WHY READING PLAYS IS GOOD FOR YOU....

 

If you haven't been following my blog (it's okay, there's a lot of stuff to do in this world of ours), I read 30 plays for the 30 days of September, one a play a day, reading the plays in one sitting to get a good feel of their dramatic arc and structure. I then wrote about each play, giving a basic run down of what it was about, as well as some history of its premiere production and its playwright, and other dramaturgical information, as well as some of my opinions about each play.  The 30 plays were as follows (you can click on each one to go to my post about it) :

1. Lemon Sky by Lanford Wilson
2. Ceremonies in Dark Old Men by Lonne Elder III
3. Painting Churches by Tina Howe
4. The Flies by Jean-Paul Sartre
5. All Over by Edward Albee
6. Other Places by Harold Pinter
7. Marat/Sade by Peter Weiss, Translated by Geoffrey Skelton, Verse Adaptation by Adrian Mitchell
8. for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange
9. Brilliant Traces by Cindy Lou Johnson
10. Titanic by Christopher Durang
11. Sticks and Bones by David Rabe
12. Bosoms and Neglect by John Guare
13. Arcadia by Tom Stoppard 
14. R.U.R. by Karel Čapek
15. Trudy Blue  by Marsha Norman 
16. Morning, Noon, and Night by Israel Horovitz, Terrence McNally, and Leonard Melfi
17. Jack and Jill: A Romance by Jane Martin
18. The Good Doctor by Neil Simon
19. Fences by August Wilson
20. Tea and Sympathy by Robert Anderson
21. One Flea Spare by Naomi Wallace
22. The Taking of Miss Janie by Ed Bullins
23. The Master Builder by Henrik Ibsen
24. I Hate Hamlet by Paul Rudnick 
25. Hunger and Thirst by Eugene Ionesco
26. Summer and Smoke by Tennessee Williams
27. Mary, Mary by Jean Kerr
28. Indians by Arthur Kopit
29. Salomé by Oscar Wilde
30. Little Murders by Jules Feiffer
BONUS PLAYS THROUGHOUT THE MONTH:  This Property is Condemned by Tennessee Williams, Come Down Burning by Kia Corthron, and My Left Breast by Susan Miller

As the title of this post might and the above picture suggests, spending a month focusing on reading a play daily was very good for me, and I think it will be good for you, too. 

But why, Bobby, why?

Here are a few reasons:

- IT REFRESHES YOUR VISUALIZATION:  I found that working my visualization muscles was a real treat. Setting the scene in your mind, hearing the characters in your head, and actually watching the play unfold in your imagination is a valuable tool for any playwright, actor or director. 

- DETECTING STRUCTURE BECOMES ALMOST AUTOMATIC: Especially with well-crafted plays, the reader begins to fully and almost inherently feel the structure of a play, and sense its dramatic arc. Clearly, this is valuable for any one involved in theater. 

-ONE BEGINS TO GLEAN CHARACTER BUILDING TECHNIQUE AND DRAMATIC ACTION: All these things one learns in a script analysis class or an early acting college course can start to be gleaned simply by reading plays, paying attention to how dialogue creates ACTION for character, how the dramatic action builds based on OBJECTIVES and OBSTRUCTIONS. One can find this stuff easily on the page--- it is not hard to find, because as you read, you simply begin to understand it as you let the play build in your imagination. 

- IT IS FUN:  Yes, pure and simple, reading plays is fun. And by fun, I don't just mean with the comedies and laughing, etc. Fun is also being engaged. Fun is feeling something deeply, understanding something in a new way that you have never understood it before. 

