Frankenstein’s Blogster: I’m So Lonely

Happy Halloween, everyone! Blogslave Keith Hock back again to share some more spooky scary horror thoughts with you before the Halloween Bell rings and I turn back into a pumpkin […right? My personal mythology is getting a little muddy -KH] and have to go back to talking about staging and lighting and direction and all that, you know, actual theatre stuff on this blog I write for a theatre company.

But before that happens I have one last horror trope discussion that I want to squeeze in, one that each of our three shows touches on differently: solitude. I’ve touched on this topic once before, but only in passing, and it was a LONG time ago. I think it’s about due for a deeper exploration, wouldn’t you say? Ordinarily I would invite you to join me on this journey for a little while, but it would be counter to my theme this time. So instead I will ask you to focus on the fact that you’re reading this by yourself. No one is with you. If you’re at work, everyone else is at their own desks, working on their projects or goldbricking like you, by themselves. If you’re on the train or the bus, even if you’re pressed in with people, each and every one of them, yourself included, is alone. Headphones crammed in both ears, eyes locked on your phones, willing away the sensation of being surrounded by strangers. Maybe you’re at home, sequestered from the dark chill outside, turning on all the lights so you don’t get sad and desperately clinging to whatever Netflix show you half-watch for company and noise, any noise to hide from the cold, mechanical tick-tock of that old-fashioned clock that you don’t remember buying or hanging up [whoa, lost the thread a little bit there. Let’s rein this back in. -ed.] Anyway, meditate on the intense loneliness that permeates modern life while we explore isolation in horror.

Frankenstein Alone

Scott Whalen, from WHF’s 2018 production of Frankenstein. Photo by Mark Williams Hoeschler

Let’s start from the same place I started oh those many moons ago, when we were adapting our first Poe story. At the time I called out how uncommon it was that Poe would write a horror story that could so easily be rendered as a dialogue, because it suited our purposes from a staging perspective. And I had some, frankly, pretty stupid and poorly-written ideas about what made horror such a solitary genre. If I somehow had even less integrity than I already do I would have secretly edited that paragraph so that I sounded less dumb and had a halfway-coherent thesis. But instead I will leave it as a monument to the ignorance of youth, and will make some more bold and poorly substantiated claims here which certainly I will not be embarrassed to look back upon in another three years. Only this time, instead of broad generalizations about horror as a whole (which I have saved for my dramaturgy notes) I will observe solitude through the lens of our three adaptations, to see how different authors interpret this necessary facet of their genre.

In Dracula, solitude equals vulnerability, straight up-and-down. Lucy, Mina, and Jonathan are in the most danger when they are alone, separated from their allies. This should not be surprising for a book that is more transparently about the power of friendship than Harry Potter, a book series so transparently about the power of friendship that the seventh book opens with a quote about how the bonds of friendship are so powerful that they transcend death itself. Dracula prides himself on his hunting prowess, comparing himself to a wolf. But his wolf-lore is lacking, because he failed to notice that wolves hunt in packs. Once his prey are able to join together and work as a team they quickly turn the tables on the Count. The message is clear: while the world may be full of mystery and danger, there is no challenge that cannot be overcome with friends.

Garlic.JPG

L-R: Kerry McGee, Jon Reynolds, and Meg Lowey, ready to hunt some vampires.

Poe seldom used isolation as a theme in and of itself. He often used it as a symptom of sorrow, as in The Raven or Annabel Lee, or simply as a condition, a necessary precursor to the story he wanted to tell; for The Pit and the Pendulum to work the protagonist must be by himself, but his solitude doesn’t MEAN anything ulterior to the text. But most frequently for Poe, loneliness was closely associated with madness, though which one led to the other is not always necessarily clear and varies from story to story. Considering that Poe’s personal life was rife with personal tragedies, loss, and betrayal, it makes sense that he would be both desperate for, and suspicious of, companionship. Perhaps the best example is The Tell-tale Heart. Our murderous ‘hero’ at first seems to be driven mad by the mere presence of his elderly roommate, and then, if possible, driven even madder by his absence. Unable to tolerate either companionship or isolation, his unraveling mirror’s his author’s, and the reader’s, struggles to find their place in the human community.

Frankenstein is more explicit about the theme of solitude than Poe, for whom its meaning varies depending on the demands of the story, and more nuanced than Dracula, where it is directly refuted by demonstrating the importance of friendship. For Victor Frankenstein solitude brushes perilously close to solipsism. He needs to be alone while he works, he cannot bear Clerval’s presence or respond to his father’s letters. Even his wedding night he spends by himself, scorning his bride in a misguided attempt to outwit his far more cunning Creation. Frankenstein erects countless barriers between himself and the people who care about him, in the name of keeping them safe from his ‘tortured genius’. Contrast this with the Creation himself, an actual tortured genius who would love nothing more than simple human contact but is stymied by the cruel accident of his birth. Victor scorns the love that is heaped upon him at every turn in his arrogant pursuit of solitude, while his Creation, cursed to an eternity of isolation, hunts desperately for any sort of companionship or, indeed, attention.

 

If you would like to have friends to help keep you safe and sane from the encroaching darkness that typifies the human condition, why not invite someone to come with you to see one (or all) of our shows? We are running until the 10th of November, and tickets, though going fast, are still available! I hope to see you there!

Theatre is a Team Sport

 

Hey everybody! How’s it going? Good to see you again!

