How Value Judgments Ruin Conversation (Why I Never Answer: "Did youLike It"?)

"But, did you like it?"

Or

"What did you think?"

These questions, I hate.

They ask too much of me as audience.

They put the emphasis on my experience rather than on the merit of the art.

I can respond and reflect on what I have witnessed through the lens of my experience.

Here is how I prefer to do it:

Step 1:

Respond with statements of meaning.

(Unhelpful Grandma): I liked it when she woke up!

Versus:

e.g. I found the moment where she was woken with a kiss very meaningful because...

This puts emphasis on what I have seen and how powerfully it moved me.

The more powerful the moments, the more meaningful the show.

Note: this does not presuppose good/bad only meaning and meaningfulness.

A show completely devoid of meaning can still have meaningful moments. But, then we would need to have a conversation about it.

Step 2:

Respond with questions for the artists.

(Unhelpful Grandma:) I didn't like/believe it when everyone fell asleep for a hundred years!

e.g. Why didn't everyone age while they slept under the enchantment for a hundred years?

This puts the emphasis on the artist and what they were trying to accomplish/achieve with their work.

Then, the audience can reflect on this information and how well it was accomplished.

Note: this does not presuppose good/bad only whether or not the artist achieved their intent.

Step 3: 

Respond with questions for the audience.

(Unhelpful Artist): What do you think about the moral?

e.g. What do you think of the struggle between humans and fairies?

This puts the emphasis on the audience's participation with the artistry.

Note: This does not presuppose good/bad only whether the audience appreciated what the artist was trying to accomplish. i.e. what "read"

Step 4: 

Weighted opinions.

This is the opportunity for saying whether someone liked a thing or not.

But, not even that.

At this point (Unhelpful Grandma:) stands up and says: I didn't like the fact you weren't in togas.

But, that is not the point, not even close, of weighted opinion sharing.

Versus.

e.g. I thought the story could have been better told if you tried to emulate period dress.

A bit wordier and more thorny, but it doesn't have the same slap in the face effect.

It allows the artist room for response.

Because really that is what I think everyone is looking for.

Let me say it again.

Room for response.

We all want it.

So how do we get it?

Following the steps listed above has been the most rewarding for me.

I would love to hear what others have found to work.

I use it during every talk back, moderating when needed.

Because "I liked it" is just as dangerous as "I didn't like it"

It isn't helpful, it isn't supportive of the artist and the art.

It doesn't unpack the conversation that boils underneath those loaded statements.

And that is almost always a conversation worth having.

So try it, see what you get in response.

It will often surprise you.

Two productions I have done this year: 4:48 Psychosis and Faust(us)

Two of the most heavily collaborative/devised works I have done in my career.

We had several moments where the audience was asked to cooperate.

In 4:48 we had the audience sit in a circle and read fragments of poetry written by our suicidal protagonist.

The image we were working with was the poems came out of a particularly dark episode.

The actress playing the lead fed one person several pieces in a row ending with the final page that was wholly redacted.

It looked like a black sheet.

One night the audience member scanned the whole page and looked flabbergasted.

The actress said the line: Breakdown. And the audience nodded.

In Faust(us) we had a demon parade.

Everyone was a participant, some more participants than others.

We had a series of demons, all portrayed by one actor.

One demon was a flower girl that force smelled flowers at the audience.

The actor would "sleep" between demons and sometimes would be on audience members.

One of the demons was a foot smelling demon. As in he tore off people's shoes and smelled the deepest whiff I have ever seen from a human.

In both instances I was terrified as an artist.

I saw distaste and scorn and contempt on all the audience's faces.

As if they were speaking with one voice: How dare you do this to us!

But, I insisted we make it through a preview and a talkback before I would change anything drastically.

And time and time again, when it came for my turn to ask, I always asked about the audience participation:

• Did you appreciate it? 
• Was it too much? 
• Is there something you would have done differently?

Unanimously the audiences said no. No, they would not change it. No, they did not feel uncomfortable. No, they did not feel unsafe. No, they did not feel it went "too far".