-IT IS BOTH HISTORY LESSONS AND EMPATY LESSONS:  I noticed when reading many of these plays, particularly American plays of the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, how even plays that weren't outwardly political had something to say. Mary, Mary example, in many ways, seems like just a fun comedy, and it is that, certainly. But when you think of the time period and a female protagonist taking agency for herself, making the choices based on what she wants, it is a statement. A play like Tea and Sympathy  comments on toxic masculinity before the term existed, and comments on homophobia when it wasn't popular to do so. And plays like Indians, Fences, Come Down Burning, and The Taking of Miss Janie  deal with America's racism in stark and honest and necessary ways. And by presenting all of this as plays, where the reader and the audience is in the character's shoes, hearing their voices, it becomes an easier delivery system for empathy in many ways than other forms of writing (in my opinion... but don't get me wrong... I love pretty much all forms of writing). 

Do I think if you are serious about theater that you should try a similar challenge of reading 30 plays in 30 days?  Yes I do! 

Do I think if you just like reading that you should try a similar challenge of reading 30 plays in 30 days? Yes I do!

Do I think we should normalize reading plays in the same way that we read novels and short stories and poems,etc.? You bet! 

I know I plan to keep reading more and more plays. As a playwright, it has recharged my batteries and inspired me. I hope to read at least one play a week from here on out (on top of all the books and such I want to read, too). 

Don't feel you have to have the same reading list that I did (although I must say it is a pretty good one... I did try to be diverse and wide-ranging). Read any type of play that interests you, and then, please feel free to comment here and tell me about it. 

Thanks for taking the time to read my final thoughts on my 30 day play reading challenge. Go out and have a great month of reading yourselves! 

Shameless plug:  If you want to read any of my plays as part of your challenge, you can learn about them by CLICKING HERE

30 PLAYS IN 30 DAYS: Play #29 "Salomé" by Oscar Wilde

 

I am reading 30 Plays in the 30 Days of September and discussing them here. I can't believe the month is almost over...

Play #29

Salomé by Oscar Wilde

The original version of this play was written in French in 1891 and translated into English three years later. The first production was in Paris in 1896, because it was banned in Britain because of its depiction of Biblical characters. It would not be performed there until 1931. 

One might remember that this play was written before Oscar Wilde had success with plays such as A Woman of No Importance and The Importance of Being Earnest (which I had the pleasure of directing a while back). This one act tragedy bears little resemblance the quick witted comedies that many associate with Wilde, though the luxurious use of language is still on display. 

Salomé is the stepdaughter of Herod Antipas, who is having a drunken party. He and his guests have been leering inappropriately at Salomé all evening, so she steps away and hears the voice of Jokanaan the prophet (John the Baptist), who is being held prisoner. She demands to see him, even though it is not allowed, and is drawn to him, though he calls her harlot and such. She wants to kiss his mouth and he rejects her. She persists and he continues to reject her, to the point where the young Syrian captain of the guard, upset that she wants another man, kills himself. Right there between them. Just kills himself. 

Right there. 

Salomé doesn't pay the corpse much mind but tells Jokanaan that she will kiss his mouth one day. He is taken back to his cell, and Herod comes to find Salomé, slipping on the blood of the young captain (a bad omen--- of course). The old perv wants his stepdaughter to dance for him, even though his wife, Salomé's mother Herodias, is right there. Salomé says she will dance for Herod, against her mother's objections, so long as Herod swears to give her anything she wants in return. He gives the oath. She dances the dance of the seven veils. Herod is super happy, the old perv. Then Salomé tells him what she wants. 

The head of Jokanaan. (spoiler alert: yes, she does kiss it)

Salomé is not named in the Bible, but is only known as Herod's stepdaughter who asks for the head of John the Baptist. Apparently, Oscar Wilde has been interested in writing on the subject of Salomé since his Oxford days. 

Like most everything Wilde ever wrote, it is a well-written with wonderful turns of phrase:

"Only in mirrors should one look," says Herod in one of his speeches, "for mirrors do but show us masks."

Salomé has been adapted in many different media (including a film with Al Pacino and Jessica Chastain), and there are countless pieces of art depicting the young woman with a head on a platter. For all of this, I do not think this particular play is what people think of when they think of Oscar Wilde... I know I can't help but think of Earnest or An Ideal Husband or his beautiful collection of fairy tales. I once had the good fortune to play Oscar Wilde himself (though he was much, much taller than I) in a production of a play called Wilde West by Charles Marowitz, which depicts on Wilde on his American tour (which did happen) where he meets outlaw Jesse James (which did not happen). It was a great pleasure to play a genuine genius and to learn about his life. 

