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Course Reader: Reading #4

What is Spectatorship?

What is an Audience?

Excerpts from:

Harold Clurman, Jill Dolan, and Augusto Boal

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #1

Other Books by Harold Clurman Harold Clurman THE FERVENT YEARS

LIES LIKE TRUTH

THE NAKED IMAGE On Directing

A FIRESIDE BOOK Published by Simon & Schuster

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #2

To. Robert Whitehead

FIRESIDE Rockefeller Center 1230 Avenue of the Americas ~ New York, NY 10020

First Fireside Edition 1997

lhRESIDE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Manufactured in .the United States of America

20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 0-684-82622-4

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #3

ilotyet,. produced" any outsta?d~ng.ac~Ors\.Sti1lrcwe JDiay go so far;:tsto admittbat ifthepl1ysical.actionspeI:fotmediQ playswe:re·.. da~1:1 insly, breathtakingly e~uted,.... · pr9~ce the kind .of exJ:tilara.tionwesoJll,etimes.expen~nce"at a.' hull,fight 9ratall,especially fine drc~sfeat. tiQuQf .this . sort in. certain4ancers. ..Bllt.everYOQ¢faJQiliatwi the~anc~ knowsthatthedassicalballet emd,anc~'calls.forsqmethingmore tha~pr,y

.The purport OffIlY argumentisn~it~C!r to.eXtol,tne oftheStanislavskySyste~ nol'. to uphold

. the~heatre~neit~eris,threaten¢d~Yth;~ makeclear that· in the creatibnas well.as

. theatre we mustfirSL ofaU>tind~tstaridwhat sought,what the artists areendeavo:flIlg t()cOfIl~nn~a,te., holdsareparr¢d ill th~ the<ltre~but~we.tr'ustQeljevein we see· andascertaip what van.le~eattaehtOw~a~

, . areaskC!dtobelieve. . 'I,believe in the Noh theatre, Ibelieveinthe,gtieat

l'believe.Edward ViUeIla'slea ps, J believeVi()letteyetdy AllegtaKent,Mar~ha.Graham,'Merce.. C.unninghalIl~I thellup6-b acrobat.AHhave theirreaHty~as·wel1·.as imitators..Whether we think of.theirdifEererlt.• l'ealities , ~~imitationoflife" or not ma.ttersHttleeJ(c~pt to pedan~$: aremanifestatioDSof life. What do we expect £tom ,tJt~ t{.eilltis nc;>t merely aql,lestionof nov,eltechniqqesf()r

. must ~e ultimately judgedbyth~ir:coIuriblJtion to man needs, our aspirations, lIlor~lconeemsanQ.phil These qu¢stions lead to thetoleplayedhythe audience theatre.

WEliEAlt MPcaTA~K .no~a~ys aboutt~eth;a#e: ofpatd~.: ipatlpn,inwhich.auctience'apd .pIayet:s,fus~a...db.etome.,part ... of,oneanother.:Tlie Jmplllse whjchprQl1lptspwpag~nd~ for.· thatsqrt' of theatr~ iisa.h~althy one.lthar1~s., .. ba~k, to. the theatre~s origj:i'ls.·· lis .recurrence nO'W3S ~.,. battle .... Ctyo~tbe· yollnger.generation hassocialmeaning.B1.lt,itsh,ould ~scape no ope that the theatre is and always has beentheprodu~t<?f suchfusion.· J;'he the~tre. isinconceivableina~yother tertns.

Theatre is a particular mode ofexPfessi9Il thro.ughwhich a c()mmunity realizes itself. The. audience. is the theatr.e's wen~ spring, its leading actoT.ThiSisnQtametaphor, itis a.his. toriC::aHact. . ',. " '. .' ,

Tlletheatre is anotltgrowth Of the rites. ofprilIlitive. com~ munitiesengagedin prayerorin:vo<;ation to. the gods;Thes~ communitiesbe~eeched thegqds .to' supply them. :witl1thos~ things without which theycol.lldnot live: rain •. plentifqlhar-:

155

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #4

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vests,asuccessfulhl,lnt, ai.. Every member ofthecODuJlu. nltyo,r tribe wasinvobed.Thegodswerefeared ~swe~las loved;. along.wit~.J?leas for.sustenance.·there were Illa~cctete'" monies of ·appeasement·:enacted . in· ·.gestures· 'ofwC)rsh~pfu} . praise. When the tribalp1cas 'were granted~ therewete' les-· tivities. The communal rites .' developed evergrtjat~r>vClriety ()tfo~m, Some of the rites wete·irep()rts·~ 9Tsy~bolic re~~et':i n.ent~ of the.adventtlrestperils ~dtr~Ulllphs att~I.1~ant'~the tribal pursuits. Relief,' fervor., ecstasy,' asweU"assheer'ple: . ure, hnbtiedthese.manifestations;Mell.(annotJive . . venting '. the. energy' :atousedby tJteir deepestfieeds; UC~l1C3 an'ddTives• ' , .' " Hachtribe. hadjtsownidelltitY;f!veryoneshar~ ill,'

mali/ground 'of an,pety, hope. appetite and faitJt.;A; ways:emergedfI'om within thetFibe.Hemayh~tn~lif

. contributed to the ritu(llizingof cereInoni~l,at:thdties . chosen a favored '!qualified" person tohelpltlm'do s6.] , took place where it wasmitural or convenient for.everyone ( participate in them .. Whatever sites were selected for . occasions were the. first settings or stages. just as .the.leaners ofthetribal'·perfonnan<;es·r were the fitstdirectot~.

Since language bad not yet sufficiently~. evolved,. ptinU;ti~e menexpressedthemselvt!schieflythroughgesture,mimi~

movement and sound . whicllbecame dance. and mUsic. With the development of speech, magic words' came into being: poetry, "literature.') Whoever extracted them from the welter of.tribalexperience and ceremonial action waS anembrydnicr "playwtight;" Or perhaps . the. leader alone with the aid of bis subordinates chosethescheme.ofthe.'.'play" and determined which of: the spontaneousimptovisations were most impres-:

. siveas movetnent, sound an«;lspeech. There may have been' a time when .therewas no. leader

all...,..only. the group unit.. But not aU its member$could gage in the main pursuit: riot all could hunt, plant seed; gather crops, fight, They served complem.entary functions "at home." The folk tnass.as a whole was therefore divided

()nerie~s.·· The ar~;irtterr~1~~.ed1n a};si*gleot:ganis~. coll1m:utlity.w~iCh they serve, :~heyi, ...• atlltience~.Actqrsarellotbotn iri E,quity.

Wi'th .. theithe~tre:sideveJopmentftom ·the.·unifying tite.to the. later mysteties·and.~ojality· plays along/with the.· street fairs, . t.toubarJ.ours, d()~n$.dE· the. ,.-t~~~tp~ace,aJ1d minstrels o£an:d~scl'iption~,· tq the.~h~atres ~f •• sbvereig#s. arjd 'n~'bi1itr and then toth~.: ~dJrimetCia1th~<l't~e. ~hefunttionsbegin t() separate, tci i.sSlltne i.ndepencJ~.ri~e.anpto a~ogate 'to tbeM~ . selv~s .spe~ial (,\0<;\" divisive' airs' and.}irivileges~THevariQUS craft'unIons ofourcontempQra~ytheatrearesigns of thispale~' . ftJl 'evoIutiorL When. eachgrouplet represents a isepar,(itein•.. terest; Itbecotri.es .m6re .inimical to'. the theatre as a whole; Monetary' ;considerations, if riothing el~,may forceoUJ:new theatregrqups to~estol'e~ine of 'dle16~tunity by having ac~ tor~,·directol:s ·.and·even:. sQ:th~,playwrights set~e as .te<;hniCal andlidmiIiistrativestaffas we]],.' . .

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #5

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Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #7

1.62

No dis<:ussion. of the .audienceshouldi neglec~~he inftuefl:ce ol.the critic. h is not easy ~n oursocifl.tyforthe critic. toeker~ dse.histrue func~ion which is to . serve as.::"O enlightened go between for artists and audiences, Th,erevie:w:eron.a large circulation dailyischiefiy :resP9r1sible to the jOll,JJl)ldwhi¢p empldys hit;nalld, itsimpactQnthe thea~re 'profession as, b.Hsiness; Histela~ionto theatre as anartandt6,theatre! et&is, in .. the main, 'fortllito\l~' . Ideally: .(ancj- w-hy not <x;casionaHy in'thatveinr}- ~he,' cr~tic should ,be S01l1,ethlQg .' an artist hinlseI£ (as critic). with a pattk\thfraptitua~.for ~.optks'~ of the . theatre enhanced 'by.' e~periel1l:e. and With inna~e sympathy for an(i. undet~tanding.ofthe craftsmen sut.h a' person mily setveas.'tne .aud~ence;.s.knawinj eye and conscience. . - .

Wh® Wes~akof.tJ:te theatre. audience tOdaY We are ring .to .acongIQIDerate, Actually there is .a'greatyat'iety audiences. The criticmu$t kno:w:·to.which Of theseiaudicm< he is most trul yrel~ted ot what sort; of audience he' to create. In his day Shaw'helped create. an audience for sen and the thennew theatreofEngland.Int:hettfties netb Tynan waged ' ... battIe (or John Osborne, Arnold ker, Bertolt Brecht and otherwriters,as, wellas·d'irec~ors actoTswhQ were upsetting theWe,st End thel;l.tre estabuSl . .. ment.

We must judge auitic not SO much' by his particular ions as by his standards. The cltief i~ue iii- not the critic's

. rate. likes or. dislikes but what hebdieves .andisas a~ what.he strives for. inwbat sott .ofwprld he desires to am distrustful of .the ctitic who orilywants ~'good Good for what, I ask, forwhQqlf In what way is it good what~ttof meisit good for? ..'

, The sound critic is not. wholly "roee." He is limjted, . ShaW' put it, by his prejudices. He must :reveal them "fight" for· them. I have· admired conservative; socialist" gious. Milrxist,. impressiQnist" analytic, au;:trchistand' critics .. They have all been more .w~efuU,n the formation'.

THEA OD IftNC.E .{)8;

myo:w:n tastesangjudgrilents thanth~:dfable creature. who Ii equally and hlandly. or even enthusiastically,receptive ..• to,.' e:verything.Hesig~ifiesnotl:lingbecause he stands' Jor nothing: he merelyfillsspac~ ina colllnlD which US\lanrl'e~ semblesple~sant O~,uriple.asant ch.itcbat. Such: a. ~tson. ~t best; actsasapri\l:ileg~~corlsum<:r'!iguide. ' • .'. .. .. i . . ' '. '.•.••

Thet:ridc mUstknowwhat~plt!y(riot simply its:plQt)';sig~ niAd: he,Il)~~~be.~qui.pped(ojud~~the script,di,~ ac~fn8,a~(l, ".' thedirec;Hon.E~(ho£these~~si(sqW~c~rlt~n,tf¥~i:.Wti'~p~,·,/;'~. understOod 'iur~lationto~ri~anoth,et,~ .Hemustbe ,a.bt~tOilj,,~:/., . sessthe('wt!ight"aridil'pPoJ'tofthe ... the.atreeve~t;as~i.Whpj~:",1,;,r,. An<l·hesh<>uldbe,jU~~dbYbil!.abiJi·t}'.t~.•. ~the pJ~yljri,t~e',;;:':, perspecti"'eof1w.hiitli,es.·~C)u~~ige".,·tl:retheatr~>;:i.e'I·~h~'Wo~"~~ , in which we.live~the ivQr.~Which 'haa,brl)ught the:Qc~~sidri into·.b¢lIlg'The·critk'~o~tMn~ina~e~·Wh~the~$eeS' the fullness of bi$OWri •. p,efcept,it~ri:ptl~~~.r9a~~$.~q~ helJ:l.rnakethe .au4ieI)f~aDlQre;~~~~~~~~:.P~rt~R~fia~t: theatre'sfesti"'it.y. '. .... ...• ':"::"".:/...,.

