Theatre Undiscovered: A Year in Review

At the end of each GBN production's final Saturday night performance, the cast and crew gather and begin to strike the set. We work diligently to clear the stage, and, after creating a completely unique world in the CPA, the entirely of it all is gone in under two hours. Before departing for the cast party, however, we all gather in the center section of CPA to reflect and pass out cast gifts. After each and every production, this process is exactly the same. Once it's all over, Ms. Robinson sits on the edge of the stage with a bare set behind her, gazing out into an empty audience, and gives the same speech—one I will never forget.

She talks about how important it is to look upon an empty stage at the end of a production. After building up a set, working on acting, coordinating technical cues, inputting lights—effectively creating an entirely new world on the stage—we must look back once it is all gone to admire and reflect. Theatre is ephemeral; no production is permanent. But the memories and lessons learned stay.

Every finale calls for some celebration!
The ending pose of this year's "Legally Blonde: The Musical"

In the same vein as our post-production routine, the end of my high school experience calls for some admiration and reflection. At times it's hard to believe that this chapter of my life is finally ending, and I worry about how I will react to such a drastic life change. However, in a way, I have experienced change through theatre throughout my high school career. Productions come and go every year, and, while we often can't imagine how the next production could possibly live up to the expectations of the previous production, they still improve every time. Change is often difficult, but the mark of a good performer is the ability to adapt to change and move along with it.

Over the years, I have learned a lot about myself through theatre. From my first production on a GBN stage, "Air Guitar High," to "Legally Blonde," my last, I have never been bored or felt intellectually unchallenged in the Glenbrook North Theatre Department. Above all else, I have acquired a killer eye for detail as well as a motivational work ethic. I often take the lessons that theatre has taught me for granted, convinced that if not for theatre, I would still learn these lessons elsewhere. However, theatre has proven instrumental in my development as a young adult, and it has permanently shaped me in more ways than one. For that reason, I can't imagine my life without theatre.

College is a time of discovery. That was the goal of this blog: discovery. However, since the magical world of theatre often throws curveballs, I am convinced that I will never truly discover theatre. There will always be more to find, more to discover, and more to appreciate. There will always be lessons to learn, memories to share, and growth to achieve. Though theatre has proved undiscoverable, I am thrilled that I have been lucky enough to join for the ride over these last four years, and I can't wait to continue discovering theatre throughout high school and the rest of my life.

Theatre, Ecocritically

Although we rarely think about it, theatre is deeply entrenched in its environment. Most theatre requires a stage, lighting, sound, and numerous other intricate factors to create an effective production. Even more so, however, theatre needs to create a believable environment. Theatre attempts to recreate real situations, real places, and real environments; that's essentially why we are so drawn to it.

Ecocritically, this recreation of natural environments could be considered both positive and negative. If nature is perceived as complete and divine, and that theatre is our attempt at revitalizing a depleting natural world, the environmental aspect of theatre could be seen as positive. However, if "nature" on the stage is unrealistic, seemingly perfect, or overly dramatized, theatre may only serve to exacerbate our negative interpretations of the world we live in.

Two writers explaining the new relationship
between theatre and social media

But what if theatre existed without an environment all together? In fact, some theatre-makers are writing and designing for solely "digital" purposes, without a stage or direct platform of performance. Celebrities, performers, and high-ranking officials alike are nowadays establishing their social media presence as an economic necessity, and performance on social media is highly important. These performers lack a direct environment, and instead rely on "the cloud" to carry their message. How does this indirect means of performance jeopardize—or perhaps save—our views of the environment?

I have always adored the closeness that the stage brings. Whenever I see a performance, I almost feel pulled into the scene, as if I am there, in that environment. Staging, props, and lighting are so crucial to a production because they create that environment that an audience member so desperately craves. Without the stage, and without the direct environment that the stage creates, I'm not sure if theatre can live to its full potential.

Diversifying the Stage

It's hard to speak without bias about diversity in theatre while being involved in production of a "Legally Blonde: The Musical" here at GBN. Although frequently disregarded, theatrical productions are frequently devoid of diversity in their casting or play heavily to stereotypes. The archetypal performance follows the story of someone young, white, and frequently male, while certain parts are specifically tailored to other races. Though more recent productions have attempted to cast race-blind, most productions still use race as a dominant factor in casting. Perhaps this is a direct reflection of our inability to move beyond race and gender as a society—are racial stereotypes on stage too obvious to ignore?