Consistently my fears have been assuaged by audience love and support in the form of these discussions.

I don't know if I could have had that level of support or assurance if the conversation had stopped at:

I liked it.

I didn't like it.

When is it Art? When is it Porn? (How Censorship isn't Really Anything and May Kill You)

So there is this:



It doesn't do to satirize satire, so I will not try.
For those who haven't, please watch the video; it is a phenomenal segment.
For those who just do not have time, here:

This is an example of network censorship.
The network that airs Stephen Colbert's Late Show is not allowing him to show a drawn picture of the female breasts.
They are, however, allowed to show that same image if it is associated with a smiling face.
However, and here is where it gets interesting, simply by changing the context (look at the gif) determines whether the network will censor the image or no.
The face is there under Colbert's hand; the audience knows, the censors know, and yet, because of the rules in place, the network is still required to censor his segment.

So that is the gist.
Given context will determine whether a piece of craft is art or pornography.
And the distinctions between them are nuanced and often arbitrary.
So what is the point of censorship?
It is to protect us?
Our delicate sensibilities?
From what?
From art?
From the human figure?

I have never understood censorship, but I do find that it always comes back to context.
If the context is there, then so too will censorship.
And why is that?
Well, for often seemingly noble and benevolent reasons:
Your freedom of speech is protected under the constitution, save under specific circumstances.
You are not allowed to start screaming fire in a crowded hall because it may cause needless injury or death.
Except when there really is a fire.

Christopher Hitchens.
One of my favorite orators on this subject of censorship and freedom of expression discusses it at length in this video.
In it, he discusses perhaps the most important ideas that I have ever heard:

"It's not just the right of the person who speaks to be heard, it is the right of everyone in the audience to listen and to hear."

This goes for everything.
In this video, he even exposes himself to abuse from the audience, allowing the audience to defy him (at their own peril) because it is important to hear opposing views.
And why does he do this?
In it he mentions John Stuart Mill and his supposition that:

If all in society are agreed on the truth of beauty and truth and value, all except one person, it would be most important, in fact it would become even more important that that one heretic be heard because we would still benefit.

 So any opposing view is important.
That anything that challenges our preconceptions, radically, dangerously has merit, that there might be a grain of truth somewhere.
He even goes so far as to mention Holocaust revisionists/detractors saying, yes, they are radical, yes they are fatuous, but even so, might we not learn something?

The point herein is that censorship denies two things:

• The right of the person to speak
• The right of the audience to hear to listen

The right of the audience to hear and to listen.

The audience's rights are being denied when censorship is involved.

Now, I have a pretty strong opinion on censorship and for allowing pretty much everything uncensored constantly.

The reason for this is simple:

If you have a line in the sand, where do you draw it?

Stephen Colbert in his segment exploits it for humor, but all of that art, and it most definitely is art, is available for public consumption. 

Why can it not be aired on public television?

Because children might see it?

So what?

It is art.

Is there an age limit?

What are the rules?

And why?

And for whom?

So if it is to protect the audience, it isn't, because censorship denies the rights of the audience.
So if it is to protect the author, it isn't, because censorship denies the rights of the creator.

Then censorship isn't for anything.

And therefore, censorship should be done away with.

Reliable Narrators (I Can Not Think of a Single One)

Today, we talk about narrators, in particular, the reliable ones.
...
Yeah, I have none.
The reason?
The only time I believe in conspiracy theory is when it comes to story.
For example:

Roswell?

Big Foot?

Loch Ness Monster?

Fairies?
All hokum.
But, just ask me about almost any story and I will explain why Barney Stinson is right.

(No, no, here's to you, sir)

This guy!
Why?
For this moment:

(Sorry for potato quality)

Because as warped and twisted as it is, it is possible to watch all of the movies Barney mentions from the perspective of the other side.

• The Karate Kid is actually a tragedy of a titan falling to the backhanded technique of an upstart
• Terminator is a tragedy of a war machine doing its job and being thwarted in its duties by humans
• Die Hard is about a charming, international bandit ruthlessly killed by American nationalism and bravado

(Charmed)

So, why don't mass audiences watch movies under these circumstances?