, ~"'.. " ',_' :"" ,i , """ , , " " ,<,: , " ~: >",' I ,', J. ,< ,I ':'" " <,' ,_ " This has I ittkto .do withl':rave~':or ,jparls~' :'.thef'()nl1:c(>tt~i

cern show business. But.whQ inli~ll dr()ught of th~~h~atr.~~s·· a business in the. first placer Thatisa slJre way td eliminate it' -even as a business!' . .

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #8

Utopia in Performance

Finding Hope at the Theater

Jill Dolan

The University of Michigan Press

Ann Arbor

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #9

Published in the United States of America by The University of Michigan Press

Manufactured in the United States of America @ Printed on acid-free paper

2008 2007 2006 2005 4 3 2 1

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise,

without the written permission of the publisher.

A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the British Library.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dolan, Jill, 1957 Utopia in performance: finding hope at the theater / Jill Dolan.

p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN-13: 978-0-472-09907-8 (doth: alk. paper) ISBN-lO: 0-472-09907-8 (doth: alk. paper)

ISBN-13: 978-0-472-06907-1 (pbk.: aile paper) ISBN-lO: 0-472-06907-1 (pbk. : all<. paper) 1. One-person shows (Performing arts) 2. Monodrama

History and criticism. 3. Theater-Psychological aspects. I. Title.

PN1936.D65 2005 791-cic22 2005009149

andf(

Noemi'

Flora B

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #10

chapter one

Introduction

Feeling the Potential of Elsewhere

Since the early nineteenth century, "utopia" has become a polemical political concept that everyone uses against everyone else. -JURGEN HABERMAS, fiirgen Habermas on Society and Politics

The consideration of the power inherent in performance to transform social structures opens the way to a range of addi tional considerations concerning the role of the performer in society. Perhaps there is a key here to the persistently docu mented tendency for performers to be both admired and feared-admired for their artistic skill and power and for the enhancement of experience they provide, feared because of the potential they represent for subverting and transforming the status quo. Here too may lie a reason for the equally per sistent association between performers and marginality or deviance, for in the special emergent quality of performance the capacity for change may be highlighted and made mani fest to the community. -RICHARD BAUMAN, Verbal Arts on Performance

Artaud believed that the function of theatre was to teach us that "the sky can still fall on our heads." We've known for some time that this vision of theatre is impossible, Utopian, possibly even hysterical (Artaud as Chicken Little). But the Slapstick Tragedy that opened on September 11th was also a Theatre of Cruelty and might warrant some utopian explo rations. The sky has fallen on our heads, and what we are see ing ... threatens to blind us. At a time when every cultural practice is reassessing itself and its role, perhaps we will re entertain Artaud's mad vision of theatre as a place to

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #11

2 ~ Utopia in Performance

encounter the unknown and the unimaginable, a place that teaches the necessary humility of not knowing. -UNA CHAUDHURI, «A Forum on Theatre and Tragedy in the

Wake of September nth, 2001"

All true feeling is in reality untranslatable. To express it is to betray it .... This is why true beauty never strikes us directly. The setting sun is beautiful because of all it makes us lose. -ANTONIN ARTAUD, The Theatre and Its Double

Utopia in Performance argues that live performance provides a place where people come together, embodied and passionate, to share experiences of meaning making and imagination that can describe or capture fleeting inti mations of a better world. Utopia in Performance tries to find, at the theater, a way to reinvest our energies in a different future, one full ofhope and rean imated by a new, more radical humanism. This book investigates the poten tial of different kinds of performance to inspire moments in which audi ences feel themselves allied with each other, and with a broader, more capacious sense ofa pUblic, in which social discourse articulates the possible, rather than the insurmountable obstacles to human potential.

I take my performance examples from a variety of contemporary per formance genres and locations: feminist autobiographical solo perfor mance by Holly Hughes, Peggy Shaw, and Deb Margolin; "monopoly logues" by Lily Tomlin, Danny Hoch, and Anna Deavere Smith, in which a single performer enacts a number of different characters, knit together in various narratives of experience; RussellSimmons DefPoetry Jam on Broad way and The Laramie Project, which address audiences as citizens of the world and model political critique and engagement; and choreographer Ann Carlson's solo performance Blanket, Mary Zimmerman's Metamor phoses, and Deborah Warner and Fiona Shaw's Medea, the dark beauty and poignancy of which lead to what I see as moments of utopia in perfor mance. The aesthetics of these performances lead to both affective and effective feelings and expressions of hope and love not just for a partner, as the domestic scripts of realism so often emphasize, but for other people, for a more abstracted notion of "community," or for an even more intan gible idea of "humankind." From the particular slant offered by theater and performance as practices of social life, this book addresses the cyni cism of progressive commentators who believe the Left, especially, has given up on the possibility of a politics of transformation. Leftist academic pundit Russell Jacoby, for example, suggests, "Today, socialists and leftists

do not dream of a future ( differently, radicalism no answers this claim with n: future, one that can be cal

Utopia in Performance, , moment after Septembel United States have plenty World Trade Center and turned-missile in a PenIlS) about our ability to prote< dream of brighter future already conservative adntii ties, tacitly condoning raci and seizures to weed out p notice before September 1 chant documentary, Fahre. cuIated politics of fear to kt random the Office of HOI "chatter" on already unreIi the dictates of the so-called insist on an uncritical aca racism; on blind flag-wavi secure the homeland; an~ xenophobic definitions of"". in such an environment? W can performance do, politic

For me, performance aD theater, I firsdearned to ad hopes for some otherwise in baby boom in a middJe-cla in which our commun.itis social, pecuniary sort. The 1 were conservative from a expressing a more incIusifte Endowed with a post-Hoia Jewry, we nonetheless beJicI future, at least for one in ... Somehow, as I grew up, I .. ism into my own cos~

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #12

ia in Performance

the unimaginable, a place that ty of not knowing. m on Theatre and Tragedy in the 01"

ntranslatable. To express it is to ~ beauty never strikes us directly. )ecause of all it makes us lose. ~atre and Its Double

live performance provides a place where md passionate, to share experiences of hat can describe or capture fleeting inti I Performance tries to find, at the theater, ifferent future, one full ofhope and rean anism. This book investigates the poten nce to inspire moments in which audi each other, and with a broader, more 1 social discourse articulates the possible, ,tacles to human potential. es from a variety of contemporary per feminist autobiographical solo perfor ;haw, and Deb Margolin; "monopoly )ch, and Anna Deavere Smith, in which r of different characters, knit together in ussell Simmons Dei Poetry Jam on Broad ich address audiences as citizens of the e and engagement; and choreographer Blanket, Mary Zimmerman's Metamor i Fiona Shaw's Medea, the dark beauty tat I see as moments of utopia in perfor ~rformances lead to both affective and Ifhope and love not just for a partner, as often emphasize, but for other people,

ommunity," or for an even more intan 1 the particular slant offered by theater iociallife, this book addresses the cyni rs who believe the Left, especially, has itics of transformation. Leftist academic ~, suggests, "Today, socialists and leftists

Introduction ~ 3

do not dream of a future qualitatively different from the present. To put it differently, radicalism no longer believes in itself.'" Utopia in Performance answers this claim with my own set of beliefs in the possibility of a better future, one that can be captured and claimed in performance.

Utopia in Performance, ofcourse, is written in what has become the long moment after September ll, one in which progressive citizens of the United States have plenty about which to be cynical. The attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon and the crash of the third plane turned-missile in a Pennsylvania field left the country frightened, insecure about our ability to protect ourselves, too scared, some might suggest, to dream of brighter futures. Worse, the attacks that day prompted an already conservative administration to use its power to curtail civilliber ties, tacitly condoning racial profiling, wiretaps, and warrantless searches and seizures to weed out potential terrorists who tragically escaped federal notice before September 11. And as Michael Moore suggests in his tren chant documentary, Fahrenheit9111, the Bush administration uses the cal culated politics of fear to keep the citizenry passive, raising and lowering at random the Office of Homeland Security's threat level based on vague "chatter" on already unreliable spy networks. 2 In this climate, and under the dictates of the so-called U.S. Patriot Act, new definitions of citizenship insist on an uncritical acceptance of diminished privacy and nationalist racism; on blind flag-waving that supports fascist acts that supposedly secure the homeland; and a virulent, war-mongering enforcement of xenophobic definitions of "America." How can we hope for a better future in such an environment? What can hope mean, in a world of terror? What can performance do, politically, against these overwhelming odds?

For me, performance and politics have always been intertwined. At the theater, I first learned to articulate and sometimes to see realized my own hopes for some otherwise intangible future. I grew up on the tail end of the baby boom in a middle-class neighborhood in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in which our community's hopes were focused on upward mobility of a social, pecuniary sort. The Jewish traditions into which I was inculcated were conservative from a religious perspective, but culturally liberal, expressing a more inclusive commitment to caring for "all humankind." Endowed with a post-Holocaust caution about the status of American Jewry, we nonetheless believed in a world of potential, if not for a brighter future, at least for one in which the traumas of the past wouldn't repeat. Somehow, as I grew up, I incorporated the rhetoric of 1960s social radical ism into my own cosmology, devising a critique of the racism that sur

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #13

4 """'" Utopia in Performance

rounded me and soon developing an awareness of gender and sexuality that was later articulated by feminist and queer theory and practice.

As Jews, my family suffered implicit discrimination in late 1950S and 1960s America, but we insulated ourselves from its excess by living in pre dominantly Jewish neighborhoods, belonging to the local temple and ilie Jewish Community Center, and otherwise trading in mostly Jewish busi nesses and culture. Because of these choices, the discrimination I saw was against the few Christians among us at school, or against the still fewer people of color in our neighborhood, until I started high school and the majorities and minorities reshuffled. Early on, though, my sense of com passion and indignity was aroused on behalf of those we considered the others, the marginal-never for ourselves.

In high school, my friends and I were integrated into a much more diverse world, one in which I found my own generous politics tried by my own sense of exclusion. My commitment to theater began at the same time, which is perhaps why I've always connected performance and the possibility for something better in ilie world. Leaving the ghetto of my erstwhile Jewish world, I traveled downtown to perform at the Pittsburgh Playhouse, taking acting lessons and mounting productions with people who never mixed with Jews. As a "Dolan," I passed as a non-Jew in those circumstances; I was young, thirteen years old when I started acting, but I could sense right away that suddenly, my identity made me vulnerable, rather than protecting me. My Jewishness remained invisible as I learned, turning my cheek to casual anti-Semitism, watching how this larger world worked, and losing myself in the fictions and fantasies and the displaced tragedies of drama. In theater, I learned to boili disguise myself and revel in my visibility under the mask of character, performing ebullient turns of phrase and dress as Mrs. Malaprop in Sheridan's The Rivals and fierce, sex denying poses for Lysistrata, before I really even understood what a sex strike might entail, knowing that the play's antiwar message was its most important point. In theater, I found ways to both free and constrain myself, to say who I was and to hide myself carefully. I watched, falling in love with my fellow women performers and surrendering to the seduc tions of performance. Whatever I would become in my life, I knew I would always be anchored here, in the ephemeral maybes of this magic place.

