Kate Mulley

With all the current media speculation about the Great American Novel after the recent publication of Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, it seems appropriate to wonder about the Great American Play. At the book shop on Friday, someone called asking for a list of the ten best American plays written after 9/11, about 21st century America. We turned this into a game (and never ended up calling the person back, which I suppose I will do tomorrow) and then realized how difficult it was to do. Plays like August: Osage County and Topdog/Underdog were easy to come up with and we could think of lots of great British plays that have dealt with the 21st century, but our list of the “best plays” ended up looking kind of weak. Which intrigued us even more. Where were the great plays being written about the state of America? Even looking at the list of Pulitzer winners and finalists didn’t inspire much confidence. Interestingly, I had just read a review of Blood and Gifts by JT Rogers (an American who gets produced in Britain more than in America) by Michael Billington, who tends to irritate me with his brazen anti-Americanism. The first line? “JT Rogers is that rare creature: an American dramatist who writes about global issues.” This made me livid on Wednesday morning when I read it, and yet, by Friday evening it seemed all too true. But you could substitute “global” with “substantive.” Of course the blame cannot be put solely on the playwrights. Artistic directors, producers and audiences all dictate what gets produced and what stays locked away in one’s computer or on one’s shelf.

Someone who could vie for best (and most prolific) American playwright of the 21st century is Sarah Ruhl. On Friday I saw her adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando and found it lovely and stunning and smart. So much so that I went immediately to the Strand to buy a copy of the book, where it was, distressingly, absent from the shelves. I’ve instead taken it out of the library, along with many other books about “difficult women.” All in the name of research for my Great American Play (which is set in… London).

For the past couple months, I’ve been collaborating with some co-workers on a “theatrical series” based on life at the Drama Bookshop. It’ll be performed like a television series, with new episodes every month or so, so that there’s a narrative to follow, but essentially, someone could come in, see one episode and still get the basic premise, characterization, etc and not need to have seen previous episodes, but still have their appetite whetted for more (like Henry IV Parts 1 and 2). Our first performance will be next Saturday, the 18th, at 8:30pm at the Arthur Seelen Theatre in the basement of the Bookshop (250 West 40th Street). In addition to co-writing the script, I will be performing in this particular episode. Which means that it will mark my New York City stage debut. Something I’m sure I dreamed about as a child and seems slightly less exciting in the cold harsh reality of 2010.

If you happen to read this and are looking for something to do on Saturday, please come down to see the show. I can promise lots of jokes about Ian McKellen and David Mamet and a talking cat. And one actress with a slight case of stage fright.

I’m a little late in coming to the Tony and Pulitzer winning musical Next to Normal. I remember watching the performance during the Tonys and being a little underwhelmed, but usually televised performances of musicals can be a little unimpressive. I’d listened to the soundtrack a couple times, knew the basic plot and was ready for a “bleak musical” when I showed up at the Booth Theatre last night. As a writer, I tend to pay the most attention to the story and how it’s presented. With Next to Normal I found the plot both very difficult to follow and underdeveloped. It seemed like the daughter was the only character with any sort of arc and otherwise there was just a lot of ups and downs. For a musical about a bi-polar woman, I suppose this is understandable, but it’s ended up being pretty dramaturgically unsatisfying for me. I went with a friend who had seen the original cast perform and she said that when she had first seen it, the show was much more electric (pardon the pun for those who might get the pun). Our complaint about the new cast was that they all looked and seemed like actors. The actor playing Gabe, the son, was especially “Broadway” and lesser for it. There were also far too many costume changes! Calm down and stop color coordinating everyone. And I still don’t entirely understand how it won the Pulitzer the year after it won the Tony. Aren’t there timelines and dates that they have to adhere to? I also took issue with the show from a gendered perspective. There were a few too many stoic men standing by their crazy women and while I get the parallels between mother and daughter were important, it would have been nice if the male characters had had a little more depth aside from their unwaveringness.

All that being said, I know that it’s a lot easier to pick apart a play than it is to create one. I’ve broken through a pretty lengthy period of non-activity (as opposed to writer’s block) and have been enjoying getting back into some plays that have been sitting on the back burner. I’ve also been coming up with some new ideas (adapting an Aristophanes play being the most ambitious) and looking forward to starting the Plinth Project with my writers group.