Because we are led to believe something, something almost innately true about story:

The Protagonist is always Right

Why do we believe this?
Because we sort of have to.
We have to trust that the perspective we are seeing the universe through (the Protagonist) is truthful, and is therefore, right.
But, why?
Well, think about it.
If you cannot trust your Protagonist, what do you have that grounds the story?
Nothing.
Not a single damn thing.
I won't spoil the new Arkham game in this post, but Batman is a phenomenal Protagonist.
Why?
Because he has enemies like this:

 Who do things like this:

For anyone unfamiliar with the game or series:
That is Scarecrow and a dead Commissioner Gordon.
The reason it is important: Gordon isn't really dead.
Scarecrow uses fear toxin that causes Batman to hallucinate.
In a later installment (hashtag Arkham Knight) this trick is used to further the plot.

Why is this relevant?
Because even though we love and respect Batman as a great hero, you cannot trust what he is seeing.
At any point in the game.
Any or all of it might be a dream, a fabrication, a hallucination.
But, we  have to trust that he is on the side of right and good and that we will get through this together.
But, do we though?

Some of my favorite theories come from this assumption:

You cannot trust the Protagonist

The moment that you give up on trust in a story, it becomes much more interesting.
And that is how you get all kinds of crazy, fan theories like this:

Jar Jar is a supreme Sith Lord, even more powerful than Palpatine 

This has definitely become one of my new favorite theories.
It is wildly complex, really in depth, uses evidence from the prequels to support its conclusions.
And the best part is, it makes the character of Jar Jar infinitely more interesting.

Another of my favorite Star Wars theories: the Jedi are the bad guys.
Luke kind of stumbles into the whole galactic crisis a little late.
He has to trust whoever he meets right away and believe what they are telling him and what they are doing.
So to start with:

• Stormtroopers kill the only people he associates with family
• Obi Wan Kenobi tells him that he can train him and avenge his father

So Luke goes with the old man on a suicide mission.

However, there is one thing that we kind of gleam over.

Obi Wan lied; yes, he says later on that he told the truth from a certain point of view, but no, no; he lied.

Vader is Luke's father in a rubber suit.

The "Dark" Side is just as powerful, easier to learn, satisfies your cravings.

The Sith have never lied to Luke about their feelings or their intentions.

There is even one fan theory that Obi Wan manipulates Luke in the scene where he tells him to come to Alderaan.

Luke gets a glazed, far off look in his eyes.

Now, some would say it is Mark Hamill's acting that causes that discrepancy.

But, it is more fun, for me, to believe that everything happens for a reason.

And if everything has a reason, if everything is a choice, then, the Jedi are manipulative bastards.

So that is what I am left with, that is my training, my upbringing, my thesis when it comes to story:

• Assume everything happens for a reason
• Assume everything is a choice
• Assume the narrator is unreliable

And if it is a horror/mystery movie:

• Assume there is more than one killer
• Assume that if there is no body, the person is still alive
• Assume that even if there is a body, the person faked their own death

It is a really fun exercise and one that I don't know many people know about.

It is not something I learned from script analysis, I can tell you that right now.

It is something learned from countless hours of going through the same stories over and over, reading fan theories late into the night, and realizing that everything you know to be true about a story is a lie.

Turn of the Screw (How Horror Does what it Does and You Can Too!)

Today we discuss Turn of the Screw by Henry James.

This creepy looking motherfucker.
Now, the way it has been described to me:

"Henry James brought the horror genre into the realm of the domestic."

-Kate Skoretz

What does that mean?
Well, it may be necessary to give a primer on horror.
Horror and Terror are dynamic states.
We love horror movies, yes?
But, what makes them so lovable?
The preceding terror.

Terror is the moment(s) preceding the horrible realization.

So it is terror that we feel in anticipation of the awful.

Horror follows afterwards.

See the difference?

Apparently Charles Darwin did (Expressions of the Emotions in Man and Animals).