Although I've long since stopped performing, and more recently stopped directing theater productions, I've never given up my stance as a passionate spectator of performance. Performance continues to entice me with magic, to give me hope for our collective future. The performances I

discuss in Utopia in that I've seen perfor since I hope that ute My intent is not to finding utopia in per and unpredictable. I work I'll travel long d any given experience moments in which I torial anticipation oft quently disappointed agree with Marvin C about his own theat scholarship:

J also have now aD( they might be calle< particularly well sui constantly oscillat~ infinity.... Such me of course.... Such r I feel certain iliat w lives by, and surviY served me as touchs seeking in a lifetinle

Such moments return that in its insistent ~: might connect more fi bility of a better future

Utopia in Performal tives. 5 Utopian perfon which performance ca everyone slightly abo"i world might be like ife minous, generous, aest performative, perfoITlli pher J. L. Austin's sen acts-that is, performs

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #14

of gender and sexuality _1111A'lTV and practice. lliiiillllilJ;artion in late 1950S and

iiIts excess by living in pre '!he local temple and the

in mostly Jewish busi

"alIEn into a much more politics tried by my began at the same

performance and the t 11,,,,,-».. , the ghetto of my "mfi:,rm at the Pittsburgh IJllllliIOd1uctions with people

as a non-Jew in those I started acting, but I

. made me vulnerable, invisible as I learned, how this larger world

__es and the displaced

"~se myself and revel ebullient turns of

. magic place. and more recently

up my stance as a _'Q3IJtilllU(~Sto entice me

The performances I

Introduction r;:::,,> 5

discuss in Utopia in Performance are ones that moved or captivated me, that I've seen performed live in all kinds of venues across the country, since I hope that utopia can be grasped in performance in any location. My intent is not to provide a recipe or even a road map; creating or finding utopia in performance is of necessity idiosyncratic, spontaneous, and unpredictable. I know there are playwrights and performers whose work I'll travel long distances to see, but even so, I can't assure myself that any given experience at the theater will bring me one of those exquisite moments in which I feel charged, challenged, and reassured. My specta torial anticipation often comes up empty, my horizon of expectations fre quently disappointed. But every ticket I buy contains a certain promise. I agree with Marvin Carlson, a preeminent theater historian, who writes about his own theatergoing in a lovely, autobiographical moment of scholarship:

I also have now and then experienced moments of such intensity that they might be called epiphanies. It seems to me that theatre is perhaps particularly well suited as an art to generate such moments because it constantly oscillates between the fleeting present and the stillness of infinity.... Such moments ofapotheosis are not everyday occurrences, of course.... Such moments will be different for every theatergoer, but I feel certain that we all have them, and treasure them. In an art that lives by, and survives largely in, the memory, such experiences have served me as touchstones, as permanent reminders of what I have been seeking in a lifetinle of theatergoing.3

Such moments return me, too, to performance, lured by the possibility that in its insistent presence (and present), my fellow spectators and I might connect more fully with the complexities of our past and the possi bility of a better future. 4

Utopia in Performance defines and charts what I call utopian performa tives.5 Utopian performatives describe small but profound moments in which performance calls the attention of the audience in a way that lifts everyone slightly above the present, into a hopeful feeling of what the world might be like ifevery moment of our lives were as emotionally volu minous, generous, aesthetically striking, and intersubjectively intense. As a performative, performance itself becomes a "doing" in linguistic philoso pher J. 1. Austin's sense· of the term, something that in its enunciation acts--that is, performs an action as tangible and effective as saying "I do"

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6 ~ Utopia in Performance

in a wedding ceremony.6 Utopian performatives, in their doings, make palpable an affective vision of how the world might be better. As feminist performance theorist Elin Diamond so evocatively suggests,

[Als soon as performativity comes to rest on a performance, questions of embodiment, of social relations, of ideological interpellations, of emotional and political effects, all become discussable .... When per formativity materializes as performance in that risky and dangerous negotiation between a doing (a reiteration of norms) and a thing done (discursive conventions that frame our interpretations), between someone's body and the conventions of embodiment, we have access to cultural meanings and critique.?

Theater and performance offer a place to scrutinize public meanings, but also to embody and, even if through fantasy, enact the affective possibili ties of "doings" that gesture toward a much better world or, as director Joseph Chaikin, the famous founder of the Open Theater, once said, "a dynamic expression of the intense life."8 By offering such concentrated, interpersonal, and "wish" -oriented moments, theater

becomes a privileged, intimate area of human experience within which one can demand that the promise of another dimension of existence be revealed, and that the impossible be achieved/experienced here and now, in the presence of other living human beings-the impossible, namely a sense of unity between what is usually divided in our daily life: the material and immaterial, the human body and spirit, our mortality and our propensity for perfection, for infinity, for the absolute.9

The performatives under consideration in this book allow fleeting con tact with a utopia not stabilized by its own finished perfection, not coer cive in its contained, self-reliant, self-determined system, but a utopia always in process, always only partially grasped, as it disappears before us around the corners of narrative and social experience. As feminist theorist Angelika Bammer suggests, we "need to reconceptualize the utopian in historical, this-worldly terms, as a process that involves human agency."l0 She continues, "[Ilt is often the partial vision, rather than the supposedly comprehensive one, that is most able to see clearly. In the sense that the gaze that encompasses less is often able to grasp more, the partial vision is the more utopian."ll "My goal," she says,

is to replace the idea ' fleshed out, with the j movement beyond set same time, I want to c, the proposition that t: hope and desire (and e is a force that moves ar

This sense of partiality a, which the various embol "approach toward" that can be felt as desire, or a Engaging the spectator it rather than simply aimin utopian performative ne words, utopian performa and theorist Bertolt Bred crystallize social relations plation. In some ways, ut gestus, when those well become not only intellect as actors.'4 Utopian perfo material oppression and \ be different, one whose pc of a present that gestures cal "doings" we see and f critically rehearse civic el public and political reahn of Brazilian radical perfon in that they provoke affec1

My investigation into \ find representations ofa b place," and this book resl down to prescription. I aE Herbert Marcuse, both of an arena in which an alter tic, descriptive way as in 1 communication of an alte structure would be much 1

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I Performance

:rformatives; in their doings, make ~ world might be better. As feminist ) evocatively suggests,

) rest on a performance, questions of ideological interpellations, of ~come discussable.... When per ance in that risky and dangerous ration of norms) and a thing done e our interpretations), between :of embodiment, we have access to

e to scrutinize public meanings, but antasy, enact the affective possibili 1 much better world or, as director of the Open Theater, once said, "a 'e."8 By offering such concentrated,

oments, theater

)fhuman experience within which another dimension of existence be )e achieved/experienced here and Ig human beings-the impossible, t is usually divided in our daily life: nan body and spirit, our mortality )r infinity, for the absolute.9

ttion in this book allow fleeting con s own finished perfection, not coer If-determined system, but a utopia ly grasped, as it disappears before us )Cial experience. As feminist theorist i to reconceptualize the utopian in )Cess that involves human agency."lO 3.1 vision, rather than the supposedly ~ to see dearly. In the sense that the Ie to grasp more, the partial vision is

ays,

Introduction ~ 7

is to replace the idea of "a utopia" as something fixed, a form to be fleshed out, with the idea of "the utopian" as an approach toward, a movement beyond set limits into the realm of the not-yet-set. At the same time, I want to counter the notion of the utopian as unreal with the proposition that the utopian is powerfully real in the sense that hope and desire (and even fantasies) are real, never "merely" fantasy. It is a force that moves and shapes history.!:!.

This sense of partiality and process informs the utopian performative, in which the various embodied, visual, and affective languages of the stage "approach toward" that which, as Bammer suggests, is "not-yet-set" but can be felt as desire, or as concrete fantasy, in the space of performance. Engaging the spectator in "a critical consideration of utopian enterprise, rather than simply aiming to secure his or her passive assent" makes the utopian performative nearly Brechtian in its gestic insistence.13 In other words, utopian performatives are relatives of the famed German director and theorist Bertolt Brecht's notion of gestus, actions in performance that crystallize social relations and offer them to spectators for critical contem plation. In some ways, utopian performatives are the received moment of gestus, when those well-delineated, moving pictures of social relations become not only intellectually clear but felt and lived by spectators as well as actors.14 Utopian performatives persuade us that beyond this "now" of material oppression and unequal power relations lives a future that might be different, one whose potential we can feel as we're seared by the promise of a present that gestures toward a better later. The affective and ideologi cal "doings" we see and feel demonstrated in utopian performatives also critically rehearse civic engagement that could be effective in the wider public and political realm. These moments, then, are cousins to the ideas of Brazilian radical performance theorist Augusto Boal as well as to Brecht, in that they provoke affective rehearsals for revolution.15

My investigation into utopia in performance, then, resists the effort to find representations of a better world; the word utopia means, literally, "no place," and this book respects the letter of its sense by refusing to pin it down to prescription. I agree with Marxist philosophers Ernst Bloch and Herbert Marcuse, both of whom I reference in these pages, who "see art as an arena in which an alternative world can be expressed-not in a didac tic, descriptive way as in traditional 'utopian' literature, but through the communication of an alternative experience."16 Any fixed, static image or structure would be much too finite and exclusionary for the soaring sense

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http:revolution.15

http:actors.14

http:insistence.13

8 ~ Utopia in Performance

of hope, possibility, and desire that imbues utopian performatives.'7 Utopian performatives exceed the content of a play or performance; spec tators might draw a utopian performative from even the most dystopian theatrical universe. IS Utopian performatives spring from a complex alchemy of form and content, context and location, which take shape in moments of utopia as doings, as process, as never finished gestures toward a potentially better future.

Arts critic John Rockwell, writing about Anne Bogart's production bobrauschenbergamerica, says, "Mesmerizing moments are what those of us addicted to performance live for. Suddenly and unexpectedly we are lifted from our normal detached contemplation into another place, where time stops and our breath catches and we can hardly believe that those responsible for this pleasure can sustain it another second."19 He describes an experience of utopian performativity. Such moments make spectators ache with desire to capture, somehow, the stunning, nearly prearticulate insights they illuminate, if only to let them fill us for a second longer with a flash of something tinged with sadness but akin to joy. Bloch calls them instances of "anticipatory illumination," which "evade our efforts to apprehend them directly. "20 That evasion prompts the sadness in our joy. At the base of the utopian performative's constitution is the inevitability of its disappearance; its efficacy is premised on its evanescence. Perfor mance's poignant ephemerality grounds all our experiences at the the ater. 21 The utopian performative's fleetingness leaves us melancholy yet cheered, because for however brief a moment, we felt something of what redemption might be like, of what humanism could really mean, of how powerful might be a world in which our commonalities would hail us over our differences.

Spectatorship and Criticism

Given theater's ontological status, or its way of being, poised as It IS between appearance and disappearance, and given the utopian performa tive's inherent ephemerality, this book poses several questions to the expe rience of writing about live performance. For example, how do we write about our own spectatorship in nuanced ways that capture the compli cated emotions that the best theater experiences solicit? How do we place our own corporeal bodies in the service of those ineffable moments of insight, understanding, and love that utopian performatives usher into

our hearts and minds? I them to the rigor of our sl affective gifts that these r Ann Daly, writing on dan

Unlocking the dance is 1 tune myself to a new e) what it needs in order t< the morass of perceptio about discerning relatic takes a deferential positi disappear. 22

Scholars, historians, an tinuing problem of how t performance. We rely on r they see not only to recon mance, but also to gain at audience (and the perfon feeP3 We write best about t But part of the challenge of one that circulates extensiv well beyond itself, to hold and to share it widely, so Daly says, "Criticism is a gl time, extending it to read~ transfigures dance into am capture, in our discourse, n and form, its content and . emotion it provokes in its writing, how its presence gJ theater, that seems somehi once? How can I summon i taneity of time that infuses I most memorable visits to t:IJ you in these pages?25

During his tenure as the demic journal in theater em rated a column in which l

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tlia in Performance

that imbues utopian performatives.17

content of a play or performance; spec )rmative from even the most dystopian lerformatives spring from a complex ntext and location, which take shape in rocess, as never finished gestures toward

:iting about Anne Bogart's production [esmerizing moments are what those of for. Suddenly and unexpectedly we are :ontemplation into another place, where es and we can hardly believe that those ustain it another second."19 He describes lativity. Such moments make spectators ehow, the stunning, nearly prearticulate ) let them fill us for a second longer with sadness but akin to joy. Bloch calls them lination," which "evade our efforts to t evasion prompts the sadness in our joy. native's constitution is the inevitability of ; premised on its evanescence. Perfor grounds all our experiences at the the ~'s fleetingness leaves us melancholy yet ief a moment, we felt something of what lat humanism could really mean, of how lch our commonalities would hail us over

