie Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 37 2 Visit Journal Homepage Life is Drag: Documenting Spectacle as Resistance An Interview with Rachel Rampleman Benjamin Gillespie By Published on July 1, 2025 Download Article as PDF Video still of Amygdala Performing “From the Air” (Laurie Anderson), at SoMad® , NYC, April 2025. Photo: Rachel Rampleman. Since 2019, Rachel Rampleman has dedicated herself to Life is Drag ( https://lifeisdrag.com/ ), an expansive archival project capturing the artistry and impact of drag performers across the U.S. The largest drag archive in the country, Life is Drag is both a celebration and a form of resistance, documenting performances and personal narratives of innovative figures in alt-drag and neo-burlesque, largely centered in New York City. Through photography, video portraits, and live performance documentation, Rampleman highlights performers’ individuality while tracing broader cultural shifts in gender performance and queer artistry. At a time when drag and LGBTQ+ expression face increasing political scrutiny, Rampleman sees Life is Drag as an essential historical record. “Drag is art,” she argues. Rampleman sees it as a synthesis of multiple art forms. Beyond aesthetics, drag represents community, transformation, and radical self-expression. By showcasing a diverse array of performers across backgrounds, cultures, and ages, she ensures greater visibility for drag artists, especially in regions where queer and nonbinary identities are under threat. Rampleman has built her career documenting the subversive intersections of gender, artifice, and performance, particularly through drag. The project began in her Brooklyn studio with visual and drag artist Untitled Queen, later expanding to New England and the Midwest. Residencies in New York City at The Cell Theatre, SoMad, Bushwig, and Satellite Art Club, as well as projects in Portsmouth, Pittsburgh and Cincinnati, have led to over 370 portraits featuring more than 200 performers. From gritty dives to grand theaters, her work captures the ephemeral beauty of live drag while preserving its legacy. Beyond Life is Drag , Rampleman’s career is defined by showcasing groundbreaking figures. From Girls Girls Girls , the world’s first all-female Mötley Crüe tribute band, to American bodybuilder and powerlifter Tazzie Colomb , her work consistently interrogates gender and spectacle. In this interview, we discuss the origins of Life is Drag , its evolution, and the stakes of drag performance today. In April 2025, Rampleman received a request to add her drag archive to the Library of Congress’s LGBTQ+ collection, a major development for the project. This interview was conducted July 11, 2024. It has been edited for clarity and brevity. Azizzy & Pissy Mattress from the Haus of Absorption at the Kelly-Strayhorn Theater, Pittsburgh, June, 2022. Photos: Rachel Rampleman. Benjamin Gillespie: Life is Drag is such an ambitious and unique project. How did it come about? Rachel Rampleman: Funnily enough, I didn’t have much exposure to drag before this project. I’m from Cincinnati, and I wasn’t attending drag shows or brunches when I lived in Ohio. My interests were more in experimental art, music, and theatre, and I often traveled to New York to see digital art at Postmasters Gallery, and performances by artists like John Zorn or the Wooster Group. Before Life is Drag , I had been working with an all-female Mötley Crüe tribute band, documenting their performances. I was fascinated by the juxtaposition—women singing misogynistic songs originally performed by heavily made-up men with big hair. I also worked with female bodybuilders, exploring themes of gender performance in different ways. Then, a friend introduced me to a producer of Bushwig , who invited me to create a video lookbook for a fashion line. That’s when I first engaged with Brooklyn’s art drag scene. My happy places are museums and cultural centers. I love being challenged to think or feel in new ways. But nothing had ever moved me like Bushwig did. When I attended for the first time, I had tears streaming down my face. The energy, creativity, the sheer vitality in the room—it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was beyond inspiring and overwhelming in the most wonderful possible way. BG: When was your first Bushwig? RR: In 2017. That’s when I realized that no one was properly documenting these incredible performances. It felt like a travesty that they were just disappearing, lost to time and the ephemerality of live performance. Some artists had friends taking pictures or filming clips on their phones, but there wasn’t a real archive. That realization coincided with an invitation to do a survey exhibition in Cincinnati , my hometown. I had a budget, a large venue—the Weston Art Gallery across from the Contemporary Arts Center—and plenty of space. I saw it as my opportunity to bring all my interests together through drag. That was in 2019. I had been introduced to Untitled Queen, who is basically the art drag matriarch of Brooklyn . She’s incredibly smart, politically attuned, and creative and talented in every capacity one can be. She went to art school and works full-time at BRIC, an arts and media institution in Downtown Brooklyn. We connected, had a long night in my Bushwick studio, and talked about art for hours. After our conversation, she created a piece called Untitled (Clarinet) which addresses the difficulty of being an artist in New York City and the compromises it requires, featuring Joni Mitchell’s song “For Free,” and I filmed it. Video stills of Untitled Queen Performing “Untitled (Clarinet)” in Brooklyn, March 2019. Photo: Rachel Rampleman. At the time, I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’m pretty DIY. I never formally studied filmmaking or video production, so I didn’t even have proper lighting. I relied on daylight streaming through my factory windows. The natural lighting wasn’t great which was unfortunate, but her performance was phenomenal. And I tried to create a visually interesting background, using a silver mylar curtain which was a prototype for what later became a large installation in the Cincinnati show. BG: You also wanted to work with drag kings, right? RR: Yes. I had been following Aeon Andreas (they/them) who performs as God Complex (he/him) since their earliest performances at BEEF—the monthly all drag king show that was at Bizarre in Bushwick, and their artistic evolution has been one of the most drastic and mind-blowing I’ve ever seen. I got to work with Aeon channeling Ziggy Stardust for my Ohio show “Oh, You Pretty Things” when they performed three different dance interpretations to Bowie’s music in my studio. I was very pleased with how all these videos turned out, and I got to present them on 65-inch, 4K screens as part of a larger exhibition featuring over 100 screens of various sizes with the drag portraits on the largest monitors. And over the course of preparing for that show, I was introduced to the Cincinnati art drag scene. There’s a group called Odd Presents, led by Stixen Stones , who’s something like Cincinnati’s own art drag matriarch. BG: This sounds like installation art. And you do have a background in the visual arts, right? RR: Yes. I studied photography and electronic media at the University of Cincinnati’s Design, Art, Architecture & Planning program and later earned an MFA from New York University in 2006. BG: What drew you from visual arts into performance documentation? RR: I’ve always been fascinated by performance art, but I’ve never felt inclined to perform myself. And when I studied with RoseLee Goldberg at NYU—the scholar who literally wrote the book on performance art and founded the Performa Biennial —I was struck by how ephemeral performance is. Many historic performances exist only as a handful of photographs, with no real way to capture the full experience. With drag, I saw an extraordinary level of artistry—the painting, sculpting, sound, and movement—all coming together as a form of total art, a Gesamtkunstwerk. And many performances I saw were highly political, timely, and felt important. I knew they deserved better documentation. I’m meticulous and a bit of a control freak, so I didn’t want to simply record live shows with unpredictable lighting and composition. Unlike photographers who document drag performances at clubs, I wanted to invite performers into a controlled studio setting where I could carefully frame and light each piece. Esther, the Bipedal Entity! Performing “Esther (Museum)” at SoMad® , NYC, April 2025. Photo: Rachel Rampleman. BG: How do you typically approach working with performers? RR: Ideally, I meet with them beforehand to discuss their drag, but that’s not always possible, especially during residencies outside of New York. When I did a residency at 3S Artspace in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for example, I worked with artists from Boston and the surrounding areas, but time was limited so there wasn’t a chance to have pre-production meetings and so on. In the best cases, like my first collaboration with Untitled Queen, we have at least some conversation before filming. BG: How many drag artists have you worked with so far? RR: More than two-hundred. If time allows and they’re interested, I try to film more than one number per session. I also try to schedule friends or frequent collaborators together. That way, they’re more comfortable and there’s a fun vibe. Klondyke & Cuntyham from the Haus of Quench at The Cell, NYC, February 2023. Photos: Rachel Rampleman. BG: How did you come up with the title Life is Drag ? RR: It comes from RuPaul’s famous quote “We’re all born naked and the rest is drag.” I absolutely believe that. Getting dressed—whether it’s a three-piece suit, jeans and a t-shirt, or a sequined gown and a feathered boa—it’s all a form of drag. “Drag” as most people understand it is just more intentional, and usually a bit more exaggerated or extreme. BG: RuPaul’s Drag Race has brought drag into the mainstream. Have you noticed changes in the drag scene in New York and beyond? RR: I’d say it’s exploded—both in the number of performers and in the range of styles. There’s even a series in Brooklyn produced by Untitled Queen called “ Brooklyn’s Next Art Drag Star ” at the bar C’mon Everybody , where each round has a different artistic theme—photography, video, sound—and performers compete to make it to the final round. The fact that there are enough emerging drag artists to sustain that kind of competition is amazing. Similarly, in Cincinnati, I’ve seen massive growth. A few years ago, a performer named Clarity Amrein started “ Smoke and Queers ” , a showcase for queer-identifying artists to experiment with drag, burlesque, and other hybrid performances. It started small, but now there are dozens of artists participating, with performers coming in from all over the Tri-State area. BG: You make an important connection between drag and performance art. While pageant drag has a specific history, art drag seems to align more with performance art—playing with identity, engaging with space and audience, manipulating the body as a canvas. Delusiona Grandeur from Smoke and Queers at the Contemporary Arts Center, Cincinnati, March 2022. Photo: Rachel Rampleman. RR: Absolutely. And art drag tends overall to be much more experimental and existential—more like Happenings of the 1960s and 70s, or the Theatre of the Absurd. Part of my process includes interviewing performers about their drag practice —why they do it, what it means to them, how they see their drag persona versus their everyday self. If time allows, I like to film these interviews alongside performances. Drag is a deeply personal, yet highly performative art form, and hearing each artist’s perspective adds another layer to the project. I’ve mentioned performers like Stixen Stones, who had evangelical parents that forced them into conversion therapy. Or Thee Paris L’Hommie , a trans queen from a religious background whose family disowned her. Many people simply won’t accept it. But I think a lot of people’s understanding and appreciation of drag has changed—and is continuing to change—for the better. Or at least it was, until recently… BG : How did the pandemic impact the project? RR : Ironically, the pandemic was my most productive period because performers couldn’t work. People who made their living performing suddenly had no stage, no income. I got to collaborate with so many incredible artists and the project really gained momentum in 2020 and 2021. At that time, interviewees were saying, “I can’t pay my rent. I’m terrified.” Now that fear has shifted. We’ve emerged from the pandemic, but people