Theater: Staging the World Versus Restaging the World

Theater that supports reconciliation or theater that supports violence

The theatrical masks of tragedy and comedy, 2nd century. Mosaic from Roman baths of Decius, Palazzo Nuovo, Capitoline Museums, Rome. Public Domain

Playwrights create worlds; this we all know. By “world,” I mean the conditions of time, space, and viewpoint depicted in the play that we must accept, if only temporarily, if we are to understand the characters who inhabit that world and the playwright’s point of view.

Most plays present either a world that needs to be overhauled or one that needs to be preserved (or variations thereof). What we tend to see today, not only onstage but in film and television, is the presentation of the former—a world that demands the complacent reexamine their long-held traditional beliefs in favor of a new, enlightened utopia.

Less common is the depiction of a world that attempts to reclaim the lost (or, rather, discarded) values of the past, even within the context of a brave new world. I encountered both such worldviews recently after witnessing two original plays and a touring production of an old classic staged in the Columbus, Ohio, area.

Worlds Our Past Plays Examined

For a familiar frame of reference, let’s look at the worlds created in purported masterpieces of drama. In Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot,” we have a world that has been annihilated (a bare stage with one isolated tree), leaving two lonely, vulnerable tramps to wait out the fulfillment of a godless existence by playing games, chattering on, and hoping to make human contact. Here, any hope for the reclamation of days gone by is dashed, replaced not by a utopia but a dystopia of misery.

Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot.” This 1978 Avignon Festival production was directed by Otomar Krejca and starred Rufus (L) as Estragon and Georges Wilson as Vladimir. Fernand Michaud/CCO

In “Hamlet,” Shakespeare presents a once great court that has decayed into something rotten, where deceitful or confused characters seem to be adrift in a world that needs to be destroyed before it can be made whole again. The hope here is that the newly redeemed world will retain its old glory with a new generation of characters.

British actor John Gielgud (1904–2000) poses in costume for his lead role in  "Hamlet" in 1936. Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” shows us a self-contained world where the realities of existence (birth, marriage, death) are accepted—however sad at times—and understood as the joy and cost of being alive. There is no new world to look toward but rather the continuance of an existing world, which suits everyone just fine.

A scene from the original Broadway production of “Our Town” with Frank Craven (L)  as the Stage Manager, Martha Scott as Emily Webb, and John Craven as George Gibbs. Public Domain

The key component of these created worlds is that their inhabitants recognize the conditions of their world and make the choice either to live within them (“Godot” and “Our Town”) or to fight against them (“Hamlet”). But the conditions during the course of the play rarely change and are accepted by most, even if the protagonist chooses not to accept them.

Three Plays

The original plays I saw presented the two very distinct worlds I’ve described above. The first play concerned a small, black-family-owned diner that has survived the last half-century of societal upheaval, even as the married owners have drifted apart. Let’s call this the “Diner Play, ” as I'd rather use these as generic rather than specific examples.

The second play involved the frequent park bench meetings of two homosexual men (an older, cynical retiree and a young, idealistic government worker) whose conversations are framed by the ongoing unrest in our nation, onstage protests and all. We’ll call this one the “Bench Play.”

The "Bench Play" features two men on a park bench. Dmytro Sheremeta/Shutterstock

The “Diner Play” creates a world where it is understood that God exists and plays a role in our lives, that the world changes but some things (like diners) withstand the march of time, and that people can reconcile under the most difficult circumstances. Racism has reared its ugly head throughout the years, but it is not what defines these characters, nor is it the source of major conflict in the play. The play’s message is one of hope for a better future, starting with the spiritual reunion of the diner’s mom-and-pop owners.

The "Diner Play" features the belief in the importance of a nuclear family and includes a reunion of the husband-wife diner owners. Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock

The “Bench Play” presents a world where violence is a given, but some violence represents a necessary response to injustice while other violence stems from bigotry and hatred. The hope in the world lies solely in the ability of others to understand the evil inherent in certain ways of thinking; many characters are white supremacists, and jingoistic flag waving is pervasive in all situations. Even the two white homosexuals reject and bully a gay man of color. God, when mentioned, is a figure called upon to receive prayers, which, like slogans on motivational posters, sound great but are rarely given with any consequence.

