Hi, Everybody,
Just wanted to say thanks to Clay and Alice. Talk about food for thought! (Did Shakespeare
say that first?)
Love,
Mary
________________________________
From: Clay Stromberger <cstromberger(a)mail.utexas.edu>
To: weeklong-l(a)lists.wikimedia.org
Sent: Sun, May 23, 2010 11:08:45 AM
Subject: [Weeklong-l] idea for opening
Y'all --
I think the tavern idea is an
interesting one and it makes me think both of the Boar’s Head scenes in 1 Henry
IV but also the Dirty Duck in Stratford.
I had a little image last night that may have been influenced by the Marx Brothers (we
just watched “Monkey
Business” here at home), and perhaps also by the margarita at Matt's El Rancho (not
quite wine under the trees with an old friend, but not bad) -- so I’ll toss it out there
for what it’s worth. It's sort of a fusion of many of the great ideas and impulses
that I've been reading....
The Barn stage is empty,
quiet. (This is the tavern, but
the audience doesn’t know that yet.... perhaps there are a few clues here and
there, a tavern sign?) Someone
enters up above, pensive, heavy in thought. This person makes his or her way down the
stairs, looking
out over the audience. She or he
stands center stage. Looks around. A sigh. “Now.... I am alone.” He or she takes a big
breath to break into a soliloquy, when... KA-BOOM,
the Players (as in Hamlet?) come bursting and streaming in from all directions at once,
all
talking loudly (a mixture of lines from all the plays they’ve just performed),
an explosion of sound and life and energy, taking off various parts of
costumes, laughing uproariously, some of them singing, sharing a bottle of
something, and they, cartoon-like (think Bugs Bunny or again Marx Brothers)
stream past the stunned “Hamlet” and even perhaps sweep him along (lifting him
straight up from his elbows six inches or so) and deposit him on a bench a pop
a mug of something in his hand and slap him or her on the back. “What, shall we be merry?
Shall we have a play extempore!?”
someone yells (the Player Falstaff?), and someone across the room yells back,
“Content, and the argument shall be...” and everyone joins in, “thy running
away!” The Player of Falstaff
groans back, “Ah, no more of that... an thou lovest me!” It is a ritual of sorts.
Everyone begins to settle into various
parts of the tavern (benches and perhaps a small table appear, Francis in his
apron, the Hostess...). They all
have their favorite spots, their post-performance duties, their own ways of
unwinding after a full day of playing. A few are taking off makeup, perhaps prying off
fake beards, as the roar
settles into a murmur and bustle. Perhaps a few look over the texts for the next day’s
play, new lines. (They are Players, but not "professional actors" -- I know that
is a contradiction perhaps.... )
As everyone finds their seat or
corner the center of the stage is open for a moment. It’s a kind of empty space that
beckons. Invites. Some of the characters begin to look up from their drinks or
animated conversations and notice. Someone has a little vision, a starting impulse for
some kind of beginning,
and stands slowly and then moves into that space; the others notice, sensing
that something is going on. Perhaps a second player puts down her drink and grabs
something from the
straw trunk of props (carted in for sorting during the evening’s drinking). The first
player says a word – it
changes everything – and a scene begins. These players have performed so many of Will’s
plays, they know so many
of them by heart, even the roles they never played. So they have a go at something. (I
don’t have a vision yet of the first scene here – but
will think on it....) And others
join in. And at some point, that
first lively scene has reached its natural peak – no one intends to do an
entire play, but they also are open to any possibility – play is in the air,
and no one is sure what’ll be tossed into the ring next. So suddenly a second scene
begins up in
the balcony – not to rudely interrupt the first scene, but perhaps to comment
on it, or take what it has begun and comment on it in an unusual way... and
slowly the players begin looking around for things they can grab and turn into
props, and they begin grabbing the tavern crew and pushing them into the
scenes, and they too know the lines, they’ve seen the plays, heard the players
practice lines during the day there on lunch break... and as many of you have
described very evocatively, scenes ebb and flow, some perhaps even alternate
upstairs/downstairs; and one man and woman in this time plays many parts.
That’s as far as I’ve
gotten. At some point, everyone
senses it’s time to say goodnight. Someone begins a song – perhaps the end of LLL.
Everyone joins in. It’s a bit melancholy, so someone
hollers out a line of something more rowdy, a last flickering of the flame, and
they jump into that. It’s late. They begin to play one- or two-line
moments of scenes that have to do with parting – saying goodbye – and step off
into the night, singly or in pairs, each going home. The last person there is Francis, in
his apron, closing
up. He looks around, broom in hand
(I know, dangerously close to Carol Burnett territory here! – but you can also
think of old Firs left behind in “Cherry Orchard”), and says – “Now... I am
alone...” – and goes off grabbing the last few mugs and dishrags.
Perhaps it's a playing out of the reunion experience in a compressed form --
preparation, excited and eager arrival, play everywhere, and then a somewhat heartbroken
goodbye, but sustained by the hope for the next gathering.
cs
cClayton Stromberger
Outreach Coordinator
UT Shakespeare at Winedale
College of Liberal Arts, University of Texas at Austin
www.shakespeare-winedale.org
cell: 512-228-1055/ office: 512-471-4726