Playwright Adam Szymkowicz wrote on his blog the other day about revisiting the early-’90s TV series Northern Exposure:
In the episode I just saw, Chris, the radio dj loses his voice when a
beautiful woman stops by the station to ask for directions. His voice was taken by beauty. Sounds like a Sarah Ruhl play, no? He eventually gets his voice back after Maggie, the most beautiful woman in town kisses him…One of my favorite parts is Joel's increasing jealousy about Maggie who the town thinks is having sex with Chris to give him his voice back. The entire town waits outside her cabin to see if he will emerge with
his voice.
And gosh, that does sound kind of like a Sarah Ruhl play. I was asked not long ago if I could explain my general distaste for Ruhl's style, of which I've made no secret. I blathered a bit about her affinity for wordplay that, in my opinion, serves to "sound pretty" more than it serves her plots, and about her reliance on visual symbols that I don't find, ultimately, to say anything (i.e. the paper houses in Dead Man's Cell Phone or those damn fish in Passion Play).
Then I referenced something Ruhl said in this interview with TOC last fall just before Passion Play's opening at the Goodman that's been bothering me ever since:
You’re part of a wave of
playwrights interested in the whimsical—less naturalism than
surrealism. What do you make of that trend?
I think people are bored of watching watered-down television onstage. I think playwrights are responding to that.
What do you mean by “watered-down television”?
What
I mean is family dramas that take place in a house with furniture, and
there’s an issue at the center of it and a secret that is ultimately
revealed.
But couldn’t one say that this
whimsy-playwriting—with its quick scene cuts, interior fantasy
sequences, breezy dialogue—is influenced more by TV trends than by
theatrical tradition?
I don’t really watch TV, so I don’t
know. But I do think we live in a cinematic culture, so the concept
that you might achieve more by juxtaposition of images than by linear
progression through time—I think that’s definitely part of being in the
Digital Age.
It's been nagging at me for some time, but I think what rankled me about that statement is that TV has actually been doing what Ruhl does for some time now. Whether it's the current critical hit Pushing Daisies, the mobsters-in-therapy and talking fish on The Sopranos, or the dancing babies of Ally McBeal a decade ago, popular television has been mining this whimsical vein for quite a while. Northern Exposure hadn't entered into this equation for me until Szymkowicz suggested it, but he's quite right about it. (There's also, for me, the fact that when so many non-MacArthur-grant-recipient playwrights are making their real livings on TV shows and the majority of cultural critics have come around to taking television seriously, the whole "Oh I don't watch TV" business seems elitist and out of touch, but we'll leave that aside for now.)
The question becomes: why am I okay with all of this whimsy on TV, where Pushing Daisies, The Sopranos, Ally McBeal and Northern Exposure are all series I enjoy to varying degrees, while it rubs me the wrong way when I see Ruhl and Noah Haidle and their spiritual kin putting it on stage? Is there something about stage vs. screen that makes a difference (because, let's be honest, I also love me some Amelie)? Or do I have a less critical eye toward the formats I don't write about on a regular basis?
To broaden the question: Are there things you dig in TV and film (or in books, visual art, whatever) that bug you in theater? Or vice versa?
Recent Comments