;hip and Criticism

us, or its way of being, poised as it is !arance, and given the utopian performa book poses several questions to the expe ormance. For example, how do we write nuanced ways that capture the compli

ater experiences solicit? How do we place le service of those ineffable moments of 'e that utopian performatives usher into

Introduction ~ 9

our hearts and minds? How do we theorize such moments, subjecting them to the rigor ofour sharpest analysis while preserving the pleasure, the affective gifts that these moments share? Performance theorist and critic Ann Daly, writing on dance, says,

Unlocking the dance is tantamount to unlocking mysel£ ... Can I fine tune myself to a new expressive frequency? Can I bring to this dance what it needs in order to be seen? ... Criticism ... is about sorting out the morass of perception into something orderly and interesting. It's about discerning relationships and making meaning .... [Clriticism takes a deferential position .... Criticism is the practice of appearing to disappear. 22

Scholars, historians, and other thoughtful cultural critics face the con tinuing problem of how to capture and archive spectators' responses to performance. We rely on reviewers and their idiosyncratic reports of what they see not only to reconstruct the content and form of a given perfor mance, but also to gain at least a glimmer of how it might have made the audience (and the performers, by virtue of their motivating presence) feel. 13 We write best about those performances we've been privileged to see. But part ofthe challenge ofwriting ahout performance as a public practice, one that circulates extensively and has some social impact, is to make it live well beyond itself, to hold it visually in memory, to evoke it with words, and to share it widely, so that its effects and potential might be known. Daly says, "Criticism is a gesture that carries the dance beyond its curtain time, extending it to readers near and far, present and future. Criticism transfigures dance into a much larger, discursive existence."l4 How can we capture, in our discourse, not just the outlines ofa performance's structure and form, its content and the contours of its narrative, but the ineffable emotion it provokes in its moment of presence? How can we evoke, in writing, how its presence grounds us in a present, a moment oflife at the theater, that seems somehow imbued with our past and our future, at once? How can I summon for you here my own experience of the simul taneity oftime that infuses my argument, and that I feel during my richest, most memorable visits to the theater, many of which I want to conjure for you in these pages?2.5

During his tenure as the editor of Theatre Journal, the preeminent aca demic journal in theater and performance studies, David Roman inaugu rated a column in which various scholars write about their spectating

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http:disappear.22

http:performatives.17

10 ~ Utopia in Performance

experiences.2.6 This recurring essay encourages theater and performance scholars to think about how we consume and experience performance and to inscribe the specific, material details of our theatergoing-with whom we went, how it made us feel, and what a performance made us think into our memorializing analysis. These notations will leave behind a con sciously marked trail of how performances felt in very local, historicized moments in time. Utopia in Performance is my own archive of spectator ship, documenting my own pleasures and desires, my hope and yearning, my experiences of intersubjectivity in rich exchange with flickering moments of theatrical performance.

Audiences as Participatory Publics

Documenting audience affect at performance requires a shift in focus, away from the notion of the singular spectator interpolated by representa tion, a trope my own work in The Feminist Spectator as Critic and in Pres ence and Desire has engaged repeatedly.2.7 Utopia in Performance instead examines the audience as a group of people who have elected to spend an evening or an afternoon not only with a set of performers enacting a cer tain narrative arc or aesthetic trajectory, but with a group of other people, sometimes familiar, sometimes strange. I see, in this social choice, poten tial for intersubjectivity not only between performer and spectators but among the audience, as well.

Audiences form temporary communities, sites of public discourse that, along with the intense experiences of utopian performatives, can model new investments in and interactions with variously constituted public spheres. Feminist political theorist Nancy Fraser notes that according to the influential German philosopher Jurgen Habermas, "the idea of a pub lic sphere is that ofa body of 'private persons' assembled to discuss matters of 'public concern' or 'common interest."'28 Fraser goes on to suggest that public spheres are best considered multiple, since like community, or utopia, or other concepts at risk of totalitarian idealism, there can't be "one" public sphere in which all are included. Additional publics, then, aren't a distraction or fragmentation, but are a healthy sign of access and honesty. "Arrangements that accommodate contestation among a plural ity of competing publics," Fraser argues, "better promote the ideal of par ticipatory parity than does a single, comprehensive, overarching public."2.9

"[T]o interact discursively as a member of a public, subaltern [meaning

marginal or disempow disseminate one's disc(

Considering theater expand how the comm tives might become a r term popularized in p Victor Turner, describ which audiences or pal in an organic, nearly sp attuned to those aroun ing to the group bathe people constitute the: encourage them to be ~ conversations that pel "public spheres are not [but are also 1arenas fo then audiences at perf, selves as participating (

I saw a production a pie of how theater spec ticipation and emotior on Art Rooney, who 0' and the city that loved· more than forty years" fixture in the city» n Tom Atkins, the virtue and to reminisce direc1 Columbus dinner, at l\ he has some time befo "talk to some folks her telling the audience st( and gambling (for wbJ historical exploits of tI patriarchal warmth aD

My family, with wb ers fandom nearly as. announcer for the teal are longtime season tiii ily who's never been.

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"'__"1" and performance

_~:e performance and

Ilra!liIer]going--Vlrith whom _~:e made us think

"IIIi!l'Y local, historicized archive of spectator

hope and yearning, Vlrith flickering

__res a shift in focus,

_JIOilatt~d by representa Critic and in Pres-

Performance instead elected to spend an

!iREDeJr5 enacting a cer ":~mp of other people,

:social choice, poten and spectators but

......1f_"Ihl,r discourse that,

can model constituted public that according to

"'the idea of a pub to discuss matters on to suggest that

MiId:ltonal publics, then, sign of access and

lIsInillltXJm among a plural "'lIIiJOte the ideal of par .,iQIilrer.ltrcJlmg public."29

subaltern [meaning

Introduction ~ 11

marginal or disempowered] or otherVlrise," she continues, "is to aspire to disseminate one's discourse to ever Vlridening arenas."30

Considering theater audiences as such participatory publics might also expand how the communitas they experience through utopian performa tives might become a model for other social interactions. Communitas, a term popularized in performance studies scholarship by anthropologist Victor Turner, describes the moments in a theater event or a ritual in which audiences or participants feel themselves become part of the whole in an organic, nearly spiritual way; spectators' individuality becomes finely attuned to those around them, and a cohesive if fleeting feeling of belong ing to the group bathes the audience.31 Attending performance, disparate people constitute these temporary publics; such spectatorship might encourage them to be active in other public spheres, to participate in civic conversations that performance perhaps begins. If, as Fraser theorizes, "public spheres are not only arenas for the formation ofdiscursive opinion [but are also ] arenas for the formation and enactment of social identities," then audiences at performance can be Seen to be actively forming them selves as participating citizens of a perhaps more radical democracy.32

I saw a production at the Pittsburgh Public Theater that offers an exam ple of how theater spectatorship can actively promote a sense of civic par ticipation and emotional belonging. The Chiefis a one-man show focused on Art Rooney, who owned the Steelers football team and stuck Vlrith them and the city that loved them through the team's derision and adulation for more than forty years and, in the process, became himself a much beloved fixture in the city}3 The short production chose a folksy conceit to allow Tom Atkins, the virtuosic actor who played Rooney, to indulge in stories, and to reminisce directly Vlrith the audience: Rooney is due at a Knights of Columbus dinner, at which he's getting an award; his wife calls him to say he has some time before they need to leave. Rooney takes the occasion to "talk to some folks here"; he moves quickly into direct address and begins telling the audience stories about groVlring up in Pittsburgh; about boxing and gambling (for which Rooney was notorious); and mostly, about the historical exploits of the Steelers, which he relates in detail Vlrith a benign, patriarchal warmth and pride.

My family, Vlrith whom I attended The Chief, boasts a tradition of Steel ers fandom nearly as long as Rooney's. My great-uncle Joe Tucker was an announcer for the team, and my grandfather, parents, aunts, and uncles are longtime season ticket holders.34 Although I'm the only one in my fam ily who's never been to a Steelers game, even I was caught up in the man

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http:holders.34

http:democracy.32

http:audience.31

12 ,.<:::".> Utopia in Performance

ufacture of communitas that the actor's impersonation of Rooney's stories produced. Clearly, the audience understood the play's references, not only to growing up in Pittsburgh, and to local neighborhoods, stores, and events, but to the "immaculate reception" and other highlights of the Steelers' years on the field, all of which were absolutely opaque to me. Clearly, from their attentiveness, their laughter of recognition, and the energy of their presence, they were persuaded by Atkins's full and affec tionate portrait of Rooney and moved by the telling of a history in which many of them, as Steelers fans, played however small a part. By the time the show ended, the audience was on its feet, applauding, teary-eyed, and honoring the memories that had been so fully and lovingly wrought before them. After the curtain call, spectators approached the small thrust stage like anthropologists shopping for museum artifacts, looking closely at the detailed memorabilia decorating the set, touching (until hurried away by ushers) the photographs and objects that called up such nostalgia, such team spirit, such civic pride.

That evening was the first time I understood, affectively and intellectu ally, what it meant to root for the team. After a lifetime of perplexity (and sometimes, horror) at the vehemence of my family's fandom, I finally understood, because the expression of that powerful, moving commit ment took place in a theater instead of a stadium. The production trans lated into terms through which I could relate that heightened sense of community, of belonging, of desire, of utopia that communitas at a foot ball game or at the theater summons. In those ninety minutes in the O'Reilly Theater, the present housed a precious, explicitly local past, and beckoned toward a future full of hope for the athletic performance of a team and for a community that wants so much to rally around the players who somehow represent them all.

The play was a valentine for the team and the city, a powerful statement of pride in collective memory and wistful longing for a time in the team's history that seemed more local, less corporate, and more "real." The Chief made the theater audience a microcosm of the civic audience, relaying the conventions of communitas from the football field to performance and in the process creating a moving night at the theater that borrowed the emo tional rituals of football. In other words, people cheered for the playas they do for the team; they "got it" by productively crossing modes of spec tatorship. Suddenly, the theater was the city. The play hailed spectator-cit izens and affirmed their belief in their team, their city, and their history. The present evoked the past and made the audience hopeful for the future.

The simultaneity of time brin Artist Ann Carlson, whose sol as a motto for her work quot, present. This sense of monurr her own body, the flow of the layering a representatively c younger experience, and pI< rather elliptically to lead tow; inspires utopian performativc fusion of temporal domains.! gressive arguments for utopi. example, suggests that utopia ization" of that which is, nov utopian text ... is not to brir but rather to make us conscio what can be thought and ima

Thinking of utopia as pr< "what if," rather than a more be," allows performance a ho possibilities of the future in that's always, itself, in proces: tling into proscription, into' fully drawn idea of a better w( faced by movements that wor principle on which [they are] possibility rather than as pw sustain the concept of utopia

Performance's simultaneil probing the possibilities of t writes a different, better futUl ceive of utopia as a space (ru writes, "usually an enclosed mance allows us to see utopia temporality excites audience often anchors it to an imagim But performance always exce in its doing, which is imagini

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pia in Performance

::tor's impersonation of Rooney's stories 1derstood the play's references, not only d to local neighborhoods, stores, and reception" and other highlights of the . which were absolutely opaque to me. their laughter of recognition, and the

re persuaded by Atkins's full and affec :)Ved by the telling of a history in which ayed however small a part. By the time on its feet, applauding, teary-eyed, and een so fully and lovingly wrought before ators approached the small thrust stage museum artifacts, looking closely at the he set, touching (until hurried away by ects that called up such nostalgia, such

I understood, affectively and intellectu team. After a lifetime of perplexity (and lence of my family's fandom, I finally on of that powerful, moving commit ad of a stadium. The production trans [ could relate that heightened sense of re, of utopia that communitas at a foot mons. In those ninety minutes in the sed a precious, explicitly local past, and hope for the athletic performance of a ants so much to rally around the players

, team and the city, a powerful statement . wistful longing for a time in the team's 5S corporate, and more "real." The Chief )Cosm of the civic audience, relaying the the football field to performance and in 1t at the theater that borrowed the emo r words, people cheered for the playas by productively crossing modes of spec as the city. The play hailed spectator-cit their team, their city, and their history. lade the audience hopeful for the future.