Paul Ekman would have a field day.

For those not in the know, he is the guy Timothy Roth plays on Lie to Me:

Enough references?

Moving on.

So what does this have to do with anything?

Well, understanding that horror and terror are techniques used as a style is important and that they are dynamic traits of story.

I would like to introduce another, that I associate very closely with the horror genre: 

The Uncanny.

Otherwise known as the opposite of what is familiar.

Uncanniness is the ability to take something that is familiar and make it unfamiliar.

Another word might be strange.

This is also an excuse to use one of my favorite graphs on the internets:

So we take what is familiar and compare it to human likeness.

Now, as we move from something that isn't human, an industrial robot, we do not perceive it as familiar or comforting i.e. this guy:

Not terribly terrifying, but not very comforting either.

Kind of meh, wouldn't you say?

Opposite side we have a healthy person:

Nope. Not for a second.

Better. 

We find this familiar, not terrifying, kind of strong and sure....what was I saying?

So what about in the middle?

Well, we get things like this:

The more closely something approximates a human, the more we like it.

The more familiar it is.

However, there comes a point where there is a dip in our familiarity with objects and their humanness.

For example, has anyone seen a Real Doll?

No?

What you see is a silicone doll meant to simulate the human body as accurately as possible.

If you aren't feeling uneasy then you watched Lars and the Real Girl one too many times.

(I'm with the folks on the left.)

Now, the premise of the movie comes from a man purchasing a lifelike doll off the internet to help him deal with his intimacy issues.

No one here can relate...

Point being, the movie is based on the premise of the what is known as the Uncanny Valley.

The more lifelike something appears to be, the less we trust it.

Now, how does this apply to the horror genre?

Well, if you peak at the chart located above...ah fuck it.

Look at the chart, the bottom most dip.

What do you see?

Well, the most uncanny thing is not in fact a corpse.

A corpse we understand, but it is most human-like, but one of the least familiar.

It is also non-moving, which we understand.

CSI is predicated on this:

She will not jump at Laurence Fishburne except in the outtakes.

Why?

It would be a different genre.

However, add a little movement to a corpse and what do you get?

Basically every horror monster ever:

I'm not kidding.

All day!

Something about the uncanny makes our hair stand completely on end.

So why is this so important to Henry James' work?

Well, he managed to do something that no one else had done before.

If you read the original horror stories like Dracula and Frankenstein, you will notice something particular about their writing: 

It is always set in far away lands or something about the faraway comes spilling over.

Transylvania's residents are foreign to England, the foreigner is a shambling corpse, who needs his own dirt in order to survive.

Dracula is basically an alien from outer space.

Same with Frankenstein and his monster.

He is a doctor, creating a simulacrum of a person, and where does the story end? In the icy reaches of the north.

So what is different about Henry James?

He made the domestic uncanny.

If the most effective strategy for horror is by making the familiar strange,

Henry James worked by making the strange familiar.

In Turn of the Screw, a down and out governess is hired to take care of an estate in the country.

It is isolated, it is secluded, but for pity's sake, it is England!

Who are the MacGuffins in this piece? Children. Nothing more, nothing less. Darling, creepy children.

(For those who do not know, MacGuffins are plot devices, used to drive plot forward, something for the protagonist/antagonist to obtain for often no explained reason...they could have been hats).

The main antagonists are ghosts.

Now, where do ghosts and horrible things happen?

Well, until Henry James, out in foreign lands, away from civilization and prying eyes.

So it must have been quite a shock to have ghosts of domestic servants come back and haunt a (literally) unnamed governess in an occupied country home.

So it was shocking, it was surprising, it was terrible.

By setting the story and the main conflict and the main antagonists as things or persons or entities that one may encounter in one's own home, James was able to remove the romance from the horror genre.

It became something much more familiar and therefore, all the more uncanny and unnerving.

It may just be that Henry James is sitting on the opposite side as the Romantics on the uncanny valley, but it is interesting to examine how the story works from a horror standpoint.

