Kate Mulley

Theatre about the theatre seems like it has always had its place. Playwrights spend so much time living a life in the theatre that they sometimes find that the best material comes from within their world. The upside is that it’s honest and well-researched. The downside is that one can only see so many plays about a playwright struggling through their psychological issues.

I saw another one of these yesterday at the Bank Street Theatre (The Atmosphere of Memory) and left the theatre wishing that the playwright hadn’t felt the need to explore this particular play within a play. It’s fun to watch actors like Ellen Burstyn and John Glover play over the top parents who have made their son crazy through years of psychological warfare. It’s less fun to watch the playwright character storm around the stage like an overgrown 5 year old trying to discover what made him so unhappy and neurotic (halfway through I decided he was channelling Woody Allen, sigh)

We’re all guilty of writing about things that interest us. My writers group members make fun of me for writing about romantically challenged women in or obsessed with England as a default. Writing plays is a special form of narcissism. Not only are you taking something from your brain and assuming people will care, you’re making actors perform it, directors hone it, and designers provide you with whatever you came up with. The world can, in fact, revolve around you when you’re a playwright, however, anything that’s too self-referential risks alienating the audience (and not in a good Brechtian way) or worse, boring them. And so, I hereby resolve to never write a play about a playwright and his or her issues.

Last weekend I attended three very different “commercial” theatre events. Two were Broadway productions, the third a hot ticket imported from England. Each followed particular “rules” for successful commercial theatre in the 21st century and I found it to be an intriguing combination of tastes and aesthetics.

Friday night I was offered a last minute ticket to David Ives’ Venus in Fur, newly transferred to Broadway after a successful run at CSC in the spring. A two-hander about a playwright and a mysterious actress, Venus in Fur borrows its plot and character types from the Austrian novella Venus im Pelz (this is one of those times German seems so self-evident to me!) by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. It explores the games (psychological and otherwise) that are played in romantic and sexual relationships, while also exposes “the theatre.” Nina Arianda is stunning in this play. Her energy and capability are astonishing to watch. Hugh Dancy can’t really compete with her, nor is he really allowed to. I’ve noticed that playwrights tend to get a bad rap in plays (oddly) and are always played as helpless, overly intellectual people who are blown away by larger personalities (especially actors). Whether this is intentional, it allows for a lot of very true feeling situations between the two characters and ultimately it’s an entertaining, well-performed two-hander. (The rules here are small cast, sexy subject matter, star casting.)

Saturday night I attended a special Halloween weekend performance of Punchdrunk’s Sleep No More, a production I saw in Boston almost two years ago. The audience was instructed to wear film noir clothing and everyone seemed to follow their instructions (say what you will about New Yorkers, if you tell them to dress a certain way for a cool party, they will). It was quite an experience to be surrounded by people wearing outfits that occasionally resembled actors’ costumes running around in masks. I saw a great deal that I had not seen during the performance in Boston but still felt (and I’ve said this about other Punchdrunk performances) that I was able to ‘cheat the system.’ Once you understand what they are doing, it’s very easy to tailor your own experience and not be surprised by what you see. There were two moments on Saturday night that surprised me, one was the “orgy” in the basement (I had heard of this, but not seen it last time) and when I happened upon a very large crowd watching Macbeth dancing with bricks. I think that Punchdrunk’s aesthetic is absolutely gorgeous and that their ambition is noteworthy, I’d just like to see something by them that scared me the same way that their Faust scared me 5 years ago. After the show, there was a theme dance party, which I was unfortunately to sick to stay for. It looked fun, but my throat led me home to bed and a hot toddy. (The rules here are “cool factor” (apparently a recent episode of Gossip Girl was filmed at Sleep No More), transfer from London, audience participation.)

Sunday afternoon I had the pleasure of seeing a college classmate perform the lead role in the Broadway production of Sister Act. My extreme pride for Kim completely outweighed any issues I had with the show. I found myself standing in tears at the end of the play not because of the arc of the story, but because of how amazing it was to see someone I know achieve her dream so completely. The music was catchy, the slight variations on the plot of the film were smart and the production value was high. But it remains a musical based on a film from the 90s, a very popular cash cow at the moment. (The rules here are adaptation of popular 90s film, movie star producer/cheerleader (Whoopi Goldberg, natch), disco theme/spangly overload.)

After quite some time working on my own plays and not attending shows, Halloween weekend was a good lesson in what’s being produced, what’s popular and why.

(Monday afternoon I saw a reading/workshop of a new musical, Volleygirls, and thoroughly enjoyed its originality, emphasis on the relationships on a women’s sports teams and clever humor. Keep a look out! Monday night I attended Celebrity Autobiography, which was very entertaining, especially since Florence Henderson winked at me!)