In her blog on theatre, Lyn Gardner discusses the dilemma of diversity on the stage. Although she focuses her discussion on performances in Britain, Gardner brings up the valid point that theatre is an art form often designed by the elite for the elite. While "elite" does not necessarily imply white and/or male, it certainly contributes to the relative lack of diversity of stage. In order to move past the current homogeneity of modern performance, Gardner argues that theatre as an art form must be re-crafted.

While changing how we view performance may fix the issue, perhaps this is not a "theatrical" issue per se. Instead, strict adherence to stereotypes on the stage could be a reflection of our inability to look past these stereotypes throughout society as a whole. When seeing a performance, audience members are inherently judgmental. They enter a completely difficult world for the two hours a performance, and the only information they have is based on appearance and dialogue. Therefore, the crucial role of appearance as a judgmental factor is only emphasized on stage.

In "Legally Blonde: The Musical," a lack of diversity among lead characters could not be more obvious. Hopefully everything works out for the best!

Storytelling in Performance

"Above all else, make sure we understand the story."

I can't even comprehend how many times this note has been given to our Group Interpretation cast after a rehearsal. This year, our group is performing an adaptation of Markus Suzak's "The Book Thief" as a contest piece, meaning we will be performing at sectionals this weekend at Fremd High School. The piece is whimsical, dark, beautiful, and above all else—long.

Ms. Robinson has cut sections of the piece five times now, and we are currently still about one minute over the thirty-minute time limit for the contest piece. In any piece of writing, play, or other art form, timing is obviously crucial to success, but I have felt so crunched for time on stage in my life. As a result, our directors have decided that the story must shine above all else, and many of the beautiful details found in Suzak's original novel have been cut.

Still, the plot of our version of "The Book Thief" is hazy at best. The language of the piece is incredibly succinct, so even minor cuts have large plot implications. When we performed the piece last night, we were told to "Treat the audience like they're kindergardeners. Make the plot shine above all else." At first, this note made sense to me; we actors must above all else get across the story. But during our next run through, I began to think—at what cost? 

In retrospect, this sharp focus on clarity of plot has been an issue for many of our previous productions. During "Of Mice and Men," numerous plot details were tossed out to make the story more clear, and acting was made secondary to plot. 

Is plot the most important aspect of a story? "Treat the audience like we're kindergardeners." ---> Can we still derive the same meaning from a performance even if we're supposed to treat the audience in this way?

Where does beauty in a performance lie? In the plot-work or in the details? How can performance be used as a mechanism for learning? Is it more effective than other conventional methods?

'Havoir of the Visage

Before walking on stage, we are often told to "put on a performance face." This could entail smiling beyond belief, smirking heinously, or moving any other combination of facial muscles to craft an emotion. When in the scene, however, we rarely consider the notion that the character him/herself may be putting on a performance face as well. Often times, actors and audiences alike seem to blindly trust the characters on stage, accepting them for nothing more than face value (no pun intended!). This, however, can be dangerous.

As in the case of Shakespeare's Price Hamlet, a character can easily fool another actor, an ensemble, or even an entire audience. This misunderstanding of identity is a form of irony that can easily trick audience members into trusting untrustworthy characters. For Hamlet, it is often unclear when Hamlet is "acting" mad versus when he is truly losing his wits. To describe this form of theatre-ception, or "acting within an act" (I know, I'm super clever), Shakespeare uses the term "visage."

Hamlet's real self is not the "visage" that he assumes when he is acting mad. I have grown to think of this visage as like one of many masks worn by ancient Greek actors; the actor's true identity is hidden behind the visage, but the audience is only exposed to this "false self." In many ways, the actor is lying to the audience. How, then, should the audience reconcile this theatre-ception? How can the audience still comprehend the actors' true emotions?

In many cases, trust is necessary. It takes a keen eye to decipher theatre-ception, especially when the audience is not expecting it. To add insult to injury, these are paid actors on stage—their job is to be good at acting the part! Therefore, looking beyond the "visage" is sometimes impossible. I try to search for context clues from the language (which is more readily available in Shakespeare's case), body language, and facial expressions. How does the character react to others around him/her? Is he/she clearly "putting on a show"? In the end, to quote my drama director Ms. Robinson, "Trust the process." Trust that the author or director will show you what needs to be shown, and hopefully the visage will unveil itself. The subtleties of Shakespeare—in Hamlet in particular—are often hard to comprehend, so leave the hard word for the actors; sit back and enjoy the show!

