A Brief "Sportz!" Reflection

Freshman year me (Aww, so cute [and fat]!)

As many of you already know, I am currently involved in Glenbrook North's production of "Comedy Sportz!" performing this Wednesday through Saturday in the CPA. As a means of remembrance and self-reflection, I always try to contemplate how each show I am involved in has affected my life or the lives of others. Never, however, have I performed the same show twice on two different occasions. This time is different; I was also involved in the 2009 production of "Comedy Sportz!" as a freshman, and performing the same show twice is unique to say the least.

I'll first start by mentioning that which has remained continuous since my freshman year. The show is still being performed at the same times on the same stage in the same auditorium as my freshman year, and my friends Ellie and Ed have been involved in both productions of the show as well. The show still revolves around improvisation, so every showing is technically different, though the set-up is almost identical to what it was three years ago. Essentially the foundation of the show has remained constant, whereas numerous differences lie in the shows inner workings.

Me reffing the show
Yay!

To start, I'm no longer a frightened, shy freshman. I am the captain of my Comedy Sportz team (cleverly named the "Matzo Ballers" due to our Jewish heritage), and I tend to actively involve myself in almost every scene. In almost total opposition to my deer-in-the-headlights-like demeanor three years ago, I am now one of the more experienced members of the show, and I have tried to establish myself as a leader as a result.

What's more insightful to me (and more blog-worthy in my opinion) has been the change I have witnessed in myself. Change is a slow process, and I have often criticized myself for not growing enough as a performer or as a person throughout my high school career. Although performance can be liberating, I have found that it can also foster low self-esteem. I have struggled with this issue throughout my performing career, but this production of "Comedy Sportz!" has demonstrated to me how important it is to look back upon the past with positivity and lack of regret.

"Comedy Sportz!" this time around has acted as a window to the past. I'm not one of the best players in the show by any means, but I am still proud of the growth I have seen in myself over the past three years. I have learned that it often takes a repetition of the past to propel oneself into the future. Our wonderful theatre director Ms. Robinson has always told us to "Trust the process"—to trust that it will all work out in the end. "Comedy Sportz!" has demonstrated to me how important that advice truly is; if we trust our own potential, positive change is inevitable.

Reading Korra in Tehran

I try to avoid "geeking out" over my favorite TV shows (and trust me, I could if I wanted to) in my blog posts, but this was simply too intriguing to avoid. The other day, I noticed that Mike DiMartino, the creator of my favorite animated show "The Legend of Korra," had started his own blog about the series and about life. Half hoping for some insight about the show and half simply geeking out, I decided to follow his blog. Turns out his most recent post not only struck a chord with my life but also related immensely to my recent study of modern Iran in English class. Relevance notwithstanding, DiMartino touches on something we could all use a bit more of.

[If you would like to visit DiMartino's blog post, click here. Highly intriguing (if you can get past the fandom nerdiness)!]

Just for some background, our English class is currently reading Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran. Following the story of several Iranian women who create a reading group in silent objection to the fundamentalist Islamic regime, Reading Lolita in Tehran provides key insight into the power of fiction and storytelling in a confusing and often unfair world. The world around this small reading group is considered to be a farce—a false reality—whereas the women's real selves are revealed within. In reference to Nabokov's Invitation to a Beheading, Nafisi claims the women are living in a "staged world," wherein the "only window to another universe is... writing."

This "staged world" clearly lends itself well to the umbrella of performance. What was not immediately evident to me, however, was how well this related to DiMartino's blog. What I originally thought would simply be a blog about upcoming developments in the new season of "Legend of Korra" has pleasantly surprised me, and DiMartino, too, talks about the power of storytelling and myth, quoting Joseph Campbell's "The Power of Myth" liberally. DiMartino claims, "Stories, when made with love and integrity, contain the possibility to effect personal and societal change."

Nafisi certainly would not disagree. Although our class is but one hundred or so pages into the book thus far, Nafisi has already revealed to us the vast restrictions placed on women in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Each day, as the women enter the living room to discuss literature, they cast off the black attire and veils that they are forced to wear outside. Nafisi claims these women had almost become solely defined by the veils they wore; in essence, the fundamentalist regime had stolen their individuality—stolen their stories. Only through fiction (or what DiMartino calls "myth"), can these women embrace the world around them as well as themselves. It's a powerful message to women in fundamentalist nations around the world, specifically Iran.