Have you read Salomé?  Let me know in the comments!

30 PLAYS IN 30 DAYS: Play #23 "The Master Builder" by Henrik Ibsen

 

Henrik Ibsen, a master builder of plays

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 #23

The Master Builder by Henrik Ibsen

There is a reason that we call the great ones the great ones (hint: it's because they are great). Henrik Ibsen is the most frequently performed dramatist in the world after Shakespeare (his play A Doll's House was the most performed play in the world in 2006). The Norwegian playwright and theater director is rightfully considered one of the founders of modern theater as we know it. Although his early verse play Peer Gynt has some surreal elements to it, after that he largely was interested in writing only realistic prose. His influence is clear in writers like G.B. Shaw, Eugene O'Neill, and even James Joyce. he was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1902, 1903, and 1904.

And yet, for whatever reason, I have not read all of his works. Before today, I had read his play Ghosts while a student at Boston University (a play in which we know a character has syphilis without the word every being said), Hedda Gabler (I don't know many people who have studied theater haven't read that one) and A Doll's House. 

I absolutely loved reading The Master Builder today. While it feels strange I that it took me this long, I also like to believe we read the things we read when we do for a reason, and it is possible that I might not have loved this play as much had I read it as a young man (or, younger man, right?) as an assignment. In many ways, Ibsen is the master builder, or at least the master craftsman, with so many playwrights like myself discovering that they are eager apprentices. 

The play was first published in 1892, and while it continues his quest for realism, it is also deeply infused with symbolism. Halvard Solness is the title character--- a middle-aged man, desperately afraid of the younger generation of builders, to the extent that he has kept one in his employ to clip his wings and keep him from rising, going so far as to encourage the young man's fiance to fall in love with him to use her to keep him in his employ. Solness lost his two young sons in what he thinks is the direct aftermath of a fire--- a fire he believes he may have had the power to will. In fact, Solness believes that he has this power in other ways, to bend people in a sense because of his will. That the "trolls" and "devils" help in this way. 

Along comes Hilda Wangel, who I have learned is a character who appeared in Ibsen's earlier play The Lady From the Sea as well. I hope to read that play, too, because I think Hilda is an amazingly drawn character. She talks of having seen the Master Builder when she was but a child of 12 or 13, when he climbed to the top of a church, to the highest tower, to adorn it with the traditional wreath upon completion of the project. She also tells Solness how he had promised to make her a princess one day and had even kissed her (gross). He told her in ten years he would come and take her away. And now she has come to him for the kingdom he promised her. 

The dynamic between Solness, afraid of his middle-age and relevancy and Hilda, the one aspect of the younger generation he is drawn to, is the heart of the play. And while sometimes Hilda's motivations seem a bit inconsistent--- does she want him to find happiness by being more grounded, or is she the temptress bird of prey who wants him to build the castles in the sky even if it means crashing down?--- it is often "quite thrilling" (as Hilda would say) to read their back and forth. 

There is much more I could write about this play, but I encourage you all to read it for yourselves if you haven't yet. You'll be glad you did...

One last note:  The play has very obvious biographical elements, as Ibsen had a brief affair with an 18 year-old woman who apparently delighted in stealing husbands (but he was in his early 60s, so maybe it was more his responsibility), of who he said gave him a "high, painful happiness". And while she didn't "steal" him, he said he stole her--- for his play. 

AN APPRECIATION OF LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (THE MUSICAL): an anaylsis from a playwriting perspective, Part 2

Yours Truly as Seymour Krelborn, and Cary Libby as Orin Scrivello, the Dentist, in a production of "Little Shop of Horrors" I directed and starred in for the Center Theatre in Dover-Foxcroft

Greetings, everybody, and welcome to Theater is a Sport.  Today is Part 2 of my analysis of one of my favorite musicals, Little Shop of Horrors, from a playwriting perspective.  If you haven't read Part 1, feel free to CLICK HERE to read it. 