Performance and Discomfort: "The Book Thief"

Every two years or so, Glenbrook North Theatre performs some sort of contest play—a short play intended to be performed competitively. GBN contest plays have a valiant history; in the last seven years, all four of our contest plays have qualified for the state contest, and all but one have placed in the top three at state. This year, we hope to live up to this daunting legacy with "The Book Thief," based on the book by Markus Zusak. If you are unfamiliar, "The Book Thief" follows the story of young orphan girl named Liesel Meminger in Nazi Germany, her morally-grounded step-parents, and a runaway Jew named Max who hides in Liesel's basement.

Rehearsals have been going well thus far, but it is often difficult to glaze over the emotional reality of the show. The Holocaust is an incredibly touchy subject, especially on the North Shore, and we often feel uncomfortably reciting certain lines during rehearsals. However, our theatre director Ms. Robinson specifically picked this piece because she believes we owe it to our Northbrook community. Do the shivers that race down our spines as the entire cast recites "Heil Hitler!" in unison truly serve a greater purpose? Is yelling "Die Juden!" at the top of our lungs serving a greater purpose? I believe so, but many would disagree.

Max and Liesel in the basement, discovering the liberating power of words

After passing awkward glances at each other and feeling each other's discomfort at the raw hatred present in the play, we cast members feel uncomfortable yet accomplished. When it's all said and done, this show's purpose is to make you feel uncomfortable. Nazi Germany was a dark moment in history, and the discomfort was—and is—real. Perhaps partially to keep myself sane (and justify why I torture myself with eight-hour long rehearsals), I like to think that this show is serving a greater purpose. Theatre is beautiful in itself, but it is also beautiful beyond the walls of the auditorium. People must not forget what happened in Nazi Germany, and live theatre is a visceral and impactful way or reminding people of the past.

It's one thing to read about the Holocaust in a textbook and another thing entirely to experience it first-hand on stage. Movies are nice, too, but for me, live performance is the only thing that does the trick. People who say that GBN should not perform "The Book Thief" say so because they feel uncomfortable. Good! Our mission is accomplished. If you go see our production, which I highly recommend, I hope that you leave feeling uncomfortable as well [in a good way]!

The Audience is Always Right

After being involved in theatre for so long, I find it increasingly more difficult to visualize myself as a member of the audience. When I go to see a show, I often picture myself on stage, imagining what the performers are thinking, and rarely do I find myself simply sitting back and absorbing the experience. Perhaps I now empathize more with performers, or perhaps I am now more judgmental; either way, I find the audience to be boring.

I used to view the departure from the "plebeian" role of audience member as crucial to my development as a performer, but Lyn Gardner points out that this is potentially dangerous. In her blog on theatre (Note: with an "-re"), Lyn writes that performers and the audience have "a relationship that is often fraught with difficulties, suspicion, and lack of trust." Theatre without an audience is merely an exercise, and I seemed to have forgotten how important the relationship between performers and audience really is.

I think the problem lies in how the audience and ensemble are often seen as two completely separate entities who rarely interact outside of the performance space. As Lyn puts it, we must create theatre with audiences rather than for audiences. Theatre venues nowadays have realized this and are starting to reach back towards their patrons in an attempt to reconnect, but is it too late?

Recent Steppenwolf production of
"Lord of the Flies" that I saw

The Steppenwolf Theatre does an awesome job at reconnecting with the audience, and as a result, the theatre has acquired a cult following. After each performance at the Steppenwolf, interested participants can stay for a structured discussion of the play, during which the audience can actively contribute to the performance. To be honest, the discussion felt uncomfortable for me the first time—even though it was certainly interesting. I suppose I was so used to the separation between audience and performance that any interaction between the two felt "wrong." After participating in a few discussions, however, I grew to love the experience.

Ms. Gardner and the Steppenwolf both see the ultimate benefits that performer-audience interaction can bring, even if it is initially uncomfortable. Though it is still difficult for me to be an audience member, I hope in time to act both as a performer and an audience member, for there is certainly more overlap than I initially realized. 