are afraid of extreme right-wing legislation, especially in places like Tennessee and Kentucky. I was listening to The Brian Lehrer Show on WNYC this morning, and they were discussing Project 2025. It’s just insane. BG: It’s such a difficult time politically. But drag, as an art form, is inherently political—even when the performers themselves aren’t overtly political. RR: Exactly. Drag is always political—and too often politicized. Drag plays with gender presentation, which defies mainstream, binary ideas about gender. By exaggerating or subverting gender roles, drag highlights that gender is a performance, not a fixed truth. BG: Just by existing, it challenges norms around gender and sexuality. That’s part of its excitement— and its danger. RR: Yes, and that’s why it has always been seen by some as threatening. (top) K. James and Miss Malice of Switch n’ Play at The Cell, NYC, December 2020; (bottom) installation shot of Life is Drag: More is Better and Never Too Much at 3S Artspace, Portsmouth, 2021. Photos: Rachel Rampleman. BG : In the past, there have been critiques of traditional drag, of female impersonation by male artists. Some argue it mocks women rather than celebrates them. Feminist critiques have challenged drag’s historical role for example because of its association with men, but I think that’s evolving. From a theater history perspective, gender-bending performances have always been part of the stage, and today there’s growing respect for drag as an art form. And we’re seeing more representation of nonbinary and trans performers. I know the Switch n’ Play group well. I’ve seen a number of their shows and the documentary . I know you’ve worked with them before. How do you connect with new performers for your project? RR : The performers I work with are mostly in their mid-20s to early-30s, and I usually find them through Instagram. It helps to connect with a community’s drag mother or father—once they’re involved, their “children” often follow. That’s worked well with Untitled Queen and the Brooklyn drag scene. At this point, I’ve documented many of New York’s top performers, including Miss Malice and K. James of Switch n’ Play. When I invite someone and send them a link to the archive, they recognize names like Miss Malice or Untitled and want to be involved. Recruiting outside New York can be trickier. My first residency was in early 2020 at 3S Artspace in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Luckily, the project manager Bunny Wonderland had performed as a drag artist for 12 years and helped me connect with performers within a 200-mile radius. And in Ohio, where I’m from , it felt more organic. New York’s drag scene is vast—not just by borough but by neighborhood. Brooklyn’s drag epicenter is Bushwick and Ridgewood, with key venues like C’mon Everybody, Purgatory, 3 Dollar Bill, and All Night Skate. I see shows at those spaces pretty regularly. Littlefield is also big, especially for Switch n’ Play. Manhattan has venues, but I rarely find myself there, except for Hell’s Kitchen with its cluster of bars showcasing more traditional drag. There’s a difference between traditional drag at bars and more experimental drag in performance and art spaces—audiences expect different things. BG : Where is all this material going? RR : I have a Vimeo Pro account where I upload videos and embed them on Icompendium, a minimalist, artist-run site. I also use Flickr for stills and behind-the-scenes shots. With hundreds of professionally shot videos, storage is a challenge. The goal is to create a living archive—a public history of what’s happening now. Someone like Stixen Stones in rural Ohio might find inspiration, while someone like my mom, who would never attend a live drag show (aside from one I’ve produced), might see a performance and realize, “Oh, that’s drag? That’s actually fun!” It’s also an educational tool, not just for universities but for anyone curious about drag beyond RuPaul’s Drag Race . Members of Odd Presents and Smoke and Queers at Wave Pool Gallery, Cincinnati, 2022 (photo: Kellie Coleman). (top, left to right) Tara Newone, Vanta Black, Calamity Addams, Stixen Stones, Kiara Chimera, Montana Ba Nana; (bottom) Clinica Deprecious and Manuka Honey Stix). Photo: Kellie Coleman. BG : Speaking of Drag Race , its format—lip sync challenges, for example—reflects a specific type of drag. Would you say lip syncing is central to most of the performers you document? RR : Yes, in large part. It’s actually been an issue for me recently. Last week, Vimeo flagged 76 of my videos for copyright infringement because of the music. A bot issued the takedown notices, giving me 48 hours to prove I had the rights to the songs. If you checked my website after that, 20% of the videos wouldn’t play. It’s something I have to figure out as the project continues to grow. BG: What do you hope to include in each artist portrait? RR: The goal is to capture the essence of the person at a particular moment in their life, creating a time capsule. Artists, especially those in drag, are constantly evolving, and it’s fascinating to see how their art changes over time. Even if you interview someone a year apart, their approach could be completely different. Some drag performers, like those I worked with years ago, have stopped, but for every performer who leaves, two or three new ones emerge. Younger generations are much more open to questioning gender and exploring its fluidity. Drag helps many performers, especially AFAB [assigned female at birth] individuals discover their trans identity. It’s an ongoing process of self-exploration within the community. For me, this project is about inspiring people to explore their identities, regardless of whether they identify as queer or not. Watching drag can encourage self-refection, and can also push its audience to try out being authentic and unique in a world that often forces and rewards conformity. Many performers say that drag gave them the courage to understand and express their true selves - and in some cases, saved their lives. BG: The project also challenges traditional notions of drag. Many people still associate drag with female impersonation, but drag is a broad spectrum that can and should include everyone. It seems there’s a lot more blending of genres and definitions today. How do you see this reflected in the mission of Life is Drag ? RR: Drag as a term is being redefined to be more inclusive. It’s no longer about simply crossing binary gender boundaries but about fluidity, transformation, and permission to experiment. People shouldn’t be boxed in by traditional conceptions of what drag should or shouldn’t be. To quote Brooklyn performer Klondyke, “Maybe today you are wearing a redder shade of lipstick. If you call it drag, who am I to tell you it's not?” Klondyke performance documentation installed at Satellite Art Show, Brooklyn, 2024. Photo: Rachel Rampleman. I’ve had the privilege of working with truly singular individuals like neo-burlesque performance artist Darlinda Just Darlinda and alt/art drag performer Esther, the Bipedal Entity! , who are central to this project. I’ve seen their work evolve, especially during the pandemic, where Darlinda’s performances focused on themes of concealment and revelation. It’s empowering to document their transformations. At the moment, I’m an artist in residence at SoMad® , a femme and queer-led art space in NYC that serves as a platform for emerging artists to experiment, collaborate, and challenge conventions. I’m excited to again document favorites like Esther and Untitled, as well as to work for the first time with other visionaries and luminaries, icons and powerhouses of the NYC drag and burlesque community—artists who have profoundly inspired so many, locally and globally. I’m honored to get to finally work with Divina GranSparkle from Switch ‘n Play, as well as with Miss Bushwig 2023 and community activist extraordinaire Julie J , founder of the marathon drag benefit Stand Up NYC , which has raised over $125,000 since 2023 for organizations serving, uplifting and protecting trans youth across the country like Advocates for Trans Equality, Black Trans Femmes in the Arts, the Hetrick-Martin Institute, and many others. At SoMad® this year, BFF in Omaha in 2026, and hopefully working internationally beyond that, the goal is to showcase these performers not just for their brilliant and joy-inspiring drag, but as multi-dimensional artists who create and connect beyond the stage. My goal is to honor, conserve, and amplify these unique artistic and activist voices, and to share them with the world, ensuring that the impact of drag as an art form continues to grow. Anne J. Tifah at The Cell, NYC, June 2023. Photos: Rachel Rampleman. References Footnotes About The Author(s) BENJAMIN GILLESPIE (PhD) is Doctoral Lecturer in Communication, Gender Studies, and Theatre at Baruch College, City University of New York. His essays and reviews have been published in such journals as Theatre Journal, Modern Drama, Theatre Survey, Theatre Topics, Performance Research, PAJ, Theatre Research in Canada , and a wide range of scholarly anthologies. He is currently editing two volumes: Split Britches: Fifty Years On and Late Stage: Theatrical Perspectives on Age and Aging , both to be published by the University of Michigan Press. He is Co-Editor of the Journal of American Drama and Theatre . 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 Censorship/Public Censure and Performance Today: Special Issue Introduction Remembering Censorship in the World Premiere of Seán O’Casey’s The Drums of Father Ned: Lafayette, Indiana, 1959 The Stage as Networked Battleground: Dissent and Censorship in Contemporary Canadian Theatre and Performance Censor/Censure: A Roundtable Which of These Are Censorship? The Divide Between Prior Restraint and Soft Censorship How Can an Artist Respond to Censorship? The Dilemma That Faces Contemporary Creatives in the UK The LGBTQ+ Artists Archive Project: A Roundtable Conversation Life is Drag: Documenting Spectacle as Resistance An Interview with Rachel Rampleman Middle Eastern American Theatre: Communities, Cultures, and Artists. Michael Malek Najjar. Critical Companions Series. London: Methuen Drama, 2021; Pp. xvi + 237. Lessons from Our Students: Meditations on Performance Pedagogy. Stacey Cabaj and Andrea Odinov. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 126 Choreographing Dirt: Movement, Performance, and Ecology in the Anthropocene. Angenette Spalink. Studies in Theatre, Ecology, and Performance Series, no. 3. New York: Routledge, 2024; Pp. 116. Fauci and Kramer Our Town Frankenstein Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

NEEDY LOVER | ASHIL LEE + PHOEBE BROOKS | PAUL LAZAR + JERRY LIEBLICH / THIRD EAR presents Plays in Process at the PRELUDE 2024 Festival at the Martin E. Segal Theater Center CUNY. PRELUDE Festival 2024 Plays in Process NEEDY LOVER | ASHIL LEE + PHOEBE BROOKS | PAUL LAZAR + JERRY LIEBLICH / THIRD EAR 1:30-3 pm Saturday, October 19, 2024 The Segal Theatre RSVP 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 portable is a breeding ground for lobsters. ROOTING FOR YOU Presenting an excerpt from Rooting for You! with loose staging, experimenting with performance style, timing, and physicality. Rooting for You! blurb: "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." THE BARBARIANS 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. LOBSTER Special Thanks: Meghan Finn, Johnny G. Lloyd, and The Tank; Erin Courtney, Zayd Dohrn, Thomas Bradshaw, and Northwestern University. The Barbarians is produced in association with Immediate Medium, and with support from the Venturous Theater Fund of the Tides Foundation 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). Kallan Dana is a writer and performer originally from Portland, Oregon. She has developed or 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 a 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 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) 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. 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. 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). Explore more performances, talks and discussions at PRELUDE 2024 See What's on

