The Witches (process)

"The Witches" at Pandemonium
(Cleveland Public Theatre, 2019)

History is marked with terror, in America as it is in the rest of the world. There are monuments and memorials to moments of great suffering and tragedy which are peaceful sites of reflection, like the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, or the Salem Witch Trials Memorial.

Then there are the museums, houses of artifacts and exhibits. Some are an attempt to rectify previously unacknowledged history, as they have been working to do at Monticello; some are meant to memorialize recent events like the National September 11 Memorial Museum in Manhattan. These efforts have also received their share of criticism.

What does it mean that there are for-profit tourist traps and wax museums exploiting such curiosities as Bonnie & Clyde’s Death Car, the actual mummified remains of mental health patients, and, of course, the Salem Witch Trials?

Two and a half years ago we workshopped the first scene I had written for The Witches at Pandemonium, the annual gala for Cleveland Public Theatre. It was there that I understood (once again) the inherent difficulty in pairing comedy with horror.

Salem Witch Dungeon Museum

We are attempting to walk the line between satire (n.: the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues) and the reality of misogyny, generational trauma, capital punishment, child abuse, and on and on. It’s not funny, this being burned alive business.

In spite of having to miss a week’s worth of rehearsals due to class, family obligations and the playwrights festival, I have been engaged in the process of revision, listening to our actors, trying to make it all clear. I can be obtuse, you know. Editing has happened.

I wrote speeches. Some work. Some do not. There were also a number of Hamilton references which in 2022 are embarrassing like naked baby pictures are embarrassing. No one wants to see that shit.

There’s a lot of stuff in the words, and yet, not enough stuff. There’s also jokes. I am going to be sitting in the back next weekend, paying close attention to what gets laughs – and what does not.

To be continued.

Cleveland Public Theatre presents THE WITCHES as part of Test Flight, a showcase of new works, March 3, 4 & 5, 2022.

Play a Day: Syd

Craig Houk

For Thursday, I read Syd by Craig Houk and posted at New Play Exchange.

On the evening of June 24, 1973, the Up Stairs Lounge on the edge of the French Quarter in New Orleans was intentionally set on fire. The fast-moving and intense blaze lasted for only twenty minutes, but in that time 32 people were killed. The Up Stairs Lounge was a popular hangout for the NOLA gay community, and until the Pulse shooting in 2016 was the single greatest tragedy targeting the gay community in American history.

“If God is love, then why is the world so filled with hate?”

This true history is the backdrop to the tale of two families, neighbors. The Larson family has a son named Roscoe who does not appear on stage. The Trahan’s daughter, Sydney (or Syd, of the title) is studying to be a nurse. Roscoe is a gay man, Sydney is a lesbian. They have both spent time at the Up Stairs Lounge.

How the parents either do or do not come to terms with who their children are is at the root of this tale. Living in a more accepting place and time, it is difficult to imagine the kind of murderous hatred people can feel, even toward their own children. Each parent self-defines as Christian, though each has a different idea of exactly what that means.

This is a devastating, often ugly, and ultimately hopeful expression of love, faith, family, and acceptance.

Who should I read tomorrow?

Play a Day: Barceló On The Rocks

Marco Antonio Rodriguez

For Friday I read Barceló On the Rocks by Marco Antonio Rodriguez, a playwright whose work is available at New Play Exchange.

That skull had a tongue in it and could sing once. How the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain’s jawbone, that did the first murder!
- HAM V.i

The first murder, and in Hamlet's case the recent murder of his father by his uncle. The story of the human race is one of continual and constant betrayal, between family members, friends, and lovers.

The baggage that we carry as Americans, the collective weight of cultures without number, many who flee across the border to escape persecution, but end up bringing their oppression with them.

Rodriguez's tale is a memory play of the Dominican Republic, centering on one man who has betrayed as much as he has been betrayed. Caught between nations, abandoning his home and not yet embracing America, he burdens his sons with his shame, disappointment, and sadness.

His script is rich and layered, a tension of regret and fear from the old country haunting the otherwise everyday setting of an apartment in Washington Heights. The final moments, of honesty, confession and acceptance, are a welcome release and promise hope for the future.