"Illusions": A Reflection

As many of you already know, I am the producer of this year's One Act Show "Illusions" at GBN. This has been an incredible experience for me—something completely separate from what I am used to in GBN Theatre. Though I wish not to merely discuss my life and my experiences in this blog, this experience has been very meaningful to me and could perhaps provide some insight into theatre, performance, and life in general.

I've found that it is easy to get settled into a routine without realizing it. Although routine is crucial to organization and productivity, it also leaves little room for growth. During rehearsals for each show at GBN, our theatre director always tells us to "be in the moment"—to imagine as if we are experiencing the scene for the first time, regardless of of how many rehearsals have passed. Certainly scenes are rehearsed and repeated, but I like to imagine as if each rehearsal is a new experience—anything but routine. That being said, theatre productions as a whole are becoming routine in my life. Each year I do about three or four shows, each lasting for about eight weeks, and each new year brings new performances. While I loved every production, last year I began to desire a completely experience—something to break up my theatre routine—and for me, that experience has been producing the One Acts.

As producer, my duties include reading student-submitted scripts, choosing which acts will be performed, organizing rehearsals and show dates, running auditions and callbacks, generating publicity, and so on. It has by no means been a walk in the park, and that's why I have enjoyed the process so much. I constantly approach logistical and theatrical hurdles that require my past experience be resolved, and it is intensely satisfying to see my input help bring this show to life. I am no longer a piece of a puzzle; I am the puzzle-solver himself. 

"Illusions" has helped me grow exponentially as an actor as well. For the first time, I am experiencing a show from behind the scenes, in the once ungraspable realm where some stroke of magic is able to turn a bunch of discombobulated actors into a cohesive ensemble. I have been able to work with that "magic" first-hand, finally demystifying the many moving parts that make a production great. Whereas I could once only see a production from the perspective of myself—but one of many moving parts—I now hope to better adapt my own acting to the other moving parts—cast mates, directors, settings, et cetera.

Above all else, "Illusions" has been a humbling experience. I always thought producing or directing a show would be easy and straightforward. "Just tell the actors and directors what to do," I thought. Though I have always had the utmost respect for my theatre director Ms. Robinson, this experience has, more than anything, showed me how truly awesome Ms. Robinson is. She has incredible talent as an actress as well as a director, and she still manages to find time to bond with her students. In many ways, the One Acts title "Illusions" perfectly fits my experience with this show; the illusions of directing were holding me back, yet I now see that theatre and directing are not at all what they once seemed. 

Semester in Review: Blogging

This semester has certainly been eventful: applying to college, five AP classes, unconquerable stress, etc. And, in addition to the most blogging I have ever attempted, this has also been my most theatre-filled semester thus far at GBN. This, of course, has made blogging about performance somewhat easier, but it has also made it more enlightening. Performance has not just helped my blogging; blogging has helped my performance.

I began the year excited to blog, and, though the initial excitement has waned, I can honestly say that I have learned a lot about myself through this blog. Much to my surprise, I have found it somewhat difficult to blog. Having been accustomed to essay-style paragraphing for so long, taking a more informal approach to writing has been more difficult than expected. That being said, I have noticed more voice in my writing as a result of this blog. Words no longer feel as forced, and the writing process is now easier and faster.

With college essays rampant, the renewed presence of voice in my writing could not have come at a better time. Interestingly enough, I wrote several college essays over the summer in a vain attempt to ease my first semester workload. At the time, I (stupidly) thought they were phenomenal. I actually considered showing them to my parents as examples of how much my writing had improved! Thankfully I forgot about them for some time, and I suppose I have procrastination to thank.

In mid-October, with application deadlines only weeks away, I decided to look back at my summer essays to check for grammatical errors. In a fit of sheer panic, I realized how pathetic the essays truly were. I actually wrote this blog post in my anger, trying to shift the blame from myself to the college process. I should clarify: the essays were by no means awful. They were polished, organized, and informative; however, they were also bland, cliché, and scripted. The voice was non-existent. Thankfully I never had to submit the essays, though I strongly considered starting from scratch.

