Monday, April 26, 2010

How Sarah Ruhl Accomplishes the Impossible

I was reading Lorca's play The House of Bernarda Alba today and it made me want to talk about impossible stage directions. From Act One:

From the rear door, two by two, women in mourning with large shawls and black skirts and fans, begin to enter. They come in slowly until the stage is full.

Seems okay at first, but then one line of dialogue later:

The two hundred women finish coming in.


200 women! I love it. What theatre has the resources to pay and costume 200 actresses, only four of whom have any spoken lines? Not to mention, what theatre has the space to fit 200 women not only onstage, but also backstage and in the dressing rooms? It's a logistical nightmare. Where would you find all these women willing to show up every night to walk on stage for four minutes? And the cherry on top of this delicious sundae is that these women are supposed to pour onto the stage from one entrance in the span of 15 seconds.

I've never heard of a production using the 200 women the script calls for. I heard of one professional production that used 50. Most theatres will have to get creative. (In theory, they should be doing that anyway.) Should it be played as though the women are offstage? Could they be portrayed by 200 puppets? Or a photo or video projected on the upstage wall?

Sarah Ruhl has become notorious for her impossible stage directions, but she goes a step further. Her stage directions are written in poetry and metaphor, with no suggestion of how they can be played in reality.

From Eurydice:

He picks her up and throws her into the sky.


Genius. In Melancholy Play, a character turns into an almond because of her depression. Clean House is set in "a metaphysical Connecticut." Look at this one, from Dead Man's Cell Phone:

Jean stares at Dwight.
He looks so much like Gordon.
But Jean doesn't want to remind anyone of Gordon's death, so she doesn't comment on the resemblance.


How do you play that? What does that look like on stage?

These kinds of stage directions are such a wonderful challenge. I don't think you should include them in a script just for the sake of being artistic or only with the goal of frustrating a director. The examples I've given all stem from a playwright with a huge imagination seeking to spark the imagination of others.

I don't think these stage directions are possible in your screenplay or teleplay. Feature films actually have the resources to take these things literally (literally 200 women; he literally throws her into the sky). Television production teams wouldn't appreciate this kind of thing. Television is created on such a fast-paced schedule that you kind of have to spell things out. There's no time for pondering over how best to represent a metaphysical Connecticut in the scenic design.

But feel free to challenge the people producing your play. It's good for them.


UPDATE: I can't believe I forgot this one. It's like the best example on the planet. From Dead Man's Cell Phone:

The phone rings.
They kiss.
Embossed stationery moves through the air slowly,
like a snow parade.
Lanterns made of embossed paper,
houses made of embossed paper,
light falling on paper,
falling on Jean and Dwight,
who are also falling.


How can you not love that?

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