Please remember, in this in analysis of Little Shop of Horrors (with book and lyrics by Howard Ashman and music by Alan Menken), there will be "spoilers", so, if you're not familiar with the musical, and don't want it ruined for you, don't read any further. 

In yesterday's post, I talked about how LSOH was a nice modern example of Aristotle's rules for Tragedy, despite being a dark musical comedy.  I also talked about the rising action up through the end of Act I, where Seymour is feeding Orin Scrivello, the Dentist, to Audrey II, the hungry plant. 

Some might argue this is the major turning point in the play, or the climax, and that Act 2 is all falling action, catharsis and denouement (or, what would be Acts IV and V of a Tragedy).  I do not hold to this argument, and, most people I talk to agree with me.

You see, at this point, Seymour may literally have blood on his hands after feeding the dentist to his talking devil plant, but he didn't kill him.  He couldn't.  He wanted to, but his moral center is so strong, that he could not do it.  No matter how wicked and awful the dentist was as a human being, Seymour couldn't kill him.  Granted, Seymour could have done something to save Orin's life when he was in the midst of gassing himself to death, but, inactivity is not the same thing as murder. 

Act II begins with another thriving day of business at Skid Row's Florist, home of the ever-growing Audrey II.  After a frenzied bout of phone answering, Audrey and Seymour talk.  Audrey is racked with guilt over Orin's disappearance because deep inside, she wished for him to die.  Seymour comforts her, and they perform perhaps the most famous song in the show, "Suddenly Seymour", and effectively acknowledge their love for one another, and their intentions to spend their future together.  It is a beautiful moment, interrupted by Mr. Mushnik, who is acting very strange.  Once Audrey says goodnight, Mushnik informs Seymour of some evidence he has found linking his adopted son with Orin's disappearance.  At this point, Audrey II, unheard by Mushnik, lures Seymour into feeding him once more in the song "Suppertime".  Mushnik tells Seymour that he won't call the police if Seymour disappears.  Seymour, feeling trapped, especially now that he has the girl of his dreams, tells Mushnik that the day's cash deposit is inside of Audrey II.  Sure enough, Mushnik goes to get it and is eaten. 

It is at this point where I think the climax occurs.  Again, Seymour doesn't literally kill, but he must take responsibility for Mushnik's demise--- this is not a case of inactivity, but actually causing the death to happen.  And from this point, everything changes. 

In my opinion, the following number, called "The Meek Shall Inherit", is Act IV of a Tragedy in one long song.  Seymour is faced with all of these opportunities--- to be on the cover of life magazine, go on lecturing tours, have his own weekly TV show--- all of them presented to him by the actor who played Orin in Act I (although in the production I directed, only one of them was played by that same actor, so I could involve more people in the production).  These people, waving the contracts, are Seymour's Furies in a sense, leading him to his downfall.  You see, Seymour has a moment of conscience in the song, where he realizes that taking these offers would mean more killing, and he tells himself he can't do it.  But he changes his mind, because he's afraid Audrey won't love him anymore if he goes back to being poor and a nobody. 

So in this sense, Seymour, as a tragic flaw, has self-doubt and low self-confidence. 

Seymour signs the contracts with the Ronnettes, our street urchin Greek Chorus, egging him on. 

In the next scene, we see Seymour, almost mad with guilt and remorse, refusing to feed an angry Audrey II.  After Audrey comes to check on him, and assures him that she would still like him ("I'd still love you", she says) if he was poor, Seymour decides that after they pay him for the photo for the Life Magazine cover, he will take Audrey away from Skid Row, and buy her that house she always dreamed of.

Unfortunately, Audrey II is to smart for that.  After Seymour steps out to get Audrey II some ground beef from the butcher's, Audrey, who couldn't sleep comes back to the shop.  The plant lures Audrey, and Audrey is almost eaten.  Seymour rushes in, pulls her from the plant, but it is too late. 