My college essay-writing capabilities have actually increased two-fold as a result of blogging, through voice as well as self-discovery. At the beginning of the year, my English teacher pointed out that blogging should exist in the magical space in between school and home, wherein writing is both substantive and meaningful. I believe that my blog has accomplished this very well, bringing what I've learned in class and applying it to performance—my true passion. For example, my post "Metamorphoses and the Role of Myth" connected my AP Psych class, Joseph Campbell, and Greek mythology to the play I was involved in, Metamorphoses. Similarly, "It's All Just a Game of Thrones" somehow found a balance between life in Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible and my favorite animated TV show, "The Legend of Korra." Discovering relationships between different aspects of my life has helped me sort through and condense my complex interests, which has in turn greatly improved my college essays. I now have a firmer understanding of myself and my interests, and I have blogging to thank.

As this post should prove, blogging is not meaningless or irrelevant: it is a means of self-discovery. The title of my blog is "Discovering Theatre," and, after four months of blogging, I can't think of a more accurate title. I have discovered theatre in places that I would never expect, from AP Psych (see "Erecting Facades") to Azar Nafisi (see "Reading Korra in Tehran"), but, more importantly, I have improved my performance as well. As I mentioned in "Metamorphoses and the Role of Myth," discussing a playwright's intentions and a show's themes in rehearsal is a common tactic used to improve acting. It helps make the acting more genuine and emotional, telling a story instead of reciting one. My blogging has done just that, and I now truly feel like I am telling a story on stage.

Despite these strengths, my blogging still has a ways to go until I will be satisfied. Some of my posts (like "Museums are the Absolute Truth!") still feel academic and forced. I hope to learn from one of my classmates, Charlie Kelly, whose blog about feminism is deeply related to her own life, mixing school and home perfectly. I will continue to try and make my writing more like Charlie's—fluid and genuine—just as I hope to improve my performance. And, in reference to my first post, "Feel free to join me for the ride!"

The Grapes of Wrath

As many of you already know, I had the privilege this weekend to travel to Illinois State University for this year's Illinois High School Theatre Festival (yes, the official festival name is spelled "TheatRE"), also called "Theatrefest." This was my fourth and final Theatrefest, and although I'm feeling awfully nostalgic right now, I figured this is as good a time as ever to blog about theatre and performance.

Theatrefest 2014!

This year's All-State Production, wherein high school students from across Illinois audition for a production to be performed at the festival, was "The Grapes of Wrath," and it was certainly intense. Based off the novel by John Steinbeck, "The Grapes of Wrath" follows the story of a family from Oklahoma and their attempt to escape poverty and famine. The family packs up and decides to leave for California, where the work is abundant and the orchards are fertile—according to rumor. When the family finally reaches California (spoiler alert!), they realize how untrue the rumors were: wages are desperately low, work is limited, and the family is split apart. Their dreams of prosperity were both dangerous and ungraspable, and they pay the price in the end.


Steinbeck is well-known for his cynical approach to the American dream. He sees dreams as dangerous, convincing men and women of a future that is impossible to obtain. He blatantly criticizes capitalism for instilling these dreams in the minds of hard-working families, believing that in the end, it's all just a farce.

This blog continues to surprise me by how relevant theatre is to the rest of my life, and "The Grapes of Wrath" is no exception. In English class we too have been discussing the damaging effects of dreams in the context of the memoir "Reading Lolita in Tehran," which explains how an impossible dream led to the oppressive regime that exists today in Iran. The characters in the memoir further relate this reality to "The Great Gatsby," in which Gatsby reaches towards an impossible dream, one that leads to his eventual death.

Performance of "The Great Gatsby" from 2008

Are dreams dangerous? Certainly. Should we avoid them at all costs? While Steinbeck and Fitzgerald might think so, I tend to disagree. In the play I saw over the weekend, dreams of grapes and oranges and prosperity did indeed lead to a broken family; however, dreams of stability and a better life are not always detrimental. Perhaps idealizing a dream is what's truly dangerous. If the family in "The Grapes of Wrath" had realized that no future is ideal, perhaps they would have been more logical in their actions. What's dangerous is when dreams cloud judgement—when they override logic and promote blind faith to an ideal.

In a fit of boredom last week, I decided to watch Conan O'Brien's commencement speech to the Dartmouth Graduating Class of 2011. In it, he states that telling college graduates to follow their dreams is illogical. "Dreams change," he said. I'd like to thank the cast of Theatrefest's "Grapes of Wrath"—or "Grapenation" as they like to call themselves—for showing me that perhaps it's not the dream that's dangerous, but rather the close-mindedness surrounding it.

In conclusion, #GrapeNation #TheatreFest. Time to study for finals!