30 PLAYS IN 30 DAYS: Play #14 "R.U.R." by Karel Čapek

 

I have decided for the month of September to read 30 plays in 30 days. It is my belief that, if possible, a play should be read in one sitting to get a better inherent sense of the dramatic arc. Each day, I will write a short post here about the play of the day.

Play #14

R.U.R. by Karel Čapek

Before I begin, I have a confession to make:  today should not have been the first day I read this play. R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots) was assigned as part of a class I took while a lad at Bennington, a class called "40 Plays" (the name of the class says it all--- we read forty plays) taught by my playwriting professor Gladden Schrock. This was the sole play I did not read for the class, and I missed the class when it was discussed. Why?  I can't remember specifically, but it was probably at a point during the semester when I was feeling overwhelmed by so many other projects, and this had to give. I am not someone who often missed required reading--- I can count only three reading assignments in my memory throughout my schooling--- because I actually really like to read and to learn. Still, I missed out on R.U.R. in that class (sorry, Gladden, if you are reading this), and, goody two-shoes that I am, always felt a small twinge of guilt whenever I looked at the script in the intervening years. 

But today I finally made good. 

Karel Čapek is sometimes called "the father of Czechoslovakian theater" and is best known in the English speaking world for R.U.R. and The World We Live In (also known as The Insect Play). He had a wide interest in various subjects, and once suggested that his ambition was to write about a hundred books and experiment with all different types of literature, though he fell short of this aim. Not for lack of talent or being prolific, however. 

R.U.R.is a satire of sorts, according to scholar Harry Shefter, a political, economic and social satire. Čapek had sincere concerns about technological advances leading to the dehumanization of our species, the major them of this play, and I can't help but think he might be horrified at our daily life today. He was well regarded in the literary community, and was nominated for the Nobel Prize seven times (though he never won). All this before he passed away at the age of 48, leaving an impressive legacy in such a relatively short life. 

R.U.R. was written in 1920 and first performed in 1921, and, yes, it largely introduced the term "robot" to the English language, and, in many ways, to science fiction as a whole. While the robots in the play may not seem like the mechanical/android types we have become accustomed to thinking of, they are all made to look somewhat similarly. These robots have heartbeats however, almost something between a cyborg, Frankenstein's monster, and Vicky from the absolutely bizarre 1980s sitcom Small Wonder. Again, we are looking at themes that have since become tropes in science fiction:  we have the factory producing robots run by Domain, a dominant fellow who finishes other people's sentences, who believes in wiping out labor by creating these robots. We have the scientists like Dr. Gall, who is working to find the balance to make these robots human enough to do the labor required, and to give them enough human traits, like feeling pain, so that they might protect themselves, minimizing damage and keeping things efficient and cost effective. 

A young woman named Helena arrives at the factory on behalf of something she calls the Humanity League (it is mentioned a few times but quickly dropped) on behalf of the rights of robots. This is all listened to with a kind of bemusement by the "smart men", like Domain and Dr. Gall, as well as engineer Fabry, psychologist Dr. Helman (who really doesn't seem to be much of a psychologist at all), Berman the businessman and Alquist, the only actual laborer it seems. They all condescend to Helena, and, oddly all fall in love with her, Act One ending with Domain giving her a few minutes to accept her marriage proposal twenty minutes after meeting her. Oddly, she does. 

The rest of the play deals with---- spoiler alert, though it is fairly obvious to anyone paying attention--- the aftermath of opening up the technological Pandora's box and not being able to close it again, leading to a Robot Revolt, and an epilogue with one surviving human watching a robot "Adam and Eve" learn to love, which, of course, further explores the theme of what it truly means to be human.  

I enjoyed reading this play, and was quite impressed by the satire, and impressed with  Čapek and his foresight and ideas. I am also always a fan when something like science fiction is presented on stage, as I feel it is a genre that isn't really explored much theatrically, and I think that's kind of a shame. 

I do wish writers from the 1920s who imagine the world of the future, could possibly imagine it with a woman who has agency for herself. Helena starts off strong, but in the first act alone winds up apologizing for her agency, calling herself a "silly girl" more than once. Later in the play, she is constantly being condescended and lied to, under the idea that it is for her own good and she shouldn't worry herself. Now, I have read some criticism of the play that this was intentional and part of the satire, and may very well be, with  Čapek playing on the stereotype of women being demure. And, in all fairness, Helena does in fact take initiative to convince Dr. Gall to try to give robots a soul, and she also takes matters into her own hands in a pivotal moment. I should also mention, the only other (human) female character, Emma the maid, is full of energy and doesn't take crap from anyone.

