Guest Post from Kevin Olson! Are classic plays really classic?

Last night I had the wonderful thrill (not an exaggeration) to see the classic Eugene O'Neill play "The Iceman Cometh" -- all 4 hours and 40 minutes of it. This production directed by Robert Falls and produced originally at Chicago’s Goodman Theatre was magnificent and never dull and I did not want it to end. Rather than focus on reviewing that production, it inspires these somewhat undeveloped thoughts.

My family and I are excited to see “Hamilton” the new Lin Manuel-Miranda musical at some point or the soon to open on Broadway “Fun Home” adapted by Lisa Kron and Jeanine Tesori. Both are sophisticated new musical theatre pieces that have opened to rave reviews in the NYT and elsewhere. For many, compared to classic plays, musicals are more accessible both in terms of interest and availability thereby making it easier to commit money, time and effort in order to see them; even in some cases, to make lengthy day-long trips to do so as I did to see this production of “Iceman.”

Many people in my life are avid theatre-goers. Yet some (perhaps many) of them would be reluctant to attend this or any production of "The Iceman Cometh" for many reasons including its length, its heavy-o-sity, the way the play presents women or even the archaic dialects O’Neill uses. At times, I too hesitate to go see plays by Ibsen, Chekov, Shakespeare and others. Why is this so?  I love theatre and so do each of these people in my life.

One answer for me lies in the experiences we have seeing poor, mediocre or even good productions of these classic plays. What do I mean?  When my son was playing the clarinet in middle school, I would go to performances when the small school band was playing. Musically, these concerts were pretty bad if considered only in terms of the quality of performance. Of course, there are many reasons why those performances were significant and fully legitimate arts events. But that can be a subject for another blog entry.

 

But let’s be real, as music, they stunk. My son’s band playing “Appalachian Spring” cannot be compared to how that music would sound when played by the New York Philharmonic.

So too with productions of classic plays that I have seen and in which I have participated. I directed a fairly mediocre production of another O’Neill play, “A Touch of the Poet;” snooze city for that one. And I have sat through countless dull-put-me-to-sleep college, amateur and professional productions of plays by all the classic playwrights. (Musicals too F.Y.I.). And so have those of you reading this blog entry. Taken cumulatively, however, I believe these experiences of the classic drama repertoire create a bias that make it harder and harder to attend classic theatre.

Like symphonies by Mahler, Beethoven and Shostakovich, these plays require tremendous skill in conception and performance in order to allow us to glimpse and uncover their greatness.

So too we cannot fully “get” why classic plays are considered classic unless we commit to seeing the all-too-rare opportunities to see great productions of them. We have to seek them out by scanning reviews from around the world, hoping they are re-mounted somewhere nearby and then hope our ability to actually see them are more than the pipe-dreams so cruelly destroyed in “Iceman.”

And often if the production turns out to be only good, let alone mediocre or poor, we snooze making it that much harder to go see a production of “The Cherry Orchard” or “Long Day’s Journey Into Night.” This summer Audra McDonald is playing Josie Hogan in O’Neill’s “A Moon for the Misbegotten” at the Williamstown Theatre Festival in Massachusetts in the remote northwestern corner of the state. It will sell out quickly most certainly because she is in it. I really hope it is not just a good production but a great one.

I am taking that thought one step further. Concertos are solo performer vehicles. When we go see a play because stars are in it, it may be that concerto experience we are most interested in. Yet any great, revealing production of a classic play is a symphonic experience so our expectations are misdirected. Last night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, I watched a symphony unfold on stage with all the notes of creaky dialect and dark, nasty themes coming together to make an unforgettable experience that I really did not want to end.

Perhaps this is why classic theatre and the performing arts have such an reputation for elitism -- the chances to experience their greatness are rare. I wish I could afford an expensive bottle of red zinfandel to appreciate the complexity and possibilities of the wine. But I settle for the $10 bottles.

Just a few final thoughts related to “Iceman.”  Nathan Lane was wonderful as was Brian Dennehy and the entire cast. The lights and set design were world-class and should be studied by student designers in classes around the world. But  often what convinces us (me too) to go see a

classic play is because Audra McDonald or Nathan Lane is in it.

I learned from this production inspired in part by reading a review of it in the NY Review of Books that “Iceman” is really a symphony with multiple melodies, tonalities and counter-points slowly revealed over time. It strikes me that this is true for much classic theatre. 

As we listen to the final moments of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony or Shostakovich’s 5th, the closing sounds linger in our consciousness for a time in congregational silence. Then we stand to cheer the ensemble of artists and wish for an encore. I wanted to spend even more time with the residents of Harry Hope’s decrepit saloon in lower Manhattan.