LUCIANA ACHUGAR presents The Pleasure Practice at the PRELUDE 2024 Festival at the Martin E. Segal Theater Center CUNY. PRELUDE Festival 2024 The Pleasure Practice LUCIANA ACHUGAR 6-8 pm Saturday, October 19, 2024 The Segal Theatre RSVP I Dance... To soften the lines To breathe in To belong to the ground To know the ground To know it with my skin To let it in To receive Thank you ground Thank you skin Thank you skin Thank the skin Thank the eyes Thank the ground Thank the breath Thank the love in the ground with my skin With my breath Let the underneath in Know it under the skin Let the words appear from under my skin The new words for this new underneath world Let the spell be known from the ground to my feet I dance a new spell into being Thank you floor Thank you skin Thank you skin 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). luciana achugar is a Brooklyn-based choreographer from Uruguay who grew as an artist in close dialogue with the NY and Uruguayan contemporary dance communities. In her work theater is a space for utopia; utopia is a practice; practice is ritual; ritual is devotion; devotion is dance and dance is a practice of being in pleasure. She has received many accolades such as two Bessie Awards and one nomination, 2022 USA Doris Duke Fellowship, 2017 Alpert Award, 2015 Austin Critic’s Award for Best Touring work, Guggenheim Fellowship, Creative Capital Grant, Foundation for Contemporary Arts Grant, MAP Funds, Jerome Foundation, and NYFA Artist Grants amongst others. Her most recent work PURO TEATRO: A Spell for Utopia premiered at The Chocolate Factory Theater in November 2021 as a co-presentation with the Skirball Center for the Performing Arts. 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 NE:BITEF 2025: The Festival that Refused to Disappear Published: July 15, 2026 Download Article as PDF By Ognjen Obradović and Jelena Knežević Image Credits: Article Featured Image: Audience gathering in front of KC Magacin in Kraljevića Marka before the program “They Are Coming”. Photo Credit: Nata Korenovskaia The Belgrade International Theatre Festival (Bitef) experienced a profound institutional crisis in 2025, culminating in the first cancellation since its founding in 1967. The discontinuity was particularly significant given the festival’s long-standing commitment to maintaining continuity even during periods of international sanctions imposed on Serbia, the wars of the 1990s, and the COVID-19 pandemic. The immediate background to the crisis can be traced to the 58 th edition of Bitef in September 2024. During the opening ceremony, director Milo Rau criticized aspects of European policy regarding lithium mining in Serbia, explicitly referring to the Rio Tinto project in the Jadar Valley. The speech provoked a strong reaction from Serbian authorities and was followed by pressure on the festival leadership to distance itself from Rau’s views. When this did not occur, the mandate of artistic director Nikita Milivojević was not renewed. These developments unfolded within a broader socio-political context marked by student blockades and mass protests that evolved into a wider civic movement challenging authoritarian governance and the erosion of institutional autonomy. Against this backdrop, and following a series of controversial decisions surrounding Bitef, Miloš Lolić, a Serbian director with a significant international career, was invited to curate the festival programme in an effort to reaffirm the festival’s artistic autonomy and present its operation as independent of political influence. Lolić accepted the invitation after receiving assurances of full artistic independence and assembled a team that included Ana Vujanović and Borisav Matić. However, tensions soon emerged regarding the proposed programme. The Pelicot Trial , directed by Milo Rau, became a point of contention, not because of its content but because of the possibility of Rau’s return to Belgrade. Alongside this production, the work of students from the Faculty of Dramatic Arts – a faculty that had played a prominent role in initiating the student blockades – was also called into question. The exclusion of these projects was widely interpreted as evidence of political interference in artistic decision-making. Following these developments, Lolić withdrew from the festival, rejecting the possibility of realizing a programme whose key artistic decisions were subject to political approval. The censorship generated strong reactions within Serbia and internationally. Milo Rau drew additional attention to the case through the initiative Resistance Now! , a transnational framework aimed at defending artistic freedom. As a result, developments surrounding Bitef became part of a broader European debate on censorship, institutional pressure, and the autonomy of cultural actors. In response, numerous artists and companies invited to the revised Bitef programme declined participation. Their refusal represented a powerful gesture of solidarity with the censored artistic team and affirmed the possibility of collective action within the European performing arts community. For the first time since its founding, Belgrade remained without a Bitef in the format in which it had previously existed. Ne:Bitef poster displayed at the independent cultural venue KC Magacin in Kraljevića Marka. Ne:Bitef emerged in response to the absence of the institutional festival and to the processes of censorship that had marked its cancellation. The prefix “ne” (“no” in Serbian) signified an act of refusal and resistance. Organized under the slogan “Bitef is wherever we gather,” it took place in Belgrade in December 2025, bringing together members of the former artistic team, long-time Bitef collaborators, independent cultural workers, and students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts. In programme terms, Ne:Bitef relied largely on the selection originally prepared for the cancelled edition of Bitef, adapting it to an independent and guerrilla format. The festival unfolded over four days through several programme segments presented at selected venues in Belgrade, including spaces belonging to the independent cultural scene and public educational institutions. Its organizational model was described as a form of “capillary organization”: a self-organized initiative of the artistic and broader social community based on shared responsibility and resources, horizontal decision-making, and solidarity. The team expanded largely through personal recommendations and informal networks, according to the needs of individual programmes and tasks. Nearly two hundred people became involved in the realization of the festival, working on a voluntary basis and relying on communication, coordination, and mutual trust. What united this diverse collective was a commitment to preserving the continuity and critical spirit of Bitef despite the circumstances that had led to its cancellation. As a result, Ne:Bitef functioned not merely as a response to censorship and cancellation but as a temporary experiment in collective cultural production. It demonstrated the capacity of artists, cultural workers, and students to sustain an important cultural event through solidarity and self-organization while simultaneously exposing the vulnerabilities of a cultural system dependent on functioning public institutions. At the same time, rather than presenting itself as a permanent alternative to Bitef, Ne:Bitef underscored the continuing need for autonomous public cultural institutions. Audience gathering in front of KC Magacin in Kraljevića Marka before the program “They Are Coming”. Photo Credit: Nata Korenovskaia Without this socio-political and “forced” production context, it is impossible to fully understand and interpret the program of Ne:Bitef. The first day of the festival was dedicated to the performance of The Pelicot Trial and a discussion on repression in the cultural sector, conceived as part of the campaign Resistance Now! Together . The second day centered on the program section They Are Coming – a kind of showcase of the work of young artists Andreja Karčagin, Aleksandar Zain, Ana Janković, and the collective of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts, who through different artistic forms examined the repressive conditions in which their works were being created. This program gained additional weight from the fact that three out of the four presented projects had remained unfinished after the cancellation of the institutional Bitef, within whose production framework they were originally supposed to be realized. The third day, through its very format, also testified to the festival’s guerrilla nature, as Romeo Castellucci’s performance Bros , unable to be staged live for financial reasons, was screened via video link accompanied by the director’s message of support for Ne:Bitef. The performance, which deals with police brutality and the phenomenon of institutionalized male violence, was further contextualized through the panel discussion Justice and/or Punishment: Toward an Abolitionist Future , dedicated to the relationship between justice, punishment, and the repressive state apparatus, as well as to the possibilities of progressive politics grounded in care, violence prevention, and solidarity. At the end of its third day this “rebellious” edition of Bitef also found room for a punk concert titled Forgotten Workers’ Struggles – a musical evening by the band formed by technicians from Berlin’s Volksbühne, dedicated to the history of workers’ resistance. Organized in collaboration with local bands and students, many of whom joined the program on their own initiative and traveled at their own expense in order to express support and solidarity, the event further emphasized the festival’s activist and guerrilla character through music, a mini-exhibition, and collective gathering. The questions concerning the relationship between art, institutions, and resistance – which Ne:Bitef opened through both its format and its program – were further deepened through the closing panel Art: Retreat and/as Resistance . The discussion brought together artists, cultural workers, and activists to reflect on whether, under conditions of censorship and autocratic cultural policy, meaningful action within institutions is still possible, or whether withdrawal and the refusal to “carry on” might today constitute the most powerful form of resistance. The defining event of Ne:Bitef was the staging of The Pelicot Trial , not only because of the significance of the project itself, but also because of the additional meanings the event acquired through the fact that both the performance and its director had themselves triggered the festival’s censorship and its (self-)expulsion from institutional frameworks. To borrow one of Marvin Carlson’s key concepts from The Haunted Stage: The Theatre as Memory Machine , the performance carried multiple layers of what he terms ghosting . In this case, the figure carrying with him the spirit of rebellion and refusal was the “banned director” himself, Milo Rau, who participated in all of the events during the festival’s opening day. The venue in which the performance was staged – the Faculty of Dramatic Arts – was itself likewise haunted while the festival’s very opening at 11:52 had itself become a “haunted moment” – a time that, through daily protests, had lost its neutrality and turned into a collective ritual of remembrance, mourning, and civic resistance. Indeed, the festival’s first performance and opening program point consisted of sixteen minutes of silence for the sixteen victims who lost their lives on November 1, 2024, when the deteriorating canopy of the officially renovated railway station in Novi Sad collapsed on them. This tragedy triggered a profound social crisis and a powerful wave of resistance led by students and citizens, one of whose central rituals of protest, mourning, and solidarity became the daily gathering in the streets at 11:52 a.m. – the exact moment when the canopy, transformed into a symbol of the destructiveness of the current regime, crashed down onto the people standing beneath it. It was the hour during which citizens, through silent and persistent resistance, halted city traffic by stepping into the streets and repeatedly reminded the public that the innocent victims must not be forgotten. The immediate trigger for the student blockades – the central pillar of the spirit of resistance in the preceding period – was the moment when regime supporters physically attacked students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts during a commemorative gathering on November 22. Three days later, the students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts entered into a blockade, and by mid-December 2024 all public universities in Belgrade, Novi Sad, Niš, and Kragujevac had joined the protests through institutional blockades. A little more than a year later, at precisely that time and in precisely that place – in front of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts – stood Milo Rau and Servane Dècle, together with students, citizens, and other