Therefore, in working with this particular text, we are seeking to do something similar.

It is quite difficult in a modern age to not do period piece horror stories.

They do so remarkably well, what with The Awakening, The Woman in Black, etc.

However, I don't foresee a staged reading of the novel as it is, nor, an adaptation of lifted text in period dialect and costume would really do this piece justice.

For one, it is a terrible script.

And two, it doesn't have the same effect as James' manuscript.

In it, the governess is the sole perspective through which the audience perceives the world (exempting the prologue).

We look through her eyes as it were.

So in the manuscript, we are dependent on her subjective viewpoint.

However, onstage, we are less bound by what is told to us and more by what we see and perceive.

There is an objective element to the drama of what the governess (actress) physically does.

So those are the questions we are currently considering.

How best to make/use the genre as Henry James did (by making the strange familiar)?

And

From what perspective should we tell the story? e.g. the governess, the audience.

I have some ideas on how to do this that I will discuss in my next post.

For now, suffice it to say, it will probably be an examination of unreliable narrators.

Perfection (Or How Badly I Suck at it)

"Perfect is the opposite of done"

These words haunt me.
They come from a delightful Netherlander who I am falling madly in love with on Kickstarter.
I supported her campaign and get fairly regular updates.
In her, ever so slightly fragmented English, she attributes this adage to her special friend and apologizes for not getting her work done on time because she wanted it to be "perfect."

It actually comes from an older saying:

le mieux est l'ennemi du bien.

Meaning:

the best is the enemy of good

Shakespeare says:

Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,/ To mar the subject that before was well

I prefer my friend in the Netherlands:

Perfect is the opposite of done.

There is something beautifully pragmatic about this idea.
If you are seeking perfection, then it is a never ending process.
Perfect is the enemy of good doesn't quite land for me.
Because what I have witnessed is far more that in striving to achieve perfection in any of my goals, I end up unfinished.

I  have been writing a novel.
Just one.
For decades.
It is one of my oldest stories.
I had others, but at some point in my life, I decided that this one was it.
This was going to be my story.
The way Tolkien had Middle Earth, this would be my Lord of the Rings.
It had all the right notes: high fantasy, apocalyptic stakes, formulaic everything.
There was one problem: I wanted it to be perfect.
So I wrote and wrote and wrote and stopped.
Because it was crap.
Because it was terrible.
Because I wasn't spewing Elvish all over the page, instead it was me and mine and nobody else's.
Because while I could criticize every other fantasy author out there (and I will: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time cannot, should not be published and if you haven't read it, please don't buy them, but find them and read them and burn them as I so badly wish to do), so long as no one was criticizing my work, I could churn away in obscurity.
Eventually, even that proved too much and I stopped altogether.
Because one day, the critic in my head won out.
I listened to the deep, dark voice that told me I wasn't good enough that see? No one heard about me or read my work and therefore, I couldn't.
That I would never have another story so long as I lived so this one had better be god damn perfect.
And since it wasn't perfect, I should just stop altogether.
And so I did.
What a miserable wretch I became.

SO to prove to myself and my audience that I am not a one trick pony, that I am no longer chasing perfection: I am participating in NaNoWriMo this year.
For those not in the know: NaNoWriMo is short of National Novel Writer's Month.
It is an annual celebration of all the writers out there working together to churn out something; that story that has been percolating for years, or just to prove that anyone is a writer.
And what I hear continually is anyone can do it.

"So easy even a caveman can do it."

-AJ Downey, Author 

 But, the thing is, I am not working on my one novel.
Oh no, I am working on another novel.
A completely different story that I dreamed up the day of Nov. 1 (when NaNoWriMo begins).
Why did I do this?
Have I finally given up on my first novel, my first love?
No. Not at all.
But, I have to relearn how to do this on a project that is not so bogged down in emotional turmoil.

"9/10 of what you write is crap. So cut that down to the good bits and that is your start."