In his post, DiMartino mentions how strength lies in an individual's stories. In Iran, these stories are stolen from the individual, and the women in Nafisi's book feel worthless as a result. The upcoming season of Legend of Korra is titled "Change," and it is set to deal with the power that an individual (Korra herself) holds to change the world. I can't wait to see how it further relates to Reading Lolita in Tehran!

Museums are the Absolute Truth!!!

Woman sleeps in a glass box in a modern museum.
Performance exists in museums, too!

I tend to think of museums as nothing more than the absolute truth—neutral representations of what is or what was. This is a common assumption to have; museums are often considered the closest we can get to replicating actual events, so we tend to trust their portrayals. However, I have found that museums relate heavily to performance. In trying to replicate "the absolute truth," museum curators assign greater meaning to certain objects, inserting both their own biases and the biases of the actual museums into the mix. The museum is the stage, the exhibit items are the performers, and the curator is the invaluable director.

One of the best examples of performance at museums is seen at Colonial Williamsburg. This is more of "surface-level" performance, as museum actors quite literally re-enacting the everyday life of colonials. However, the site is not capturing the whole truth. It is performing—choosing which aspects of colonial life hold the most relevance and meaning in a modern setting. Is this wrong? Should small kids (the site's target audience) be exposed to the more gruesome realities—such as slavery and Indian conflict—of the colonial era? This becomes a question not of whether the "absolute truth" is obtainable, but rather if we want to obtain the absolute truth at all.

In more traditional museums, the same dilemma arises. Our English class has been studying the crucial role of the curator as the intermediary between reality and museum visitors. The power of the curator surprised me, as we often think of educating the public as museums' ultimate goal. The optimist in me would like to agree, however the pessimist in me knows that there are countless other factors to consider. Although a majority of museums in the US are non-profit, that doesn't mean that money is not a concern. In order to draw people (a.k.a. money) in, curators must adjust their plans to accommodate the knowledge and interests of the public.

All museums put on some type of performance. Some portrayals are more accurate than others, but effectively showcasing a historical event, culture, or idea in its entirety is nearly impossible by all standards. Performance is inevitable, and it is up to museum curators to balance performance and reality. Like my theatre director Ms. Robinson, they have a great burden to carry. A performance can be misleading, be it on the stage, in a discussion, or in a museum. We must remember that museums are not the absolute truth.

It's All Just a Game of Thrones

Ah, Game of Thrones: my intellectual escape into a fantasy land of knights, thrones, and war. I don't usually seek to blur the lines between my guilty pleasures and my schoolwork, but this time I couldn't resist. Recently in my English and Social Studies classes we have been discussing Africa, our perceptions of Africa, and the realities prevalent in some parts of Africa. In conjunction, we have been reading Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, the story of an American family's missionary work in the Congo. What I have found is that the people in these Congolese villages are largely uninvolved in their political system, and the heated issues that surround Western debate are of little importance to them. In Kingsolver's Congo, the system is a game of thrones with little influence on daily life, and although her portrayal may not be representative of all Africa, it brings up the key point that what is often portrayed as a fundamental issue in African states may not be an issue at all in the eyes of most citizens.

[By the way, you must go watch Game of Thrones if you are not yet obsessed.]

In The Poisonwood Bible, the evolving revolutionary movement in the Congo is of little notice to most of the Congolese. They understand and crave their newfound independence, but life continues as usual besides that. Orleanna Price, the missionary wife, goes as far as to claim "[the elites] take turns leaning forward to point out their moves with shrewd congeniality, playing it like a chess match, the kind of game that allows civilized men to play at make-believe murder" (317). Orleanna understands that while the elites play their game of chess, a society with graspable, daily dilemmas exists within.

Ruling houses of Game of Thrones depicted as chess pieces
(like I said, watch it...)

The story we tell ourselves about Africa is usually something similar to this "chess match" analogy: civil war, failed states, rampant dictatorship, etc. In all of this mess, we sometimes forget to acknowledge the daily struggles: finding food, purifying water, securing shelter. On the other hand, I'm not denying that the larger, state-based issues are important; indeed, these issues are crucial to helping us understand the broader situation that many peoples find themselves facing. However, they tend to skew our understanding of African nations.

Just like the college essays I mentioned in my previous post, portrayal is not always reality. In reality, millions of stories exist within the African continent (actually 1.033 billion stories to be exact). Obviously we can't learn each and every one, so generalizations must be made. What we must avoid, however, is viewing Africa merely as a game of thrones—although often more event-based and therefore easier to report on, the complexities surrounding a nation should not outweigh the daily struggles within.