Which leads us to "The Death of Audrey", a song, in my opinion, is the most poignant catharsis in musical theatre history.  Audrey implores Seymour to feed her to the plant, so that it will grow big and strong, and give him all the wonderful things he deserves.  And, if she's in the plant, she's part of the plant, so they will always be together, and she will, at last, be somewhere that's green. 

Just thinking of this scene brings tears to my eyes.  It is so sweet and intimate, so innocent yet sad. 

And here is where Seymour differs from Faust.  Seymour never cared about the money or the fame he was getting--- sure, he enjoyed it to some extent--- but all he wanted Audrey.  And when she is gone, there is nothing left for him.

In the final scene, a man named Skip Snip arrives, with a business proposal for Seymour, who is truly insane with grief.  Mr. Snip wants to take little cuttings of Audrey II, and develop little plants to be sold to every home in America.  It will be bigger than the hula hoop.  Seymour, realizing this has been Audrey  II's plan all along, world domination, climbs inside the plant with a machete, intent on destroying it from the inside--- although, maybe, to some extent, Seymour knows he is crawling into his own death... after all, what does he have left to live for?

In any case, Skip returns with the Ronnettes, and they begin to take their cuttings.  The Ronnettes tell us how Audrey II's plans have come to life all across America, and, in the final number, the cast warns the audience, "Don't Feed the Plant".    In this number, we see how Orin, Mushnik, Audrey and Seymour have all become part of Audrey II. 

What I find different about Seymour as a tragic hero as opposed to many classical ones, is that he really is somewhat passive in his downfall for the most part, and that every decision he makes is because he wants to impress the woman he loves.  He is so easily led and bamboozled.  He does not sell his soul to the devil consciously as Faust does.  He's a fella who gets in over his head.  Which means, when he loses everything, and goes to his death, in my mind, it makes the denouement all that much more effective. 

In any case, if you agree with my analysis that Little Shop of Horrors is a prime example of Aristotle's rules for Tragedy, feel free to comment below.  Feel free to comment even if you don't agree.  And if you have any questions, feel free to e-mail me at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com

Thanks for checking out this post.  I love talking Little Shop.  I love it. 

Until next time, please remember--- Don't feed the plant, and theater is a sport.

AN APPRECIATION OF LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (THE MUSICAL): An analysis from a playwriting perspective, Part I

Cast of "Little Shop of Horrors" at the Center Theatre.  Perhaps my proudest moment as director and actor.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I admire a great number of musicals, but, the one I have the most special place for in my heart is Little Shop of Horrors, a musical with a book and lyrics by Howard Ashman and music by Alan Menken.  Ashman and Menken would also collaborate on a musical version of Kurt Vonngegut's God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, and perhaps become most famous for their work on such Disney films as The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin.  Sadly, Mr. Ashman is no longer with us, but his work with Little Shop continues to live on through countless community theatre and school productions every year.  A few years back, it had its Broadway debut (it originally was an Off-Broadway smash, and Ashman was happy to keep it as an Off-Broadway show in his lifetime), and, of course, their is the movie version starring Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, and Steve Martin, which has achieved a cult status.

Of course, Little Shop of Horrors the musical was based on a cheesy 1960 B-movie of the same name, directed by B-movie master Roger Corman, and featuring a young, unknown actor named Jack Nicholson in the role of a masochist who tastes of the sadistic dentist's talents. 

The story is basically a Faustian one:  poor insignificant fellow (in this case, Seymour, an employee of a flower shop on Skid Row) meets a shady character (in this case, a giant Venus Flytrap-like plant called Audrey Two) who starts to make all of his dreams come true--- success, love with his Helen of Troy (in this case, a sad and abused fellow flower shop employee named Audrey), and plenty of money.  Unfortunately, all of this comes as a price, and our poor hero loses everything because of the blood on his hands. 

All this in a musical comedy.