My only other major complaint is that some of the dialogue becomes very laughable in key moments, though that could very well be the effort of translation, and may play better on the stage than on the page. 

And with that, at long last, I can say that I have truly finished my "40 Plays" course load. Talk about a weight being lifted!

Writing With a Message: How and Why I Wrote "The Re-Programming of Jeremy"

The Poster from St. Paul's School's Production of my play, "The Re-Programming of Jeremy"

So, once upon a time, I wrote this play...

Actually, if you're familiar with this blog, you know I've written a number of plays.  I rarely shut about it.  In fact, in the interest of self-promotion, I will occasionally write things like "You can learn more about my plays by clicking HERE or HERE or HERE," and, of course, please feel free to do so if you're of the mind.  However, you can click on all of those links and check out all of those pages, and even though you'll learn about many of the plays, you won't learn about the play I'm going to talk about today.  This one, The Re-Programming of Jeremy remains unpublished.

But unpublished does not mean without a life of its own.

I wrote The Re-Programming of Jeremy, in its original form, back in 2010, at a rather feverish pace. The play is about a gay teen named Jeremy, who has killed himself after bullying at school and home, and then being sent to a "straight camp," that was designed to "re-program" him, cure him of his homosexuality.  The play is a series of monologues told by Jeremy's friends, family, a teacher, and the woman who ran the straight camp he was sent to.  In the first draft, Jeremy appeared only once, near the end of the play, and gave the longest monologue of all, about tolerance and acceptance.

I wrote the play in two writing sessions, at the Thompson Free Library in Dover-Foxcroft, ME. There was company at my house, and a lot going on, which made it difficult to write, and I had this burning idea I had to get down, so I brought my computer to the library and wrote fast.  The play has gone through a number of drafts since that day in 2010, but it a good deal of what I wrote over those two days still remains.

I suppose the question is, why did I feel it was so important for me to get this story down on paper? Here's the thing--- every time I heard a news story about a gay teen who committed suicide, my heart would break.  Whenever I heard a news story about a gay teen who was being bullied and ostracized, my heart would break.  Whenever I heard a news story about a so-called religious group picketing a funeral of a homosexual, not only would my heart break, I would become so angry and disgusted that people could be so cruel in the name of God.  You see, I do identify myself as a Christian, and I think Christians who spew hate speak are not really Christians at all.  Certainly they have the right not to agree with a certain type of lifestyle, no matter how much I disagree with them, but how does hate solve anything?

I had been thinking for a number of years about writing a play that deals with the subject, but every time I did, it was a piece that was attacking the issue from a very angry, overly satirical way, a way that was just as political as it was sarcastic.  A painfully dark comedy type of play.  And while I enjoy a play like that, and have written others about different subjects in that vein, that style didn't feel right to me inside for the story I wanted to tell.

I knew I wanted it to be a HUMAN story first and foremost, where the characters weren't exaggerated.  I knew I wanted the play to transcend the idea of politics, or, at least, blend the political and the personal.  And, of course, I didn't just want to be writing "with a message".  Yes, all playwrights have something to say, and all playwrights, because they are human beings, have thoughts, opinions, and issues they hold very dear.  But to attack a play just from an issue is a tricky proposition, and, at times, an empty one.  Political theater is great, and can make a difference.  It's been around since theater began.  But, if you don't have characters you can relate to, a strong story, and genuine humanity, then you are not serving any message you may be trying to impart.

I was thinking about my idea one day, when suddenly, I just knew I wanted a character to be named Jeremy, and that Jeremy didn't want to be re-programmed.  I have a female friend from college who's name is Jeremy, though she's always been called Mimi. I think that's why the name Jeremy was so strong for me, even though the character is male.  Just having the name for the character made him real to me, a human being, especially since he was named after someone who has always been a great friend to me.  And so I began to imagine Jeremy.  I didn't want him to be flamboyant, or stereotypical, but just a normal teenager with fears, joys, and hopes like any other.  But also knowing he was "different" from the norm.  And then I began to imagine his family, and how is mother wanted to understand him, but couldn't, and how is father tried so hard to love his son, but had his own demons he couldn't conquer.  And it just sort of spread from there.

