Its been a very busy week, but I finally have a few moments to spend with my lonely blog. Just hours ago I returned to Utah from Las Vegas, where I spent an enjoyable two days and far too much money on fun but frivolous things like clothes, a pair of sunglasses, and tickets to a preview night of "Avenue Q" (which won the Tony for Best Musical over "Wicked" and totally deserved it, I don't care what you other theater people say - it was so good). But what I want to talk about, mainly, happened the night before I went to Vegas, during our Saturday evening performance of Macbeth.
Macbeth started last Thursday, and its been going pretty well. The audiences have been a rather decent size considering the venue is difficult to locate and, lets face it, we're doing not just a Shakespeare play but a bloody tragedy dressed in punk/goth clothes. Thats not generally what appeals to the theater going audience of Utah Valley (whose average age is over 100), but we've had some very interested and appreciative audiences, so I guess miracles can happen. If you haven't seen it yet, you really should. Remember, www.arte-ut.org.
The Castle Ampitheater where we perform, though rather hidden, is a great place to put on a play. The stage overlooks a perfect view of the valley and the sunset. The only problem with it is that it happens to be within half a mile of a water park called Seven Peaks, which hosts dance/swim parties on weekends and likes to play really bad music really really loud (really bad music is almost always played loudly, have you noticed? I think its to obscure the poor quality of the music by blowing people away with the decibels. But I'm being a snob again.)
The music is pointed towards the mountains, so that it won't disturb homes near the water park - which means its pointed straight at our play. The sound echoes perfectly off the mountains behind us so we can hear every beat of the bass and every grunt and moan of the singer. Suddenly, during Act 3, Macbeth got a hip hop soundtrack that literally drowned out everything people on stage were saying. We were shouting, but it was hardly any good. Performing Shakespeare is rather difficult; performing Shakespeare well is extremely difficult and requires an immense amount of concentration. In addition, watching and enjoying and understanding Shakespeare requires some mental focus and concentration on the part of the audience as well. Its certainly not passive entertainment, like action movies, where you can just switch your brain off and enjoy. Not that there's anything wrong with that kind of entertainment, I enjoy it myself often; but Shakespeare is different and, potentially, more rewarding. A huge distraction like loud music is almost enough to make one stop the show and go home. There seems little point to continue if the actors can barely even hear each other. It makes the whole production seem a bit unprofessional, which of course it is but we don't like to be reminded of that fact.
But more than that, I realized, while standing off stage in a frustrated rage, that the whole situation was a good representation of something much greater. Here we were, a rag-tag bunch of players trying to perform some classical theater to an audience that, for all intents and purposes, wanted to see it. And then there is the forces of mainstream entertainment and popular culture sounding out louder and more powerfully than we ever can, drowning us out, making us irrelevant, outdated, unspeakably unmodern. We don't seek to destroy pop culture, we have no wish to force our art onto those who aren't interested. Our Shakespeare was not intefering with their techno, so why should their techno interfere with our Shakespeare? Why is the music so loud, so flashy, so stimulating and exciting, if not to force itself onto as many people as possible, to swallow everything up? (I'm speaking metaphorically here) I felt like David against an impossibly huge Goliath who I had no wish to fight, but who sought my death anyway. But I'm dramatic that way.
In Vegas, we stopped in the nice mall area of the Venetian hotel to watch a group of performers in Italian Renaissance clothing sing music from famous operas. They were really good, but the small crowd that gathered to watch was unimpressed. They were either old people who were sleeping or couldn't hear, or people stopping to admire the costumes before pushing on. When the group finished, they bowed graciously. I was the only one clapping. Everybody else kind of yawned and went looking for more beer and slot machines. I thought that by clapping, loud and clear, I could at least get some people to feel like they ought to be polite enough to applaud the effort of the performers, but it was no use. The crowd seemed mostly apathetic, one of the most pernicious diseases of our time.
I know I can be a snob. I try really hard not to force my qualitative judgements on what art is good and what is bad onto other people. I try not to say that what I enjoy is substantially better than what you enjoy, because I hate it when people do it to me. But I am reminded how far I am from that ideal when things like this happen, because I can't help myself from thinking that Shakespeare really is better, more important, and more enlightening than the dance party music, or that opera is better than slot machines, and that therefore the whole world is upside down. I may say "To each his own," and really try to mean it, but the truth is sometimes I'm as snobby as anybody else in feeling that I'm right and everybody who disagrees is crazy or uncultured. That makes me feel guilty, but perhaps this confession will make me feel better.