I was fortunate enough to direct and star in a production of this musical a few years back, and I can safely say it is the work I am most proud of as a director (and, perhaps, even as an actor--- forget perhaps, it definitely is).  I was lucky to have a wonderful and hard-working cast, fun and interesting puppets, and just great stage chemistry all around.  Perhaps one day, I will write a blog post about this wonderful experience, but tonight, I'm going to talk about Little Shop of Horrors from a playwriting perspective.

Howard Ashman presents Little Shop of Horrors as a musical comedy (albeit, a dark one), but, at the same time, he adheres to Aristotle's theories of tragedy.  In fact, this musical is a perfect, entertaining lesson of Aristotle's thoughts on rising action, climax, catharsis, as well as his notes on a tragic hero.  (I am discussing the stage version of the musical, not the movie, which changed the stage ending for a more upbeat one). 

The very first thing we hear in the stage production is an announcer's voice introducing us to the world of the show.  A prologue, if you will.  Next, we meet the Ronnettes, three young ladies on Skid Row, who serve as the musical Greek Chorus of the show.  Oh, what wonderful imagery in the very song, even!  What clever lyrics!  Do a 1950s sounding number, we have lyrics such as "Shang a lang, feel the sturm and drang in the air"... such a brilliant way to set up the dual aesthetics of the show!

I don't want to ruin the show for anyone, so if you are not familiar with it, please stop reading this post, as it is almost impossible to analyze it without giving away any major plot points.

We learn quickly that our tragic hero, Seymour Krelborn, is a bit of a nerdy putz, working at Skid Row florists (a dying business) for the formidable Mr. Mushnik, who took Seymour in when he was just a kid.  Seymour nurses a crush on the sweet, but terribly abused Audrey, who often shows up to work with black eyes or a cast on her arm. 

Seymour discovered a strange new kind of Flytrap after a total eclipse of the sun, which he has named Audrey II, in tribute of the woman he's in love with.  After showing it to Mushnik at Audrey's insistence, and displaying it in the shop window, business takes off.  Unfortunately, the only way for Seymour to keep Audrey II healthy is to feed it his own blood.  Suddenly, Skid Row Florists is a huge success, and Seymour is becoming a bit of a celebrity.  The shop is renovated, Mushnik is happy, but, alas, Audrey is still with her abusive boyfriend, Orin Scrivello, a sadistic, nitric oxide huffing dentist.  Yikes!

Of course, what Seymour doesn't know, is that Audrey reciprocates the crush, and dreams of living in a sweet matchbox home with the "sweet little guy". 

After being adopted by Mushnik (as Mushnik is afraid Seymour might leave the shop with Audrey II, thereby ruining his new thriving business), Seymour discovers that Audrey II can talk.  And it is HUNGRY.  Too hungry for Seymour to feed with his own bandaged fingers anymore.  Audrey II suggests that if Seymour kills someone so it can feed, Seymour will get everything he desires... even that "one particular girl", Audrey.  Seymour is horrified at the thought of killing anyone, saying that no one deserves to die and be chopped up and fed to a plant.  However, Seymour changes his mind after witnessing Orin hurting Audrey, and he decides to kill Orin.

Unfortunately, Seymour can't do it.  He goes to Orin's practice with every intention of shooting him, but his conscience won't let him.  Fortunately, he doesn't have to.  Orin overdoses on nitric oxide, and dies.  Act I closes with Seymour feeding his chopped up body to Audrey II. 

All up to this point is a brilliant example of rising action.  Unlike many musicals, Ashman's lyrics always advance the plot or advance character development.  Nothing seems wasted.  And the songs are so clever, seamlessly weaving character development and exposition, as well as forward-moving action all into one. 

One could do worse in learning to set up a play in classic Aristotle Tragedy form than studying the first act of Little Shop of Horrors.

In my next post, I will discuss Act II of my favorite musical, and how Ashman follows the rules of climax, falling action, catharsis, and denouement. 

UPDATE:  To read Part 2, CLICK HERE

Until then, thanks for reading, and remember:  Musicals are pretty awesome, and theater is a sport!