There's a play I've always liked a great deal called The Incident at San Bajo by Brad Korbesmeyer.  It is a long one act that won the Heidemann Award from the Actors Theatre of Louisville.  It tells the story of a man who tried selling an elixir to residents of a trailer park.  Turns out, this man then poisoned the water of the park, and what he was selling was the antidote.  Only seven people bought it from him.  These seven people tell the story in a series of monologues.  It's a great show, captivating, and I had the chance to direct it once with a high school group.  I love how the show has a documentary feel to it, described by its publisher as a 60 Minutes segment.  The actors answer unheard questions, and tell their story.  They are in different locations, represented by different areas of the stage, and are very different types of people.

I thought this aesthetic would serve the story I wanted to tell very well.  So I decided to give it that same "documentary" type feel in my script.  When Jeremy, who is dead when the play begins, finally does appear, he is somewhat otherworldly, a complete break from the documentary, which had an effect I thought would prove to be powerful.

By writing the play as a series of monologues, it allowed me to get deeply inside each of the characters.  Now, I've never been a teenage girl, or a jock, or a gay teen for that matter, but every character, in some way, came alive for me in some way.  Even the Rev., who's views on homosexuality were the complete opposite of mine.  I found myself digging deep for the humanity of each and every one of them.  Trying to understand their beliefs and opinions, even though it was difficult at times.  And by doing so, not only do I feel the play has a strong message for audiences, the act of writing reinforced a strong message to me--- we are all people.  And though sometimes people are capable of being cruel, even without knowing they are being cruel, they are still people. It is so easy to lose sight of such things when we focus strictly on the political side of an issue.

Even though Jeremy has never been published, it remains one of my favorites of my scripts, and contains some of the best writing I have ever done.

I have a great deal more to say about The Re-Programming of Jeremy--- the initial production, which I self-produced, the wonderful people who believed in the show and helped make it stronger, and how, even now, I am working towards getting the script into as many hands and venues as possible--- but all of this will be reserved for tomorrow's blog post.  So if your curious to learn more about it,  and how it's been rewritten after different productions, and how it's changed over the years, come back tomorrow and read PART TWO of my discussion on the play.

(CLICK HERE to read part two)

And if you are a producer, or teacher, or community theater director who might be interested in reading the show and producing it, drop me a message at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com.  The licensing rates are very negotiable and fair, and I have seen first hand how audiences react to the piece (which I'll discuss tomorrow).

Until next time--- remember, it's great to write with a message, but make sure the message comes packaged with deep characters and a good story.  And don't be afraid to let your writing teach you something along the way--- it's a great feeling.

Rage Against the Screen--- How Theatre Fights the Zombie Apocalypse!

Pioneer Drama Service had this image on their Facebook Page the other day--- I love it!

Hello, everyone.  My name is Bobby Keniston, and I would like to welcome you to Theater is a Sport.  It is February 24th in the year of our Lord 2013.  Tonight is Oscar night, which makes it a perfect night for this post, I suppose.

Right now, at this very moment, my eyes are affixed to a screen as my fingers fly across the keyboard to type out my thoughts for this blog.  Somewhere, you, dear gentle reader, are looking at a screen at a particular moment in time to read my blog.  Perhaps it's a desktop computer or a laptop computer.  Maybe it's an I-pad.  Perhaps it is your phone.  In any case, yes, I still think it's pretty neat that my thoughts are flying out of my brain, captured onto this blog, and, via the miracle of the internet, reaching your eyes and, hopefully your brain. 

I need to say upfront that I use the internet on a daily basis, not only for this blog, but to check my e-mail, Google some information, keep up with friends on Facebook, perhaps even watch a video on Youtube or stream a movie on Netflix.  It would be hypocritical for me to say I am anti-internet or anti-TV. 

I am neither of those things (though I don't watch nearly as much TV as I used to when I was a youngin'). 

Yet, in all things, there should be a kind of moderation.  What troubles me about the convenience of instant communication devices (such as the aforementioned I-pad, and most phones) is that the notion of moderation is obsolete.  These devices lend themselves to a kind of dependency, and I don't believe this is a slight danger.

People joke about the Zombie Apocalypse--- in fact, there's huge business in that stuff right now.  I must admit, however, that some days I feel this is not a joke.  To be honest, some days, I feel like the Zombie Apocalyse is already here.

