Saturday, 25 February 2006 03:33 pm
Awake and stung
Ushered a play last night, the first one in a long time to be directed by Zelda Fichandler, for whom Arena Stage has named one of its theaters. It was Clifford Odet's Awake and Sing! The cheery title is ironic, for the majority of the play, set in 1930s NYC, is hardly so. While the home scenery may look cosy enough, it turns out to be the kind of home that children can hardly wait to leave. The play rather reminds me of Anton Chekhov in many ways: multiple developed characters, some of them prone to philosophy, with a slow-moving plot of bad to worse to hopeful, and about the same low level of humor. It also made me think some of Irish dramatist Marina Carr, whose plays are full of characters hostile to nearly all the other characters. It wasn't quite so universal here, but there were few occasions when someone wasn't spouting anger, if only at their life situation. I felt sorry for the character of Sam Feinschriber, one of the few who doesn't get angry (and is considered trash by everyone else).
Basically, the play's one fault in my mind is that it is too good at misery. Not even poignancy, but bitter misery. You might say it has a happy ending to justify the title, but only in the same way you might say that the movie Gone with the Wind has a happy ending. (I haven't read the book to compare.)
After the intermission, I switched into an automatic viewer mode I've utilized so rarely I didn't know I had it. The two-hour play ceased to be tiring, much like a long jog ceases to be tiring. At the same time, I almost stopped caring what happened. Whether that's good or bad is a matter of perspective.
Basically, the play's one fault in my mind is that it is too good at misery. Not even poignancy, but bitter misery. You might say it has a happy ending to justify the title, but only in the same way you might say that the movie Gone with the Wind has a happy ending. (I haven't read the book to compare.)
After the intermission, I switched into an automatic viewer mode I've utilized so rarely I didn't know I had it. The two-hour play ceased to be tiring, much like a long jog ceases to be tiring. At the same time, I almost stopped caring what happened. Whether that's good or bad is a matter of perspective.