participants of Ne:Bitef. In that moment, different gestures and agents of resistance to authoritarianism – students and professors, local cultural workers, international artists such as Rau and Dècle, as well as the “rebellious” creators and organizers of Ne:Bitef – merged into a shared performative act. What followed was a panel discussion titled 90 Minutes of Silence , whose very title, as well as its timing (the discussion took place immediately after the collective commemoration), directly echoed the socio-political circumstances and protests that preceded it. Alongside Rau, the panel brought together local cultural workers, artists, and researchers whose experiences offered a cross-section of some of the most pressing forms of cultural repression in contemporary Serbia. Miloš Vojnović, an actor from the Šabac Theatre, spoke about the pressures and acts of retaliation directed at employees who had participated in the protests, including the dismissal of organizer Jelena Ivetić. Nenad Lajbenšperger, meanwhile, pointed to the political pressure exerted on the Institute for the Protection of Cultural Monuments in relation to attempts to revoke the protected status of the Old General Staff building in order to make way for an investor project connected to Donald Trump’s administration. Milica Pekić further broadened the discussion by drawing attention to forms of pressure operating outside institutional frameworks, focusing on the systematic deterioration of working conditions and the ongoing marginalization of the independent cultural scene. “Resistance Now! Together” at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade. Photo Credit: Nata Korenovskaia Some of these themes haunted The Pelicot Trial through the bodies, biographies, and social positions of its performers. In keeping with the concept devised by Milo Rau and Servane Dècle, the piece is performed in each local context by domestic actors, activists, and cultural workers. Such a format suited the festival’s guerrilla character both productionally and symbolically: from a production standpoint, only the creators of the performance – the dramaturg and researcher Servane Dècle and Milo Rau – traveled to Belgrade, allowing the piece to fit within the festival’s modest budgetary conditions; on the level of meaning, however, the performers themselves, through their social engagement and public positions, inscribed local socio-political meanings into the performance. One of the performers in the production was Jelena Ivetić, the dismissed organizer from the Šabac Theatre mentioned earlier, whose presence not only carried the spirit of resistance to cultural repression, but also created a direct link to the panel held earlier that day, during which both the theatre and her case had been explicitly discussed. The performance also featured environmental activist Ljiljana Bralović, whose presence evoked public resistance to the Rio Tinto project while simultaneously pointing to the broader political context within which Rau’s presence and work in Serbia had become politically inconvenient. Performers such as Jelena Ivetić and Ljiljana Bralović brought into the performance, through their “haunted” bodies and biographies, meanings that were not directly tied to the play’s central theme, but rather to the local socio-political context. Nikita Milivojević appears as one of the performers in “The Pelicot Trial”. Photo Credit: Jelena Jankovic Alongside these layers, a more direct form of Carlsonian ghostting was also at work. One of the performers was Milena Radulović, who publicly accused her former acting teacher Miroslav Aleksić of sexual abuse, thereby triggering a wave of testimonies from other former students of his school, as well as from women who had experienced sexual violence more broadly. Her presence in a performance dealing with the mechanisms of sexual violence and public testimony did not function merely as a symbolic reference or media attraction, but further complicated the multilayered interplay between reality and fiction, documentary and personal experience, performance and testimony. In this way, the production acquired yet another layer of local social and emotional ghostting, as the audience was simultaneously watching both an actress and a public figure whose biography – as another example of refusing silence – had already become deeply inscribed in Serbia’s public sphere. During the performance, Milena Radulović performed with visible emotional tension. Radulović’s participation – her biography, exposed vulnerability, and the persistence with which she carried the performance through – had a powerful effect on the audience, further intensifying spectators’ identification and emotional involvement. Particularly significant was the fact that, together with Nada Šargin, Radulović was not cast in the role of a victim, but of a judge. In this way, the production avoided an overly literal overlap between her biography and the stage material, while the symbolic distribution of roles functioned as a kind of repositioning of the figure who testifies to endured violence into a position of authority and judgment. The fact that the performance took place precisely at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts further amplified this symbolic dimension, given that Radulović herself graduated in acting from that institution, in the class of Biljana Mašić – the wife of Miroslav Aleksić – who taught at the faculty and publicly supported her husband after he had been accused of abuse. In that sense, her return to the Faculty of Dramatic Arts precisely through the role of a judge functioned as a powerful symbolic act – not only as a reclaiming of a space indirectly connected to the case that shook the Serbian public, but also as an attempt to shift the figure of a woman who publicly testifies about violence away from the position of suffering and vulnerability and into one of authority, speech, and judgment. Vesna Trivalić delivered Gisèle Pelicot’s monologue with such acting precision and emotional conviction that a large part of the audience broke into tears during the performance. Many spectators later stated and wrote – as evidenced by the considerable number of texts published about Ne:Bitef – that this had been one of the most powerful theatrical experiences they had ever witnessed, an assessment with which the authors of this text also agree. Vesna Trivalić and Milena Radulović in the dressing room before the performance “The Pelicot Trial”. Photo Credit: Jelena Jankovic What makes this particularly significant is the fact that Vesna Trivalić has for decades been recognized in Serbian public culture primarily as an extraordinary comic actress and one of the country’s most beloved television performers, thanks to series such as the family dramedy A Better Life ( Bolji život , 1987–1991) and the sitcom Open Door ( Otvorena vrata , 1994–1995). Trivalić’s body, deeply haunted by previous comic roles, collective nostalgia, and the audience’s television memory, here appeared instead as the bearer of a painful and serious testimony, further intensifying the emotional effect of the performance. This shift could also be interpreted as a sign that the social moment had reached a point at which there was no longer any room for laughter. It was precisely through this example that one could observe how the exchange between performers and audience, in moments of social crisis, can become especially intense and emotionally charged. The audience was responding not only to the stage material and the actors’ skill, but also to the broader social context surrounding the performance and into which it was deeply and multiply embedded. Under such circumstances, theatre becomes a site of shared affect and collective emotional “release,” a space for recognizing and confronting social trauma. Due to the extraordinary interest of the audience, the performance was simultaneously streamed via video link, which opened up an interesting question concerning the relationship between live performance and its digital transmission. After the three-hour production had ended, I caught myself, already on the bus ride home, rewatching the recording of Vesna Trivalić’s monologue – the moment experienced as the emotional climax of the performance – thereby extending an experience that did not conclude upon leaving the venue itself. In this sense, the digital stream did not function merely as documentation of the performance, but as a continuation and prolongation of its affective force. An additional connection between the performance and the concrete socio-political reality was established through the very mode of its digital transmission. The Pelicot Trial was streamed via the YouTube channel Svi u blokade (“Everyone Into the Blockades”), which students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts had launched during the faculty blockades in order to share information, protest footage, and other materials related to the student resistance movement. At the same time, the performance was collectively screened in Novi Sad, Ljubljana, and Skopje as a gesture of regional artistic solidarity and support. In this way, the very digital infrastructure through which the performance circulated became itself “haunted” by protest, student resistance, and gestures of regional solidarity, transforming from a neutral channel of transmission into an active component of the production’s political and symbolic framework. “The Pelicot Trial” (Milo Rau / Servane Dècle) at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade. Photo Credit: Nata Korenovskaia At the moment when the institutional Bitef ceased to exist in its previous form, its symbolic, political, and social potential continued to live on through a collective practice of self-organization, solidarity, and resistance. Precisely for this reason, the question of whether Ne:Bitef was the “real” Bitef may not be the most important one; more important is the fact that it opened up space for the very notion of the institution to be reimagined and rebuilt – not as an instrument of political control, but as a space of autonomy, critique, and public dialogue. In this sense, Ne:Bitef did not represent merely a reaction to censorship and the cancellation of the festival, but also an attempt to imagine, through theatre, a different model of cultural and social togetherness. The death of Miroslav Aleksić in January 2026, and the outcomes of years-long court proceedings, once again opened up in the public sphere the question of justice and its realization in cases of sexual violence. Unlike the case of Gisèle Pelicot, which in the public sphere reached its judicial epilogue and closure, the case of Milena Radulović remains remembered as a symbol of a #MeToo moment in Serbia in which justice, despite public testimony and enormous support, continues to be experienced as something unfinished, postponed, and painfully inaccessible. At the same time, Bitef appointed a new selector. This time, there was not even an attempt to appoint a figure who would broadly satisfy the professional criteria traditionally associated with the position or command wider respect within the theatre community. Those who had publicly defended Bitef’s autonomy and opposed its censorship were removed and replaced. Everything indicates that Bitef will not return this year as an institution capable of restoring its own autonomy and critical function. The question remains whether Ne:Bitef will remain merely a document of a brief historical moment in 2025, in which the festival refused to disappear, or whether it will demonstrate its vitality and strength until Bitef is liberated. Here, one must above all count on the potential and networks of solidarity within the European artistic community – on the willingness to decisively refuse participation in the institutional Bitef and to support some future Ne:Bitef in the way that the musicians’ band of Berlin’s Volksbühne technicians, Milo Rau, Servane Dècle, and Romeo Castellucci did last year. References References About the author(s) Ognjen Obradović is a theatre scholar and Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade. His research focuses on contemporary theatre, performance studies, and the relationship between theatre and politics. Jelena Knežević is a theatre producer and Teaching Assistant at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade. Her research interests include theatre festivals, cultural management, and alternative organizational models in the arts. She served as Executive Director of Bitef from 2008 to 2023 and was a member of the organizational team of Ne:Bitef 2025. 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.

