Reviewing: A Bridge to a Novel

Jessica Lynn Kramer (playing Beatrice Carbone) and Gary Werner (playing Eddie Carbone) in A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE at Haddonfield Plays and Players. (Photo credit: Tommy Balne)

 

Just finished writing my review of A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE for STAGE Magazine and to my chagrin it was excellent. I say that not because I wanted it to fail–not by any stretch, but as a critic it is rare for community theatres to get the most out of modern drama. Granted, VIEW is one of Arthur Miller’s less cryptic plays, but its stern acting demands and subtlety for a powerful result are there and Haddonfield Plays and Players in Haddonfield, New Jersey pulled it off extremely well. And, I’m was proud.

This reviewing experience once again got me thinking about how much I love modern theatre. With a well-written script, the message between the lines is evident, the symbolism effective, and the story as a whole very satisfying. In theatre terms–cathartic. I remember writing a piece on this forum some time ago on what a reviewer or critic should be. What a review or critique should be is an educated opinion and so much more.

A good reviewer should offer perspective, representing the play to an audience even if it is not the his or her kind of play. I find that professionals know better. Here’s the other article so you don’t have to search this blog site for it. You might find the answers surprising. So often, people (audience’s too), performers, crew and directors alike think a review is a matter of opinion; however, are quick to use the reviews when they are positive and even use parts of the review out of context to promote the show.

Perhaps reviews are opinions–to some. Some certainly are that, and some reviews don’t deserve to be called reviews at all; synopses or reports might be a better terms. The term “review” is often interchangeable with “critique;” however, critique sounds negative so most publications stay with review. As with anything, there are good “reviewers” and bad ones. The tone of a review is can depend on editorial policy as well.

Reviewers themselves who are afraid to hurt feelings say nothing negative, forgetting there is tact and constructive criticism. Of course the opposite is true, too. There are those reviewers who lack tact. This usually why a major newspaper speaks with one voice. The scope of the internet has made that almost impossible. What might be nice now would be a set of rules for reviewers to follow. By the way (and I’m not suggesting this is it, but it’s a start), I have a e-book that I published a while ago, Acting Smarts Reviews Local and Regional Theatre that you can download for free on the site. You can also view previous reviews and articles on the STAGE Magazine link on this site.

I am also in favor of previews where a reviewer would come to the theatre before the open and watch the show in late rehearsal, asking questions and offering suggestions. It’s a win-win. The theatre receives the benefit of another set of eyes and reviewer will learn why some decisions were made. Oftentimes, there are reasons that some choices are made by the director that seem wrong to the reviewer, but may not be helped for technical reasons. Perhaps another blog.

I studied reviews of Pulitzer Prize-winning plays from 1920 to 1980 and what I found was that even in major newspapers like the New York Times during that period, the role of the reviewer was not well-defined. Often it depended on what socialite star was back for a returning role, or just an opinion–often with little tact. It was only later that we began to see the more academic analysis that grew along as the legitimacy of the theatre arts grew. Not only can you get an advanced degree, even a talent-based BFA or MFA, in Theatre, but you can specialize in many aspects of the art. Besides experts in acting and directing, there are theater administrators, stage management, dramaturgy and theatre history experts because theatre matters in the world.

Why does it not follow that those who view theatre should not benefit from a person who understands how theatre works, what playwrights intend in their plays, how theatre presents important messages to humanity? Why don’t most theatre companies, especially community theatres see reviewers (good ones) as a boon to them today–as a chance to see what the audience is seeing, to see if the company did the playwright justice, or even better, to improve on the power of his or her message, and to learn the basics of good theatre they may not know, or have forgotten?

I suppose that is why I went from being a literature major in graduate school to literary criticism to working on an interdisciplinary degree with theatre culminating in performance criticism. I saw so many similarities on the face of a good novel as I do in a good theatre performance. A good theatre performance is as complex as good novel. Many people don’t see that. I wonder, do many novel readers go to plays? Then, again, I don’t see many of my theatre friends doing much novel-reading; they read mostly plays and are great observers of life. Of course, the latter is what they have in common with novelists. That same ability to become one with the world is what makes both a great novelist and a great actor.

A Couple of Characters

Reviewing one of my favorite Arthur Miller plays, A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE, tomorrow night. Hopefully all will go well for all. Break legs and all that.

Harry Bolls, like all of us, is not always the bravest or coolest, except when it counts. You find my heroes flawed like that–human, but are willing to do what it takes. Sometimes the tragic flaw leads to self-sacrifice like in the classic tragedy, sometimes not, but always a human reaction. Well, this time I’ll introduce a couple of my favorite characters in Harry’s Reality…

“The Shadow pulled Winston’s limp body into the hovercar. He plopped the unconscious man in the seat. Then pulled a laser ax from inside his Stealth cloak and placed it on the side of the man’s jaw. He then reached over with his other hand and touched the smooth area toward the back of the ax weapon and tool. It hummed to life on stand-by.

“Winston jerked awake at the vibration, saw Death bending over him and Winston’s eyes uncontrollably rolled to the back of his head.

“That wouldn’t do.

