Theatre is dead. Advances in technology have made live performance nothing more than a quaint afterthought, an archaic artistic endeavor that has outlived its usefulness. As an art form, as a means to express the concerns and obsessions of today’s youth, it has been surpassed, supplanted, and buried six feet under. Young people today have no need for Theatre, don’t care about Theatre, and are, at best, only vaguely aware even of the existence of Theatre.
Stick a fork in it. It’s done.
At least that’s what I heard when I graduated from High School in 1986. My Professors in College had heard it, too, in the 60s and 70s. Their mentors were mourners at the funeral back in the 40s. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that the death knell for Theatre as an art form was being sounded mere seconds after Sophocles took his last breath. It’s an old song and dance routine, a persistent meme, an obituary written centuries ago that insists on being republished to this day. Take a second to google some variation on “Is Theatre Dead?” and you’ll see what I mean.
And I completely understand the urge behind such pronouncements. There’s an alluring comfort in that cynical worldview. Like a tattered baby blanket, it’s easy to wrap yourself in that mindset, stick your thumb in your mouth, and cry about how much better things used to be. The Sirens that call to us all as we grow older aren’t really beautiful maidens tempting us to wreck our ships on distant shores; they’re old curmudgeons who have seen the world progress in what seems a blink of the eye, and want us to join them on the porch, yelling at those darn kids who keep stepping on our lawns. Those kids born into a technological culture that still seems vaguely new and mysterious to us who grew up with corded landlines and rabbit ears. Why, they’d rather text than talk to the person standing right next to them, right? What possible use could they have for live performance, which depends on active, present participation by all involved?
When MadLab started the Young Writers Short Play Festival three years ago, I have to admit that all of this crossed my mind. Perhaps even set up shop in my mind. Okay, dragged an old lawn chair from the basement, plopped it down forcefully, and refused to move from my mind. I wasn’t exactly optimistic about the response we would receive from these strange teenage creatures we were reaching out to, to say the least. After all, Theatre is dead, right? At least dead to the younger generation.
I’ve never been happier to have been proven wrong in my life.
Right from the beginning, we received scripts that were bold, daring, and perfect for the stage. These were scripts that demanded to be performed live, that depended on that one thing that makes Theatre unique from every other art form: Immediacy. What makes Theatre special, at least to me, is that it does the one thing that nothing else can. It brings the performer and the audience together, in a space of suspended disbelief and interaction. Unlike a novel, there are no descriptions of surroundings or unspoken thoughts. Unlike a movie, there are no quick cuts and camera angles to direct your eye to what is important. What you see before you on the stage is happening now, in real time, and what you see is what you get. Talented Directors, Actors, and Scenic Designers (set, costumes, light, sound) can take an audience to a different world, all while being there, living and breathing, right in front of them. It’s powerful stuff, Theatre, and it all begins and ends with the script. Seems nobody told these kids not to bother trying to write for the stage, it being kaput and all, because for three years we’ve all been blown away.
“Oh, but plays written by teenagers”, I hear the more curmudgeonly of you say, “what could those possibly be about? First dates and adolescent angst?”
To all of you thinking such thoughts, I have two things to say. First: Wow, condescend much in your old age, grandpa? And Second: These plays are about Life, Death, Love, Society, Truth. What all great plays are about.
No spoilers, but here’s what we’ve got for audiences this year:
Fridays beginning July 11: Bingo Purgatory by KT Bugenstein and Gina Clepper is a wildly funny piece about theology, forgiveness and what it may take for our souls to truly be at rest. 8 Minutes by Koryn Naylor tackles human connections in the face of time’s rapid pace. Kinsey Cantrell’s Trinkets examines how our families can divide us while at the same time uniting us. Breaking the Wall by Emily Cipriani uses theatrical convention expertly to explore how memory and loss are inextricably linked, and Alex Lacey gives one of the funniest Government 101 lessons I’ve ever read with Anarchy!
Saturdays beginning July 12: Instructions for an Existential Crisis by Gyasi Hall is a blueprint escape plan for those who feel trapped in the meaningless daily rut. Sue Ellen Finds a Hobby by Hannah Woods takes a darkly humorous look at privilege and murder. Amelia Koontz’ Late Flight Home brings an estranged father and daughter together far from home, with no easy answers. Clotheslines by William Lekan takes us on a journey of connection that spans years, as close as your own backyard, and Tova Seltzer skewers the world of Advertising, Paranoia, and Conspiracy Theories with the joyfully ridiculous Fresh Fold Laundry.
Pretty impressive, I’d say. In fact, I’d go so far to say that I’d be proud to include any of these scripts in MadLab’s regular season, that these scripts deserve to be given full productions, that we should throw ourselves into producing them just like we do any other scripts this year. Oh wait. That’s exactly what we’re doing. The Young Writers Short Play Festival isn’t just a nice thing we’re doing “for the kids”. No, it’s an essential reason MadLab exists, it’s an integral part of who are and what we do: Find New Plays by New Voices, and give them the due they deserve.
So, Theatre is dead, huh? Well, for a corpse it’s looking pretty good to me. Sometimes all it takes to change a perspective is to let the kids play on your lawn.
-Jim Azelvandre
MadLab Producing Director