Lindsey Mantoan 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 2025 Oregon Shakespeare Festival Lindsey Mantoan By Published on January 26, 2026 Download Article as PDF 2025 Oregon Shakespeare Festival Ashland, Oregon Jun 12-14 and Jul 16-18, 2025. Reviewed by Lindsey Mantoan Since the COVID pandemic shut down the 2020 Oregon Shakespeare Festival (OSF) season, the festival has been plagued with challenges including nearby fires smoking out shows, controversial leadership changes, and audiences reticent to embrace non-Shakespeare offerings. Seasons have been smaller in scope, and my experience seeing every show since 2020 is that houses were often half-full. So, it was thrilling to see full houses for every performance I attended, for a season of nine productions. In the first season fully programmed by new artistic director Tim Bond, the 2025 year featured three Shakespeare plays, a musical, a classic comedy of manners, two new adaptations of canonical texts, an August Wilson century cycle play, and a recent Pulitzer Prize-winner. The sense that this was a return to the vibrant pre-pandemic OSF reverberated through the slate of programing, audience enthusiasm, and discernible joy from the artists. The Oregon Shakespeare Festival is back. It seemed to me that no one had more fun on the OSF stage this year than Royer Bockus and Amy Kim Waschke, who played the eponymous wives in Shakespeare’s comedy The Merry Wives of Windsor . This production, in the outdoor Elizabethan theatre, was affirming, joyous, queer, racially diverse, and playful. Director Terri McMahon innovatively revised the script, transforming Fenton into a nonbinary character that others referred to with they/them pronouns; the character was played by nonbinary actor Ellen Soraya Nikbakht. The fact that Fenton married the much-fought-over Anne, and the entire ensemble celebrated them as they kissed in the final tableau, foregrounded gender diversity and queer joy. Slender was queer-coded, and Doctor Caius was overjoyed when he discovered that the “bride” he’d tried to marry was not Anne but, in fact, Corporal Nym—the two seemed likely to live happily ever after together. These production choices demonstrated OSF’s continued commitment to reenvisioning classic theatre for marginalized populations. Susan Tsu’s clever costume design gave Falstaff a codpiece that became its own character, and, in the finale, a white unitard with “big daddy” on the belly, a British flag vest over it, and antlers on his head. His followers, a biker gang with leather jackets, bandanas, chain necklaces, and spiked hair, danced during scene changes to techno-house music. The intimacy and camaraderie of the wives as they plotted, drank White Claw, and high-fived each other centered female friendship and comedy in a way that felt like an antidote to the sidelining of female characters in many Shakespeare plays—especially Julius Caesar , which played next door this season . The production concluded with the company dancing and singing, and an invitation for the eager audience to join them. When I approached the Thomas Theater to see 2022 Pulitzer prize-winner Fat Ham , by James Ijames, I was met with a half-dozen people waiting outside trying to get tickets. The show had been sold out for weeks, a contrast to OSF’s recent struggles with audiences. The set, featuring the façade of a back porch, a picnic table, a grill, a floor covered in grass, and eatable potato salad, put all of us in Juicy’s backyard as he negotiated his “softness,” the ghost of his father, the misogyny and homophobia of his stepfather, and the yearning of his childhood friend, Larry. Played with heart and strength by Marshall W. Mabry IV, Juicy strutted about the backyard with confidence, even while he questioned his next steps when his brutal father summoned him to perpetuate cycles of violence. During a tour-de-force karaoke performance of “Creep” by Lynnette R. Freeman as Tedra, each character was given a spotlight to physicalize their internal angst. When Larry transformed from his military uniform into full-on drag, the steps to the back porch of the set moved forward toward the center audience, expanding to become a runway, complete with lights embedded in the floor. Larry’s catwalk would make a splash on Drag Race , and all the characters took a moment to shine on the runway. Basking in the affirming ending in which mothers accepted their queer children, audiences in the predominantly-white space of Ashland witnessed vital Black queer joy and the affirmation that comes with familial acceptance. In the Angus Bowmer Theater, the larger of the two indoor spaces, Jitney featured veteran OSF actors such as Kevin Kenerly and Tyrone Wilson alongside OSF newcomers who brought August Wilson’s world to life with authority and intention. Under the nuanced direction of Tim Bond, this production offered strong ensemble interplay and studied dialect work. The interior of Becker’s car service, fully realized with a distressed couch, practical lamps, and a phone that rang every few minutes with a jitney customer, was situated in front of a street on a hill, complete with actual car. As part of the same season, Jitney and Fat Ham staged a profound conversation about Black masculinity and sexuality, particularly since a few actors featured in both productions. The casting of Aldo Billingslea as Rev in Fat Ham and Doub in Jitney highlighted this intertextual conversation, as one body put forward totalitarian views of family and sexuality in one play and a gentle acceptance of everyone in the other. During a summer of rising unemployment for younger Americans, the targeting of educational opportunities for minority students, and deepening racial division, Jitney spoke to this moment by centering community and resilience. In As You Like It , director Lisa Peterson took an intimate approach to Shakespearean comedy, placing actors in the aisles of the modular Thomas Theater to interact with the audience. Bold, stylized visuals, including all-white costumes, separated the sterile, authoritarian court of Duke Frederick and the vibrant, verdant world of the commune of banished Duke Senior in the forest of Arden. In this highly musical production, most ensemble members played instruments. Guitar chords were punctuated with musical jokes via tuba, slide whistle, accordion, and harmonica. The production featured a 1960s hippie aesthetic—complete with bare feet, knit fruit, crocheted vests, and flowers in long hair—that both reveled in and mocked itself. Peterson drew inspiration from generational differences that feature prominently in cultural narratives about this period, although more salient to me was the distinction between built worlds and natural, the latter fostering love and connection. A woolly sheep, marionetted by Kate Wisniewski as Corin, trotted from grass patch to flower, nibbling and prancing while the shepherd philosophized. As cranky Jacques, veteran OSF favorite Sheila Tousey balanced the groovy tone with a touching and melancholy interpretation of the iconic “all the world’s a stage” monologue. The final scene featured multiple couples joining in matrimony alongside a polyamorous threesome of Touchstone (the fool) Audrey, and William. A philosophical and magical production, As You Like It continued the affirming and joyous tone of the season. The Shakespeare offerings took a dark turn in the Bowmer Theatre with Rosa Joshi and upstart crow collective’s spare and percussive Julius Caesar . As Romans rhythmically waved flags to represent patriotism and its undercurrent of violence, the motion and drumbeat sank into audience members’ bodies, compelling them to become part of the crowd. In this athletic piece, ensemble members convulsed and trembled at length during transitions and in the background of some scenes, signifying the earthquakes caused by shifting political authority. Luciana Stecconi’s scenic design of angular levels and rectilinear columns provided a canvas for projections of dripping blood and lightning flashes. upstart crow’s practice of casting exclusively women and nonbinary actors in classic pieces enabled new resonances of gender and power vis-à-vis the nation. This production belonged to Jessika D. Williams, whose show-stealing Mark Antony cleverly manipulated the Roman rabble at Caesar’s funeral. In the ensuing riot, the mob attacked Cinna the Poet and lifted him into the air while he physically reached to the audience for help, before pulling him down and murdering him. A lengthier death scene than Caesar’s, this violence was rendered even more brutal by Joshi’s addition of a parent character, restrained by a violent Roman, forced to watch while the child was murdered. The final tableau before intermission featured this parent cradling Cinna’s body, repeatedly sobbing, “he is Cinna the Poet.” The suggestion here, that political violence fails to halt tyranny but does end poetry, landed like a blow in the liberal and artistic space of Ashland. In the same space, playfully satirizing Western notions of class and sexuality, Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest delighted with its lush scenery, rich costumes, and innovative setting. Director Desdemona Chiang set the piece in the British Malay peninsula during the Victorian era. In a production that foregrounded physical comedy, the number of muffins and cucumber sandwiches consumed was outnumbered only by the crumbs spewed across the stage as Algie talked with his mouth full. The setting and racially diverse casting infused this comedy of manners with questions about bridging cultural differences related to acceptable social decorum. When British Gwendolen and Southeast Asian Cecily descended into food-based slights and name-calling, their rift felt as much about race and culture as about their both being engaged to “Earnest.” As a white British aristocrat concerned with capricious standards of behavior, Lady Bracknell’s double take at Cecily’s sandalled feet and bare ankles represented the negotiation of colonial norms—and the humor to be found therein. As if to underscore the connection between this season and the thriving OSF of the 2010s, this year’s musical, Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods , was a moving recreation of a 2014 production. Focused on the effects of storytelling, the show began with actors in neutral colors and a big bag center stage from which actors pulled props: Red, her iconic cape; the Baker’s Wife, her husband’s scarf. The audience’s introduction to Milky White was as a cardboard box with a Sharpie sketch of a cow and the word “moo.” Hilarious additions such as the princes riding full-sized tricycles with horseheads instead of gallant stallions, and words such as “Juicy” and “Brat” lining the stepsisters’ gaudy dresses enlivened this production with humor. However, the element of the production that moved me most was the massive twenty-one-piece orchestra that covered two levels of the stage, with the conductor in the house. When the Witch began the iconic second-act song, “The Last Midnight,” she stood atop the center stage grand piano while scenic automation moved it downstage, and the musician playing it never batting an eye. Director Amanda Dehnert’s choice to populate the pit with professional musicians alongside amateur high school and college mentees supported the intergenerational storytelling of the musical. Walking into the Thomas Theater for Octavio Solis’s Quixote Nuevo , audiences were met with vibrant accordion and guitar music and an upstage wall of sandstone-colored boulders. An adaptation of Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote de la Mancha , Quixote Nuevo relocated the story of an older man with an active imagination from Spain to a fictional town situated on the US side of the Texas/Mexico border. The production opened with Quijano, a Spanish literature professor who believes he’s Don Quixote, rising atop a pyramid of books from a trap door in the stage floor, clad in a bathrobe and boxers, and brandishing a sword. Herbert Siguenza played Quijano with playfulness and sincerity, opposite Raul Cardona’s sinister and powerful Papa Calaca, or Father Death. An ensemble in skeleton costumes sang, danced, and stomped their feet to usher Quijano to the afterlife. As his mind fractured across three planes—the real world, his fantasy world, and the world of the afterlife—Quijano squeezed in one last adventure before Papa Calaca took him, vowing to fight for the unemployed, uninsured, and undocumented. This story about dreams, nostalgia, and valor tapped into the human need for adventure and the imperative to negotiate borders—between Spanish and English, nations, cultures, and life and death. In traditional OSF style, this piece braided a classic text with contemporary sociopolitical issues, a blend of adaptation, and homage that resonated across multigenerational audiences. Recent seasons of the festival have featured dynamic individual productions but have been a bit uneven. This season, every production vibrated with power and creativity. The strength of the productions, the volume of audiences, and the atmosphere across the three performances spaces all indicated that the festival is poised to thrive under Tim Bond’s leadership. Next season will grow to ten productions, and OSF seems to be moving confidently into this next phase. The Merry Wives of Windsor (2025): Royer Bockus, Amy Kim Waschke. Photo by Jenny Graham Quixote Nuevo (2025): Raul Cardona and Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham. Into the Woods (2025): Ensemble. Photo by Jenny Graham. August Wilson’s Jitney (2025): Preston Butler III, Tyrone Wilson, Kevin Kenerly. Photo by Jenny Graham. References Footnotes About The Author(s) LINDSEY MANTOAN is the Ronni Lacroute Chair in Theatre Arts and an Associate Professor at Linfield University. Her current book project, From Broadway to the Auditorium: How Musical Theatre Does High School (Oxford UP, forthcoming) researches the way musicals set in high schools frame adolescence as a laboratory for personal and communal experimentation. She is the author of  War as Performance: Conflict in Iraq and Political Theatricality  (Palgrave 2018), an occasional contributor to CNN.com , co-editor of six books, and co-editor of  Studies in Musical Theatre .  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.