Introduction ~ 13

Time and Utopia

The simultaneity of time brings force and effect to utopian performatives. Artist Ann Carlson, whose solo performance Blanket I discuss in chapter 6, as a motto for her work quotes Einstein's theory that all time exists in the present. This sense of monumentalism allows Carlson to capture, often on her own body, the flow of the past through the present into the future. By layering a representatively elderly body over a soundscape of much younger experience, and plotting a movement trajectory that appears rather elliptically to lead toward death, Carlson's performance in Blanket inspires utopian performatives that reassure us of the profundity of a con fusion of temporal domains.35 Such simultaneity characterizes more pro gressive arguments for utopia; the Marxist theorist Frederic Jameson, for example, suggests that utopian discourse can best be grasped as a "neutral ization" of that which is, now.36 Jameson believes that "[t]he force of the utopian text ... is not to bring into focus the future that is coming to be, but rather to make us conscious precisely of the horizons or outer limits of what can be thought and imagined in our present."37

Thinking of utopia as processual, as an index to the possible, to the "what if," rather than a more restrictive, finite image of the "what should be," allows performance a hopeful cast, one that can experiment with the possibilities of the future in ways that shine back usefully on a present that's always, itself, in process. Such a view of utopia prevents it from set tling into proscription, into the kind of fascism that inevitably attends a fully drawn idea of a better world. Angelika Bammer says that the difficulty faced by movements that work toward social change is "sustaining the very principle on which [they are] predicated, namely the idea of the future as possibility rather than as preset goal. The difficulty, in other words, is to sustain the concept of utopia as process."38

Performance's simultaneity, its present-tenseness, uniquely suits it to probing the possibilities of utopia as a hopeful process that continually writes a different, better future. While many commentators typically con ceive of utopia as a space (and, as feminist philosopher Elizabeth Grosz writes, "usually an enclosed and commonly isolated space"),39 perfor mance allows us to see utopia as a process of spending time. Performance's temporality excites audiences with a slight disorientation; its spatiality often anchors it to an imagined place, a "what if' of matter and expression. But performance always exceeds its space and its image, since it lives only in its doing, which is imagining, in the good no-place that is theater. The

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14 ..-. Utopia in Performance

utopic, Grosz writes, is "out of time";40 performance, too, rests lightly in its own moment, referring to all of time in the images of its spectacle, in the projection ofits presence, in its gesture of hope toward the wishes, pre dictions, and resolutions of its future.

Writing about performance while I'm watching, I try to capture time, to write it as it flees, with my pen in hand, scribbling on my program in the half-dark But utopian performatives force me to stop transcribing my experience of the present to some sort of imagined future; in those moments, I sit bolt upright, caught in the density of a communal epiphany that I need to experience now, that gathers its power through the impossi bility of doing it justice in any subsequent moment. These moments of communitas complement the processual nature of utopia in performance. Victor Turner suggests that any "social world is a world in becoming, not a world in being"; social worlds, like utopia, are too often, according to Turner, thought of as "static concepts."41 On the contrary, Turner theo rizes communitas as "anti-structural," as "most evident in 'liminality,' [which refers] to any condition outside or on the peripheries of everyday life," which includes, of course, performanceY Communitas doesn't con form to rules of law, to regulations or prior social agreements. The very existence of communitas "puts all social structural rules in question and suggests new possibilities. Communitas strains toward universalism and openness."43 Although "social and cultural structures are not abolished by communitas," Turner argues, "the sting of their divisiveness is removed so that the fine articulation of their parts in a complex heterogeneous unity can be better appreciated."44

Turner's theory usefully describes the social potential of utopian per formatives. That is, rather than resting on an old humanist legacy of uni versality and transcendence, utopian performatives let audiences experi ence a processual, momentary feeling of affinity, in which spectators experience themselves as part of a congenial public constituted by the per formance's address. Hailed by these performatives, these moments ofwhat Marvin Carlson calls "apotheosis" or "epiphany," spectators can be rallied to hope for the possibility of realizing improved social relations. They can imagine, together, the affective potential of a future in which this rich feel ing of warmth, even oflove, could be experienced regularly and effectively outside the theater.

I write about my experiences at performances as ones of both intellect and affect; at a performance, I watch performers and audiences think and feel, and do the same along with them. Part of my project is to describe the

performance's effect on the inspired by communitas to better place, citizens who r public discourse. I write at necessarily, productively pa to think about its social P( Janelle Reinelt, in her Thea; tator, writes, "The embodie mere page, but the belief, II lectual rigor and ethico-po the twofold project of exper riences in theatre that cause and reason, dream and criti, Writing about the pull ofth, aesthetically stirred spectate colleagues document a cor event whose presence I can left with words to describe' times find my breath taken i

I see and write about perfor cally, but also affectively, th to social action. That is, I b4 stirred in performance can I realms of social life. Being ] such feeling is possible, evel ence experiences at the theat to what it means to be a spe tator. I go to live performam the gamut from university tl fessor requires I attend to n4 contracted, professional Za4 mance and new plays in neighborhoods, squinting a structures for signs of theat] tions of shows like Mamma

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too, rests lightly in of its spectacle, in

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Introduction ~ 15

performance's effect on the audience as a temporary community, perhaps inspired by communitas to feel themselves citizens of a no-place that's a better place, citizens who might then take that feeling into other sites of public discourse. 1 write about performance to try to document, from a necessarily, productively partial perspective, its emotional efficacy as a way to think about its social potential. Feminist and Marxist theater scholar Janelle Reinelt, in her Theatre Journal record of her experiences as a spec tator, writes, "The embodiedness of actors and spectators still trumps the mere page, but the belief, indeed the faith, that [theater] can entail intel lectual rigor and ethico-political argument sustains me."45 She captures the twofold project of experiencing performance, saying, "I still have expe riences in theatre that cause me to question and cry, laugh and think, feel and reason, dream and critique. Sometimes other people do it with me."46 Writing about the pull of those binaries, as part of our socially committed, aesthetically stirred spectatorship, lets performance critics like me and my colleagues document a complicated process of engagement with a live event whose presence 1 can only trace as 1 remember it in the future. 1 am left with words to describe what happens when, as Reinelt says, "I some times find my breath taken away by performances."47

Using Theater

1 see and write about performance with hope for what it can mean politi cally, but also affectively, through my faith that emotions might move us to social action. That is, I believe that being passionately and profoundly stirred in performance can be a transformative experience useful in other realms of social life. Being moved at the theater allows us to realize that such feeling is possible, even desirable, elsewhere. People use their audi ence experiences at the theater in myriad ways; everyone relates differently to what it means to be a spectator. 1 am a voracious, indiscriminate spec tator. 1 go to live performance regularly at home in Austin, Texas, running the gamut from university theater productions that my position as a pro fessor requires I attend to new plays, musicals, and classics at the Equity contracted, professional Zach Scott Theatre. I see experimental perfor mance and new plays in converted warehouses in marginal Austin neighborhoods, squinting at addresses and studying rickety aluminum structures for signs of theatrical life. I attend touring Broadway produc tions of shows like Mamma Mia, Phantom of the Opera, and Jesus Christ

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16 ~ Utopia in Performance

Superstar at the gigantic, twenty-eight-hundred-seat Bass Concert Hall on the University of Texas campus, and touring comedians and performance artists at the restored, vaguely baroque Paramount Theatre downtown. I see community-based performances in schools and senior centers, autobi ographical work produced by teenage girls and people with disabilities. My eclectic tastes lead me to unforeseeable experiences, like feeling unexpect edly moved by a large-cast production of Guys and Dolls at a high school, or by seeing memoir-inspired solo performances by the graduating MFA acting class at the University of Texas.

I travel around the country and the world to see performance. In New York, I see cutting edge avant-garde work at P.S. 122 or LaMama on the Lower East Side; new plays off-Broadway at the Public Theater, New York Theatre Workshop, the Vineyard, Playwrights Horizons, Manhattan The atre Club, and the Signature Theatre; chamber productions of rediscov ered old musicals at City Center in midtown; and musicals and star-driven productions of straight plays on Broadway. I see regional theater produc tions, in Providence, San Diego, Chicago, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, San Fran cisco, Madison, Santa Fe, and other cities with professional theaters. I'm game to see anything, because I love the potential I feel sitting in a theater, the palpable sense that anything might happen once the lights go down.

For someone who only sees performance at home (wherever home might be), the experience ofshowing up at the theater might be completely different than for a spectator who seeks out performance around the world. Likewise, for the inveterate, itinerant spectator, seeing performance in many different places changes the experience each time, resituating our relation to the inside and outside markers of community, of the peculiarly "insider" knowledge that influences reception, and to local, as well as translocal social practices of spectatorship. For some people, the commu nitythat supports the theater is more important than the play; for others, the performance provides an excuse for social congress, to be seen at or to participate in an event.48 For others, the place slips from prominence as soon as the light floods the stage, and the only reality that matters is the usable fiction crafted by the actors. Some people read their program notes and stay for talkbacks, to extend the moment of intimacy with strangers; some people push up the aisle at the curtain call, more concerned with postshow traffic than with demonstrating their appreciation or respect for the play.

Theater sustains some of us as a daily practice that helps us order and define an existence that becomes more incoherent with each new global

political maneuver. 01 ing expensive tickets t( Lion King or The Prod mance by students in a up for a high school pl cast and an awkward, I'm interested in all th~ consider what it mean~ social "points" that SOl spectating experiences De!Poetry Jam live, rat pIe to commit their tin mance that constitute~ community of specta stream" and "alternati mance. I'm interested within, across, and am publics that reconstitu

The very present-t utopia not as some ide; brief enactments of tb moment at the theater or who have participat tators, know the ma~ rehearsals, of experim~ we settle on the best cl gist MacKenzie Cader Cadenhead says, "In d tom note. It exists octa It is magically heard wI result of perfect harm. created by the compOI own experiences part those moments of heal the narrator in a boot! bian classic The Well I University ofWiscons professional actors hoI with a large gay and I,

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· Utopia in Peiformance

:lty-eight-hundred-seat Bass Concert Hall on illS, and touring comedians and performance ly baroque Paramount Theatre downtown. I mances in schools and senior centers, autobi 'teenage girls and people with disabilities. My Jreseeable experiences, like feeling unexpect roduction of Guys and Dolls at a high school, d solo performances by the graduating MFA of Texas. y and the world to see performance. In New It-garde work at P.S. 122 or LaMama on the ff-Broadway at the Public Theater, New York yard, Playwrights Horizons, Manhattan The : Theatre; chamber productions of rediscov ter in midtown; and musicals and star-driven , on Broadway. I see regional theater produc go, Chicago, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, San Fran ,d other cities with professional theaters. I'm ,e I love the potential I feel sitting in a theater, ing might happen once the lights go down. 5ees performance at home (wherever home .howing up at the theater might be completely or who seeks out performance around the :erate, itinerant spectator, seeing performance :lges the experience each time, resituating our :side markers of community, of the pecu1iarly Ifluences reception, and to local, as well as spectatorship. For some people, the commu r is more important than the play; for others, : excuse for social congress, to be seen at or to r others, the place slips from prominence as stage, and the only reality that matters is the lctors. Some people read their program notes tend the moment of intimacy with strangers; sle at the curtain call, more concerned with !monstrating their appreciation or respect for

us as a daily practice that helps us order and Jmes more incoherent with each new global

Introduction ~ 17

political maneuver. Other people see theater as a novelty, whether boast ing expensive tickets to a much-publicized Broadway production like The Lion King or The Producers, or gamely attending a local university perfor mance by students in an Introduction to Acting class, or dutifully showing up for a high school production of a musical with a one-hundred-student cast and an awkward, tittering sold-out crowd. In Utopia in Performance, rm interested in all these modes of spectatorship and audience practices. I consider what it means for people to collect the cultural capital (that is, the social "points" that sometimes derive from and can be flaunted about our spectating experiences) of seeing Metamorphoses on Broadway or seeing De!Poetry Jam live, rather than on HBO, as well as what it means for peo ple to commit their time to attending a small city's local festival of perfor mance that constitutes its own public audience from within a larger local community of spectators. I won't parse distinctions between "main stream" and "alternative" or "community-based" and "popular" perfor mance. I'm interested in how utopian performatives appear in many ways within, across, and among constantly morphing spectating communities, publics that reconstitute themselves anew for each performance.