As always, if you have any thoughts or comments, feel free to comment below, or e-mail me at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com

He Doesn't Look Like a Thespian: Bobby Says Thanks to the World's First Actor

Thespis--- actor, tragedian, storyteller, touring performer
(I wonder if Daniel Day-Lewis will ever play him in a movie?)

Early this morning, around 3:30am, the pellet stove in my house, our only source of heat, clanged, sputttered, and then died.  Today, in my part of the world in Maine, the wind bears a chill to the bones.  My sister lent our household two big space heaters, keeping us from freezing.  I hung up blankets and comforters to separate the rooms, trying to effieciently heat as much of the house as possible.  Because these space heaters use a tremendous amount of electricity, the lights have been off for most of the day, and I am just now sitting down to share some quick thoughts before letting the computer rest some more. 

The reason I am sharing this is because I have been thinking like a caveman today, optimizing warmth where I can with minimal light, and it has led me to imagine the big bonfires, and these cavepeople gathering 'round, telling stories.  Which then led me to look at my life as a storyteller, which, thought by thought, fascilitated a travel back to Ancient Greece in my mind to think about Thespis, who, according to Aristotle, was the first person to be what we call an "actor" today (remember, actors are storytellers... which is why we are all actors). 

Thespis is believed to have been born in Icaria, known today as Dionysos, and was a singer of dithyrambs (stories of mythology sung by a chorus).  It is believed he invented the idea of having an actual character in a play who was apart from the chorus, who would be known as the "hypocrite" or the "responder".  This is believed to be the first instances of dialogue in a play.  He also had a new style of singing the dithyrambs, where he would wear many different masks to portray different characters throughout the song.  This whole new way of doing things was called "tragedy".  

On November 23, 534 BC, a competition was held to find the best tragedy at the city Dionysia, Athens, and Thespis won!  Hot from this victory, he decided, why not?, I might as well invent what people years from now will call the touring company!  And that's just what he did.    He packed up masks, costumes and other props in a horse-drawn wagon and went around to different cities, performing. 

He was the Orson Welles of Ancient Greece!

Thespis, his very own touring troupe

Thespis is given credit to being the first--- presumably, before him, no one had ever assumed the identity of a character for the purpose of storytelling.  It's difficult for me to imagine a world where someone could actually BE the first person to play a character.  To be honest, while I take nothing away from Thespis, and heartily thank him for practically creating theater as we know it in the Western World, I cannot help but believe that he may have been the first "documented" actor, I think it is also possible that storytellers before him, without even realizing it perhaps, slipped into a character.  It's just so hard not to....

So little is known about Thespis other than what I have reported.  Some claim that in addition to everything else, he also started the tradition of make-up, because, as some claim, when not wearing masks, he would paint his face in order to portray a character.  But this is impossible to say.  Even what Aristotle writes of him is about 200 years after the fact of his existence.  It is kind of a history that is so woven into the mythology of that time and place, and is almost impossible to separate.  Even the "known" works of Thespis are all disputed, and no one quite knows for sure.  What is undisputed, though, is that he did exist, and he is the reason we in the English-speaking world have adopted the term "thespian" when talking about an actor.

Some superstitious folk like to believe that the spirit of Thespis still travels to theaters across the world, causing good-natured michief during a performance, but I personally don't belive so.  My guess is he causes no mischief at all (because he knows what a hard job it is), but rather watches, fascinated by how the art of storytelling continues to grow and flourish.  Perhaps, even, he wears a mask featuring a great big proud smile.

Thank you for taking a look at Theater is a Sport today.  If you would like to become a fan of Theater is a Sport on facebook, just follow this link:  https://www.facebook.com/#!/TheaterIsASport  If you would like to learn more about me as a playwright, please follow this link:  https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Bobby-Keniston-Playwright-Page/148232788536601

If you have any questions or comments, or just want to talk about Thespis some more, feel free to drop me a line at theater.is.a.sport@gmail.com

Tune in tomorrow.  Until then, please remember, as no doubt Thespis would tell you:  theater is a sport.