But don't point the finger of blame at me; you do it too, you know you do. I guess we're all a bit of a work in progress. But between you and me, that work would be a little easier if SOME people would turn their damn music down.
Macbeth started last Thursday, and its been going pretty well. The audiences have been a rather decent size considering the venue is difficult to locate and, lets face it, we're doing not just a Shakespeare play but a bloody tragedy dressed in punk/goth clothes. Thats not generally what appeals to the theater going audience of Utah Valley (whose average age is over 100), but we've had some very interested and appreciative audiences, so I guess miracles can happen. If you haven't seen it yet, you really should. Remember, www.arte-ut.org.
The Castle Ampitheater where we perform, though rather hidden, is a great place to put on a play. The stage overlooks a perfect view of the valley and the sunset. The only problem with it is that it happens to be within half a mile of a water park called Seven Peaks, which hosts dance/swim parties on weekends and likes to play really bad music really really loud (really bad music is almost always played loudly, have you noticed? I think its to obscure the poor quality of the music by blowing people away with the decibels. But I'm being a snob again.)
The music is pointed towards the mountains, so that it won't disturb homes near the water park - which means its pointed straight at our play. The sound echoes perfectly off the mountains behind us so we can hear every beat of the bass and every grunt and moan of the singer. Suddenly, during Act 3, Macbeth got a hip hop soundtrack that literally drowned out everything people on stage were saying. We were shouting, but it was hardly any good. Performing Shakespeare is rather difficult; performing Shakespeare well is extremely difficult and requires an immense amount of concentration. In addition, watching and enjoying and understanding Shakespeare requires some mental focus and concentration on the part of the audience as well. Its certainly not passive entertainment, like action movies, where you can just switch your brain off and enjoy. Not that there's anything wrong with that kind of entertainment, I enjoy it myself often; but Shakespeare is different and, potentially, more rewarding. A huge distraction like loud music is almost enough to make one stop the show and go home. There seems little point to continue if the actors can barely even hear each other. It makes the whole production seem a bit unprofessional, which of course it is but we don't like to be reminded of that fact.
But more than that, I realized, while standing off stage in a frustrated rage, that the whole situation was a good representation of something much greater. Here we were, a rag-tag bunch of players trying to perform some classical theater to an audience that, for all intents and purposes, wanted to see it. And then there is the forces of mainstream entertainment and popular culture sounding out louder and more powerfully than we ever can, drowning us out, making us irrelevant, outdated, unspeakably unmodern. We don't seek to destroy pop culture, we have no wish to force our art onto those who aren't interested. Our Shakespeare was not intefering with their techno, so why should their techno interfere with our Shakespeare? Why is the music so loud, so flashy, so stimulating and exciting, if not to force itself onto as many people as possible, to swallow everything up? (I'm speaking metaphorically here) I felt like David against an impossibly huge Goliath who I had no wish to fight, but who sought my death anyway. But I'm dramatic that way.
In Vegas, we stopped in the nice mall area of the Venetian hotel to watch a group of performers in Italian Renaissance clothing sing music from famous operas. They were really good, but the small crowd that gathered to watch was unimpressed. They were either old people who were sleeping or couldn't hear, or people stopping to admire the costumes before pushing on. When the group finished, they bowed graciously. I was the only one clapping. Everybody else kind of yawned and went looking for more beer and slot machines. I thought that by clapping, loud and clear, I could at least get some people to feel like they ought to be polite enough to applaud the effort of the performers, but it was no use. The crowd seemed mostly apathetic, one of the most pernicious diseases of our time.
I know I can be a snob. I try really hard not to force my qualitative judgements on what art is good and what is bad onto other people. I try not to say that what I enjoy is substantially better than what you enjoy, because I hate it when people do it to me. But I am reminded how far I am from that ideal when things like this happen, because I can't help myself from thinking that Shakespeare really is better, more important, and more enlightening than the dance party music, or that opera is better than slot machines, and that therefore the whole world is upside down. I may say "To each his own," and really try to mean it, but the truth is sometimes I'm as snobby as anybody else in feeling that I'm right and everybody who disagrees is crazy or uncultured. That makes me feel guilty, but perhaps this confession will make me feel better.
But don't point the finger of blame at me; you do it too, you know you do. I guess we're all a bit of a work in progress. But between you and me, that work would be a little easier if SOME people would turn their damn music down.
Comments
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
grumble grumble
And I never said that if its not Shakespeare it doesn't have ANY value. I just said that if its not Shakespeare is has LESS value.