Back to Top Article References Authors Keep Reading < Back Arab Stages 14 Spring 2023 Volume Visit Journal Homepage Book Review: ACTING EGYPTIAN By Marjan Moosavi Published: November 26, 2023 Download Article as PDF ACTING EGYPTIAN: THEATRE, IDENTITY, AND POLITICAL CULTURE IN CAIRO, 1869–1930. By Carmen M. K. Gitre. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2019; pp. 192 + xii. By Marjan Moosavi, University of Maryland-College Park Carmen Gitre’s multifaceted analytical examination of “modern Egyptianness” is presented in four chronologically arranged chapters, each exploring compelling cases of performance, plays, and performers, spanning the late nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries. As a book on social history highlighting the processes of “nontextual historical recuperation,” Acting Egyptian draws the readers’ attention toward playfulness, ambivalences, liminality, and tensions of theatrical practices, events, and spaces. In doing so, Gitre gives due recognition to the visions and processes of theatre-making that willingly or unwittingly reflect and restore those ambivalences and multiplicities. Pivoting her analysis on the conceptual model of ambivalence allows her to privilege complexity and multiple frameworks, eschewing binarized and generalizable concepts. As such, in this recuperative account, the author foregrounds subalterns’ tenuous pursuit of negotiating and reformulating their national identity in the face of overbearing and monolithic discourses around Egyptian nationalism, including the effendiya bourgeoisie and other modernizing forces. Across the four chapters, she subtly examines four distinct categories: the upwardly mobile, secular-educated middle-class men (known as effendis ) striving for modernity and social advancement, elite individuals well-versed in European culture, women trailblazers involved in performance at theatres and cabarets and their management, and urban working-class individuals including immigrants from rural and Upper Egypt (Sa‘id Misr) . Chapter one, “Aida in Egypt,” begins with the debut of Verdi’s Aida , commissioned by the Ottoman governor of Egypt at Cairo’s Khedivial Opera House in 1871. The chapter’s multidisciplinary discussion examines signs and processes of urban renewals and social hierarchies as indicative of unifying processes of identity formation through reframing spatial configurations and authentic Egyptianized narratives. The Opera House’s architecture was used as a platform to represent the hierarchies and status of audience members, giving visibility to Egyptian court elites, their patronage of performances and their Euro-centric taste for entertainment. In a detailed discussion about alternative spatial designations, the author highlights that binaries that were maintained in the Opera House were in compliance with Ottoman court culture, complicating the public/private binary. Spatial designation for women in “harem boxes” in the Opera House, for instance, represented the binaries such as “interior/exterior” (34). In effect, while showing women in isolation, these boxes also manifested the horizontal dynamics of hierarchy in the Ottoman courts. Gitre then suggests that the harems’ central location in the Ottoman palace allowed women to have both physical proximity to the throne and a significant standpoint in exercising sovereignty. She concludes the chapter by bringing European and elite Egyptian audiences’ responses to the spotlight. Reframing Egyptian coherent identity and national pride in opera performances in tandem with urban development created a unique experience for these audiences at the turn of the century and paved the path for developing effendiya nationalism as a hegemonic social identity in 20th-century Egypt. In chapter two, “How to Be an Effendi ,” Gitre sheds light on how effendis, as the culture-savvy elites, created an Egyptian national identity by splicing Western culture and technology with indigenous customs and lifestyles. Here, the author focuses on the Arabic-language theatre district ‘Imad al-Din Street, its proscenium stages, and realistic theatre-making as a territorial space for disseminating consensus on effendi identity, masculinity, and narratives (43). The chapter discusses Farah Antun, a well-known Syrian Christian émigré and effendiyya member, and his effective role in perpetuating hegemonic discourse of “civilized” and modern Egyptian identity. This modern Egyptian identity is distanced from sha’bi (popular and working class) and indigenous dispositions. For example, Gitre discusses Antun’s linguistic innovations in utilizing an “elevated colloquial” in his canonical play Misr al-Jadida (New Egypt) to distinguish effendis’ distinct social status (46). Ironically, Antun’s efforts in magnifying Egyptian nationalism led to his own marginalization and a “fraught position” in the discursive and practical milieus of Egyptian nationalism. Gitre devotes the rest of this chapter to sharing the outcome of her close reading of Antun’s works substantiated by compelling archival research on periodical press. Her nuanced account convinces the reader to agree that the ambiguities, instability, and fluidity in effendi identity and narrative, as reflected in their theatrical practices, are worthy of unstinting attention. Building on this understanding, chapter three familiarizes readers with grassroots and interactive street performances by the sha’b and women. Focusing on “The Story of Ahmad the Rat,” also situated at the turn of the century, Gitre examines playfulness and satirical improvisation as resistive tactics used in farcical playlets called fasl mudhik that destabilize the pillars of effendiya’s hegemonic nationalism. The author begins by foregrounding specific characteristics in such comedic performances, including vulgarity in dialogue, language, action, fantasy, inverted gender roles, and audience participation, all challenging the decorum and rationality of the effendi value system. These sha’bi versions of modernity prospered in tensions with national homogeneity reinforced by effendi discourse and the dominant practice of cultural gatekeeping. More remarkably, Gitre’s attention to the multiple endings to a single narrative in Riwayat al-Sa’idi (Upper Egyptian’s Story) allows her to illuminate the ambivalences that she contends charge the history and historiography of Egyptian textual and nontextual performances. In doing so, she emphasizes how such hegemony extends to archives and documentation as it has overshadowed these subaltern voices. Chapter four, “Cabarets and the Mothers of the Nation,” gives an in-depth analysis of the social and cultural context and processes of fandom and stardom in which female trailblazers, as singers, actors, dancers, or managers, worked to both challenge and perpetuate the values that effendi nationalism imagined for them and their peers. By critically examining primary sources with the help of a variety of secondary sources, the author argues artists like Munira al-Mahdiyya took effendi and elite feminist values and ideas in unexpected, ambiguous directions by being practical and opportunist about indigenous values of adab (proper upbringing and social mannerism) and ‘afaf (purity and chastity) while performing on stage. These performing women perpetuated a unique freedom by practicing “disciplined transgression,” meaning while defying the effendi unified patriarchal freedom, they defined certain boundaries for their own sense and practice of freedom (116). Acting Egyptian offers substantive glimpses into Cairenes’ daily life in addressing “permeable and porous spaces,” including theatres that reflect and reflect upon a diversity of identities and experiences (7). In this vein, the author’s clear-eyed historiographical methodology reminds the readers that theatre history can bear marks of ideological coercion and needs to be revisited. One might wish that some of the discussions that surface in her analysis of plays and performances had delved deeper into examining performance and aesthetic elements. For instance, in her chapters, Gitre could have elaborated on the acting styles, scenic design, and directorial choices and processes in her analysis of plays under discussion. Admittedly, though, an entire book could be devoted to the subject of acting style and performance analysis. As is, Acting Egyptian is a superb, sweeping account of the critical role that theatre and performance can play in forming, transforming, and reforming national and political discourses in a multi-layered shifting context. Readers from various fields are bound to find numerous concepts of interest in Acting Egyptian . It is a highly readable page-turner and will appeal to Middle East researchers and students and the theatrical, musical, and dance scenes of the Global South. There is a growing body of scholarship about theatre in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA). Thanks to Gitre’s book, this body is taking shape and spirit. Article Bibliography, References & Endnotes References About The Author(s) Marjan Moosavi is an educator, researcher, digital curator, and dramaturg. She holds a Ph.D. in Theatre and Performance Studies from the University of Toronto. She is the Roshan Lecturer in Persian Studies and Performing Arts and the Associate Director of the Roshan Initiative in Persian Digital Humanities at the University of Maryland, where she designs curriculum, mentors graduate students and pursues her interdisciplinary projects at the intersection of Theatre Studies and Digital Humanities. Her digital and curatorial collaborations include two pioneering and transnational digital projects: Digital Guide to Theater of the Middle East and the Digital Photo Exhibit on the Middle Eastern Theatre. Her work, whether academic or artistic, examines the dynamics of theatre-making in MENA countries and theatre’s intersection with gender, history, and politics. Her research has been published in venues including The Drama Review (TDR) , Asian Theatre Journal , New Theatre Quarterly , Routledge Handbook of Persian Literary Translation , and Routledge Companion to Dramaturgy . She is a longstanding Regional Managing Editor for TheTheatreTimes.com . 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 Review: Mother Courage adapted and directed by Alison Shan Price Review of Theaters of Citizenship: Aesthetics and Politics of Avant-Garde Performance in Egypt written by Sonali Pahwa Review: Decolonizing Sarah: A Hurricane Play written and directed by Samer Al-Saber “Indigenous Avant-Gardes”: The Shiraz Arts Festival and Ritual Performance Theory in 1970s Iran Review: Baba written by Denmo Ibrahim, directed by Hamid Dehghani Review of MUKHRIJĀT AL-MASRAḤ AL-MIṢRĪ (1990-2010): DIRĀSA SĪMIYŪṬĪQĪYAH [Female Egyptian Directors (1990-2010): A Semiotic Study], written by Hadia Abd El-Fattah Review of Syrian Refugees, Applied Theater, Workshop Facilitation, and Stories: While They Were Waiting written by Fadi Skeiker Review: Layalina written by Martin Yousif Zebari, directed by Sivan Battat Up There by Wael Kadour, Introduction Review: Playwright Showcase, New Arab American Theater Works Two Giants of Egyptian Theatre: Conversations with Mohamed Abul-ʿEla El-Salamouny and Lenin El-Ramly Crossing Borders: A Theatre Practitioner’s Odyssey, An Interview with Hassan El Geretly On Writing Egypt from the Diaspora: An Interview with Adam Ashraf Elsayigh Performance Review: A FAMILY THAT HAS BEEN BLOCKED Performance Review: BETHLEHEM SITE-SPECIFIC THEATER FESTIVAL Performance Review: HOOTA. By Amer Hlehel Performance Review: LITTLE SYRIA Book Review: ACTING EGYPTIAN Book Review: MANSOUR, MONA. THE VAGRANT TRILOGY Previous Next Attribution: Entries under this journal are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