Another College Essay Rant for You

College essays are a bunch of bologna (I still can't get over how that's spelled). Although I think it is crucial to portray yourself as honestly as possible to your schools of choice, these essays tend to be just that—bologna. I talked briefly in my last post about how we tend to produce idealized versions of ourselves in our minds, and the college process only makes this idealization more obvious.

I think it's irrational to assume that a 17 year-old has the ability to accurately describe their own psyche at all, and certainly not in 500 words. Personality is erratic at a young age; it takes time to parse through the twenty-something-thousand words in the dictionary frequently used to describe personality and decide which ones apply to you. Colleges understand this, and as a result they often ask applicants to instead focus on a specific moment or place and describe what that place means to you.

Yes alas, problems still emerge. Sure, I could write about how coming in last place in a swimming tournament made me feel sad for a while. Or I could point to my "idealized self," and write about how that loss propelled me towards greatness and taught me that losing made me a winner in the long-run. Numerous tutors and websites tell us the ideal topic to write about (like this, this, and apparently anything but this). Which sounds more appealing: the real me or the ideal me?

Portrayal is a form of performance. It is how we present ourselves in different situations, despite how we really feel. I can portray myself as a teenager overwhelmed by the myriad of colleges and college essays bogging me down (closer to the truth), or I can portray myself as clear-minded, focused, and ready to tackle the four years of unabated opportunity ahead of me (further from the truth). Although colleges claim that essays are a time to "show off," and therefore it is acceptable to portray yourself ideally, where is the line drawn? I could theoretically craft myself in a completely different light than my true self just because I am convinced that "colleges will like me better."

Then again, I'm not giving these colleges enough credit. They understand that this type of thing happens all the time. As a result, they constantly call for honest writing and genuine voice. It's almost impossible to completely replicate voice in a dishonest essay, but it can be done. Just like some are more convincing actors on stage than others, so too some applicants are more convincing portrayers than others. I'm also assuming that all applicants are dishonest in their portrayal of themselves—also untrue. I—along with large majority of applicants, surely—have tried to discover myself through the application process. I have an incentive beyond simply college to understand my own psyche, and I hope that the essay process will guide me along. Nonetheless, I'm still bitter.

[Thanks for bearing with me... I promise not to rant again for a while!]

Erecting Facades

A facade is a form of escape. If I feel guilty, I may act adamantly. If I feel angry, I may act benevolently. Behavioral facades, as defense mechanisms, help us cope with unacceptable emotions and impulses, or so my AP Psychology class has taught me. From a scientific perspective, this defense mechanism is known as reaction formation. Reaction formation helps us retain our integrity, but it also has the potential to keep emotions bottled up.

Reaction formation is highly theatrical in nature, and it is often obvious when people are "acting" contrary to their true emotions. For example, I accidentally popped a balloon in my psychology class today while the teacher was talking. This was undoubtably an awkward moment for me, yet I shrugged it off and smiled (albeit awkwardly). I tried to remain composed and treated the situation like a joke. However, I clearly was not hiding my embarrassment well, and my friend pointed out my red cheeks and wide eyes.

In other instances, reaction formation is more difficult to pinpoint. True emotions can be hidden by obscure behaviors for years, all because of the subconscious desire to retain integrity and reduce shame or embarrassment. In Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, Nathan, a father of four, hides deep-seeded guilt through missionary work in the Congo. During World War II, many of Nathan's friends perished during the infamous Bataan Death March, while Nathan himself avoided capture. As a result, Nathan carries feelings of cowardice, guilt, and failure. Instead of confronting these emotions, Nathan represses them using reaction formation. He assumes the persona of a steadfast, fearless man whose faith bows to nothing. Even in the face of a Congolese Civil War, Nathan refuses to leave, disregarding his family's rational desire to flee. Nathan erects a behavioral facade—a dangerous one.

Through Nathan's character, I have noticed that we all tend to construct idealized versions of ourselves. We act through these characters in real life, and they often cloud rational judgement (as in the case of Nathan). Although there are certainly positive impacts of defense mechanisms, it is crucial to understand that viewing oneself as ideal can have negative consequences. I love assuming new characters through performance; it is the reason why I am writing this blog. However, further discovery may prove that performance is not always the supreme goodness I thought it to be!