I teach at my old alma mater, Foxcroft Academy.  I teach an intro to theatre class and a playwriting class.  Every student at Foxcroft Academy is issued an I-pad for educational purposes.  I will admit that I-pads can be a wonderful educational tool.  Since I am willing to admit this, I wish more people would also just come out and admit that it can also be the most distracting toy in the Universe.  As I teacher, I was issued an I-pad, and I have to force myself not to unlock it during a quiet moment in class.  My first semester intro to theatre class had a real problem, a true, honest-to-goodness addiction to their I-pads.  There were twenty of them, and if my back was one way, half the class was on their I-pads (games, facebook, e-mail, texting), and then, well, guess what would happen when my back was the other way?  I finally had to make a compromise that no one could touch their I-pads at the beginning of class, but, if we got through what we needed for the day, they could have five minutes at the end of class to play on their I-pads.  Great, huh?  I think one of the scariest I-pad stories I could tell, however, is about a teenage girl from that same class, who was in DESPERATE NEED of an I-pad charger, and wanted to be dismissed from class to go borrow one from somebody.  When I said no, she BEGAN TO CRY and called me mean.  This was a student who had never given me a speck of trouble, but, faced with a dead battery of her I-pad, seemed to suffer a genuine bout of temporary insanity and regression into childhood (high school students usually don't call their teachers a meanie).   It was on this very day, when, later on, at the end of the class, I watched my students staring at their screens, blank expressions on their faces, and wondered how long it would be before they were going to try to eat my brains. 

The truth is, technology is a wonderful thing for the progression of theatre, particularly from a technical point of view.  But these kids were supposed to be working on an acting unit.  Yet they did not want to even talk to one another, except through their I-pads.

A play I admire very much is The Zoo Story by master playwright Edward Albee.  At one point in the play, the character Jerry is talking about some pornographic playing cards, and Peter, the man he is talking to, smiles knowingly... he knows all about those kinds of cards.  But it is revealed that there is no need for those types of cards when you "grow up".  Fantasy is replaced by genuine experience.  By reality. 

Now, Albee was not talking about I-pads or technology when writing this portion of the play, but I can't help but think about it when I see all of these teenagers, every day, choosing the screen, choosing the fantasy over any kind of genuine experience.  Who needs to go to a bowling alley when you can "bowl" on the Wii?  Who needs real confidants when you have over 500 friends on Facebook?  Who needs a significant other when you can have the virtual experience just the same.

I understand that what the screen is fighting much of the time is lonliness.  And yet, lonliness is an emotion worth feeling from time to time, because it is an emotion which makes us human.  I understand that the screen is also trying to provide some kind of "experience" for people who may never be able to have the real one:  a virtual tour of Ireland, perhaps for someone who can never travel there--- but, dear Lord, do we honestly have to pretend that this virtual experience is truly superior? 

The flow of information and misinformation, the text-speak that would make Orwell cry, the choice to live with a screen attached, filtering out unpleasant truths so that all of life can be distilled into a funny tweet.... yes, it is scary to me. 

I know it is not everyone.  I know plenty of people who, like myself, use these tools responsibly and try not to abuse them too much.  And the internet has changed they way so many things can be shared, how friends can be in better touch, how information can help people, and so much of this is positive. 

But thank God for theatre.  Real, live theatre.  Thank God for actors on a stage, maintaining eye contact and talking to one another.  Thank God for real-life audiences experiencing a piece of live theatre and contributing to its energy (please don't get me started on the recent fad of "Tweet seating" at some theatres, where it is all right to have your phone out during a show). 

You see, Theatre is all about being a communal experience, without distractions.  It began as a religious festival, and was a place for humans to be humans, to share in the human experience, to connect through the arts.  To purge, to laugh, to cry.  To FEEL.  The picture at the top of this blog says there is no app for theatre, but there is also no app for genuine human emotions--- please, let's not become a civilization where emoticons suffice. 

When I am done writing this blog, I am going to post it, let people know about it through some social networks, then I am going to go work on my play (I write longhand first).  Walk my dog.  Talk to some people. Connect with people.

It is difficult to tell young people that they should actually experience their experiences, even the painful ones.  Theatre allows this.  It is its nature to show us who we are through different means. 

I shall do my best to keep creating theatre that is relatable and will hopefully touch people in some way, whether through laughter or tears. 

This is my small part in keeping the Zombies at bay.

Until tomorrow, I hope you all feel your feelings, and remember:  Theater.  Is.  A. Sport.