Laura Dorwart Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 28 1 Visit Journal Homepage Murder Most Queer Laura Dorwart By Published on March 22, 2016 Download Article as PDF Murder Most Queer: The Homicidal Homosexual in the American Theater. By Jordan Schildcrout. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2014. Pp. 268. Jordan Schildcrout’s Murder Most Queer: The Homicidal Homosexual in the American Theater should be used in classrooms as a prototypical example of the fundamental yet often disputed and underacknowledged interrelationship of theatre studies and the broader fields of performance studies and critical theory. Applying principles of queer theory to an in-depth, extensive case study of the figure of the LGBT murderer in American theatre, Schildcrout skewers the concept of “queer villainy,” in which violent (i.e., murderous) transgressions of social order are linked with nonviolent ones (i.e., queerness) in theatrical and other cultural representations, while eschewing the tendency on the part of critics to categorize such characters as either “positive” or “negative,” with no room for dynamism or the value of using said representations to plumb the messier side of human nature. In this vein, he notes, “Plays with homicidal homosexuals often defy easy categorization since they incorporate the realistic and the fantastic, the optimistic and the nihilistic, the reactionary and the progressive, the serious and the frivolous” (267). Accordingly, he addresses the topic from several angles, positing that 1) the queer, like the dramatic villain, is larger than life and exposes the socially transgressive underbelly of human desire, and is thus uniquely worth of artistic rendering and critical analysis; and 2) the figure of the “homicidal homosexual” onstage can be read, in various contexts (depending on, among other factors, who is in the audience, who is on stage, who controls the production financially, and the broader sociopolitical climate), as an attempt to: instigate social action, catalyze expressions of empathy, expose the evils of homophobia and queer criminalization, wrestle with societal ethical “demons,” temporarily switch the usual roles of victim and perpetrator in carnivalesque fashion, examine the pleasure innate to forms of “deviance,” and/or cathartize the justified rage that results from long-term oppression and communal trauma. Arranged in chronological order, Murder Most Queer’ s chapters each explore both a particular conceptual aspect of theatrical representations of “the homicidal homosexual”—a term Schildcrout cherry-picked precisely because of its clinical and pathologizing historical overtones—and a specific play or group of plays. This arrangement lends itself to a kind of precise yet expansive clarity that is reproduced by Schildcrout’s tone, which is at once accessible and critical. Schildcrout begins by examining the potential threat of gay love as opposed to mere same-sex sexual activity in his account of Mae West’s ill-fated 1927 play The Drag , and in Chapter 2 he juxtaposes public perceptions of real-life gay murderers with their theatrical counterparts, using Patrick Hamilton’s The Rope (later titled Rope’s End for its American production) as a case study. In Chapter 3 he reflects on the potentially violent implications of the necessity of queer closetedness alongside Ira Levin’s Deathtrap. Schildcrout unearths the woefully undertheorized figure of the lesbian killer in the next chapter while he explores the figure of the “good girl” and the complex dynamics, including misogyny both subtle and overt, within the 1960s/1970s queer theatre community. Chapter 5 unpacks the connections between camp, drag, queerness, and opera through readings of Chay Yew’s Porcelain and Terrence McNally’s Lisbon Traviata. He ties metaphysical notions of suffering to theatrical representations of queerness, drawing from theoretical notions of queer-as-universal-scapegoat, in Chapter 6, and finally makes a compelling case, paired with discussions of Joyce Carol Oates’ Zombie and Dennis Cooper’s Jerk, for the urgency of the connection between notions of queerness as embodied evil and the frequent recurrence of the figure of the gay murderer in American drama. Each chapter also examines cultural history alongside theatrical chronology; for example, the complex figure of the “fairy,” particularly in 1920s New York, plays a key role in the first chapter, while the “gay liberation” movement of the 1960s and 1970s are fundamental to his readings of the plays in the second and third chapters. Jeffrey Dahmer figures prominently in his reading of Oates’ play about a fey, frustrated serial killer of young boys. Perhaps most notable is his chapter on lesbian killers, as he examines in some depth the nuanced implications, and theatrical effectiveness, of seeing queer bodies in variously gendered romantic, social, violent, criminal, and sexual configurations and associations on stage in productions such as those mounted by the Five Lesbian Brothers, Holly Hughes, and Split Britches. This approach is deliberate and effective, as Schildcrout couches each of his theatrical analyses in a deep contextualization involving genre, sociopolitical climate, and the internal dynamics of queer culture at the time. Schildcrout’s text also exemplifies the efficacy of mirroring the principles of the theory with which one is wrestling in one’s own writing. He faces the daunting task of unpacking the complex figure to which he introduces us, and making the case for the theatricalized “homicidal homosexual” as valuable and rich with potential, if also deeply problematic. To do so, Schildcrout draws from Lee Edelman’s influential text No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive , arguing that representations are only worthy and both culturally and artistically genuine if they are also positive, life-affirming, and imbued with messages of “hope” and “optimism.” He also draws heavily from Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s multilayered and rhizomatic approach to the definition and dissemination of concepts of queerness, the closet, and violence, all of which are reflected by and through Schildcrout’s own writing. Schildcrout’s aim, he claims, is neither to pass judgment on the figure of the homicidal homosexual in American theatre, nor to unqualifiedly redeem it. Rather, he states: “Instead of sentencing these characters to the prison of negative representation, Murder Most Queer analyzes the meanings in their acts of murder, confronting the real fears and desires condensed in those dramatic acts and recognizing the potential value—and even pleasure—of violence in the theater” (3). In his historical, theatrical, cultural, and critical analysis of “homicidal homosexuals,” Schildcrout achieves that analytic goal. References Footnotes About The Author(s) Laura Dorwart Antioch University Los Angeles 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 Editorial Comment New Directions in Dramatic and Theatrical Theory: The Emerging Discipline of Performance Philosophy Changes, Constants, Constraints: African American Theatre History Scholarship Reflections: Fifty Years of Chicano/Latino Theatre Strangers Onstage: Asia, America, Theatre, and Performance Transgressive Engagements: The Here and Now of Queer Theatre Scholarship Thinking about Temporality and Theatre Musical Theatre Studies “Re-righting” Finland’s Winter War: Robert E. Sherwood’s There Shall Be No Night[s] Star Struck!: The Phenomenological Affect of Celebrity on Broadway Performing Anti-slavery American Tragedian Murder Most Queer The Captive Stage Previous Next Attribution: This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license.

The fellowships provide theatre and performance scholars the opportunity to conduct research in New York City for a period of 3 to 6 months. Fellows are given individual work spaces in the Segal Center offices at the Graduate Center CUNY Visiting Scholars Program 2025 GLOBAL VISITING SCHOLARS PROGRAM Marvin Carlson Fellowships Call for Applications The Martin E. Segal Theatre Center at the Graduate Center CUNY is currently accepting applications for its 2025 Global Visiting Scholars Program. Ten scholars of theatre and performance who are currently working outside of the United States will be awarded our new Marvin Carlson Fellowships. This diverse group of fellows will represent communities from a range of geographical areas, including but not limited to Africa; East, South, and South-East Asia; Oceania; Eastern and Central Europe; the Americas; the Caribbean, and the Middle East. Overview The fellowships provide theatre and performance scholars the opportunity to conduct research in New York City for a period of 3 to 6 months. Fellows are given individual work spaces in the Segal Center offices at the Graduate Center CUNY, access to libraries and archives across New York City, and opportunities to share their work in a community setting through monthly salons with other fellows, faculty, and students from the Graduate Center's PhD program in Theatre and Performance. The fellowships do not include financial support from the Segal Center. Fellows are expected to secure their own resources to remain in New York City for the length of their fellowship. Visas, if needed, are processed through the Graduate Center CUNY in accordance with US State Department requirements. These requirements include proof of financial security in the form of bank statements, proof of health insurance as well as documentation of current residency.* Scholars will not be able to teach or enroll in courses at any university while in residence. Application We are accepting applications on a rolling basis. For consideration please submit the following materials via email for review. • One sentence description of project • Name and address of host institution • A 500- to 1000-word project proposal • An academic CV • A writing sample in English Please submit applications and queries to to: segalglobalscholars@gmail.com Email application materials in a single PDF. Incomplete applications will not be considered. Response time: 2-3 months. *Important: For those requiring a visa, the estimated amount of monthly financial resources each fellow is expected to have is $2,000 per month for a single person, $2,500 for a family. In addition, scholars must have $100,000 in medical insurance for each illness or accident, not to exceed a $500 deductible for each illness or accident; $50,000 for evacuation on medical emergency; and $25,000 for repatriation of remains in the event of death. For more information on the visa requirements of the CUNY Visiting Research Scholars Program, see: https://www.gc.cuny.edu/provosts-office/visiting-research-scholars .