-Random Substitute English Teacher I had in High School

Do you know what I learned from that?
I have to produce ten times the amount of content necessary for a book.
And then shred it to pieces, which, to be honest, is actually not far off the mark.
Most of these writers just keep writing, producing 5-10,000 words in a sitting.
Why do they do this? Partially volume; they have to produce, but also, because it takes that much to get to the good.

So we start with NaNoWriMo.
We start fresh.
With a new idea.
A new start.
A new novel.
Always keeping in mind that perfect is the opposite of good.
Trying to make something perfect will often put off the art.
Sometimes terminally.
Another of my favorite quotes:

"A painting is never finished-it just stops in interesting places."

Paul Gardner

That for me is the quintessence of art.
It is never done.
It is never complete.
It only stops at interesting places.
Whatever you find interesting for you and your audience.
So go out. Write a book. Paint a portrait. Do art.
Stop when it is interesting.
And keep doing it.

To end with, here is one of my favorite things in the universe:
This is called and Enso

It is a form of spiritual practice
Now, for anyone who has taught using Venn Diagrams

You know how impossible it is to draw a circle.
So calligraphers in Japan picked up the practice.
So they draw these beautiful, pristine circles.
But, they are never closed.
These circles are considered perfect in their imperfection.
Now, I read a lot into this and I am sure there is a whole tradition I am not aware of.
But, in regards to art and this article, there is nothing better to symbolize my point.
Perfection lies not in completeness, but in incompleteness.
So get it done by letting it alone.

Dracula Before and After

Let us talk about Taproot's production of Dracula.

All in all, a fun exploration of a really well-plumbed text.

SO this was a very good adaptation of a very hard text.

Like I said in my previous post, adaptation is very difficult.

This one tickled a lot of fun buttons for me.

• love and loss
• sacrifice as the counter to evil
• the spreading of foreign power into the English home

It was an incredibly fun night at the theatre.

My partner and I showed up for the theatre late. Per usual.

It isn't that we intend to be late, far from it, we always intend to be early.

We get lost.

Every time.

One time in New York, I set out for An Octoroon two hours before it was set to start at SoHo Rep.

She brought me here...I think:

My New York friend walked me thirty city blocks and then took me to the wrong theatre. (Tiaja Sabrie...I forgive you)

I rushed to the right train from the wrong theatre and got on it to wind up here:

This gorgeous space.

For those not in the know, let me google that for you here.

So it was a bit of a hike.

And it was showtime.

So I made it...late.

And as I walked in, every single member of the lobby crew looked at me with disdain.

I ran from the fucking train station eight blocks to get there as quickly as I could.

Winded and tired and missing the first monologue, which is brilliant by the way, I am greeted with nothing short of contempt.

"You'll have to wait here," they said. And looked at me like I was scum.

Fuck you!
But, I bowed my head and waited.
The lady who brought me into the theatre was adorable though.
She explained what a light lock was (an area to prevent outside light enter the theatre space during performance and preserve the 'illusion').

Point being, it isn't my fault we are late.
But, we arrived late.

IT WAS GORGEOUS.
But, locked.
We knocked on the door and they informed us they were the cafe and to circle round to the theatre.
So we circled round another half block and
IT WAS GORGEOUS
But, locked.
We hastily knocked on the door and the sweetest page let us in.
They asked if we reserved, we said no.
They asked if we reserved online, we said no.
They asked if we had will call, we said no.
Finally, they appreciated we were purchasing tickets.
We flashed our (almost) expired student ids and we got in for $15.
Kids, I am about to tell you something important, so listen carefully.
LISTEN.
NEVER and I mean NEVER GIVE UP YOUR STUDENT IDS.
Renew them every year you can.
Make sure they look like you.
Go to grad school (if it is free).
Because it is almost worth the student debt for the student rates.
Trust me on this.
Okay.
So we got in for the lowest rates in the cheapest seats, which would have been obstructed view of the set.
But, we got there late, you see.
So we got the comfy seats in the back reserved for the disabled and latecomers.
SCORE.