The very present-tenseness of performance lets audiences imagine utopia not as some idea of future perfection that might never arrive, but as brief enactments of the possibilities of a process that starts now, in this moment at the theater. Many of us who've performed on stage ourselves, or who have participated in performance as collaborators, as well as spec tators, know the magic, utopic moments that happen after weeks of rehearsals, of experimenting with people across a range of "what ifs" until we settle on the best choices. Those experiences resemble what musicolo gist MacKenzie Cadenhead calls the "phantom note" in choral singing. Cadenhead says, "In choral music there is a phenomenon called the phan tom note. It exists octaves above the rest and is not sung by a human voice. It is magically heard when all vocal parts of a choir join together, the literal result of perfect harmony. In theater, this metaphorical phantom note is created by the component harmonies of all ensemble members."49 In my own experiences participating in performance, I remember distinctly those moments of hearing the phantom note: performing, for instance, as the narrator in a bootleg production of Holly Hughes's underground les bian classic The Well of Horniness, directed by a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, where I taught in the late 1980s. Cast with non professional actors holding their scripts, we performed in a basement bar with a large gay and lesbian clientele. The harmony of the performance

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18 ~ Utopia in Performance

came from the insane, hysterical glee with which the performers inhabited Hughes's campy characters, and the uproarious laughter with which the audience responded. The whole place swooned with inebriation, creating a bacchanalian atmosphere of communal transgression and delight. Per formers and directors live to hear the phantom note and to make it audi ble for spectators.

But how can the profoundly moving experience of utopian performa tives in performance (which might be considered phantom notes with community resonance and social implications) be conveyed or carried into the world outside the theater? Is the breathtaking moment of poten tial connection and emotion severed as soon as the house lights go up, and the audience returns to its more prosaic, individual arrangements of sin gles, couples, or trios to wade through the crowd to the exit doors? As the ater theorist Bert States says, "The return from the play world is like the awakening from the dream: it is always an abrupt fall into the mundane, fraught with the nostalgia of exile."50 Performers, too, often share such melancholic dislocation; singer Nina Simone once said that "the saddest part of performing" was that "it didn't mean anything once you were off stage."51 How can we sustain the wonder and intimacy and potential prompted by seeing, for instance, Metamorphoses, when the street outside the theater looks too bright, too blurry, too dirty, too fast-moving, when it clamors for our immediate attention, insisting that our pleasurable mem ory of the images created by the actors playing in water too quickly fade, leaving us only the residue of its loss?

Geography, though, changes the texture of these moments of depar ture. When I leave a theater in Austin, for example, the street isn't quite as loud or as bright as it is in New York. The soft air and thick trees cushion the shock of reentry and usually, the traffic has long since quieted down. Moving into the street with my companions, I can often hear other specta tors murmuring about the performance, and sometimes I stop to talk to strangers about what we all just saw and felt. At a recent Laurie Anderson performance at the Paramount, for instance, I struck up a conversation with a stranger about Anderson's previous visits to Austin, about how this one seemed more intimate, slower, evidence perhaps of her own aging (and ours). I thanked him for his thoughts as we headed in separate direc tions, reminded of how spectators can take time together when we're not rushing to find taxis or steeling ourselves for the tumult of real life.

At a performance of Jesus Christ Superstar in the cavernous Bass Con cert Hall, one of the four gay men seated in front of me and my partner

Intt

turned around at intermissior show he ever saw on Broadwa] no apparent reason, he wanted he found us receptive listeners I my own experience of seeing t1 ment that these many years la1 song). Austin audiences have criminately rising to their feet. spectators tend to scoff and ro too, grudgingly get to our feet. ity of this gesture, this attempt labor, each time. Perhaps thes time together in the theater m~ we move up the aisles and out and the proximity of our can; Austin atmosphere prompts Ul selves, allowing the moment of

In Utopia in Performance, 1 mance theorist and practitione reminiscent of when the lights I tired, too human, sweaty flesh ( only a moment ago by flashin! The moments before that letl moments," which are, in fact, . should we-bring the clarity 0: lives? Should utopian perform~ performance? Do they fail if t1: Many commentators measure 1 the "real world." In Utopia in 1 ries between performance and performance, the pleasure of ~ change the world, certainly cha:

Perhaps instead of measuri against some real notion of effe( its work best-at the theater 0 performance wherever they ta1 very nature, can't translate int( most effective as a feeling. Perh desire, embodied by that sudde

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Jtopia in Performance Introduction ~ 19

I glee with which the performers inhabited d the uproarious laughter with which the ~ place swooned with inebriation, creating :ommunal transgression and delight. Per :ar the phantom note and to make it audi

. moving experience of utopian performa l1ight be considered phantom notes with :ial implications) be conveyed or carried ter? Is the breathtaking moment of poten rered as soon as the house lights go up, and e prosaic, individual arrangements of sin trough the crowd to the exit doors? As the £he return from the play world is like the s always an abrupt fall into the mundane, xile. "50 Performers, too, often share such Nina Simone once said that "the saddest

t didn't mean anything once you were off the wonder and intimacy and potential :e, Metamorphoses, when the street outside blurry, too dirty, too fast-moving, when it ntion, insisting that our pleasurable mem e actors playing in water too quickly fade, ; loss? ; the texture of these moments of depar ~ustin, for example, the street isn't quite as York. The soft air and thick trees cushion

y, the traffic has long since quieted down. companions, I can often hear other specta ormance, and sometimes I stop to talk to saw and felt. At a recent Laurie Anderson

:, for instance, I struck up a conversation 's previous visits to Austin, about how this )wer, evidence perhaps of her own aging is thoughts as we headed in separate direc ors can take time together when we're not ourselves for the tumult of real life. 1rist Superstar in the cavernous Bass Con (len seated in front of me and my partner

turned around at intermission to confess that the musical was the first show he ever saw on Broadway, back when he was "seven," he joked. For no apparent reason, he wanted to talk, to reminisce, and when he turned, he found us receptive listeners (since I, too, was overrun with nostalgia for my own experience of seeing the show as a teenager, and my own amaze ment that these many years later, I still remembered every word of every song). Austin audiences have a reputation for standing ovations, indis criminately rising to their feet at the end of most performances. Seasoned spectators tend to scoff and roll their eyes when this happens, before we, too, grudgingly get to our feet. But I'm moved by the respect and generos ity of this gesture, this attempt to let the performers see us honoring their labor, each time. Perhaps these moments of public feeling that end our time together in the theater make us comfortable talking to each other as we move up the aisles and out onto the street. Perhaps the warm nights, and the proximity of our cars, and the generally relaxed and forgiving Austin atmosphere prompts us to be generous with each other and our selves, allowing the moment of performance to linger longer.

In Utopia in Performance, I examine those moments, which perfor mance theorist and practitioner Richard Schechner calls "cool down," so reminiscent of when the lights come up after last call in a bar to reveal the tired, too human, sweaty flesh of ordinary people who'd been transformed only a moment ago by flashing lights and a persistent, irresistible beat.52

The moments before that letdown are what I like to call "disco ball moments," which are, in fact, utopian performatives.53 How can we-or should we-bring the clarity of utopian performatives to the rest of our lives? Should utopian performatives work outside the frame of theatrical performance? Do they fail if they don't translate to more quotidian life? Many commentators measure political theater only by its effectiveness in the "real world." In Utopia in Performance, I try to resist such stark bina ries between performance and reality, and suggest that the experience of performance, the pleasure of a utopian performative, even if it doesn't change the world, certainly changes the people who feel it.

Perhaps instead of measuring the utopian performative's "success" against some real notion of effectiveness, we need to let it live where it does its work best-at the theater or in moments of consciously constructed performance wherever they take place. The utopian performative, by its -very nature, can't translate into a program for social action, because it's most effective as a feeling. Perhaps that feeling of hope, or that feeling of desire, embodied by that suddenly hollow space in the pit of my stomach

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20 ~ Utopia in Performance

that drops me into an erotics of connection and commonality-perhaps such intensity of feeling is politics enough for utopian performatives. Per haps burdening such moments with the necessity that they demonstrate their effectiveness after the performance ends can only collapse the fragile, beautiful potential of what we can hold in our hearts for just a moment. The desire to feel, to be touched, to feel my longing addressed, to share the complexity of hope in the presence of absence and know that those around me, too, are moved, keeps me returning to the theater, keeps me willing to practice a utopian vision for which in some tangible way, no direct real-life analogy exists. The politics lie in the desire to feel the potential of else where. The politics lie in our willingness to attend or to create perfor mance at all, to come together in real places-whether theaters or dance dubs-to explore in imaginary spaces the potential of the "not yet" and the "not here."54

I won't claim that seeing De[ Poetry Jam on Broadway or Blanket at a university theater changes the world. As philosopher Herbert Marcuse, whose writing about art and Eros profoundly influenced a generation of artists and activists in the 1960s, said, "Art cannot change the world, but it can contribute to changing the consciousness and drives of the men and women who could change the world."55 He also says that art can invoke "an image of the end of power, the appearance of freedom. But this is only the appearance; clearly, the fulfillment of this promise is not within the domain of art."56 That is, we can't measure the effectiveness of art as we can a piece of legislation, or a demonstration, or a political campaign for candidates or for issues. But I do believe that the experience of perfor mance, and the intellectual, spiritual, and affective traces it leaves behind, can provide new frames of reference for how we see a better future extend ing out from our more ordinary lives. Seeing that vision, we can figure out how to achieve it outside the fantastical, magic space of performance.

Reanimating Humanism

Utopian performatives usefully point us toward redefinitions of concepts and values once held dear but more recently exhausted under the terms of postmodernism and the political ascendancy of a hardly compassionate American conservatism. In cultural criticism, postmodernist thought meant mistrusting the possibility of originality and insight, and abandon ing belief in the transcendence of meaning and truth for a more cynical

relativity. The related ar method in literary studies t canonical texts and belief deconstruct the inculcatior race, ethnicity, and other i, generative mode of thinki ernism in culture and p( humanism somehow becaIl ican imagination, driven to capitalist globalism.57 Part c potential of utopian perfo humanism and seeing, thI more radical democracy mi power of affect, usefully ex haps progressives can once doesn't have to be an out-o that brings it incrementall} ccdemocracy [is1the form ' zens," that "democratic citi virtue is mutual respect; it democracy and self-govern interference."58 How might as a structure for liberation

Part of the power I see in might, by extension, resurt change, even if such change been too long discredited .• doesn't have to be seen as ) belief, through "exposure t( indispensable human soci~ 'need' is not for me a 'dirty insignia of status from tin masks of liminal masquerac most apt for performers \I utopian performatives, perl might find, in performance: inhibiting restraints of the the "what if'; that is, a com

The revised humanism I

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-apia in Performance

connection and commonality-perhaps ; enough for utopian performatives. Per Nith the necessity that they demonstrate mance ends can only collapse the fragile, m hold in our hearts for just a moment. to feel my longing addressed, to share the :e of absence and know that those around urning to the theater, keeps me willing to h in some tangible way, no direct real-life 1 the desire to feel the potential of else illingness to attend or to create perfor 1 real places-whether theaters or dance .paces the potential of the "not yet" and

Poetry Jam on Broadway or Blanket at a vorld. As philosopher Herbert Marcuse, IS profoundly influenced a generation of ;aid, "Art cannot change the world, but it :onsciousness and drives of the men and rorld."55 He also says that art can invoke le appearance of freedom. But this is only llment of this promise is not within the l't measure the effectiveness of art as we :monstration, or a political campaign for to believe that the experience of perfor tual, and affective traces it leaves behind, !lce for how we see a better future extend lives. Seeing that vision, we can figure out ~astical, magic space of performance.

