My taste in theatre is not mainstream. I love the experimental theatre that came out of the 1960s, when plays broke the “wall” between actors and audience and shocked us with bold ideas, rather than mindless entertainment.
As a Southerner, I’ve grown up to appreciate the sophisticated works of Tennessee Williams. The plays of August Wilson and David Mamet have resonated deeply with me. Today, my favorite contemporary playwright is Wallace Shawn.
My Dinner with Andre was my first encounter with Shawn, who is the son of William Shawn, the late editor of the New Yorker. But it was Andre Gregory’s 2000 production of Shawn's The Designated Mourner in an abandoned men’s club in Lower Manhattan that made me see the true genius of Shawn’s theatrical productions. His production of The Fever a few years later and his recent book of Essays really sealed the deal for me.
Because both The Designated Mourner and The Fever were made into feature films means they are available to anyone. But their content insures these masterpieces will be seen only with those who want to take a deep bite of truly compelling theatre. They explore Shawn’s love of human creature comforts (coffee is a major thread) while examining the oppression and torture of others who supply him his lifestyle. Shawn calls his writing “a cat and mouse” game with him playing both sides.
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Last night, Shawn talked about the serious side of his life in an interview with critic John Lahr at the City Winery as part of the annual New Yorker Festival. Shawn talks about the bohemians and radicals who taught him at the Putney School, the private liberal arts high school where he got a dose of "high self-esteem."
His first play was written on a whelm, after seeing an ad for a playwriting content. In 1970, Shawn met Andre Gregory, who has directed several of his plays. This is where Shawn developed his radical approach to the presentation of theatrical works outside the normal confines of the traditional theatre. The Fever, for example, was presented in private homes for audiences of only 12 people in its early days.
His Designated Mourner was heavily enhanced by its location in the crumbling old multi-story men’s club. In that production, the tiny audiences were led through the building as participants in the play. At one point, audience members actually ate a small meal with Shawn and Gregory. It was a theatrical experience I’ll never forget as long as I live.
Last night, Shawn told the story of two young actors who gave their limited impressions of winos on skid row. Gregory didn’t discourage them, but gave them an assignment. They had to actually live on skid row for a few days, drinking the cheapest wine available. Then they would return to the next class and do the scene again. This time, Shawn said, it was different because their performances were rooted in the life they had learned on the street. This, he said, is essential to good acting.
Many people in the New Yorker Festival audience knew Wallace Shawn only from the light comedic roles he plays on television. That’s so sad. Because this man offers far, far more to those with open, curious minds. I urge anyone who likes to think to dig into his work for a rich and rewarding experience.