So this is their space.
Two levels of seating.
The second level doesn't have a banister, instead it has that cool glass thing so you can see the stage and rest of the audience.
Stage is three-quarter thrust.
Sets are relegated to the backstage area.
Acting is mostly forward.
Even when the actors came through the aisles at the corners of the forestage, they had to basically wait until they were onstage because the upstairs balcony prevents seeing that space.
So all in all, a very interesting and fun space to see theatre, not very dynamic as far as staging goes:

• in order to be seen you have to turn out
• in order to be seen you have to come out from under the balcony
• in order to be seen you can't be on the second floor

Some pretty serious limitations for actors and director alike.

I sympathize.

The show was lifted text from Stoker's Dracula adapted by the playwright Nathan Jeffrey and the director in a two year collaboration.

It featured some wonderful performances, from the actors playing Harker (the set-upon Englishmen, losing his wits, but not his love), Mina (the surprisingly capable and willful damsel in distress who saves herself in the climax of the piece was a lovely surprise, especially her climactic monologue that caused goosebumps in the audience), Count Dracula (aptly performed that emulated the original Transylvanian archetype (performed by Bela Lugosi) walking a fine line between camp and melodrama, which was lovely), but most notable of all: van Helsing (performed as a kindly father figure to every character in the play, but poignantly feels the loss of his own son, the play's structure is meant to be a conveyance to the son of his father's sacrifice).

So sacrifice and father's and sons were the biggest, most glaring themes to my eyes.
No real jump scares to speak of save for a fun moment where the Count is discovered in his crypt by Harker (before the vampire reveal).
Harker finds the Count lying as if dead, no breath to speak of, and as he leans in, the Count's hand shoots out to a special that illuminates just that spot.
I heard someone scream in that moment.
That was probably the best scare in the show.

Mina's final monologue was probably the most meaningful moment in the play.
It gathered all of the themes that had been laid out:

• The stake is pulled from the tree
• The garlic is crushed
• The holy water that represents blood is sprinkled
• Everything sacrifices to protect those they love

Therefore: Only sacrifice may overcome the Count.

It establishes as the quite literal anti-Christ.

Instead of giving blood, he takes it. 

Instead of letting others live forever, he lives forever.

This was a really beautiful moment where Mina's sacrificial love overcomes the Count.

For some reason no one in the audience got it.

We stayed for the talkback after the show and we got that she was in the right and the Count was in the wrong.
We got that she was spitting some truth. 

But, it was lost on us somehow. 

Something about the way it was phrased: the blood, sacrifice is the key, evil, devil vampire...

Yeah...we lost it somehow.

I'm sorry.

The most surprising through line though was the structure of the piece.

The performance of van Helsing as a fatherly mentor type figure is unsurprising.

But, he wasn't gruff, at a distance ever, which makes his estranged relationship with his son seem so implausible upon further reflection.

You have to understand: this actor exudes fatherly love.

If there was a benevolent father-god in the course of the universe, he was like this van Helsing.

He was sweet and clever and proud, but felt the depth of his failings with so much pain that you couldn't help but reach out and comfort the man.

And then he dies! 

Without ever seeing his son again!

And his last wish, his last wish! Guys! Was that his son know how much he loves him! How he wished he could have been a better father.

*tears*

And then, and then! They dedicate their letters and correspondence to van Helsing's son.

It was very, very lovely.

Finally, we stayed for the talkback.

It was lovely.

We spoke with the director mostly. 

He talked about how once upon a time there was a map of Europe on the ground with arrows spreading like blood out from Romania to England.

Talk about a clear parallel.

I think that one jumped the shark though. I was happy to hear about it and that nature eventually cut the choice for the actual performance (it was worn away by the actors' shoes. Go figure)

Because Dracula has some very clear themes of foreign, forceful sensuality/sexuality coming in and invading, taking good, stalwart British land/ladies from their rightful homes and "changing" them.

It was...disturbing to recognize that as an adult.

But, to then also draw a clear parallel to nationalism, particularly German-influenced WWII maps.

I was uncomfortable with it.

So that's it. 

Those are some impressions.

I feel bad about how long that took.

Maybe I will talk about that in my next post.