,ting Humanism

loint us toward redefinitions of concepts )re recently exhausted under the terms of 1 ascendancy of a hardly compassionate tural criticism, postmodemist thought . of originality and insight, and abandon )f meaning and truth for a more cynical

Introduction '""""" 21

relativity. The related arguments of poststructuralism, a theoretical method in literary studies that dismantled so-called master narratives and canonical texts and belief systems, usefully allowed commentators to deconstruct the inculcations of conservative ideas about gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, and other identity markers, as well as to instill doubt as a generative mode of thinking. Partially through the effects of postmod ernism in culture and poststructuralism in criticism, democracy and humanism somehow became bankrupt concepts in the progressive Amer ican imagination, driven to disrepair and disrepute by the cynicism oflate capitalist globalism.57 Part of my argument, in trumpeting the progressive potential of utopian performatives in performance, is that reanimating humanism and seeing, through performance, more effective models of more radical democracy might reinvigorate a dissipated Left. Through the power of affect, usefully explored and even harnessed at the theater, per haps progressives can once again persuade one another that a better world doesn't have to be an out-of-reach ideal, but a process of civic engagement that brings it incrementally closer. Political theorist Mary Dietz says that "democracy [is] the form of politics that brings people together as citi zens," that "democratic citizenship" is a relation of "civic peers; its guiding virtue is mutual respect; its primary principle is the 'positive liberty' of democracy and self-government, not simply the 'negative liberty' of non interference."58 How might a radical notion of democracy allow us to see it as a structure for liberation, rather than restraint?59

Part of the power I see in utopian performatives is the way in which they might, by extension, resurrect a belief or faith in the possibility of social change, even if such change simply means rearticulating notions that have been too long discredited. A desire to revitalize humanism or democracy doesn't have to be seen as naive and idealistic; Turner suggests that such belief, through "exposure to or immersion in communitas seems to be an indispensable human social requirement. People have a real need, and 'need' is not for me a 'dirty word,' to doff the masks, cloaks, apparel, and insignia of status from time to time even if only to don the liberating masks of liminal masquerade."60 While Turner's suggestion seems at first most apt for performers who participate in generating communitas or utopian performatives, perhaps such need describes audiences, too, who might find, in performance, necessary ways to release themselves from the inhibiting restraints of the "as is" for the more liberatory possibilities of the "what if'; that is, a common human need to hope. 61

The revised humanism I imagine doesn't devolve into the transcenden

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II 22 ~ Utopia in Perfonnance

tal sign of "man," and doesn't become omniscient and omnipotent. This reanimated and reenvisioned humanism is contextual, situational, and specific, nothing at all like the totalizing signifier it once described. This wiser humanism has learned from the difficult work of identity politics and absorbs those lessons into its belief system. This reconstructed humanism is multiple, respecting the complexities and ambiguities of identity while it works out ways for people to share and feel things in com mon, like the need for survival and for love, for compassion, and for hope.

Referring to the events of September 11, 2001, leftist commentator Todd Gitlin says, "Terrorists remind us, you and I, that we share the common con dition of citizens, that we are subject to all they are subjected to, that we can not secede."62 Lest his emphasis on citizenship appear too nationalist (with its danger ofxenophobia and blind, uncritical patriotism), Gitlin says,

I'm not complacent about how far we've come toward securing a human future, yet the growth of institutions such as the Hague human rights court tells me that we might be on our way; if not toward a fed eral world government, then at least toward a sort of Articles of Con federation in which we collectively agree that the enforcement of the collective good trumps the national boundaries that were the great political achievements of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.63

Gitlin proposes, then, a postnationalist expression of humanism to replace the fractures ofidentity politics and to gather citizens ofthe world together in a common search for equality and freedom. I very much still identify as a feminist, and still feel community with people who call themselves "queer"; my perspective remains steeped in feminism, queer theory, and critical race studies. But I also want a more capacious form of response and address. While noting how the performances I discuss position the politics of identity, I find myself equally interested in how, through their particu lar performance styles and genres, these performances address something we might call our common humanity.64

In chapter 6, I search through performances, looking for models of reanimated humanism in moments of breathtakingly clear and hopeful interactions among performers and between performers and spectators. In Deborah Warner and Fiona Shaw's production of Medea, for instance, I find an argument for love and faith, even amid the tragedy of infanticide. An overarching humanism seems to steer the performers in Mary Zim merman's Metamorphoses, as they enact historical myths and cajole us

with their continuing res moments of utopia in per charge, and becomes, like , point of process moving to' Martha Nussbaum calls a Il "Many universal conception arrogant way and neglectfu life."66 But, she suggests, "w ded life' of community and ~ values build their own cor friendship and agency, embe ways to groups of [people] u

Is it too much to ask of p( us with the world, as well as tions? As I note in chapter 2, know I risk emptying even j Yet I find myself wanting 1 ground them not in naIvete ( rial conditions that give rise' we use sentimentality as SOl Neoconservatives know ho"\\ for example, the efficacy of Texas will require waiting pe during which these women" fetuses at various stages of ( phize a collection of cells a seem to agree on what count' to feel differently about thei progressive scholars have int thoroughly to be able to set representation.71 In Utopia i matives can accommodate t:l: time engaging languages of ( part of a necessary, crucial r(

Chapter 2, "'A Femn Performance," begin:

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orne omniscient and omnipotent. This nanism is contextual, situational, and liizing signifier it once described. This I the difficult work of identity politics its belief system. This reconstructed : the complexities and ambiguities of people to share and feel things in com for love, for compassion, and for hope. nber 11, 2001, leftist commentator Todd )U and I, that we share the common con t to all they are subjected to, that we can citizenship appear too nationalist (with uncritical patriotism), Gitlin says,

" far we've come toward securing a institutions such as the Hague human 1t be on our way; if not toward a fed east toward a sort of Articles of Con !ly agree that the enforcement of the anal boundaries that were the great teenth and nineteenth centuries.63

alist expression of humanism to replace Ito gather citizens of the world together ld freedom. I very much still identify as lity with people who call themselves teeped in feminism, queer theory, and a more capacious form of response and ormances I discuss position the politics terested in how, through their particu these performances address something ity.64

performances, looking for models of ts of breathtakingly clear and hopeful I between performers and spectators. In s production of Medea, for instance, I 1, even amid the tragedy of infanticide. to steer the performers in Mary Zim " enact historical myths and cajole us

Introduction ~ 23

with their continuing resonance. The "universal," viewed through moments of utopia in performance, loses its insistent, transhistorical marge, and becomes, like commurutas, like "society," like "utopia," a point of process moving toward what political theorist and philosopher Martha Nussbaum calls a more "human core. "65 As Nussbaum admits, "'Many universal conceptions of the human being have been insular in an arrogant way and neglectful of differences among cultures and ways of life."66 But, she suggests, "We do not have to choose between 'the embed ded life' of community and a deracinated type of individualism. Universal mues build their own communities, communities of resourcefulness, friendship and agency, embedded in the local scene but linked in complex

• ways to groups of [people1in other parts of the world. "67 Is it too much to ask of performance, that it teach us to love and to link

us with the world, as well as to see and to think critically about social rela I tions? As I note in chapter 2, I know I risk sentimentality with this work; I bow I risk emptying even further overused signs like "peace" or "love." Yet I find myself wanting to take back these words, to refill them, to

•puund them not in naIvete or troubling innocence, but in concrete, mate " Dal conditions that give rise to empathy (and more) for others.68 How can ,1R use sentimentality as something positive instead of abandoning it?69 "Neoconservatives know how to use powerful, emotional images; witness, h example, the efficacy of antiabortion activism. Pending legislation in

will require waiting periods for those choosing to have an abortion, :_1Il1:111: which these women will be offered vividly photographed images of

at various stages of development in an attempt to anthropomor a collection of cells and microbes.7° Prochoice progressives can't

to agree on what counterimages to use that would encourage women frel differently about their choices. We're fearful of hegemony; some

_lJgI"essive scholars have internalized the lessons of poststructuralism too to be able to settle unambivalently on one effective counter

In Utopia in Performance, I suggest that utopian perfor ......ctT.r.,,' can accommodate the Left's fear of prescription, while at the same

engaging languages of emotion and images, of passion and fervor as of a necessary, crucial representational counterdiscourse.

piographical Solo btional entangle

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Augusto Boal

THEATRE

OF THE

OPPRESSED TRANSLATED BY

CHARLES A. & MARIA-ODILIA LEAL McBRIDE

THEATRE COMMUNICATIONS GROUP

NEW YORK 1985

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Theatre of the Oppressed is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc., the national organization for the nonprofit professional theatre, 355 Lexington Ave., New York, NY 10017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without. written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 0-930452-49-6

First TeO edition 1985 Second Printing, January 1990

Third Printing, March 1993 Fourth Printing, June 1995 Fifth Printing, April 1998

Sixth Printing, February 2001

For my son Fabian Silbert

andfor Andrea, Karina, and Pablo Galak

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #36

121

P>&lrCl1

Experiments with the People's Theater in Peru

These experiments were carried out in August of 1973, in the cities of Lima and Chiclayo, with the invaluable collaboration of Alicia Saco, within the program of the Integral Literacy Operation (Opera cion A/fabetizacion Integral [ALFIN)). directed by Alfonso Lizar zaburu and with the participation, in the various sectors, of Estela Linares, Luis Garrido Lecca, Ram6n Vilcha, and Jesus Ruiz Durand. The method used by ALFIN in the literacy program was, of course, derived from Paulo Freire.

In 1973. the revolutionary government of Peru began a na tionalliteracy campaign called Operacitm A(fabetizacion Integral with the objective of eradicating illiteracy within the span of four years. It is estimated that in Peru's population of 14 million people, between three and four million are illiterate or semi illiterate.

In any country the task of teaching an adult to read and write poses a difficult and delicate problem. In Peru the problem is magnified because of the vast number of languages and dialects spoken by its people. Recent studies point to the existence of at least 41 dialects of the two principal languages, ~sides Spanish, which are the Quechua and the Aymara. Research carried out in the province of Loreto in the north of the country, verified the existence of 45 different languages in that region. Forty-five lan guages, not mere dialects! And this is what is perhaps the least populated province in the country.

Poetics ofthe Oppressed

This great variety of languages has perhaps contributed to an understanding on the part of the organizers of ALFIN, that· the illiterate are not people who are unable to express themselves: they are simply people unable to express themselves in a particu lar language, which in this case is Spanish. All idioms are "lan guages," but there. is an infinite number of languages that are noi idiomatic. There are many languages besides those that are. writ..; ten or spoken. By learning a new language, a person acquires a new Way. of knowing reality and of passing that knowledge on to others.E..l!fll !!tnguage is absol u~jrreplaceable. All languages complement each other in achieving the widest, most complete knowledge of what isreal. t .... . . . . . ..

Assuming this lobe true, the ALFINpToject formulated two principal aims:

1) to .teach literacy in both the first language and in Spanish without forcing the abandonment of the fQrmer in favor of the latter; . .

2) to teach literacy in .a11 PQssible languages, especially the artistic ones, such as theater; photography, puppetry, films, journalism,etc.