This latter world, by the way, is the same as that created by Aaron Sorkin’s new take on “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I also recently saw it in Columbus, touring with Richard Thomas as Atticus Finch. Sorkin’s view is that racism is endemic and systemic, that there is no hope for those who perpetuate bigotry (presumably all of us), and that we must remove racism from society by any means necessary. Thus, Sorkin’s Finch is no longer the moral center of the “Mockingbird” universe but rather a foolish believer in the innate goodness of people, resigned to resorting to outright lies to further the cause of antiracism. He’s not your grandparents’ Atticus Finch.

Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck) and his daughter (Mary Badham), in the movie "To Kill a Mocking Bird." Screenshot/YouTube

Violence as the Answer

As a person who believes in the value of tradition and is viscerally opposed to contemporary attempts to extinguish it, I was disturbed by the insistence in the “Bench Play” that we can create a new world if only we get those pesky racists out of the way. (They’re everywhere!) Violence is now an acceptable way to rid the world of racism, the playwright reminds us.

Tellingly, this was the message of Sorkin’s “Mockingbird”: Racists are everywhere, even in a population consisting of allegedly good people. It presents a 1934 American South as a reflection of contemporary America, a false and unfair comparison in that we are a much better nation now for having removed the shackles of institutional racism 60 years ago.

Yet both “Bench Play” and “Mockingbird” tell us that our national values are inadequate and somehow as oppressive as ever. That’s because, I fear, as a nation we are discouraged from following a familiar set of fundamental values to create a standard for living. Our major institutions (family, school, church, government) have suffered a bombardment of ridicule and dismantlement, so much so that we often have no model to compare with what we all once took for granted.

It would be wonderful to have a world with no racism, of course, but how obtainable is that when 1) racism is so broadly defined as to include any slight against anyone deemed marginalized by skin color, and 2) human nature being what it is (as the Founders surely knew) will inevitably cause us to respond in some selfish ways that may appear to be racist.

The “Diner Play,” by contrast, shows an America that still has lessons to learn but can move forward, confronting the ugly, the unfortunate, and the disgraceful with a nod toward tradition (such as the nuclear family unit and heartfelt religious conviction).

All three playwrights, I’m certain, will tell you that we live in these two separate worlds now. And they may each have a point. There are, within each world, recognizable qualities that we all possess: There are protests, violence, and reconciliations in the plays, as in contemporary society. But as a barometer of what is good and what is lasting, the “Diner Play” makes a much stronger case for the values that define us as a nation, even as we seem to have lost those values.

Theater Today

In contemporary American theater, all worlds are seen as equally real and equally true, but some are more equal, as Orwell first said, if they have progressive values in them. How, then, are we to present a universe that is both recognizable and embraceable by the vast majority of audiences?

We might start by returning to the idea that there are foundational principles that define our country, and these principles are true and good—precisely the principles that define the Natural Theater (the theater movement that looks to the philosophy of our Founding Fathers and human nature to develop character and conflict).

The Natural Theater features protagonists who look to themselves for the cause of (or at least contributing factors to) their failures and struggles and then work to remedy these flaws before going out to take on the world. Harper Lee’s Atticus Finch was such a man. Sorkin’s Finch recognizes his failings but ultimately finds himself condemning the people of Maycomb en masse, reversing his previous stance that there is good in everyone.

However, we can use the arts to reinforce the values that Americans used to take for granted, even when those rights are under attack.

Both the “Bench Play” and Sorkin’s “Mockingbird” tell us there’s something mighty wrong with society that ultimately must be fought and defeated. Both point to a particular segment of our population as the source of this sin. But it is the ”Diner Play” that takes the higher road, going beyond condemnation and finger-pointing and showing that simple acts of reconciliation can have ramifications on a larger scale.

Seems to me, we need more Diner Plays and their worlds of hope than Bench Plays with their worlds of blaming and vengeance.