“The Shadow pulled him sideways in the seat and slapped him hard across the side of his face, then a back hand to the other side. He did this repeatedly until Winston looked up once again at the hooded Grim Reaper, the Shadow of Death, and accepted his fate. Winston knew what he wanted as he found his face being forced to submit to the retinal scan on the dash to activate the vehicle. The hovercar flashed a light to indicate it was ready for flight. Just as the Cyber vehicle was about to greet its driver, the laser ax sliced into the dash and severed its communication connection completely—Winston’s Outside lifeline to Makr, permanently disabled. The ghoulish stranger pushed Winston away from the controls to the right side of the car. Winston’s head hit the side of the clear canopy hard and he lost consciousness again.”

***

“The hexahedron slab of amber, some ten feet high and four to five feet in diameter, hung in the air without apparent support. There were no visible wires or chains. Beginning its descent into a green colored vat below, it rotated on an invisible axis, spinning slowly, causing the image of the Bio inside to appear as a distorted, disjointed, disfigured form to anyone who might see it. Once there, the opaque amber gemstone began to melt as it touched the green nano-gelatin. What was amber in color was now green. As the chemical reaction took place, the man melted, too, becoming a creature hardly recognizable, a blob of cells. Yet he lived, held prisoner in the glassy green gelatin composed of tiny single cell-size nanocyberts that were rearranging his cells to form connectors to his nervous system so his new stainless steel and titanium body would answer to his once human brain. Hidden in the microscopic Cyber design, of course, was Makr’s will.

“Physically he would never see, hear or feel like he did before, but he would have sensors with far greater capacity than his original Bio sensory organs. Had he dreamed up this transformation himself, he would have been delighted to lose his ugly exterior. He had always wanted to be smarter and stronger, but that hadn’t been humanly possible. However, it was Cyber possible. He was what he was and that was that. He wanted more–more of everything he was and that was what Makr would make of him. He wanted to be smarter and stronger. Could he also be invincible?

“A voice boomed in his head again.

“‘YOU’LL HAVE ALL YOU DESIRE AND THEN SOME. YOU WILL INDEED BE MORE OF EVERYTHING; YOU WON’T BE A BIO ANYMORE. YOU’LL BE TOTALLY NEW. A PERFECT PRODUCT OF SYMBIOSIS–A CREATURE FEARED FOR ITS POWER. YOU’LL BE AMONG THE GIANTS OF THIS NEW WORLD.’

“With those last words, Harlan Leach’s moment of ecstasy was nearly over. Unknown to him, his lifetime of horror had just begun.

“It began pleasantly enough…it always did. I’m alive! Can’t believe it–alive! Everything is wonderful! I feel fine. It’s beautiful here. Then, a question. What’s that I hear? Music. Singing. Then, the horror. Screaming. Can’t stand it! Hideous images. Deplorable feelings.

“In his mind, he saw his own body sucked into a machine, shredded and regurgitated, but he didn’t feel it. He witnessed his own death—in stringy spaghetti threads of humanity swirling about until it all became liquefied and one substance. He saw Death waiting patiently. He grieved for himself. He felt a loss knowing someone very important to him had died. Was there any such person?  Now he knew that he was the one who had died. No one else would feel his loss; he was sure of it. He had no specific memories of anyone who might care—not even the parents who had abandoned him as a baby.

“Suddenly, he felt unbelievable pain. Can’t bear it! He felt a hundred heartbreaks and disappointments, as many fleeting moments of happiness, and unbearable loss. Soaring joy. Unfathomable sadness. Memories. Past. Happy. Sad. Remembered. Forgotten. He sensed he was screaming. He was screaming! Nothing came out! He couldn’t scream without a mouth. He heard screams all around, but not his own. The eternal agony of others… He knew the awful helplessness of being Bio, fragile, trapped and doomed! In a millisecond, he sensed an explosion, a tearing apart of his own soul…Oh, the hopelessness! He wailed. He moaned. He became one of the screamers. Once he was with them, they stopped screaming and were singing.

“Then, no singing. No voices. No sound. Now music. No music. Nothing. No! Memories gone. Who? No matter. Feeling content. Warm, comfortable, cozy, secure. Makr! The man, who no longer remembered he had been anything, realized he was not alone. There were billions like himself. And, yet, he still felt alone, totally alone. Although he knew he must be in a factory where Bios lost their minds and were reconditioned, but this–this had to be different. The Bio man, Leach, awoke, a little tired, but otherwise fine. Whew! What a dream, he thought. Then he noticed it. It hadn’t been a dream! He discovered the mind blowing truth. His body was gone. In its place were unfinished, twisted metal structures. It was only his Bio mind that remained. Had he had a mouth he would have screamed.

“Worse than that. Makr had given him back his tongue and a single human eye.”

For those of you who continue to look for Acting Smarts articles or search for my old Acting Smarts Training Web Site, they no longer exist. I am, of course, still willing to speak and train. I am directing. Acting may be a little different story, but I am focusing on my writing at the moment and using this domain/blog site as my jumping off point. From here, you can still find my theatre reviews and commentary and interviews on STAGE Magazine and Training and Development articles on the Free Management Library. This site is http://shawsreality.com or https://shawsreality.wordpress.com. You can reach me at jshaw@shawsreality.com.