Me and Henrik Ibsen
For the past month, I've been directing Commonweal Theatre's production of Henrik Ibsen's An Enemy of the People. Most theatrefolk have, at best, a passing association with Ibsen's work. They've probably read a few of his plays, maybe even acted in or seen one or two. I happen to work for a theatre company that specializes in producing Ibsen and, to date, have acted in 8 Ibsen productions and now directed one. I've come to value his ability as a writer to incorporate vivid backstory in all his scripts. In an Ibsen play, the past casts a long shadow over his characters and the story often involves events from years ago finally catching up to those who'd thought they'd escaped. If you've seen a bad Ibsen production, I'd wager that it was the result of a director and cast who didn't investigate this backstory thoroughly enough.
Now I've certainly been accused before of being too subtle in some of my stories (and not unfairly I might add) but I do think that a healthy amount of subtext in a story makes for a more enjoyable read. I think it's also part of the difference between a story that's just "a thing that happened" and a genuinely dramatic tale. The example that Ibsen sets for writers, however, is that backstory can't simply be random, trivial information about a character. It needs to have a direct impact on the events in present time.
Random Movie Review
For my birthday a couple months ago, my brother gave me blu-ray editions of two of my favorite movies: Carrie and The Thing. Since I plan to include movie reviews in this blog, I thought it would be good to start with movies that I really like before I get into movies I don't like.
What sets Carrie (1976, Brian De Palma, dir.) head and shoulders above most horror movies for me is its honesty. It's not the most intense or nail-biting movie you'll ever see, but Stephen King's story and De Palma's direction ring profoundly true. Carrie White's travails resonate with anyone (as in most of us) who have at one time felt like the outcast. She's perpetually on the outside of her high school clique simply because of her family life, but she discovers an amazing power that, while frightening at first, is also the beginning of developing her own identity separate from that of her smothering mother. Headed into the night of the most famous prom in literature, Carrie isn't trying to "fit in" as much as assert her own distinctiveness. That this attempt ends in violence and death is not because Carrie is "evil", but rather because the small-minded bullies of the town have unwittingly unleashed a force of nature that cannot be controlled or reasoned with.
A John Carpenter film is usually a guilty pleasure for me. Technically, I generally find them flawed but somehow they're also just so much fun that somehow I don't care about the flaws. However, The Thing (1982) is unreservedly a great horror movie. Some think of it simply as a gore-fest, but they miss the fact that most of the chills come from Carpenter's manipulation of suspense, a quality usually lacking in most horror films that are in too big of a hurry to get to the blood-and-guts. The sense of isolation is palpable (it doesn't get much lonelier than the Antarctic) and the growing paranoia and suspicion amongst the characters is what makes this film a treat to watch.
The State of the Art
With the Ibsen behind me, a few weeks before my next theatre project starts, and Little Bear starting to sleep longer through the night, I think I might actually be able to end my writing hiatus. I have an idea for a short play that I want to submit for a Minnesota contest, and I also have a full-length play that I started last fall. Got about twenty pages so far on that one, and would love to hammer out the rest of the first draft by Memorial Day. It'll suck, but that's what first drafts are for. Let's see, at least, how far I can get by my April post.
Until then, I remain...
Darkly Yours