If I seem uncharacteristically cheery and upbeat today, that is only because I am. Some wonderful, glorious, beautiful things are happening right now, and they have put a bounce in my step and a sparkle in my eye. For one thing it is cherry blossom season, the prettiest and best season in DC, because it means our city is finally warming up and it will be tolerable to be outside for like 2 months until DC’s miserable sticky bastard of a summer ruins everything. Second, we are three weeks deep into rehearsals for our wonderful, smart, fun, deep, complex production of Henry V that has got me almost giddy with anticipation. And finally, we are in the final week of the NCAA Men’s College Basketball Tournament! March Madness! Basketball Christmas! My favorite three weeks of the year!

“Hey, wait a minute,” I hear you mutter. “Keith, you’re a nerd. You talk about nerd stuff all the time. You lectured us for like 3000 words about where a Chinese story came from and you use pictures of Magic cards and CHUDs in your blog posts. You aren’t supposed to like basketball.” My initial response to that is GO! GONZAGA! G-O-N-Z-A-G-A! Moreover, I don’t appreciate your disappointed judgmental tone, nor the implication that because I like a given thing I am automatically pigeonholed and my interests and personality predetermined.

Final Four

GO ZAGS!

But hear me out, oddly confrontational figments of my imagination used to construct this blog, because I have here some reasons that I (and you) can enjoy both, besides us being adults and being in charge of our own interests. Perhaps sports and theatre have something in common. David Mamet himself used the arc of a satisfying game to illustrate the nature of a well-crafted narrative, in his book Three Uses of the Knife, so there must be something there. Let’s see if I can convince you that theatre, especially We Happy Few-style theatre, is more like basketball than you might expect.

First of all, they are both spectator activities, performances meant to be watched, appreciated, and analyzed by an audience. We do them to entertain and inspire our fans, and fans come to be entertained and inspired. They are also both physical activities, harnessing the human body and spirit and putting it on display. They both take a lot, lot, lot of practice, drilling scenes and lines and plays and basic fundamental actions until they no longer take thought but are automatic muscle memory reactions. And you need to get to that level of automatic repetition, because once you run into an adversary or ESPECIALLY an audience, all your careful plans will go flying out the window. Your opponent is going to do their level best (and they have been practicing at least as hard as you) to prevent you from doing whatever you’re trying to do, but a crowd will throw you off your game just by not liking you. You will feel the weight of their displeasure bearing down on you, whether you’re trying to hit a key free throw or land “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow”. Even if they don’t hate you, just the pressure of thousands of eyes on you, watching and judging and analyzing your every move, can easily rattle even a veteran. A crowd has real energy and can absolutely sway a performance. Just ask Chris Webber:

 

But perhaps the biggest similarity between the two, as you may have guessed from the title of this blog, is teamwork. Theatre is obviously a collaborative endeavor, just like basketball or lacrosse or any other team sport. The only difference is that in sports, you are cooperating with one set of people and competing with another set, while in theatre you are ALL cooperating to put on a performance [if you feel you are competing while you are on stage I urge you to find a less toxic company to work with -KH]. I am in my heart of hearts a collaborator and only get competitive when it comes to trivia, which is why I chose theatre over lacrosse after a year and a half in college and I now spend my spare time as the Literary Director of a theatre company and not playing in rec leagues down at the Y, but I spent enough time being truly awful at lacrosse on a team of the most supportive people in the entire world to know that you need and will find at least as much camaraderie as killer instinct on the court.

Basketball isn’t the MOST collaborative of team sports (for my money that title goes to the hyper-specialized football) but it is the one I love the most, and it is the one that is happening right now, so it’s what I’m gonna talk about. It is also the one that expects the most out of each individual player. Football and to a somewhat lesser extent baseball are dominated by players who excel at a single position and do little or nothing else; football has a number of single-use positions, including two different kinds of kickers (2!), and in baseball it is understood that your pitchers will be an automatic out when they are at bat. Hockey, soccer, and lacrosse divide the field into sections and have players that generally only play in one. Defenders and attackmen/strikers/forwards rarely cross into or involve themselves in the opposite section, and while goalies CAN leave their goals it is ill-advised for them to do so. In all of these sports there are long stretches of time where many of the players will be standing around, watching their teammates play and waiting for their opportunity to do something.

But in basketball, both because of the size of the team and the quickness with which the game is played, everyone plays both sides of the court on every possession. A player who is visionary on offense but a liability on defense is an incomplete player, and a lockdown defender who can’t shoot lets the other team ignore him on offense and basically play five-on-four. This is not to say that a player must be perfect at everything, nor that there are players who are better at one than the other, but unlike in many other sports you really gotta know what you’re doing all over the court. And while basketball has perhaps the most room for heroics by a single player, due to the small team size, playing hero ball is seldom the recipe for success. Look at Markelle Fultz, the number-1 recruit out of high school this year, who led the Washington Huskies to an ASTOUNDING 9-22 season. Or, if you think that was a fluke, ask Ben Simmons, the number-1 college recruit the year before, who led his Louisiana State Tigers to a 10-21 season. Both of these teams had the best player in the country, both will probably be the #1 picks in the draft (Simmons already was last year and Fultz is likely to be this year) but neither of them could lead their teams to win even a third of the time, and both got their head coaches fired at the end of the season. If the cogs don’t fit together, it doesn’t matter that one of them is made of gold.

Go Go Power Rangers

Go Go Power Rangers!

As you should expect from me by this point, what I am talking about is both true in general and specifically relevant for what we are working on. Not to tell tales out of school, but our conception of Henry V (and the whole We Happy Few ethos) takes very seriously the idea of a whole being greater than the sum of its parts. For all my emphasis on ‘Great Man’ history in my History Lesson post, we will be spending a lot less time with Henry, and a lot more time with his army, when we bring the show to the stage next month. Exactly how we manage that…you’ll have to come see the show to find out. Tickets are available now!

Until next time,

Go Zags

PS The next blog post I write will actually be about the play, I swear.