"Metamorphoses" and the Role of Myth

"It is said that the myth is a public dream, dreams are private myths. Unfortunately, we give our mythic side scant attention these days. As a result, a great deal escapes us and we no longer understand our own actions." (Excerpt from Mary Zimmerman's "Metamorphoses")

Snapshot of "Orpheus and Eurydice" from our production

The public and private spheres of life are increasingly important, and increasingly at odds, in the modern world. With the advent of the internet, social media, text messaging, and so on—society's "modern" adaptations—the public sphere is creeping into our private lives. However, this is not a new phenomenon. All of our world's modern developments rely heavily on what Joseph Campbell calls an "outward-oriented consciousness".¹ This consciousness addresses the day to day, down to earth issues that we must deal with to survive. This outward-oriented frame of mind, although practical, often has unforeseen consequences.

[If unfamiliar with the basic concept of Zimmerman's "Metamorphoses," click here]

As a performer in this year's production of "Metamorphoses" at GBN, the importance of both our public and private lives has revealed itself to me. Throughout the rehearsal process, our cast has discussed Zimmerman's intentions in her work as well as how we as a cast can help convey those intentions to the audience. Zimmerman argues that a "great deal escapes us" when we do not embrace our mythic side—our inward-oriented self in an outward-oriented world. 

After seeing Zimmerman's vision come to life on stage, I too am intrigued by mythic self. Each vignette in "Metamorphoses" describes a different Greek tale of Ovid, and each tale holds its own overarching meaning. In an interview, Zimmerman claims, "The fact that [the myths] hung around this long is because they are so archetypal and fundamentally revelatory about what we go through in life."² The mythic self is archetypal; it teaches us about morality, society, and relationships. Through change, the driving force of all the tales in "Metamorphoses," these archetypes are revealed to us.

Zimmerman argues the mythic self is a necessity in an increasingly outward-oriented world. Without the mythic self, we no longer have that moral foundation that can only be contained in myth—we "no longer understand our own actions."

As a part of "Metamorphoses," I would also argue that the portrayal of these archetypes is almost as important as the archetypes themselves. Zimmerman takes a centuries-old collection of obscure myths, many of which are unknown to a modern audience, and fits them into a cohesive, ninety-minute play in modern English. This is essential. Although reading translated myth is undoubtably important, placing those myths onto a stage—in a minimalist, watery setting that reflects the archetypal scene—magnifies its impact.


The scene continues, "...So it remains important and salutary to speak not only of the rational and easily understood, but also of enigmatic things: the irrational and the ambiguous. To speak both privately and publicly." If any of you come to see "Metamorphoses" at GBN, I hope that you will leave feeling entranced, fulfilled, but more importantly reflective. Think about the vast impact that the mythic self has on our public lives. Contemplate how myth affects our character in ways that an outward-oriented self simply cannot. When you realize this, in the words of Narrator #4, "How can you deny the existence of the gods?"


1 From Joseph Campbell's "Myths to Live By"
2 http://dctheatrescene.com/2013/03/15/metamorphoses-creator-mary-zimmerman-on-the-power-of-myths/

The World's a Stage (Cheesy but true)

Hello blogosphere!

My name is Alex Kaplan, and I am currently a senior at Glenbrook North High School. I’m excited to formally delve into the world of blogging, especially since I’m pretty unfamiliar with blogging altogether. I hope that you’ll all bear with me as I maneuver my way through this undiscovered territory!

To begin, I love theatre. Although I never actively involved myself in stage productions as a child, stumbling upon theatre as an eighth grader has shaped my life in more ways than I could have imagined. Since eighth grade, I have performed in thirteen productions at Glenbrook North, and each one has impacted me in some way. This year, upon the realization that I can’t stay a part of GBN Theatre forever, I have taken it upon myself to expand my theatrical love to other aspects of my life; I am producing this year’s GBN Student Written and Directed One Act Plays, reflecting about theatre in numerous college essays, and helping lead our school’s Thespian Troupe as acting Vice President. 

I plan to do the same in this blog as well. This is going to be my way to verbalize the passion I have for theatre, but I also plan to use this blog to connect theatre to other aspects of my life. Throughout highschool, I have found that performance is archetypal—performance of any sort reveals the moral and ideological core of a society. For example, this year’s fall play Metamorphoses (which I will talk about in more detail in a future post) is arranged as a collection of Greek myths, and our cast is realizing more and more about Greek society as the show nears completion. Only through performance can we truly relive the past.

Although I’m clearly biased towards performance on the live stage, my goal in this blog, as I said, is to expand my understanding of theatre. Performance is found all around us: in Matt Damon’s facial expressions, in the prose of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, in the interaction of two opposing sides during a heated debate. I am seeking to discover how performance affects everyone’s lives on a daily basis, and this blog is set to be a collection of my discoveries.

Theatre is one of my many passions, and I can’t wait to see how it relates to my everyday life. Feel free to join me for the ride!