Paul E. Fallon Cambridge, Massachusetts Back to Top Untitled Article References Copy of References Authors Keep Reading < Back Journal of American Drama & Theatre Volume Issue 37 1 Visit Journal Homepage The Huntington. Boston, Massachusetts, 2023-24 Paul E. Fallon Cambridge, Massachusetts By Published on December 16, 2024 Download Article as PDF Jennifer Mogbock and company in Toni Stone at The Huntington. Photo: T. Charles Erickson Prayer for the French Republic Joshua Harmon (7 Sep-2 Oct) Fat Ham James Ijames (22 Sep-22 Oct) The Band’s Visit Itmar Moses and David Yazbeck (10 Nov-17 Dec) The Heart Sellers Lloyd Suh (21 Nov-23 Dec) Yippee Ki Yay Richard Marsh (27 Dec-31 Dec) Stand Up if You’re Here Tonight John Klovenbach (20 Jan-23 March) John Proctor is the Villain Kimberly Belflower (8 Feb-10 March) Toni Stone Lydia R. Diamond (17 May-16 June) In July 2023, Christopher Mannelli became Executive Director of The Huntington, following Michael Maso’s forty+ year run as Managing Director. Mannelli took over a strong organization, fully recovered from the pandemic, that offered an extensive season performed in three venues. The Huntington’s first full season with Loretta Greco as Artistic Director opened on the main stage in grand style. Prayer for the French Republic is an expansive three-hour journey across five generations of French Jews. Everything about The Huntington’s production matched the play’s ambitions that began with full color, enlarged (8.5”x11”) program books at a time when some theatres shifted to QR codes. The set featured a rotating dining table that provided critical clues to following the sprawling story. Tony Estrella, as the narrator, delivered historical context directly to the audience, while the remaining cast enacted their private trauma. Carly Zien, as Elodie, delivered an astonishing stream-of-consciousness monologue that illustrated humans’ complex discrepancies. Meanwhile, at The Calderwood, 2022 Pulitzer Prize winner, Fat Ham served up a comedic rap on Hamlet at a Black family backyard barbeque in the American South. Each character bears attributes of their Shakespearean equivalent, plus invented twists. Juicy: misunderstood; moody; and contemplative as any Hamlet, was also obese and gay. The production shredded the fourth wall, fed off our familiarity with Shakespeare’s play, and then skewered it with potato salad, sausage, and pulled pork. The comedy was often broad, always inciteful. Juicy’s karaoke number began so badly it was hilarious, until it turned chilling. Standouts among the cast included Lau’rie Roach as Tio and James T. Alfred at Rev/Pap. Shaken with laughter, I wondered how Fat Ham could mirror Hamlet to the end. Let it be said that death visits the barbeque in ways both funny and fitting. “Nothing is as beautiful as something you don’t expect,” Dina, an Israeli kibbutznik, suggests to Tewfiq, the Egyptian band leader. The sentiment encapsulates the simple pleasure of The Band’s Visit . The Huntington, in collaboration with Speakeasy Stage, delivered unexpected beauty in this musical that infuses traditional Middle Eastern music with a Broadway sound. Director Paul Daigneault highlighted music and broad comedy over the slim plot of this feel-good confection, where scenes unrolled as cross-cultural vignettes that elevated shared humanity over political differences. The Huntington celebrated a non-traditional Thanksgiving. Lloyd Suh’s The Heart Sellers emphasizes comedy over pathos when Filipino immigrant Luna (Jenna Agbayani) and Korean immigrant Jane (Judy Song) come together on this strange holiday in a strange land in 1973. When Luna utters, “So, we’re the lucky ones,” with a profound sigh, she pierces the comic surface of baffled immigrants trying to cook a frozen turkey to reveal two lonely souls. The set was remarkably appalling: a messy studio apartment lined with glossy wallpaper, boxed in a black frame, elevated above the stage. One wall incorporated a sliding glass door, the only opportunity for variable light. Whenever they dreamed of a larger life, the women drifted toward the light. An equally unconventional holiday gift, Yippee-Ki-Yay , is part reenactment of the classic 1980s film, Die Hard ; part confessional of a Die Hard geek; part stand-up comedy; all unspooled in awful meter. Uninitiated audience members were probably perplexed by Darrel Bailey’s zany performance: fluffing imaginary big hair from his bald head; turning the bloodthirsty villain into a pirouetting diva. Those of us familiar with the source, however, anticipated every corny cliché and witty takedown of the movie’s profligate confusions. I received an email a few days before Stand Up if You’re Here Tonight , directing me to enter the theatre through the back alley. Street construction, I figured. On a drizzly January night, one stark light from a small door illuminated the dark alley and beckoned me up two flights and into the rear of the Michael Maso Studio, littered with dusty furniture, clouded mirrors and consignment-quality rejects. Eventually, an old man walked among the clutter and began. Several times. Each diversion was humorous. When wiry, wonderful Jim Ortlieb proclaimed such witticisms as, “Two pots near each other never boil. Make pasta in the space between,” I understood this as a play about nothing. Turns out, the back-alley intimacy was critical to the show’s success, so willingly did supposed grown-ups participate in silly hijinks. It might seem a stretch to legions of high school students burdened with Arthur Miller’s The Crucible that John Proctor could be the villain. Yet playwright Kimberly Belflower makes a convincing case that John Proctor is the Villain . This remarkable resetting shifts witch hysteria in seventeenth-century Salem to a twenty-first century Georgia high school, where coming-of-age girls are treated as suspect while male authorities are exalted, despite whatever horrifics they’ve performed. The ensemble cast featured five outstanding women drowning in adolescent torment and triumph. Their friendships and jealousies ricocheted around the stage, exposing the emotional complexity of becoming adults. Yet, the stand out was Benjamin Isaac as Lee Turner, the school nobody, whose character realizes the greatest emotional growth. It was pure delight to watch this man-boy (potentially the next generation’s adulterer) find new understanding of himself and his relationship to women. Toni Stone , the season’s finale, was a hit. The Huntington’s long affiliation with playwright Lydia R. Diamond ( Stick Fly, Smart People, The Bluest Eye ) scored in this funny, poignant bio of Toni Stone, the first professional female baseball player who played in the Negro leagues in the 1950s. As Toni, marvelous Jennifer Mogbock told us straight up she’s no good at telling stories in the right order, then launched an opening monologue that fast pitched the joys of baseball. She also held her own against the supporting cast of ten men playing an array of characters. The second act made a few errors, perhaps because accurate biography doesn’t align with theatrical climax. Two production numbers, fabulously choreographed by Ebony Williams, provided the buoyancy of a Broadway musical, while Diamond’s sparkling script and crisp direction beautifully modulated the euphoria and struggles befitting a lonely woman playing in a dwindling league. This entry is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license. References Footnotes About The Author(s) PAUL E. FALLON is an architect who spent over thirty years designing housing and healthcare facilities. A commitment to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake became the focus of his first book, Architecture by Moonlight . In 2015-2016, Paul bicycled through each of the 48 contiguous states and asked everyone he met the same question. How Will We Live Tomorrow? became his second book. Returning to Cambridge, MA, Paul continues to write blog essays, plays, and NETIR articles about Boston-area theatre companies. 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 Editorial Introduction A Comedy of Sorts: Race, Gender, and Satire in Slave Play Performing Girlhood, Riffing on Lolita: Fornés and Vogel Respond to Nabokov “It’s Cumming yet for a’ that”: Bringing the Scottish Bard to Life in the 21st Century Historiographic Metatheatre and Narrative Closure in Pippin’s Alternate “Theo Ending” “Each One, Teach One”: Interview with Harvey Fierstein Artists as Theorists in Their Craft: Interview with James Ijames The Spectacular Theatre of Frank Joseph Galati: Reshaping American Theatre in Chicago, Illinois. Julie Jackson. London: Methuen Drama, Bloomsbury Publishing. 2022. 215pp. Playing Real: Mimesis, Media, and Mischief. Lindsay Brandon Hunter. Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 2021; Pp. 192. Broadway Bodies: A Critical History of Conformity. Ryan Donovan. New York: Oxford University Press, 2023; Pp. 316. Precarious Forms. Performing Utopia in the Neoliberal Americas. Evanston. Candice Amich. Northwestern University Press: 2020; Pp. 232. Queering Drag: Redefining the Discourse of Gender Bending. Meredith Heller. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2020; Pp. 236. New England Theatre Journal: A fond farewell 1989-2023 New England Theatre in Review American Repertory Theater . Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2023–2024 Barrington Stage. Pittsfield, Massachusetts, 2023 The Sandra Feinstein-Gamm Theatre (The Gamm). Warwick, Rhode Island, 2023-24 Greater Boston’s Independent Theatres. 2023-24 Season Hartford Stage. Hartford, Connecticut, 2023-24 The Huntington. Boston, Massachusetts, 2023-24 Long Wharf Theatre. New Haven, Connecticut, 2023-24 Portland Stage Company. Portland, Maine, 2023-24 Shakespeare & Company. Lenox, Massachusetts, 2023 Trinity Repertory Theatre Company. Providence, Rhode Island, 2023-24 Vermont Stage. Burlington, Vermont, 2023-24 Yale Repertory Theatre. 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