TO: The
Flat Hat Editors, Ian Goodrum
RE:
Disappearance Disappoints
1. It is not my practice to respond to reviews but I am doing so here because of my responsibilities as a Professor at the College of WIlliam and Mary, where it is my duty to teach all students, whether they are enrolled in my class or not. In this case, Mr. Ian Goodrum, a student at the College has written about my work, so it is incumbent upon me to educate in return. Further, I am extremely concerned as to the impact of Mr. Goodrum's writing in my capacity to fulfill my responsibilities as an officer of instruction in the College of William and Mary.
2. Freedom comes with responsibility and on a good day, maybe an ounce of civility especially on a campus that prides itself as ONE TRIBE, MANY VOICES. Further, freedom exercised gratuitously sometimes becomes oppression itself. I wish to make it known that Mr. Goodrum's article has caused much pain not only on myself, my students, but also on my family--my wife, my children, and my mother who bear the sacrifice of my being an absent husband, father, and son during the extensive rehearsal process. I would have gladly accepted Mr. Goodrum's disappointment in Disappearance had he written with an ounce of respect, and left me and my student collaborators a dust of dignity. Everyone has a mother, even Professors. In my case, my mother called me to ask why a student was writing with so much HATE in response to my work with my students. I am afraid only Mr. Goodrum can answer that question.
3. To be clear, Mr. Goodrum wrote a response to the play DISAPPEARANCE but not a review.
4. Flat Hat Editors have a responsibility to make very sure that writers are educated in the genre where they write, because in the end the lack of training and education does not only cast aspersion on the writer or even the Flat Hat, but the entire College.
5. Flat Hat Editors must also do all they can to take care of their writers so that they are healthy and in good disposition to exercise their responsibilities. In this case, Mr. Goodrum was asleep for much of the show. Had he written that he fell asleep because of the experience I provided through the show, that would have been fair to write. I was right behind him during the show while he slept for a good period of the evening. I debated internally whether I should awake him. Alas, my choice to leave him in slumber was not the best choice to be made.
6. With the right to freedom of expression comes a responsibility to be educated about what one writes about. For instance in the program, I state very clearly that it was only in 2009 that I have explored full time the various genres of Japanese Theatre. Mr. Goodrum should have acknowledged his own scope of knowledge or lack thereof which might have impacted his experience of the performance. I have already apologized for all my failures in the show in the same program, so I hope Mr. Goodrum will take the time for himself to re-read the apology for the suffering he incurred in the 150 minutes of DISAPPEARANCE.
7. We are in academic theatre. Our primary responsibility is to educate, including the audience. I take responsibility for not having been able to educate Mr. Goodrum appropriately but such is the case in our College. As Professor of World and Multicultural Theatre, I only began my job in 2005 in a College that has been producing plays since the 17th century. Thus I have a long way to go in educating our community in world and multicultural theatre. But the job and responsibility can not be mine alone.
8. Diversity is not only about numbers but about getting to know the people who are here. If nobody spends time getting to know one another, diversity is useless. Numbers mean nothing. All my theatre productions are made with this in mind. They are meant to stir up conversations not controversy, courage not fear, friendships not enemies. As I mentioned, I can not live up to my responsibilities as a Professor of World and Multicultural Theatre on my own because what has been happening here at William and Mary has been happening since 1693. I need help from the Tribe.
1. It is not my practice to respond to reviews but I am doing so here because of my responsibilities as a Professor at the College of WIlliam and Mary, where it is my duty to teach all students, whether they are enrolled in my class or not. In this case, Mr. Ian Goodrum, a student at the College has written about my work, so it is incumbent upon me to educate in return. Further, I am extremely concerned as to the impact of Mr. Goodrum's writing in my capacity to fulfill my responsibilities as an officer of instruction in the College of William and Mary.
2. Freedom comes with responsibility and on a good day, maybe an ounce of civility especially on a campus that prides itself as ONE TRIBE, MANY VOICES. Further, freedom exercised gratuitously sometimes becomes oppression itself. I wish to make it known that Mr. Goodrum's article has caused much pain not only on myself, my students, but also on my family--my wife, my children, and my mother who bear the sacrifice of my being an absent husband, father, and son during the extensive rehearsal process. I would have gladly accepted Mr. Goodrum's disappointment in Disappearance had he written with an ounce of respect, and left me and my student collaborators a dust of dignity. Everyone has a mother, even Professors. In my case, my mother called me to ask why a student was writing with so much HATE in response to my work with my students. I am afraid only Mr. Goodrum can answer that question.
3. To be clear, Mr. Goodrum wrote a response to the play DISAPPEARANCE but not a review.
4. Flat Hat Editors have a responsibility to make very sure that writers are educated in the genre where they write, because in the end the lack of training and education does not only cast aspersion on the writer or even the Flat Hat, but the entire College.
5. Flat Hat Editors must also do all they can to take care of their writers so that they are healthy and in good disposition to exercise their responsibilities. In this case, Mr. Goodrum was asleep for much of the show. Had he written that he fell asleep because of the experience I provided through the show, that would have been fair to write. I was right behind him during the show while he slept for a good period of the evening. I debated internally whether I should awake him. Alas, my choice to leave him in slumber was not the best choice to be made.