The training of the. educators, chosen from the same regions where literacy was to be taught,was developed infour stages· according to the special characteristics of each social group:

1) barrios (neighbQrhoods)or new villages •.corresponding to our slums (cantegril, favela, .. ,):

2) rural areas; 3} mining areas; 4) areas where Spanish is not the first language, which em

brace 40 percent of the population; Of this 40 percent, half is made up of bilingual citizens who learned Spanish after acquiring fluency in their own indigenous language. The other half speaks no Spanish.

It is too early to evaluate the results ofthe ALFIN plan since it is still in its early stages. What I propose to do here is to relate my personal experience as a participant in the theatrical sector and to outline the various experiments we made in considering the theater as language, capable of being utilized by any persQn, with or without artistic talent. We tried to show in practice how the theater can be placed at the service of the oppressed, so that they can express themselves and so that, by using this new lan guage, they can also discover new concepts.

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #37

123 THEATER OF THE OPPRESSED122

In order to understand thispoetics o/the oppressed one must keep in mind its main objective: to change the eo I

..if--~~.wn..:~_p.!~sk~"J;u~lQg§,J.n..t: eatnc phenomenQ!!...:: r in~,.~~l!bi~· actors, transformers or tfie Qramatlc actio. I

. hope that the differences remain clear. sto e ses a po etics in which the spectator delegates power to the . dramatic character so that the latter may act and think for him. Brecht proposes a poetics in which the spectator delegates power to the character who thus acts in his place but the spectator reserves the right to think for himself, often in opposition to the character. In the first case, a "catharsis" occurs; in the second, an awakening f critical consciousness. But the poetlcs of.the oppressed fo~

cuses on the action itself: tile spectatOfaclegates"'iii5Po-wer-totfle ~~W"Fai~!)"e~rto'"acrort(nmiilrifrfilrp~ contrary, ~)iim~..!~~~s the p!Ot~~~~ rol~, 9,h~lhe ~~~1!£,.!l£!!2!l' tries()....t.!.{)lu!!Ql!~! ~i~~!:l~~~p!~~.!~:5P:~~e In short, trains himself for real action. In this case, perhapS1fie' theater is IiOfrevoIutionary inl~but it is surely a rehearsal for the revolution. The liberare.<!~lL~latQ.r~~!h,~ launches into action:'Nomatter that the action is fictional; what i1iatters is that IilS action!

I believe that all the truly revolutionary theatrical groups should transfer to the people the means of production in the thea ter so that the people themselves may utilize them. The theater is a weapon, and it is the people who should wield it.

But how is this transference to be achieved? As an example I cite what was done by Estela Linares, who was in charge of the photography section of the ALFIN Plan.

What would be the old way to utilize photography in a liter acy project? Without doubt, it would be to photograph things, streets, people, landscapes, stores, etc., then show the pictures and discuss them. But who would take these pictures? The in structors, group leaders, or coordinators. On the other hand. if we are going to give the people the means of production, it is necessary to hand over to them, in this case, the camera. This is what was done in ALFIN. The educators would give a camera to members ofthe study group, would teach them how to use it. and propose to them the following:

We are going to ask you some questions. For this purpose we will speak in Spanish. And you must answer us. But you can not speak in Spanish: you must speak in .. photography. tt We ask you things in

Poetics of the Oppressed

Spanish. which is a language. You answer us in photography. which is also a language .

The questions asked were very simple, and the answers that is, the photos - were discussed later by the group. For example, when people were asked, where do you live?, they re

. sponded with the following types of photo-answers: 1) A picture showing the interior of a shack. In Lima it rarely

rains and for this reason the shacks are made of straw mats, instead of with more permanent walls and roofs. In general they have only one room that serves as kitchen, living room, and bed room; the families live in great promiscuity and very often young children watch their parents engage in sexual intercourse, which commonly leads to sexual acts between brothers and sisters as young as ten or eleven years old, simply as an imitation of their parents. A photo showing the interior of a shack fully answers the question, where do you live? Every element of each photo has a special meaning, which must be discussed by the group: .the ob jects focused on, the angle from which the picture is taken, the presence or absence of people in it. etc.

2) To answer the same question, a man took a picture ofthe bank of a river. The discussion clarified its meaning. The river Rimae, which passes through Lima, overflows at certain times of the year. This makes life on its banks extremely dangerous, since shacks are often swept away, with a consequent loss of human lives. It is also very common for children to fall into the river while playing and the rising waters make rescue difficult. When a man answers the question with that picture, he is fundamentally expressing anguish: how can he work with peace of mind knowing that his child may be drowning in the river?

3) Another man photographed a part of the river where peli cans come to eat garbage in times of great hunger; the people, equally hungry, capture, kill and eat the pelicans. Showing this photo, the man communicated his awareness of living in a place where ironically the people welcomed hunger, because it at

. tracted the pelicans which then served to satisfy their hunger. 4) A woman who had recently emigrated from a small vil

lage in the interior answered with a picture of the main street in her barrio: the old natives of Lima lived on one side of the street, while those from the interior lived on the other. On Olle side were those who saw their jobs threatened by the newcomers; on the

Intro to Theater: What is Spectatorship? What is an Audience? Page #38

125 124 THEATER OF THE OPPRESSED

other, the poor who had left everything behind in search of work. The street was a dividing line between brothers equally exploited, who found themselves facing each other as if they were enemies. The picture helped to reveal their common condition: poverty on both sides - while pictures of the wealthier neighborhoods showed who were their true enemies. The picture of ,the divided street showed the need to redirect their violent resentment ..•• Studying the picture of her street helped the woman to under stand her own reality.

5) One day a man, in answer to the same question, took a picture of a child'srace. Of course everyone thought that the man had made a mistake and repeated the question to him:

"You didn't understand; what we want is that you show us where you live. Take a picture and show us where you live. Any picture; the street, the house, the town, the river ... "

"Here is my answer. Here is where I live." "But it's a child .•.•" "Look at his face: there is blood on it. This child,as all the

others who live here, have, their lives threatened by the rats that infest the whole bank of the river Rimae. They are protected by dogs that attack the rats and scare them away. But there was a mange epidemic and the city dog-catcher came around here catching lots of dogs and taking them aw'ay. This child had a dog who protected him. During the day his parents used to go to work and he was left with his dog. But now he doesn't have it any more. A few days ago, when you asked me where I lived, the rats had come while the child was sleeping and had eaten part of his , nose. This is why there's so much blood on his face. Look at the picture; it is my answer. I live in a place where things like this still happen."

I could write a novel about the children of t~ barrios along the river Rimae; but only photography, and no other language, could express the pain of that child's eyes, of those tears mixed with blood. And, as if the irony and outrage were not enough" the photograph was in Kodachrome, "Made in U.S.A."

The use of photography may help also to discover valid sym bols for a whole community or social group. It happens many times that well intentioned theatrical groups are unable to com municate with a mass audience because they use symbols that are meaningless for that audience. A royal crown may i symbolize

, ~,,~f

Poetics a/the Oppressed

power, but a symbol only fUnctions as such if its meaning is shared. For some a royal crown may produce a strong impact and yet be meaningless for others,.

What is exploitation? The traditional figure of Uncle Sam is, for many social groups throughout the world; the ultimate symbol of exploitation. It expresses to perfection the rapacity of "Yan kee" imperialism.

In Lima the people were also asked, what is exploitation? Many photographs showed the grocer; others the landlord; still others, some government office. On, the, other hand" a child answered with the picture of a nail on a wall. For him that was the perfect symbol of exploitation. Few adults understood it,but all the other children were in complete agreement that the picture expressed their feelings in relation to exploitation. The discussion explained why. The simplest work boys engage in at the age of five or six is shining shoes. Obviously, in the barrios where they live there are no shoes to shipe and, for this reason, they mustgo to downtown Lima in order to find work. Their shine-boxes and other tools of the trade are of course an absolute necessity. and yet these boys cannot be carrying their equipment back and forth every day between work and home. So they must rent a nail on the wall of some place of business, ,whose owner charges them two or three soles per night and per nail. Looking af a nail, those children are reminded of oppression and their hatred of it; the sight of a crown, Uncle Sam, or Nixon, however, probably means nothing to them.

It is easy enough to give a camera to someone who has never taken a picture before, tell him how to focus it and which button to press. With this alone the means of photographic production are in the hands of that person. But what is to be done in the case of the theater?

The means for producing a photograph are embodied in the camera, which is relatively easy to handle, but the means of pro ducing theater are made up of man himself, obviously more dif ficult to manage.

We can begin by stating that the first word of the theatrical vocabulary is the human body, the main source of sound and ~ovement. Therefore, !£l.~g]),trol th~ .~':..aJl~,~!",~~.~~~c.~,~:~~~i t10n,~!Lmu~t....firSl~QfJ!lh,,~,QDl(Ql.hls~~"~!L,,~.X~W, ~,~~n boGy. in order to be capable of making it more express'fiig,TheIf ;.1'-"""'-- "'I... "---__, ____,,......;;;.-

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127 THEATER OF THE OPPRESSED126

he will be able to practice theatrical forms in which by stages he frees himself from his condition of spectator and takes on that of actor, in which he ceases to be an object and becomes a subject, is changed from witness into protagonist.

The plan for transforming the spe-ctator into actor can be systematized in the following general outline of four stages:

First stage: Knowing the body: a series of exercises by which one gets to know one's body, its limitations and possibilities, its social distortions and possibilities of rehabilitation.

Second stage: Making the body expressive: a series of games by which one begins to express one's self through the body, abandoning other, more common and habitual forms of ex pression.

Third stage: The theater as language: one begins to practice thea ter as a language that is living and present, not as a finished product displaying images from the past: First degree: Simultaneous dramaturgy: the spectators

"write" simultaneously with the acting of the actors; Second degree: Image theater: the spectators intervene di

rectly, "speaking" through images made with the act ors' bodies;

Third degree: Forum theater: the spectators intervene di rectly in the dramatic action and act.

Fourth stage: The theater as discourse: simple forms in which the spectator-actor creates "spectacles" according to his need to discuss certain themes or rehearse certain actions. Examples: 1) Newspaper theater 2) Invisible theater 3) Photo-romance theater 4) Breaking of repression 5) Myth theater 6) Trial theater 7) Masks and Rituals

First StaJ

The e~ peasants, workers, or villagers proposal to put on a theatrical difficult. They have

Poetics of the Oppressed

quite likely never heard of theater and if they have heard of it, their conception of it will probably have been distorted by televi sion, with its emphasis on sentimentality, or by some traveling circus group. It is also very common for those people to associate theater with leisure or frivolity. Thus caution is required even when the contact takes place through an educator who belongs to the same class as the illiterates or semi-illiterates, even if he lives among them in a shack and shares their comfortless life. The very fact that the educator comes with the mission of eradicating illit eracy (which presupposes a coercive, forceful action) is in itself an alienating factor between the agent and the local people. For this reason the theatrical experience should begin not with some thing alien to the people (theatrical techniques that are taught or imposed) but with the bodies of those who agree to participate in the experiment.

There is a great number of exercises designed with the objec tive of making each person aware of his own body, of his bodily possibilities, and of deformations suffered because of the type of work he performs. That is, it is necessary for each one to feel the "muscular alienation" imposed on his body by work.

A simple example will serve to clarify this point: compare the muscular structure of a typist with that of the night watchman of a factory. The first performs his or her work seated in a chair: from the waist down the body becomes, during working hours, a kind of pedestal, while arms and fingers are active. The watchman, on the other hand, must walk continually during his eight-hour shift and consequently will develop muscular structures that facilitate walking. The bodies of both become alienated in accordance with their respective types of work.

The same is true of any person whatever the work or social status. The combination of roles that a person must perform im poses on him a "mask" of behavior. This is why those who perform the same roles end up resembling each other: artists, soldiers, clergymen, teachers, workers, peasants, landlords, de cadent noblemen, etc.

Compare the angelical placidity of a cardinal walking in heavenly bliss through the Vatican Gardens with, on the other hand, an aggressive general giving orders to his inferiors. The former walks softly, listening to celestial music, sensitive to col ors of the purest impressionistic delicacy: if by chance a small

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