6. With the right to freedom of expression comes a responsibility to be educated about what one writes about. For instance in the program, I state very clearly that it was only in 2009 that I have explored full time the various genres of Japanese Theatre. Mr. Goodrum should have acknowledged his own scope of knowledge or lack thereof which might have impacted his experience of the performance. I have already apologized for all my failures in the show in the same program, so I hope Mr. Goodrum will take the time for himself to re-read the apology for the suffering he incurred in the 150 minutes of DISAPPEARANCE.
7. We are in academic theatre. Our primary responsibility is to educate, including the audience. I take responsibility for not having been able to educate Mr. Goodrum appropriately but such is the case in our College. As Professor of World and Multicultural Theatre, I only began my job in 2005 in a College that has been producing plays since the 17th century. Thus I have a long way to go in educating our community in world and multicultural theatre. But the job and responsibility can not be mine alone.
8. Diversity is not only about numbers but about getting to know the people who are here. If nobody spends time getting to know one another, diversity is useless. Numbers mean nothing. All my theatre productions are made with this in mind. They are meant to stir up conversations not controversy, courage not fear, friendships not enemies. As I mentioned, I can not live up to my responsibilities as a Professor of World and Multicultural Theatre on my own because what has been happening here at William and Mary has been happening since 1693. I need help from the Tribe.
Disappearance performance disappoints
Written By: Ian Goodrum
|
April 12, 2012
|
Posted In:
An adaptation of Keralino
Sandorovich’s “Disappearance” is playing in Phi Beta Kappa Memorial Hall this
weekend. PHOTO BY MICHELLE GABRO / THE FLAT HAT
As this, the final year of my
college career and my tenure as theater critic for The Flat Hat, winds to a
close, I have been able to look back and question what I’ve written: “Was I too
harsh?” “Did I give shows a pass?” And “Why did I review modern dance?” While
hindsight rears its ugly head, there is a certain retrospective clarity when it
comes to performances that truly stood out these past four years. The triumphs
— “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie,” “Bones,” “The Shape of Things” — seem more
auspicious, their success bolstered in comparison to their weaker counterparts.
Although there have been some pieces with more misses than hits over the years
— “Rhinoceros,” “Table Manners,” “Thoroughly Modern Millie” — it’s been a rare
occasion when there wasn’t something to like about what’s been put on stage.
Leave it to the cruelties of fate,
then, to saddle me with one hell of a farewell gift.
Francis Tanglao-Aguas’s adaptation
of Keralino Sandorovich’s “Disappearance,” being performed this week in Phi
Beta Kappa Hall’s Studio Theatre, has outdone all opposition. Unless “Ruined”
is an unmitigated disaster — which seems highly unlikely — I can say without
reservation that “Disappearance” is the worst theatrical production I have ever
seen on this campus.
Why the bluntness? Well, after
upwards of 150 minutes spent watching an incoherent, inconsistent parade of
poor characterization and even poorer execution, I have little patience left.
Taken on its own, “Disappearance” is an occasionally insightful synthesis of a
panicked post-war malaise and its resultant psychotic attachments; but in this
production, the bastard child of Japanese Noh drama and the high modernism of
Samuel Beckett, the decent becomes the defective and the good, grotesque. Noh
plays traditionally use movement and dance to display states of high emotion,
but “Disappearance” has plenty of words, despite its pretensions to the
contrary. The dialogue not only lacks emotional resonance, but it also presents
a bizarre rendering of simple phraseology, creating glaringly inept readings of
lines that would get a symphony of groans in impolite company. I would love
nothing more than to write these off as moments of theatrical experimentation,
but when most other dialogue is spoken in a naturalistic manner, incompetence
is the only diagnosis.
Some in the cast are truly dedicated
to their performances, despite quite obviously struggling under the
ponderousness of the whole affair: Shaan Sharma ’15 acquits himself well enough
as the simpleton living under the benevolent dictatorship of his brother Chaz,
played by Abhay Ahluwalia ’12, and Grace Mendenhall ’13 does much with her
brief periods of focus as the renter in this house of horrors. Mendenhall has
come a long way since her performance in Shakespeare in the Dark’s “The
Tempest,” and perhaps someday she’ll be in a production worth her development.
She and Rebecca Turner ’14 are one of two pairs of actors playing their roles
on alternating nights; needless to say, I won’t be checking in again to see how
the others fare. I wish them the best of luck.
What else is there to be said about
this unfortunate exercise? The ensemble? Effective enough, although they rarely
act as a true chorus. The lights? Well, just how important is lighting when your
head is in your hands? The music? Fine, when it happens. That just about covers
it. If anyone wants to know more about the specifics of the play, I’ll be
drinking somewhere.
If “Disappearance” succeeds in one
thing, it is in helping the audience to understand Chaz’s motivations for
selectively deleting his brother’s memory. Never have I wished more that such a
device existed than after being subjected to this dramaturgical torment.
Where’s Lacuna, Inc. when you need it?
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